that grotto in the 'Land of Nod' and did not know what tricks
dreams can play. But Little Lasse did not trouble his head with
such things; he gathered together his boats and walked up the
shore back to the house.

His brother and sister ran to meet him, and called out from the
distance, 'Where have you been so long, Lasse? Come home and get
some bread-and-butter.' The kitchen door stood open, and inside
was heard a strange frizzling.

The gardener was near the gate, watering the dill and parsley,
the carrots and parsnips.

'Well,' he said, 'where has Little Lasse been so long?'

Little Lasse straightened himself up stiff, and answered: 'I have
sailed round the world in a pea-shell boat.'

'Oh!' said the gardener.

He has forgotten Dreamland. But you have not forgotten it; you
know that it exists. You know the beautiful grotto and the bright
silver walls whose lustre never fades, the sparkling diamonds
which never grow dim, the music which never ceases its low, soft
murmur through the sweet evening twilight. The airy fairy fancies
of happy Dreamland never grow old; they, like the glorious stars
above us, are always young. Perhaps you have caught a glimpse of
their ethereal wings as they flew around your pillow. Perhaps you
have met the same dream-boy with the blue eyes and the fair hair,
the one who wore the red cap with the silver band and the white