had caught the whale. Whatever the real
history of Urashima Taro, it is certain that he lived in the village,
and the legend concerning him is the subject of great interest to
visitors from the great land of America.'

Urashima shut the book with a slam and went away, down to the seashore.
As he went, he realised that those three days he had spent in perfect
happiness with the Princess were not three days at all, but three
hundred years. His parents were long since dead, and all was changed.
What else could he do but go back to the Dragon kingdom under the sea?

But when he reached the shore, he found no tortoise ready to take him
back, and, after waiting a long time, he began to think his case was
hopeless. Then, suddenly, he bethought himself of the little box which
the Princess had given him. He drew it forth and looked at it. He had
promised her not to open it, but what did it matter now? As he did not
care what happened to him, the deadly secret of the box was just as well
out as in. Besides, he might learn something from it, some secret way of
finding his beloved Princess--and that would be happiness; but if, on
the other hand, some terrible thing happened to him, what did it
signify?

So he sat down on the seashore, untied the fastenings of the little box
and then lifted the lid. He was surprised to find that the box was
empty; but, slowly, out of the emptiness came a little thin, purple
cloud which curled up and circled about his head. It was fragrant, and
reminded him of the sweet perfume of the Princess's robes. Now it
floated away towards the open sea and Urashima's soul seemed to go with
it.

Suddenly he stood up, thinking he heard her sweet voice calling him. For
a moment he stood there, a splendid figure of early youth. Then a change
came over him. His eyes grew dim, his hair turned silvery white, lines
came upon his face, and his form seemed to shrivel with extreme old age.

Then Urashima Taro reeled and staggered to and fro. The burden of three
hundred years was too heavy for him. He threw up his arms and fell dead
upon the sand.

THE FIRE BIRD

A RUSSIAN FAIRY TALE

It was a great day when the Prince was born. The King was delighted, and
the Queen nearly went mad with joy. The courtiers, though they hardly
dared dance a Trepak in the palace, could not keep their heels still;
while the guards, the attendants, the little pages and pretty kitchen
maids, drank tea and coffee, glass after