“That's where I live,” said the sack-backed squirrel,

            And he turned his sack with a swing and a swirl.

            Said the cock of the spire, “His father's churchwarden.”

             Said the brook running faster, “I run through his garden.”

            Said the mole, “Two hundred worms--there I caught 'em

            Last year, and I'm going again next autumn.”

            Said they all, “If that's where you want us to steer for,

            What in earth or in water did you bring us here for?”

            “Never you mind,” said Little Boy Blue;

            “That's what I tell you.  If that you won't do,

            “I'll get up at once, and go home without you.

            I think I will; I begin to doubt you.”

            He rose; and up rose the snake on its tail,

            And hissed three times, half a hiss, half a wail.

            Little Boy Blue he tried to go past him;

            But wherever he turned, sat the snake and faced him.

            “If you don't get out of my way,” he said,

            “I tell you, snake, I will break your head.”

            The snake he neither would go nor come;

            So he hit him hard with the stick of his drum.

            The snake fell down as if he were dead,

            And Little Boy Blue set his foot on his head.

            And all the creatures they marched before him,

            And marshalled him home with a high cockolorum.

            And Birdie Brown sang Twirrrr twitter twirrrr twee--

            Apples and cherries, roses and honey;

            Little Boy Blue has listened to me--

            All so jolly and funny.

DIAMOND managed with many blunders to read this rhyme to his mother.

“Isn't it nice, mother?” he said.

“Yes, it's pretty,” she answered.

“I think it means something,” returned Diamond.

“I'm sure I don't know what,” she said.

“I wonder if it's the same boy--yes, it must be the same--Little Boy

Blue, you know. Let me see--how does that rhyme go?

Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn--

Yes, of course it is--for this one went `blowing his horn and beating

his drum.' He had a drum too.

            Little Boy Blue, come blow me your horn;

            The sheep's in the meadow, the cow's in the corn,

He had to keep them out, you know. But he wasn't minding his work. It

goes--

            Where's the little boy that looks after the sheep?

            He's under the haystack, fast asleep.

There, you see, mother! And then, let me see--

            Who'll go and wake him?  No, not I;

            For if I do, he'll be sure to cry.

So I suppose nobody did wake him. He was a rather cross little boy,

I daresay, when woke up. And when he did wake of himself, and saw the

mischief the cow had done to the corn, instead of running home to his

mother, he ran away into the wood and lost himself. Don't you think

that's very likely, mother?”

“I shouldn't wonder,” she answered.

“So you see he was naughty; for even when he lost himself he did not

want to go home. Any of the creatures would have shown him the way if he

had asked it--all but the snake. He followed the snake, you know, and he

took him farther away. I suppose it was a young one of the same serpent

that tempted Adam and Eve. Father was telling us about it last Sunday,

you remember.”

“Bless the child!” said his mother to herself; and then added aloud,

finding that Diamond did not go on, “Well, what next?”

“I don't know, mother. I'm sure there's a great deal more, but what it

is I can't say. I only know that he killed the snake. I suppose that's

what he had a drumstick for. He couldn't do it with his horn.”

“But surely you're not such a silly as to take it all for true,

Diamond?”

“I think it must be. It looks true. That killing of the snake looks

true. It's what I've got to do so often.”

His mother looked uneasy. Diamond smiled full in her face, and added--

“When baby cries and won't be happy, and when father and you talk about

your troubles, I mean.”

This did little to reassure his mother; and lest my reader should have

his qualms about it too, I venture to remind him once more that Diamond

had been to the back of the north wind.

Finding she made no reply, Diamond went on--

“In a week or so, I shall be able to go to the tall gentleman and tell

him I can read. And I'll ask him if he can help me to understand the

rhyme.”

But before the week was out, he had another reason for going to Mr.

Raymond.

For three days, on each of which, at one time or other, Diamond's father

was on the same stand near the National Gallery, the girl was not at her

crossing, and Diamond got quite anxious about her, fearing she must be

ill. On the fourth day, not seeing her yet, he said to his father, who

had that moment shut the door of his cab upon a fare--

“Father, I want to go and look after the girl, She can't be well.”

“All right,” said his father. “Only take care of yourself, Diamond.”

So saying he climbed on his box and drove off.

He had great confidence in his boy, you see, and would trust him

anywhere. But if he had known the kind of place in which the girl lived,

he would perhaps have thought twice before he allowed him to go alone.

Diamond, who did know something of it, had not, however, any fear. From

talking to the girl he had a good notion of where about it was, and he

remembered the address well enough; so by asking his way some twenty

times, mostly of policemen, he came at length pretty near the place. The

last policeman he questioned looked down upon him from the summit of six

feet two inches, and replied with another question, but kindly:

“What do you want there, my small kid? It ain't where you was bred, I

guess.”

“No sir” answered Diamond. “I live in Bloomsbury.”

“That's a long way off,” said the policeman.

“Yes, it's a good distance,” answered Diamond; “but I find my way about

pretty well. Policemen are always kind to me.”

“But what on earth do you want here?”

Diamond told him plainly what he was about, and of course the man

believed him, for nobody ever disbelieved Diamond. People might think he

was mistaken, but they never thought he was telling a story.

“It's an ugly place,” said the policeman.

“Is it far off?” asked Diamond.

“No. It's next door almost. But it's not safe.”

“Nobody hurts me,” said Diamond.

“I must go with you, I suppose.”

“Oh, no! please not,” said Diamond. “They might think I was going to

meddle with them, and I ain't, you know.”

“Well, do as you please,” said the man, and gave him full directions.

Diamond set off, never suspecting that the policeman, who was a

kind-hearted man, with children of his own, was following him close, and

watching him round every corner. As he went on, all at once he thought

he remembered the place, and whether it really was so, or only that

he had laid up the policeman's instructions well in his mind, he went

straight for the cellar of old Sal.

“He's a sharp little kid, anyhow, for as simple as he looks,” said the

man to himself. “Not a wrong turn does he take! But old Sal's a rum un

for such a child to pay a morning visit to. She's worse when she's sober

than when she's half drunk. I've seen her when she'd have torn him in