d his eyes danced and whizzed, for
the circling windmills made him dizzy. Closer and closer came the
windmill man, and held up his big fan to the little boy in the window of
the Ambassador's house. Only a pane of glass between the boy and the
windmills. They slid round before his eyes in rapidly revolving
splendour. There were wheels and wheels of colours--big, little,
thick, thin--all one clear, perfect spin. The windmill vendor dipped
and raised them again, and the little boy's face was glued to the
window-pane. Oh! What a glorious, wonderful plaything! Rings and rings
of windy colour always moving! How had any one ever preferred those
other toys which never stirred. "Nursie, come quickly. Look! I want a
windmill. See! It is never still. You will buy me one, won't you? I
want that silver one, with the big ring of blue."

So a servant was sent to buy that one: silver, ringed with blue, and
smartly it twirled about in the servant's hands as he stood a moment to
pay the vendor. Then he entered the house, and in another minute he was
standing in the nursery door, with some crumpled paper on the end of a
stick which he held out to the little boy. "But I wanted a windmill
which went round," cried the little boy. "That is the one you asked
for, Master Charles," Nursie was a bit impatient, she had mending to do.
"See, it is silver, and here is the blue." "But it is only a blue
streak," sobbed the little boy. "I wanted a blue ring, and this silver
doesn't sparkle." "Well, Master Charles, that is what you wanted, now
run away and play with it, for I am very busy."

The little boy hid his tears against the friendly window-pane. On the
floor lay the motionless, crumpled bit of paper on the end of its stick.
But far away across the square was the windmill vendor, with his big
wheel of whirring splendour. It spun round in a blaze like a whirling
rainbow, and the sun gleamed upon it, and the wind whipped it, until it
seemed a maze of spattering diamonds. "Cocorico!" crowed the golden
cock on the top of the 'Stadhuis'. "That is something worth crowing
for." But the little boy did not hear him, he was sobbing over the
crumpled bit of paper on the floor.

The Red Lacquer Music-Stand

A music-stand of crimson lacquer, long since brought
In some fast clipper-ship from China, quaintly wrought
With bossed and carven flowers and fruits in blackening gold,
The slender shaft all twined about a