r him; and
so he woke up and rubbed his eyes.

There he lay in the boat, where he had fallen asleep. The wind had
turned, and the boat had drifted out with one wind and drifted in with
another while Little Lasse slept, and what Lasse thought was frizzling
in a frying-pan was the low murmur of the waves as they washed against
the stones on the shore. But he was not altogether wrong, for the clear
blue sea is like a great pan in which God's sun all day makes cakes for
good children.

Little Lasse rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and looked around him.
Everything was the same as before; the crow in the birch tree, the cat
on the grass, and the pea-shell fleet on the shore. Some of the ships
had foundered, and some had drifted back to land. _Hercules_ had come
back with its cargo from Asia, _The Flea_ had arrived from Polynesia,
and the other parts of the world were just where they were before.

Little Lasse did not know what to think. He had so often been in 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_ had 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 coat with pearls on the collar. Perhaps he has taken you to
see all the countries of the world and the peopl