So they cried and cried, the eight little gurrls, And they cried and they cried all day, And when evening came, there was wather enough For to fill up the salt, salt say!

Fluff laughed a little; and presently she said shyly, "I can sing a song too, Mr. Moonman, if you would like to hear it. It is a song about some dogs, and perhaps if you would learn it, you could sing it to your dog when you get home." "Let us have the song, by all means," I said. "My dog is very fond of music, and has himself a powerful voice."

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So Fluffy sang her little song; and in case any of you children should like to sing it for yourselves, I will write down the music as well as the words.

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1. Jippy and Jimmy were two little dogs, They went to sail on some floating logs, The logs roll'd over: the dogs roll'd in, And they got very wet, for their clothes were thin.

2. Jippy and Jimmy crept out again, They said, "the river is full of rain!"

They said, "the water is far from dry,"

Ki-hi! ki-hi! ki-hi-yi! ki-hi!

3. Jippy and Jimmy went shivering home, They said, "on the river no more we'll roam!

And we won't go to sail until we learn how,"

Bow-wow! bow-wow! bow-wow-wow! bow-wow!

"Bravo! Fluff," I said. "That is a good song, and they were sensible little dogs. It is well to be sure about understanding a thing before one attempts it, as Master Nibble would find out, if he were once mounted on this frisky moonbeam, at which he is casting such longing eyes." "It does look so delightful!" sighed Nibble. "But after all, the cloud is delightful too, and I suppose I should be cold if I were not wrapped up in it. How far north are we now, Mr. Moonman?" "Somewhere near the coast of Labrador," I replied. "Little Winds, lower the cloud a bit, that the mice may see the fishing fleet. The fishermen are all asleep, but the boats are a pretty sight, when they can be seen through the fog."

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Lightly and softly the cloud floated downward, and as they descended, the merry Winds blew the wreaths of fog away, so that we could see the bare brown coast, and the hundreds of fishing-smacks lying at anchor.

Lights gleamed at bow and stern. They danced about, as the little vessels rocked gently on the waves, which seemed to be half asleep, singing soft lullabies to each other.

"Ripple blue and ripple green, Foaming crest and silver sheen, Sleep beneath the moon!

Till the daylight comes again, Waking us to restless pain All too soon."

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"Yes," I said, "this is a holiday-time for the waves, and still more for the fish. All day long the poor creatures have a hard time of it, for hundreds and hundreds of skilful and eager fishermen are on the look-out for them. But at night their only enemies are those who live in the water, and I have heard that the whale and the swordfish go to bed at ten o'clock regularly, and never stir from their trundle-beds till six o'clock in the morning. I do not state that as a fact, however, because I am not positively sure about it." "Dear me!" said Brighteyes. "Just fancy a whale in a trundle-bed! how very queer he would look!" "Does he spout when he's asleep?" inquired Fluff anxiously. "Because the bedclothes would get wet, you know, and he would take cold!"

Here, I am sorry to say, the other mice laughed, and Fluffy does not like to be laughed at, so she was silent. Then said one of the seven Winds, "I never saw any of them in bed, but I have seen their races, and very funny they are. They have hurdle-races every Tuesday afternoon, jumping over the fragments of wrecks which are strewn all over the bottom of the sea. They lead a merry life, those whales; what with hurdle-races and fish hunts and spouting matches. If one could not live in the air, the next best thing would be to live in the water, I think.

Hi! yonder is a fleet of icebergs. Look, little Heavyones! that is a sight worth seeing."

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Surely, it was very beautiful, though terrible. My silver beams lighted up the huge ma.s.ses of ice, till they looked like mountains of crystal, moving slowly over the face of the water. The children gazed at them, half frightened, half-admiring, and wrapped themselves more closely in the warm, fleecy cloud. The icebergs formed a huge circle, and midway in it the cloud floated, rocking like an airy vessel as the Winds breathed softly on it. We were all silent for a time: then Brighteyes asked in a half-whisper. "Is this the North Pole, Mr. Moonman?" "Why, no, Brighteyes!" said Puff. "It can't be the Pole, for there isn't any pole for it to be!" "Yes," I said, "that is one way of putting it. We have not reached the North Pole, my mice, and indeed I think we shall hardly go so far to-night, for I see that these icebergs are waiting for the North Wind to blow them home, and that is a sign that he will soon be here. He is a disagreeable fellow, and might be rude to you, so we will fly over to Greenland instead, and see some little friends of mine there. Will that suit you just as well?" "Oh! yes," cried the five voices. "It will be better, for we want to see what the people are like in these strange places." So we floated low till we came to a certain small Esquimaux village on the west of Greenland. "What are all those queer humps of snow on the ground?" asked Fluff. "Oh!" cried Nibble, clapping his hands. "_I_ know! they are houses, for I have seen pictures of them. See! there is smoke coming out of the top of one. And now somebody is coming out of the doorway. Oh! it is a bear, Mr. Moonman! do they have tame bears? And he is brown, and I thought they were all white." "Gently, Nibble!" I said, "your eyes are very sharp usually, but it is shocking that you should not know a boy from a bear. That is Nayato, one of the young friends of whom I spoke just now. There comes his brother Kotc.h.i.n.k, and the small figure creeping out of the next house is Polpo, the friend and playmate of the two other boys. Now they will have fine sport, for this is their play-time, and they are as fond of play as any of you." The five mice leaned over the edge of the cloud as far as they dared, and watched the Esquimaux boys with breathless interest. They were queer little fellows, clad in furs from head to foot, and were fat and oily-looking, as indeed anyone might be who ate blubber three times a day: but otherwise they were apparently much like boys all over the world. They chased each other, and played hide-and-seek behind blocks of ice and snow, and amused themselves in all kinds of ways. Their only playthings were some bones of the seal and walrus, nicely polished, but they seemed to have just as much fun with them as if they had been the finest marbles or the most superlative tops that the world could produce. "How jolly they look!" said Nibble. "I wish I could jump down and play with them! and oh! don't they talk strangely, Brighteyes? 'Wogglety wagglety, chacka-chacka punksky'--what are they saying, Mr. Moonman?" "Nayato is telling Polpo of the narrow escape his father had yesterday," I replied. "It seems that he was out on the flat ice looking out for seals. He had just harpooned a fine fellow, and was just on the point of putting him on his sledge, when he heard a loud snuffling noise behind him; and turning round, saw to his horror a huge white bear, squatting on the ice within a few yards of him, and apparently trying to decide whether the seal or the seal-hunter would make the more savory meal. Wallop, however, (that is the man's name,) had no doubt about the matter. He flung the seal towards his Polar Majesty, and took to his heels, fortunately reaching his reindeer-sledge in time to escape being made the second course of Bruin's dinner. 'Chacka-chacka punksky' means 'I will kill that bear when I am a man.'"

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"Oh! how exciting that must have been!" cried Nibble. "I think I should like to be an Esquimaux, Mr. Moonman! Couldn't you leave me here for a week or two?" "To live in a snow hut, and eat blubber and drink train-oil?" I asked in return. "No, my mouse, I could not, or at least I would not. And that reminds me that we must be flying home again, for morning will soon be here. Blow, little Winds, blow the cloud back as fast as you can."

How the seven little fellows puffed out their cheeks, and flapped their wings! and how the cloud flew through the air! The mice looked back regretfully, but the Esquimaux boys were already out of sight. Southward and still southward we flew, the Winds striving with might and main to keep up with my swift beam. Over land and sea, mountain and valley, forest and meadow, till at last the great linden trees around the Mouse-trap were shaking their heads at us, and the tall chimneys pointed at us, and said, "look at those children! they have been out all night, which is shocking. That vagrant Moonman is teaching them the worst possible habits!"

CHAPTER XI.

A BIRTHDAY PARTY.

"UNCLE JACK!" said Fluff, one morning, as she came and stood by her uncle's side in the porch, while he was reading his newspaper.

"Well, Blossom!" said Uncle Jack, looking up, "what is it? any more murders in the nursery? we shall have to hang all those dolls before long, I am firmly convinced of it."

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"No! no! Uncle Jack," exclaimed Fluff, looking much distressed. "It is nothing about the dolls; and you _know_ that was a waxidental murder, Uncle, and I don't see why you laugh about it." "There! there! little woman," said the good uncle, taking her on his knee and kissing her; "she shall not be teased about her children. But now let me hear quickly what you want to say, Blossom, for I must finish reading my newspaper."

"Well, Uncle," said Fluff, in a confidential tone, "this is Peepsy's birthday, you know, and I want to make some pottery for him. I have made a little, but there is something queer about it, and I want you to help me."

"Stop!" said Uncle Jack, gravely. "Let us understand this thing thoroughly. Peepsy, you say? Peepsy? I don't seem to recall the name. Is she a doll?"

"Oh! _no!_ Uncle Jacket!" cried Fluff. "How could she be a doll when she is a bird? and besides, she isn't she at all; she is he."

"Oh!" said Uncle Jack; "a bird! ah yes! that alters the case. And you want to make some pottery for him, eh? why, what's the matter? have you broken his water-dish, or his bath-tub?"

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Fluffy sighed and looked despondent. Then she said very gently, "Perhaps you are not quite well this morning, Uncle Jack, for I cannot make you possibly understand anything. When I say pottery, I mean pottery with rhymes in it, like the Riginal Poems. Don't you know 'The Lobster's black, when boiled he's red?' that's what I mean."

"To be sure!" said Uncle Jack. "I am certainly very stupid this morning, but now I understand. We are to make some rhymes, (we call it _poetry_, Fluffy dear, not pottery,) about Peepsy, a bird, whose birthday is to be celebrated to-day. And it is to be like the Original Poems for Infant Minds; and you have made part of it, and I am to help you with the rest.

Is that all right, my Blossom?"

"Yes, you clever Uncle!" cried Fluff, clapping her hands. "That is all right, and the paper is all ready in the library, please, dear."

"Oh! you little monkey!" said Uncle Jack, laughing and laying aside his paper. "Well, the sooner it is done the sooner it is done with, as Mrs.

Posset says. So run along, and I will follow you."

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Fluff led the way joyfully to the library, and for some time the two were closeted together, in deep and earnest consultation. At length Fluff came out, looking very happy and proud, waving a paper in her hand. She ran up to the nursery, where Puff and Downy were, busy with the doll family, the remaining members of which were more tenderly cherished than ever, since the deaths of Vashti Ann and her daughter.

Fluff entered in triumph with her paper. "Here is the pottery, Puffy!"

she said. "Uncle Jack says it isn't pottery, but something else; but here it is, anyhow."

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"Oh! how nice!" said Puff. "Sit down and read it to the children and Peepsy, won't you, Fluff?"

So Fluff sat down, and as soon as she had recovered her breath, read as follows: