TIME FLIES

TIMEfliesOn wings of light.He flies by day.He flies by night.Time flies,And ne'er doth heStay still and restFor you and me.Time flies.The clock strikes—hark!The day has gone,And now 'tis dark.Time flies.You go to bed.'Tis day once more,And night has fled.Time flies.You're young to-day.Time touches you—You're old and grey.

TIMEfliesOn wings of light.He flies by day.He flies by night.

TIMEflies

On wings of light.

He flies by day.

He flies by night.

Time flies,And ne'er doth heStay still and restFor you and me.

Time flies,

And ne'er doth he

Stay still and rest

For you and me.

Time flies.The clock strikes—hark!The day has gone,And now 'tis dark.

Time flies.

The clock strikes—hark!

The day has gone,

And now 'tis dark.

Time flies.You go to bed.'Tis day once more,And night has fled.

Time flies.

You go to bed.

'Tis day once more,

And night has fled.

Time flies.You're young to-day.Time touches you—You're old and grey.

Time flies.

You're young to-day.

Time touches you—

You're old and grey.

More Adventures

IT really was a delightful country to live in. There was no need to ask your way to anywhere—you just went. Almost before he knew where he was George found himself back in front of the little house.

Smoke was still curling up from the chimneys, so somebody must have been putting more coal on the fire—at least, it would seem so.

It was quite time for dinner; and, sure enough, dinner was ready. It doesn't matter what George had to eat—it would make you feel both hungry and cross if you knew.

When the meal was over George thought it was quite time to follow his fortune, but where and what was it?

"Oh, Alexander shall show me the way," he said, and he stepped outside into the garden, where that always hungry creature was cracking a large bone.

"Alexander, I mean to follow my fortune," he said, "but I don't know where it is. Can you help me?"

To his surprise, Alexander looked up, wagged his tail, and then said quite as plain as could be: "All right; let me finish this bone and then I'll come!"

George stared at him. "Can youreallytalk, Alexander?"

"Talk? Of course I can talk," he replied. "Who ever heard of a dog who couldn't talk? I've talked to you ever since I've known you, only I don't talk like a boy. I talk like a dog."

This was quite true, for he still had a 'doggy' voice, and there was a sound of "Wuff, wuff!" in everything he said.

"Good gracious!" cried George. "I never knew you were talking. I thought you were only barking."

"Well, barkingistalking. What would be the use of my barking if it meant nothing?" replied Alexander rather crossly, for he hated to be interrupted in the middle of a meal."Sit down a minute and then I shall be ready."

George sat down and waited quietly. It was quite still everywhere; there was a soft little breeze which was just enough to set the flowers in the garden nodding their heads. It kissed George gently on the cheek, and then gave a puff which made the golden weathercock on the roof-top turn round and round until it must have become giddy.

"Now I'm ready," said Alexander, licking his lips and brushing his whiskers carefully, in case there might still be a fragment left of his meal.

"Alexander, can you tell me whose house this is?" George asked.

"Whose house?" said Alexander. "Why,youknow. It's written on the door."

"Yes, I know that; but who is this Mr George?"

"You are, of course," laughed Alexander, and gave a jump of delight. "You are! Fancy not knowing that it was your own house! Ha, ha! What fun!" and he began running after his own tail, faster and faster, until he looked like a black Catherine wheel.

"Oh, I say!" cried George. "Myhouse! Oh, I wish I could bring Father and Motherto see it. Can't I send them an invitation to tea? But I don't see a letter-box anywhere, and I can't write a proper letter. Can you?"

"No!" replied Alexander. "I don't want to. I don't know why people want to write letters at all when they can go for walks and talk to one another—and have games and meals," he added.

"Oh, well, I must just tell them all about it when we get back again. Now we had better start for—you know, wherever my fortune is."

Alexander looked round him for a moment. "I think I know the way, but we may as well ask the weathercock, so as to be quite sure."

"Ask the weathercock? How can that help us?" George was becoming quite puzzled.

Alexander said nothing, but gave a short, sharp bark. There was a faint "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" from the roof in reply; then—could George believe his eyes?—the golden cock stepped off his little perch and fluttered down to their feet.

Hewasa smart little bird! All gold from the comb on his head to the spurs on his feet, and he twinkled and shone so in the sunshine that he was quite dazzling to look at. He flapped his wings, pecked Alexander playfully behindthe ear, and then crowed: "Cock-a-doodle-doo-oo-oo!" and it sounded for all the world as if he were saying: "How do you do-oo-oo?"

"George is going to follow his fortune," said Alexander. "Can you put us on the right road?"

"I'd better come with you for part of the way," replied the weathercock. "It's just along down there."

"How do you know the way so well, please?" asked George.

"I know the way to everywhere. A brother of mine stands on the roof of your home. Haven't you ever seen him point?"

"Yes, of course," said George; "I've often stood and watched him turning round and round."

"Well, you don't suppose he's doing that for fun, do you?" asked the cock, looking at him with a bright and shining red eye. "He's pointing out the way."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Well, he's pointing out the way tothere.... Every one wants to go there, some time or other. Ifyoudon't want to go, why did you ask me?"

"Come along!" said Alexander. "George will understand by and by. He's a stranger here, you know."

The weathercock strutted on ahead of them, and George and Alexander followed.

"Hecan talk too," said George. "Everybody seems able to talk here."

"Of course," replied Alexander. "Why shouldn't they? Everything and everybody talks in its own way if you only know how to listen. Why, the wind's talking all the time. Can't you hear it?"

George stood still and listened. "It does seem to be saying something. It sounds just like: 'Oh-oo! Oh-oo!'"

Alexander laughed—such a funny, wuffy laugh. "It's humming a tune to the trees. Can't you see them nodding their heads in time to the music? If the wind were angry they would be shivering and shaking with fright. Perhaps it will talk to us by and by."

"Come on!" cried the cock, looking round, "I have to get back to work or else the wind will be coming along and scolding me for wasting time."

They walked along down a winding path, up a little hill, down another, and there in front stood a post with a large finger pointing straight ahead.

"Here you are!" said the cock. "Go straighton until you arrive there. The weather will be quite fine, and your fortune is waiting for you. If you want to get back ask any of my family you may meet and they will show you the way. Good-bye!" He flapped his wings, crowed "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" and disappeared.

George went up to the finger-post, and there, printed on it in large letters, was: "THIS WAY TOONCE-UPON-A-TIME."

"Another adventure!" he cried. "Come on, Alexander!"—but Alexander was already scampering down the road, barking joyfully.

WEATHERCOCK, oh, weathercock,Cock-a-doodle-doo!Shall I find the road I seekIf I follow you?Turning, turning, ever turningNorth, south, east, and west;Weathercock, oh, weathercock,Which way is the best?Pointing, pointing, ever pointingWith your golden bill.Does the road to fortune lead meUp or down the hill?

WEATHERCOCK, oh, weathercock,Cock-a-doodle-doo!Shall I find the road I seekIf I follow you?

WEATHERCOCK, oh, weathercock,

Cock-a-doodle-doo!

Shall I find the road I seek

If I follow you?

Turning, turning, ever turningNorth, south, east, and west;Weathercock, oh, weathercock,Which way is the best?

Turning, turning, ever turning

North, south, east, and west;

Weathercock, oh, weathercock,

Which way is the best?

Pointing, pointing, ever pointingWith your golden bill.Does the road to fortune lead meUp or down the hill?

Pointing, pointing, ever pointing

With your golden bill.

Does the road to fortune lead me

Up or down the hill?

A Nice Dragon

IT was really very jolly in this Once-upon-a-Time Land, though nothing wonderful happened at first. There were beautiful green trees, scattered about everywhere in twos and threes as if they were keeping one another company; there were large fields full of flowers; little rivers bustling along as if they were in a great hurry to get somewhere, and then turning a corner and flowing quite slowly as if they had remembered that it didn't really matter after all; and far off in the distance, with snowy peaks glittering in the sunshine—mountains!

The road led them along up and down like a switchback. It was quite easy walking; in fact, the road almost seemed to walk by itself. Whenever they felt thirsty there was a spring of delicious cold water bubbling up by the roadside, and when they felt hungry there were apples, pears, blackberries, strawberries, and raspberries all growing and ready for anybody who would take the trouble to pick them.

"I think it's time we got somewhere," said George.

"We're nearly there," replied Alexander. "I know She lives not far from here."

"She? Who is She?" asked George.

"Why, Her, of course," and Alexander ran on ahead and round the corner before George could ask another question. Suddenly he heard a loud barking, and thinking that Alexander was chasing a rabbit, or perhaps a cat, he ran as hard as he could, turned the corner, and saw——

Well, I never! It was wonderful, and yet it was in Once-upon-a-Time Land, where things like this happen every day. It was just as one sees it in picture-books, only naturally it lookedeverso much bigger than one expected.

"A dragon!" cried George. "I haven't got a sword or anything at all to fight with. If it begins to breathe fire it will burn me right up! And whatisAlexander doing? Why, I do believe he's playing with it."

And so he was, and what was even funnier still, the dragon actually seemed to like it. Alexander ran down its long, long back, which rippled and shone in the sunshine like scales of golden flame, bit the end of its tail playfully, and barked right under its great nose. The dragon opened its great mouth, showing rows and rows of sharp, pointed teeth, and laughed a really jolly laugh.

"You seem to want a game," it said, in a great deep voice which sounded as if it came from somewhere half-way down its back. "Come on, little George; just wait until I uncurl myself."

It gave itself a shake and uncoiled all the twists in its back, which cracked like little pistols,bang! bang!then jumped once or twice in the air to stretch its legs.

"See if you can catch my tail!" it cried, and then began a regular game of 'Catch me who can!' The dragon didn't seem to run exactly, but moved along somewhat like a snake,only ever so fast, with its tail hanging temptingly behind. Every time George put out his hand to catch hold of it,whisk!—away it went again! Alexander leapt this way and that way, and every time he came to the ground again found that the dragon was not where he expected it to be. Then the dragon began to make loops and curves of itself, as if it were writing all the letters of the alphabet with its long back.

At last all three lay down on the ground quite out of breath.

"I'm not so old as I thought I was," said the dragon. "I haven't had such a good game for a long time.Phew!I'm absolutely boiling hot!" and out came a long tongue like yards and yards of red flannel, and it smoothed its scales as far as it could reach.

"Alexander does just the same when he's washing himself," thought George.

"So you're going to look for your fortune?" said the dragon after a while.

"Yes," replied George, "I am. I hope Alexander will find his too."

"I hope so," smiled the dragon. "I like to see people who are looking for fortunes, though they don't always find them, even when they'reunder their very noses. I knew a dragon once—it's not a long story—who went to look for his fortune."

"Was it in Once-upon-a-Time Land?" asked George.

"Of course," replied the dragon. "People don't understand dragons anywhere else. They tell the most stupid stories about us, as if we went about doing nothing but eat up people and breathe fire. You might as well say that dogs do nothing else but kill cats," he added, with a laugh.

Alexander looked very solemn, and as if butter would not melt in his mouth.

"Well, this dragon, as I was saying, went out to look for his fortune. He was quite a young dragon, and ought to have stayed at home as his mother told him. He had never been farther than the end of the valley where they lived, though of course he thought he knew all about everything.

"So his mother kissed him good-bye, told him to take care not to catch cold, and watched him disappear in the distance. It was a fine day, and the young dragon went along thinking of all the great things he was going to do, and bumping his head againsttrees because he never looked where he was going.

"He met nobody and nothing for a long time. About midday he began to feel very hungry, and almost wished he were at home again. But at last, on the top of a hill, he saw a man standing by the door of a house; at least, he thought it must be a house, but he wasn't quite sure, for he had never seen one before. It was really a miller standing by his mill, whistling for the wind to come and turn the sails round.

"He was a friendly miller. He invited the dragon to rest for a while and have something to eat. After the dragon had eaten forty loaves and two hundred currant buns and drunk all the water out of the water-butt, he began to feel better, and told the miller what he was looking for.

"'Looking for your fortune, are you?' said the miller. 'Well, you've come to the right place, for the road to fortune starts from here and from nowhere else.'

"He saw that the dragon was quite young and rather vain, so he thought he would play a joke upon him.

"'Do you see those long fingers?' he said,pointing to the sails of the mill. 'They are pointing out the way to your fortune.'

"'Oh!' replied the dragon. 'They are all pointing different ways. How can I tell in which direction to go? Does my fortune lie everywhere all around me?'

"'No, no,' said the miller. 'Just stand quietly here for a bit, and by and by you will learn all about it.' Then he went inside the mill and waited to see what would happen.

"Presently the breeze heard the miller whistling and came blowing along in answer to his call. The sails of the mill shook, and then,veryslowly, commenced to turn.

"'Dear me!' thought the young dragon. 'They seem to be pointing in a different direction now. This is very funny. I must see what it means,' and he walked right up to the sails, which were now whirling round quite fast.

"Suddenly,smack!on his nose came the first sail;smack!came the second, andSMACK!the third.

"The dragon tumbled head over heels backward. He was so frightened that he picked himself up and ran away as fast as he could with his tail between his legs, never once looking behind him.

"The miller laughed until he was so tired that he could laugh no more. 'That will teach him not to be so greedy next time,' he said, for he was rather vexed at seeing so many of his loaves and buns disappear down the dragon's throat.

"The dragon went on running until, to his great surprise, he found himself at the door of his home. His mother saw him coming, and there was a good tea waiting for him, you may be sure.

"He was very glad to find himself safe and sound and far away from the dreadful mill, but at the same time felt very sorry that he had not found his fortune. His mother listened to everything he told her, and then she said: 'My son, you have found your fortune, after all.'

"'Where?' asked her son, looking around him in surprise, as if he expected to see he didn't know what.

"'There, my child; it lies there, right under your very nose.'

"He looked down, and there he saw——"

"Oh, what was it?" cried George.

"Can't you guess?" said the dragon. "Dear me, Iamsurprised. Why, the dragon guessed at once. They don't seem to teach boys anything at school nowadays."

"Oh, I learn heaps of things," said George.

"Umph!" snorted the dragon. "I expect it's just heaps of rubbish. I don't suppose you know half as much as a dragon of the same age as yourself."

"But dragons don't go to school, do they?" asked George.

"Why not?" replied the dragon. "Of course they do; but they don't sit on benches in a schoolroom. They learn out of doors, which is the proper place for a school. They learn useful things, such as how to see what they see and hear what they hear; not to go about the world like blind mice, not believing in the fairies like a little boy I once heard of."

Alexander laughed. "He means you, George. You know, you never liked fairy stories, did you?"

George blushed. "I never said I didn't believe in them, but it always seemed as if they couldn't be real."

"Areyoureal?" suddenly asked the dragon.

"Of course I am," said George. "I'm as real as real can be."

"Well, you're not a bit, not a little bit real," replied the dragon. "Any boy who is lucky enough to find his way into this country, andthendoesn't believe in the fairies, is not more real than a soap bubble, and will burst into little bits just as a bubble does."

Alexander laughed. "I should love to see George all in little bits. I wonder if we could ever fit him together again."

"No; he'd be just like Humpty Dumpty," said the dragon. "There have been hundreds of little boys like that, and I have never heard of one who was mended again. Some were patched up, but there were always pieces missing, and they were never the same boys. Their mothers soon got tired of them and gave them away to the rag-and-bone man."

George sat quite silent for some time. He didn't like being laughed at, and felt that both the dragon and Alexander thought him quite as stupid—or even more so—as the dragon in the story.

"Come, we'd better be starting," said the dragon. "She doesn't like to be kept waiting."

George was just about to ask who She might be, but he shut his mouth with a snap and pretended that he knew all about it.

"Get on my back!" ordered the dragon, and George jumped on at once and seated himself comfortably.

Off the dragon went like a great, long railway train, faster and faster, until they shot into a forest and it became as dark as the darkest tunnel.

"Wuff! Wuff!" barked Alexander. "Hold tight, George!"

Now,doyoubelieve in thefairies? If youdon't, then close thebook at once, and leaveGeorge and Alexander toseek their fortunes by themselves.

Now,

doyou

believe in the

fairies? If you

don't, then close the

book at once, and leave

George and Alexander to

seek their fortunes by themselves.

The Witch

SUDDENLY the dragon's eyes lit up as if they were lamps. They could see a little way ahead, but all around it was so dark that you could almost feel it. George thought—he was always having funny thoughts now—that if he put his hand out some of the black darkness would rub off on it.

After a time they seemed to be going down-hill. Far away gleamed a light which grew brighter and brighter every moment. At last George could see that they were close to the mouth of a large cave, in front of which sat a perfectly enormous black cat with green eyes shining like lights on a railway signal.

Its tail was standing straight up on end, black and bushy; never had George seen such a tail before. The dragon went on past the cat into the cave, round corners, on and on until at last he stopped with a jerk, and George fell off his back.

"Here we are," said the dragon, "just in time. I thought at first we were late, and then, my word!—we should have caught it! Come on!" and he led the way into the witch's kitchen.

All that George could see at first was a huge open fireplace upon which great logs of wood were crackling. Over the fire hung a big round kettle from which at times came weird gurgling sounds. The queerest shadows of goblins and imps danced about as if they were really alive. Altogether it was a most uncomfortable place to be in.

Curled up on the hearth was another cat; a yellow animal with red eyes which stared and stared at them as if it wondered who on earth they could be.

"So here you are at last!" said a voice from somewhere, so suddenly that it made George jump.

He looked round on every side, but for a longtime could see nothing. At last, in the dim light, he could just make out what looked like the figure of an old, old woman with a very crooked back and a queer, wrinkled face. She was sitting in a dark corner in a high-backed chair, looking into the fire as if she were reading all kinds of stories in it.

"Come here, George," she said. "Tell me all about your fortune."

It was really rather annoying that everybody seemed to know all about George and what he was going to do. However, it couldn't be helped, so he walked up to the witch, feeling just a little bit afraid, and looked straight into her eyes.

Her face was covered with hundreds of little wrinkles, which crossed and recrossed one another almost without end. She looked as if she had lived for hundreds and hundreds of years, and was, oh, so tired of everything! Her eyes were very bright, and shone with a pale light which made George feel a little bit giddy at first, though he couldn't think why.

Her voice was quite gentle, rather sad, and sounded as if it came from far, far, away. Perhaps it had grown tired too.

"So you are following your fortune?" saidthe witch. "Dear me! Do you know who I am?"

"Please, ma'am," replied George, "you're a witch."

"And a very wicked old woman too, who turns little boys into frogs and toads, and flies through the air on a broomstick. Isn't that what you've learned about me?" asked the witch, with a queer smile. Where had George seen that smile before?

He blushed rosy red, for he certainly had always heard that witches were wicked women. Had not Father once called some old woman who was always telling disagreeable stories about other people behind their backs a wicked witch? George had asked this same old woman if she had brought her broomstick with her. She had been quite cross, and called him "a rude little boy."

"If you please, ma'am," he said, "I expect there are good witches as well as bad witches."

"Ah, well! Let us hope I'm a good witch, one who will help you to find your fortune, and Alexander's too"; and the witch stretched out her thin old hands to the fire to warm them.

Wonders will never cease! George suddenly caught sight of Alexander lying down sideby side with the yellow cat—and when he was at home not a single cat was allowed to put even one foot inside the garden!

"He's quite an old friend," said the witch. "My dear Golden Girl and he are almost like brother and sister."

Alexander licked the end of the cat's nose, and she patted him gently with her paw and purred.

"Sit down and tell me all about it," continued the witch, pushing a three-legged stool toward George. He perched himself on it with his legs swinging in the air, and commenced to talk—at least, he always said afterward that he did—but what with the witch nodding, the cat purring, and the kettle boiling it is more than likely that he fell asleep.

Suddenly the kettle began to boil furiously, and clouds of steam poured out of its spout.

"Nearly ready! Nearly ready!" said the witch, and counted slowly up to ten. Then: "Take off the lid, Alexander!" she cried.

Alexander jumped up and lifted off the kettle-lid with his tail as if he had been used to doing it all his life.

In a moment the kitchen was full of steam, which wreathed and curled itself into thequeerest shapes and figures. George wondered what was going to happen next, but sat still and said nothing.

The witch rose from her chair and hobbled up to the kettle, helping herself along with a long-handled stick. She leaned over the kettle, looking down into it for a moment or two, then, waving her stick, commenced to sing in a high, shrill voice. It sounded at first as if she were singing the multiplication table. George remembered bits of it, and this is what he said she sang:

"Twice times one is two,Bubble, bubble brew!Water boil and fire burn,Turn around and turn and turn.Up and down, and down and up,Fill the pot and fill the cup.Blood of toad and juice of nettleStew and stew within the kettle.Stir about with witch's stick.Quick!... Quick!"Oh, ho!... Oh, ho!Twice times four is eight,Now it's getting late.Add a little puppy's tailAnd a dragon's shining scale.From the boy who's sitting thereCut a lock of curly hair!Ah, ha!... Ah, ha!"

"Twice times one is two,

Bubble, bubble brew!

Water boil and fire burn,

Turn around and turn and turn.

Up and down, and down and up,

Fill the pot and fill the cup.

Blood of toad and juice of nettle

Stew and stew within the kettle.

Stir about with witch's stick.

Quick!... Quick!

"Oh, ho!... Oh, ho!Twice times four is eight,Now it's getting late.Add a little puppy's tailAnd a dragon's shining scale.From the boy who's sitting thereCut a lock of curly hair!Ah, ha!... Ah, ha!"

"Oh, ho!... Oh, ho!

Twice times four is eight,

Now it's getting late.

Add a little puppy's tail

And a dragon's shining scale.

From the boy who's sitting there

Cut a lock of curly hair!

Ah, ha!... Ah, ha!"

"Ah, ha! Ah, ha!" sang Golden Girl and Alexander together, and the kettle bubbled and boiled: "Oh, ho! Oh, ho!"

This went on for quite a long time, and George wondered if the witch were going to cut off a lock of his hair. How nasty a stew with hair in it would taste.Ugh!

"It's time to start now. Are we all ready? Dragon! Where's that lazy dragon?" cried the witch.

"Here I am!" replied the dragon, appearing from somewhere or other: "I'm quite ready. Will you ride on your catoplane?"

George wondered whatever a catoplane might be, but was too polite to ask. The witch quickly put on a long cloak and waved her stick, and the wall of the kitchen flew open.

"Come along; don't keep me waiting!" she said to George, and he jumped off his stool and followed her. He could see nothing, but felt that they were in the open air again.

"Here's my broomstick!" he heard the witch say, with a laugh; he felt himself lifted on to something, and then—whirrrr! whizzz!—off they went.

"Oh, are we in an aeroplane, please?" asked George, feeling tremendously excited.

"Aeroplane, indeed!" sniffed the witch. "I should like to see the aeroplane that could fly as fast as this. Look and see for yourself, George!"

George looked in front of him. He certainly seemed to be seated on something like a broomstick, and right in front of him sat the yellow cat, flashing its red eyes into the darkness like searchlights. Alexander was seated quite close to her, looking as pleased as Punch.

George looked behind him and heard the noise of an engine,throb, throb, and saw a black something turning, turning without stopping.

"I suppose that's the motor," he said.

"Guess again, George!" laughed the witch.

George looked and looked. "No, I can't guess," he confessed.

"Well—wait and see!" And the witch smiled. Her smile was just like—no, it wasn't.... Oh, it was very puzzling!

The High Mountains

"WE must be going faster than a railway train," said George.

"We're going faster than twenty trains," replied the witch. "In a minute or two we shall catch up the daylight.... Ah, there you can see it already!" And she pointed to a speck of light toward which they were travelling at lightning speed.

The light grew brighter and brighter, and at last they shot into the most dazzling sunshine, and there, ahead of them, were the lovely mountains with their snowy tops all aglow. They were travelling high up abovethe land, and the only thing to be seen was a tremendously tall tower which stood erect in the middle of the plain.

"Blow the horn!" cried the witch, and Alexander barked "Wu-uff!" three times, while Golden Girlmiaowedlike ten railway engines all blowing off steam at the same time. The tower suddenly came to life, and, to George's astonishment, as they drew closer he saw that it was a giant holding out a hand nearly as big as a station platform.

They flew straight on and alighted gently on the outstretched hand, and then the engines stopped. George looked behind him and saw two large cats, as black as coal, sitting at the end of the broom.

"There, you see!" said the witch. "You never would have guessed."

"I haven't guessed now," replied George. "Did those two cats drive the machine along?"

"Of course!" laughed the witch. "That's why it's called a catoplane. If you wait until we start again you'll see how it's done." Then, turning, she called out: "Good-morning, friend! Are you quite well to-day?"

"Good-morning!" replied the giant in a deep voice which rumbled and rolled like thunder. "I'm fairly well, thank you. What brings you here?"

THE LIGHT GREW BRIGHTER AND BRIGHTER

"We're just giving George and Alexander a lift. George is following his fortune, you know."

"Ah, to be sure!" said the giant. "I remember hearing about it the last time the storks passed this way. They generally bring me some news of what is going on down below there."

George looked up at him with wide-open eyes. It isn't every day that one gets a chance of seeing a live giant, except in a circus—and even then they are disappointing, for they are not really a little bit like the picture which is shown outside. No circus would be big enough to hold this giant. He looked as if he were quite a mile long. His face was as big as an enormous moon, but he looked quite kind and smiled all the time.

"Are you off to the mountains?" he asked. "I expect you'll find Him there. He's not been very busy lately, but He's expecting you, I'm sure."

"Who's 'Him,' please?" asked George.

"Wait and see," replied the witch. "Little boys should always wait, and then—perhaps—they will see."

There seemed to be a great deal of waiting in this country, but George was learning tobe patient. Alexander was busy talking to the cat, and the witch was whispering in the giant's ear, as he had bent down his head quite close to her.

"I wonder why he stands there all by himself," thought George. "He must feel very lonely with his feet down ever so far below him and his head in the clouds. I wonder if he ever goes to bed, and how does he get enough to eat? I shouldn't like to be as big as that."

"He wants to know all about you, you see," said the witch to the giant. George gave such a start! He had forgotten that she was there. How had she been able to read his thoughts?

"I'm a witch, my dear, and can tell everything," smiled the witch, answering his thoughts. "I can see right inside your little head if I want to. If I couldn't, I shouldn't be a witch at all."

"Well, it's rather a long story to tell you all about myself," began the giant. "It would take weeks and weeks. Even then we shouldn't have finished, for then there would be the story of all the weeks during which you had been listening to me."

"But I should know all aboutthat," said George. "You would have been telling me the story, of course, and I should have been here."

The giant thought for a moment. "Yes ... butthenI should have to tell you the story of how I told you the story ... and even then it wouldn't have an end, for——"

"You're half asleep!" cried the witch. "We can't wait to hear any more just now. You can tell it to George by and by."

"It's always by and by," grumbled the giant. "I've been trying to tell some one for years and years, and just as I'm going to begin it's always time to go somewhere and do something. Where's the dragon?"

"Playing with his tail, or else fast asleep, I expect," said the witch. "I never in all my life knew such a lazy creature. He's only awake when there's a chance of a game. If he comes along after we've gone, tellhimyour story."

"It's no use. He just jumps about and never listens. The last time he was here he played with my boots and bit a great piece out of one of them. He said he was sorry, but I've had a sore toe ever since. You wouldn't believe what a lot I have to put up with," and the poor giant looked as if he were going to cry.

"There, there!" said the witch soothingly. "You shall come with us if you're good, only don't cry. Remember, the last time you floodedthe whole country and gave all of us dreadful colds. And what a bother it was making extra handkerchiefs for you."

"Oh, may I come with you?" cried the giant. "Ishouldlike that! I get such pins and needles in my feet standing here."

"Why do you stand here?" asked George.

"To look out, of course," said the witch; and then, as she saw George was going to ask another question, she gave the order to start.

The two black cats curled their tails round the end of the broom and then began to turn round and round in the air.

"Doesn't it make them dreadfully giddy?" asked George.

"No, of course not," said the witch. "It might do so if they were ordinary cats—but they're not. Listen to them purring."

What George had imagined was the throbbing of an engine was indeed the purring of the two cats as they whirled round in opposite directions. The witch was riding straight toward the mountains, and the giant with huge strides was keeping close by their side. He nodded to them from time to time, and George waved his hand in reply.

He was really a nice giant, and it was just aswell to keep him cheerful and happy, for it would be very disagreeable to have a flood.

The mountains came nearer and nearer, and George thought he had never seen anything so splendid in all his life. Even the giant looked quite small beside them.

"Are we going right to the top, the very tip-top of that mountain?" asked George, pointing.

The witch did not answer for a moment. Then she turned to him and said: "Sing!"

"What shall I sing?" asked George in surprise, for he only knew some old nursery rhymes, and wasn't quite certain if he could remember the words or not.

"Listen to the music," answered the witch. "That will tell you the words."

True enough, there was music in the air all around them, as if the trees, the water, and the wind were all playing together. George listened, and then, to his surprise, began to sing all about the thoughts which he had been turning over in his mind.

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