but what became of little tom?

he slipped away off the rocks into the water, as i said before. but he could not help thinking of little ellie. he did not remember who she was; but he knew that she was a little girl, though she was a hundred times as big as he. that is not surprising: size has nothing to do with kindred. a tiny weed may be first cousin to a great tree; and a little dog like vick knows that lioness is a dog too, though she is twenty times larger than herself. so tom knew that ellie was a little girl, and thought about her all that day, and longed to have had her to play with; but he had very soon to think of something else. and here is the account of what happened to him, as it was published next morning in the waterproof gazette, on the finest watered paper, for the use of the great fairy, mrs. bedonebyasyoudid, who reads the news very carefully every morning, and especially the police cases, as you will hear very soon.

he was going along the rocks in three-fathom water, watching the pollock catch prawns, and the wrasses nibble barnacles off the rocks, shells and all, when he saw a round cage of green withes; and inside it, looking very much ashamed of himself, sat his friend the lobster, twiddling his horns, instead of thumbs.

"what, have you been naughty, and have they put you in the lock-up?" asked tom.

the lobster felt a little indignant at such a notion, but he was too much depressed in spirits to argue; so he only said, "i can't get out."

"why did you get in?"

"after that nasty piece of dead fish." he had thought it looked and smelt very nice when he was outside, and so it did, for a lobster: but now he turned round and abused it because he was angry with himself.

"where did you get in?"

"through that round hole at the top."

"then why don't you get out through it?"

"because i can't:" and the lobster twiddled his horns more fiercely than ever, but he was forced to confess.

"i have jumped upwards, downwards, backwards, and sideways, at least four thousand times; and i can't get out: i always get up underneath there, and can't find the hole."

tom looked at the trap, and having more wit than the lobster, he saw plainly enough what was the matter; as you may if you will look at a lobster-pot.

"stop a bit," said tom. "turn your tail up to me, and i'll pull you through hind-foremost, and then you won't stick in the spikes."

but the lobster was so stupid and clumsy that he couldn't hit the hole.

tom reached and clawed down the hole after him, till he caught hold of him; and then, as was to be expected, the clumsy lobster pulled him in head foremost.

"hullo! here is a pretty business," said tom. "now take your great claws, and break the points off those spikes, and then we shall both get out easily."

"dear me, i never thought of that," said the lobster; "and after all the experience of life that i have had!"

you see, experience is of very little good unless a man, or a lobster, has wit enough to make use of it. for a good many people, like old polonius, have seen all the world, and yet remain little better than children after all.

but they had not got half the spikes away when they saw a great dark cloud over them: and lo, and behold, it was the otter.

how she did grin and grin when she saw tom. "yar!" said she, "you little meddlesome wretch, i have you now! i will serve you out for telling the salmon where i was!" and she crawled all over the pot to get in.

tom was horribly frightened, and still more frightened when she found the hole in the top, and squeezed herself right down through it, all eyes and teeth. but no sooner was her head inside than valiant mr. lobster caught her by the nose and held on.

and there they were all three in the pot, rolling over and over, and very tight packing it was. and the lobster tore at the otter, and the otter tore at the lobster, and both squeezed and thumped poor tom till he had no breath left in his body; and i don't know what would have happened to him if he had not at last got on the otter's back, and safe out of the hole.

he was right glad when he got out: but he would not desert his friend who had saved him; and the first time he saw his tail uppermost he caught hold of it, and pulled with all his might.

but the lobster would not let go.

"come along," said tom; "don't you see she is dead?" and so she was, quite drowned and dead.

and that was the end of the wicked otter.

but the lobster would not let go.

"come along, you stupid old stick-in-the-mud," cried tom, "or the fisherman will catch you!" and that was true, for tom felt some one above beginning to haul up the pot.

but the lobster would not let go.

tom saw the fisherman haul him up to the boat-side, and thought it was all up with him. but when mr. lobster saw the fisherman, he gave such a furious and tremendous snap, that he snapped out of his hand, and out of the pot, and safe into the sea. but he left his knobbed claw behind him; for it never came into his stupid head to let go after all, so he just shook his claw off as the easier method.

tom asked the lobster why he never thought of letting go. he said very determinedly that it was a point of honour among lobsters. and so it is, as the mayor of plymouth found out once to his cost—eight or nine hundred years ago, of course; for if it had happened lately it would be personal to mention it.

for one day he was so tired with sitting on a hard chair, in a grand furred gown, with a gold chain round his neck, hearing one policeman after another come in and sing, "what shall we do with the drunken sailor, so early in the morning?" and answering them each exactly alike:

"put him in the round house till he gets sober, so early in the morning"—

that, when it was over, he jumped up, and played leap-frog with the town-clerk till he burst his buttons, and then had his luncheon, and burst some more buttons, and then said: "it is a low spring-tide; i shall go out this afternoon and cut my capers."

now he did not mean to cut such capers as you eat with boiled mutton. it was the commandant of artillery at valetta who used to amuse himself with cutting them, and who stuck upon one of the bastions a notice, "no one allowed to cut capers here but me," which greatly edified the midshipmen in port, and the maltese on the nix mangiare stairs. but all that the mayor meant was that he would go and have an afternoon's fun, like any schoolboy, and catch lobsters with an iron hook.

so to the mewstone he went, and for lobsters he looked. and when he came to a certain crack in the rocks he was so excited that, instead of putting in his hook, he put in his hand; and mr. lobster was at home, and caught him by the finger, and held on.

"yah!" said the mayor, and pulled as hard as he dared: but the more he pulled, the more the lobster pinched, till he was forced to be quiet.

then he tried to get his hook in with his other hand; but the hole was too narrow.

then he pulled again; but he could not stand the pain.

then he shouted and bawled for help: but there was no one nearer him than the men-of-war inside the breakwater.

then he began to turn a little pale; for the tide flowed, and still the lobster held on.

then he turned quite white; for the tide was up to his knees, and still the lobster held on.

then he thought of cutting off his finger; but he wanted two things to do it with—courage and a knife; and he had got neither.

then he turned quite yellow; for the tide was up to his waist, and still the lobster held on.

then he thought over all the naughty things he ever had done; all the sand which he had put in the sugar, and the sloe-leaves in the tea, and the water in the treacle, and the salt in the tobacco (because his brother was a brewer, and a man must help his own kin).

then he turned quite blue; for the tide was up to his breast, and still the lobster held on.

then, i have no doubt, he repented fully of all the said naughty things which he had done, and promised to mend his life, as too many do when they think they have no life left to mend. whereby, as they fancy, they make a very cheap bargain. but the old fairy with the birch rod soon undeceives them.

and then he grew all colours at once, and turned up his eyes like a duck in thunder; for the water was up to his chin, and still the lobster held on.

and then came a man-of-war's boat round the mewstone, and saw his head sticking up out of the water. one said it was a keg of brandy, and another that it was a cocoanut, and another that it was a buoy loose, and another that it was a black diver, and wanted to fire at it, which would not have been pleasant for the mayor: but just then such a yell came out of a great hole in the middle of it that the midshipman in charge guessed what it was, and bade pull up to it as fast as they could. so somehow or other the jacktars got the lobster out, and set the mayor free, and put him ashore at the barbican. he never went lobster-catching again; and we will hope he put no more salt in the tobacco, not even to sell his brother's beer.

and that is the story of the mayor of plymouth, which has two advantages—first, that of being quite true; and second, that of having (as folks say all good stories ought to have) no moral whatsoever: no more, indeed, has any part of this book, because it is a fairy tale, you know.

and now happened to tom a most wonderful thing; for he had not left the lobster five minutes before he came upon a water-baby.

a real live water-baby, sitting on the white sand, very busy about a little point of rock. and when it saw tom it looked up for a moment, and then cried, "why, you are not one of us. you are a new baby! oh, how delightful!"

and it ran to tom, and tom ran to it, and they hugged and kissed each other for ever so long, they did not know why. but they did not want any introductions there under the water.

at last tom said, "oh, where have you been all this while? i have been looking for you so long, and i have been so lonely."

"we have been here for days and days. there are hundreds of us about the rocks. how was it you did not see us, or hear us when we sing and romp every evening before we go home?"

tom looked at the baby again, and then he said:

"well, this is wonderful! i have seen things just like you again and again, but i thought you were shells, or sea-creatures. i never took you for water-babies like myself."

now, was not that very odd? so odd, indeed, that you will, no doubt, want to know how it happened, and why tom could never find a water-baby till after he had got the lobster out of the pot. and, if you will read this story nine times over, and then think for yourself, you will find out why. it is not good for little boys to be told everything, and never to be forced to use their own wits.

"now," said the baby, "come and help me, or i shall not have finished before my brothers and sisters come, and it is time to go home."

"what shall i help you at?"

"at this poor dear little rock; a great clumsy boulder came rolling by in the last storm, and knocked all its head off, and rubbed off all its flowers. and now i must plant it again with seaweeds, and coralline, and anemones, and i will make it the prettiest little rock-garden on all the shore."

so they worked away at the rock, and planted it, and smoothed the sand down round it, and capital fun they had till the tide began to turn. and then tom heard all the other babies coming, laughing and singing and shouting and romping; and the noise they made was just like the noise of the ripple. so he knew that he had been hearing and seeing the water-babies all along; only he did not know them, because his eyes and ears were not opened.

and in they came, dozens and dozens of them, some bigger than tom and some smaller, all in the neatest little white bathing dresses; and when they found that he was a new baby, they hugged him and kissed him, and then put him in the middle and danced round him on the sand, and there was no one ever so happy as poor little tom.

"now then," they cried all at once, "we must come away home, we must come away home, or the tide will leave us dry. we have mended all the broken seaweed, and put all the rock-pools in order, and planted all the shells again in the sand, and nobody will see where the ugly storm swept in last week."

and this is the reason why the rock-pools are always so neat and clean; because the water-babies come inshore after every storm to sweep them out, and comb them down, and put them all to rights again.

only where men are wasteful and dirty, and let sewers run into the sea instead of putting the stuff upon the fields like thrifty reasonable souls; or throw herrings' heads and dead dog-fish, or any other refuse, into the water; or in any way make a mess upon the clean shore—there the water-babies will not come, sometimes not for hundreds of years (for they cannot abide anything smelly or foul), but leave the sea-anemones and the crabs to clear away everything, till the good tidy sea has covered up all the dirt in soft mud and clean sand, where the water-babies can plant live cockles and whelks and razor-shells and sea-cucumbers and golden-combs, and make a pretty live garden again, after man's dirt is cleared away. and that, i suppose, is the reason why there are no water-babies at any watering-place which i have ever seen.

and where is the home of the water-babies? in st. brandan's fairy isle.

did you never hear of the blessed st. brandan, how he preached to the wild irish on the wild, wild kerry coast, he and five other hermits, till they were weary and longed to rest? for the wild irish would not listen to them, or come to confession and to mass, but liked better to brew potheen, and dance the pater o'pee, and knock each other over the head with shillelaghs, and shoot each other from behind turf-dykes, and steal each other's cattle, and burn each other's homes; till st. brandan and his friends were weary of them, for they would not learn to be peaceable christians at all.

so st. brandan went out to the point of old dunmore, and looked over the tide-way roaring round the blasquets, at the end of all the world, and away into the ocean, and sighed—"ah that i had wings as a dove!" and far away, before the setting sun, he saw a blue fairy sea, and golden fairy islands, and he said, "those are the islands of the blest." then he and his friends got into a hooker, and sailed away and away to the westward, and were never heard of more. but the people who would not hear him were[142] changed into gorillas, and gorillas they are until this day.

sitting on a mushroom

and when st. brandan and the hermits came to that fairy isle they found it overgrown with cedars and full of beautiful birds; and he sat down under the cedars and preached to all the birds in the air. and they liked his sermons so well that they told the fishes in the sea; and they came, and st. brandan preached to them; and the fishes told the water-babies, who live in the caves under the isle; and they came up by hundreds every sunday, and st. brandan got quite a neat little sunday-school. and there he taught the water-babies for a great many hundred years, till his eyes grew too dim to see, and his beard grew so long that he dared not walk for fear of treading on it, and then he might have tumbled down. and at last he and the five hermits fell fast asleep under the cedar-shades, and there they sleep unto this day. but the fairies took to the water-babies, and taught them their lessons themselves.

and some say that st. brandan will awake and begin to teach the babies once more: but some think that he will sleep on, for better for worse, till the coming of the cocqcigrues. but, on still clear summer evenings, when the sun sinks down into the sea, among golden cloud-capes and cloud-islands, and locks and friths of azure sky, the sailors fancy that they see, away to westward, st. brandan's fairy isle.

but whether men can see it or not, st. brandan's isle once actually stood there; a great land out in the ocean, which has sunk and sunk beneath the waves. old plato called it atlantis, and told strange tales of the wise men who lived therein, and of the wars they fought in the old times. and from off that island came strange flowers, which linger still about this land:—the cornish heath, and cornish moneywort, and the delicate venus's hair, and the london-pride which covers the kerry mountains, and the little pink butterwort of devon, and the great blue butterwort of ireland, and the connemara heath, and the bristle-fern of the turk waterfall, and many a strange plant more; all fairy tokens left for wise men and good children from off st. brandan's isle.

now when tom got there, he found that the isle stood all on pillars, and that its roots were full of caves. there were pillars of black basalt, like staffa; and pillars of green and crimson serpentine, like kynance; and pillars ribboned with red and white and yellow sandstone, like livermead; and there were blue grottoes like capri, and white grottoes like adelsberg; all curtained and draped with seaweeds, purple and crimson, green and brown; and strewn with soft white sand, on which the water-babies sleep every night. but, to keep the place clean and sweet, the crabs picked up all the scraps off the floor and ate them like so many monkeys; while the rocks were covered with ten thousand sea-anemones, and corals and madrepores, who scavenged the water all day long, and kept it nice and pure. but, to make up to them for having to do such nasty work, they were not left black and dirty, as poor chimney-sweeps and dustmen are. no; the fairies are more considerate and just than that, and have dressed them all in the most beautiful colours and patterns, till they look like vast flower-beds of gay blossoms. if you think i am talking nonsense, i can only say that it is true; and that an old gentleman named fourier used to say that we ought to do the same by chimney-sweeps and dustmen, and honour them instead of despising them; and he was a very clever old gentleman: but, unfortunately for him and the world, as mad as a march hare.

and, instead of watchmen and policemen to keep out nasty things at night, there were thousands and thousands of water-snakes, and most wonderful creatures they were. they were all named after the nereids, the sea-fairies who took care of them, eunice and polynoe, phyllodoce and psamathe, and all the rest of the pretty darlings who swim round their queen amphitrite, and her car of cameo shell. they were dressed in green velvet, and black velvet, and purple velvet; and were all jointed in rings; and some of them had three hundred brains apiece, so that they must have been uncommonly shrewd detectives; and some had eyes in their tails; and some had eyes in every joint, so that they kept a very sharp look-out; and when they wanted a baby-snake, they just grew one at the end of their own tails, and when it was able to take care of itself it dropped off; so that they brought up their families very cheaply. but if any nasty thing came by, out they rushed upon it; and then out of each of their hundreds of feet there sprang a whole cutler's shop of

scythes, javelins,

billhooks, lances,

pickaxes, halberts,

forks, gisarines,

penknives, poleaxes,

rapiers, fishhooks,

sabres, bradawls,

yataghans, gimlets,

creeses, corkscrews,

ghoorka swords, pins,

tucks, needles,

and so forth

which stabbed, shot, poked, pricked, scratched, ripped, pinked, and crimped those naughty beasts so terribly that they had to run for their lives, or else be chopped into small pieces and be eaten afterwards. and, if that is not all, every word, true, then there is no faith in microscopes, and all is over with the linnæan society.

and there were the water-babies in thousands, more than tom, or you either, could count.—all the little children whom the good fairies take to, because their cruel mothers and fathers will not; all who are untaught and brought up heathens, and all who come to grief by ill-usage or ignorance or neglect; all the little children who are overlaid, or given gin when they are young, or are let to drink out of hot kettles, or to fall into the fire; all the little children in alleys and courts, and tumble-down cottages, who die by fever, and cholera, and measles, and scarlatina, and nasty complaints which no one has any business to have, and which no one will have some day, when folks have common sense; and all the little children who have been killed by cruel masters and wicked soldiers; they were all there, except, of course, the babes of bethlehem who were killed by wicked king herod; for they were taken straight to heaven long ago, as everybody knows, and we call them the holy innocents.

but i wish tom had given up all his naughty tricks, and left off tormenting dumb animals now that he had plenty of playfellows to amuse him. instead of that, i am sorry to say, he would meddle with the creatures, all but the water-snakes, for they would stand no nonsense. so he tickled the madrepores, to make them shut up; and frightened the crabs, to make them hide in the sand and peep out at him with the tips of their eyes; and put stones into the anemones' mouths, to make them fancy that their dinner was coming.

the other children warned him, and said, "take care what you are at. mrs. bedonebyasyoudid is coming." but tom never heeded them, being quite riotous with high spirits and good luck, till, one friday morning early, mrs. bedonebyasyoudid came indeed.

a very tremendous lady she was; and when the children saw her they all stood in a row, very upright indeed, and smoothed down their bathing dresses, and put their hands behind them, just as if they were going to be examined by the inspector.

and she had on a black bonnet, and a black shawl, and no crinoline at all; and a pair of large green spectacles, and a great hooked nose, hooked so much that the bridge of it stood quite up above her eyebrows; and under her arm she carried a great birch-rod. indeed, she was so ugly that tom was tempted to make faces at her: but did not; for he did not admire the look of the birch-rod under her arm.

and she looked at the children one by one, and seemed very much pleased with them, though she never asked them one question about how they were behaving; and then began giving them all sorts of nice sea-things—sea-cakes, sea-apples, sea-oranges, sea-bullseyes, sea-toffee; and to the very best of all she gave sea-ices, made out of sea-cows' cream, which never melt under water.

and, if you don't quite believe me, then just think—what is more cheap and plentiful than sea-rock? then why should there not be sea-toffee as well? and every one can find sea-lemons (ready quartered too) if they will look for them at low tide: and sea-grapes too sometimes, hanging in bunches; and, if you will go to nice, you will find the fish-market full of sea-fruit, which they call "frutta di mare." and, perhaps, that is the very reason why the place is called nice, because there are so many nice things in the sea there: at least, if it is not, it ought to be.

now little tom watched all these sweet things given away, till his mouth watered, and his eyes grew as round as an owl's. for he hoped that his turn would come at last; and so it did. for the lady called him up, and held out her fingers with something in them, and popped it into his mouth; and, lo and behold, it was a nasty cold hard pebble.

"you are a very cruel woman," said he, and began to whimper.

"and you are a very cruel boy; who puts pebbles into the sea-anemones' mouths, to take them in, and make them fancy that they had caught a good dinner! as you did to them, so i must do to you."

"who told you that?" said tom.

"you did yourself, this very minute."

tom had never opened his lips; so he was very much taken aback indeed.

"yes; every one tells me exactly what they have done wrong; and that without knowing it themselves. so there is no use trying to hide anything from me. now go, and be a good boy, and i will put no more pebbles in your mouth, if you put none in other creatures'."

"i did not know there was any harm in it," said tom.

"then you know now. people continually say that to me: but i tell them, if you don't know that fire burns, that is no reason that it should not burn you; and if you don't know that dirt breeds fever, that is no reason why the fevers should not kill you. the lobster did not know that there was any harm in getting into the lobster-pot; but it caught him all the same."

"dear me," thought tom, "she knows everything!" and so she did, indeed.

"and so, if you do not know that things are wrong, that is no reason why you should not be punished for them; though not as much, not as much, my little man" (and the lady looked very kindly, after all), "as if you did know."

"well, you are a little hard on a poor lad," said tom.

"not at all; i am the best friend you ever had in all your life. but i will tell you; i cannot help punishing people when they do wrong. i like it no more than they do; i am often very, very sorry for them, poor things: but i cannot help it. if i tried not to do it, i should do it all the same. for i work by machinery, just like an engine; and am full of wheels and springs inside; and am wound up very carefully, so that i cannot help going."

"was it long ago since they wound you up?" asked tom. for he thought, the cunning little fellow, "she will run down some day: or they may forget to wind her up, as old grimes used to forget to wind up his watch when he came in from the public-house; and then i shall be safe."

"i was wound up once and for all, so long ago, that i forget all about it."

"dear me," said tom, "you must have been made a long time!"

"i never was made, my child; and i shall go for ever and ever; for i am as old as eternity, and yet as young as time."

and there came over the lady's face a very curious expression—very solemn, and very sad; and yet very, very sweet. and she looked up and away, as if she were gazing through the sea, and through the sky, at something far, far off; and as she did so, there came such a quiet, tender, patient, hopeful smile over her face that tom thought for the moment that she did not look ugly at all. and no more she did; for she was like a great many people who have not a pretty feature in their faces, and yet are lovely to behold, and draw little children's hearts to them at once; because though the house is plain enough, yet from the windows a beautiful and good spirit is looking forth.

and tom smiled in her face, she looked so pleasant for the moment. and the strange fairy smiled too and said:

"yes. you thought me very ugly just now, did you not?"

tom hung down his head, and got very red about the ears.

"and i am very ugly. i am the ugliest fairy in the world; and i shall be, till people behave themselves as they ought to do. and then i shall grow as handsome as my sister, who is the loveliest fairy in the world; and her name is mrs. doasyouwouldbedoneby. so she begins where i end, and i begin where she ends; and those who will not listen to her must listen to me, as you will see. now, all of you run away, except tom; and he may stay and see what i am going to do. it will be a very good warning for him to begin with, before he goes to school.

"now, tom, every friday i come down here and call up all who have ill-used little children and serve them as they served the children."

and at that tom was frightened, and crept under a stone; which made the two crabs who lived there very angry, and frightened their friend the butter-fish into flapping hysterics: but he would not move for them.

and first she called up all the doctors who give little children so much physic (they were most of them old ones; for the young ones have learnt better, all but a few army surgeons, who still fancy that a baby's inside is much like a scotch grenadier's), and she set them all in a row; and very rueful they looked; for they knew what was coming.

and first she pulled all their teeth out; and then she bled them all round: and then she dosed them with calomel, and jalap, and salts and senna, and brimstone and treacle; and horrible faces they made; and then she gave them a great emetic of mustard and water, and no basons; and began all over again; and that was the way she spent the morning.

and then she called up a whole troop of foolish ladies, who pinch up their children's waists and toes; and she laced them all up in tight stays, so that they were choked and sick, and their noses grew red, and their hands and feet swelled; and then she crammed their poor feet into the most dreadfully tight boots, and made them all dance, which they did most clumsily indeed; and then she asked them how they liked it; and when they said not at all, she let them go: because they had only done it out of foolish fashion, fancying it was for their children's good, as if wasps' waists and pigs' toes could be pretty, or wholesome, or of any use to anybody.

then she called up all the careless nurserymaids, and stuck pins into them all over, and wheeled them about in perambulators with tight straps across their stomachs and their heads and arms hanging over the side, till they were quite sick and stupid, and would have had sun-strokes: but, being under the water, they could only have water-strokes; which, i assure you, are nearly as bad, as you will find if you try to sit under a mill-wheel. and mind—when you hear a rumbling at the bottom of the sea, sailors will tell you that it is a ground-swell: but now you know better. it is the old lady wheeling the maids about in perambulators.

and by that time she was so tired, she had to go to luncheon.

and after luncheon she set to work again, and called up all the cruel schoolmasters—whole regiments and brigades of them; and when she saw them, she frowned most terribly, and set to work in earnest, as if the best part of the day's work was to come. more than half of them were nasty, dirty, frowzy, grubby, smelly old monks, who, because they dare not hit a man of their own size, amused themselves with beating little children instead; as you may see in the picture of old pope gregory (good man and true though he was, when he meddled with things which he did understand), teaching children to sing their fa-fa-mi-fa with a cat-o'-nine tails under his chair: but, because they never had any children of their own, they took into their heads (as some folks do still) that they were the only people in the world who knew how to manage children: and they first brought into england, in the old anglo-saxon times, the fashion of treating free boys, and girls too, worse than you would treat a dog or a horse: but mrs. bedonebyasyoudid has caught them all long ago; and given them many a taste of their own rods; and much good may it do them.

and she boxed their ears, and thumped them over the head with rulers, and pandied their hands with canes, and told them that they told stories, and were this and that bad sort of people; and the more they were very indignant, and stood upon their honour, and declared they told the truth, the more she declared they were not, and that they were only telling lies; and at last she birched them all round soundly with her great birch-rod and set them each an imposition of three hundred thousand lines of hebrew to learn by heart before she came back next friday. and at that they all cried and howled so, that their breaths came all up through the sea like bubbles out of soda-water; and that is one reason of the bubbles in the sea. there are others: but that is the one which principally concerns little boys. and by that time she was so tired that she was glad to stop; and, indeed, she had done a very good day's work.

baby and eel

tom did not quite dislike the old lady: but he could not help thinking her a little spiteful—and no wonder if she was, poor old soul; for if she has to wait to grow handsome till people do as they would be done by, she will have to wait a very long time.

poor old mrs. bedonebyasyoudid! she has a great deal of hard work before her, and had better have been born a washerwoman, and stood over a tub all day: but, you see, people cannot always choose their own profession.

but tom longed to ask her one question; and after all, whenever she looked at him, she did not look cross at all; and now and then there was a funny smile in her face, and she chuckled to herself in a way which gave tom courage, and at last he said: "pray, ma'am, may i ask you a question?"

"certainly, my little dear."

"why don't you bring all the bad masters here and serve them out too? the butties that knock about the poor collier-boys; and the nailers that file off their lads' noses and hammer their fingers; and all the master sweeps, like my master grimes? i saw him fall into the water long ago; so i surely expected he would have been here. i'm sure he was bad enough to me."

then the old lady looked so very stern that tom was quite frightened, and sorry that he had been so bold. but she was not angry with him. she only answered, "i look after them all the week round; and they are in a very different place from this, because they knew that they were doing wrong."

she spoke very quietly; but there was something in her voice which made tom tingle from head to foot, as if he had got into a shoal of sea-nettles.

"but these people," she went on, "did not know that they were doing wrong: they were only stupid and impatient; and therefore i only punish them till they become patient, and learn to use their common sense like reasonable beings. but as for chimney-sweeps, and collier-boys, and nailer lads, my sister has set good people to stop all that sort of thing; and very much obliged to her i am; for if she could only stop the cruel masters from ill-using poor children, i should grow handsome at least a thousand years sooner. and now do you be a good boy, and do as you would be done by, which they did not; and then, when my sister, madame doasyouwouldbedoneby, comes on sunday, perhaps she will take notice of you, and teach you how to behave. she understands that better than i do." and so she went.

tom was very glad to hear that there was no chance of meeting grimes again, though he was a little sorry for him, considering that he used sometimes to give him the leavings of the beer: but he determined to be a very good boy all saturday; and he was; for he never frightened one crab, nor tickled any live corals, nor put stones into the sea anemones' mouths, to make them fancy they had got a dinner; and when sunday morning came, sure enough, mrs. doasyouwouldbedoneby came too. whereat all the little children began dancing and clapping their hands, and tom danced too with all his might.

and as for the pretty lady, i cannot tell you what the colour of her hair was, or of her eyes: no more could tom; for, when any one looks at her, all they can think of is, that she has the sweetest, kindest, tenderest, funniest, merriest face they ever saw, or want to see. but tom saw that she was a very tall woman, as tall as her sister: but instead of being gnarly and horny, and scaly, and prickly, like her, she was the most nice, soft, fat, smooth, pussy, cuddly, delicious creature who ever nursed a baby; and she understood babies thoroughly, for she had plenty of her own, whole rows and regiments of them, and has to this day. and all her delight was, whenever she had a spare moment, to play with babies, in which she showed herself a woman of sense; for babies are the best company, and the pleasantest playfellows, in the world; at least, so all the wise people in the world think. and therefore when the children saw her, they naturally all caught hold of her, and pulled her till she sat down on a stone, and climbed into her lap, and clung round her neck, and caught hold of her hands; and then they all put their thumbs into their mouths, and began cuddling and purring like so many kittens, as they ought to have done. while those who could get nowhere else sat down on the sand, and cuddled her feet—for no one, you know, wears shoes in the water, except horrid old bathing-women, who are afraid of the water-babies pinching their horny toes. and tom stood staring at them; for he could not understand what it was all about.

"and who are you, you little darling?" she said.

"oh, that is the new baby!" they all cried, pulling their thumbs out of their mouths; "and he never had any mother," and they all put their thumbs back again, for they did not wish to lose any time.

"then i will be his mother, and he shall have the very best place; so get out, all of you, this moment."

and she took up two great armfuls of babies—nine hundred under one arm, and thirteen hundred under the other—and threw them away, right and left, into the water. but they minded it no more than the naughty boys in struwelpeter minded when st. nicholas dipped them in his inkstand; and did not even take their thumbs out of their mouths, but came paddling and wriggling back to her like so many tadpoles, till you could see nothing of her from head to foot for the swarm of little babies.

but she took tom in her arms, and laid him in the softest place of all, and kissed him, and patted him, and talked to him, tenderly and low, such things as he had never heard before in his life; and tom looked up into her eyes, and loved her, and loved, till he fell fast asleep from pure love.

and when he woke she was telling the children a story. and what story did she tell them? one story she told them, which begins every christmas eve, and yet never ends at all for ever and ever; and, as she went on, the children took their thumbs out of their mouths and listened quite seriously; but not sadly at all; for she never told them anything sad; and tom listened too, and never grew tired of listening. and he listened so long that he fell fast asleep again, and, when he woke, the lady was nursing him still.

"don't go away," said little tom. "this is so nice. i never had any one to cuddle me before."

"don't go away," said all the children; "you have not sung us one song."

"well, i have time for only one. so what shall it be?"

"the doll you lost! the doll you lost!" cried all the babies at once.

so the strange fairy sang:—

i once had a sweet little doll, dears,

the prettiest doll in the world;

her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,

and her hair was so charmingly curled.

but i lost my poor little doll, dears,

as i played in the heath one day:

and i cried for her more than a week, dears.

but i never could find where she lay.

i found my poor little doll, dears,

as i played in the heath one day:

folks say she is terribly changed, dears,

for her paint is all washed away,

and her arm trodden off by the cows, dears,

and her hair not the least bit curled:

yet for old sakes' sake she is still, dears,

the prettiest doll in the world.

what a silly song for a fairy to sing!

and what silly water-babies to be quite delighted at it!

well, but you see they have not the advantage of aunt agitate's arguments in the sea-land down below.

"now," said the fairy to tom, "will you be a good boy for my sake, and torment no more sea-beasts till i come back?"

"and you will cuddle me again?" said poor little tom.

"of course i will, you little duck. i should like to take you with me and cuddle you all the way, only i must not;" and away she went.

so tom really tried to be a good boy, and tormented no sea-beasts after that as long as he lived; and he is quite alive, i assure you, still.

oh, how good little boys ought to be who have kind pussy mammas to cuddle them and tell them stories; and how afraid they ought to be of growing naughty, and bringing tears into their mammas' pretty eyes!