5

So he sailed away, for a livelong day;
  And the sun was warm and mild,
And the small waves laughed as they seemed to play,
  And the sea-gulls clamored wild.

6

So he sailed away, for a livelong day;
  Till the wind began to roar,
And the waves rose high, and, to briefly say,
  He never was heard of more.

H. PYLE.

[Illustration]

FARMER GRIGG’S BOGGART

Did you ever hear of a boggart?  No!  Then I will tell you.  A boggart is a small imp that lives in a man’s house, unseen by any one, doing a little good and much harm.  This imp was called a boggart in the old times, now we call such by other names—­ill-temper, meanness, uncharitableness, and the like.  Even now, they say, you may find a boggart in some houses.  There is no placing reliance on a boggart; sometimes he may seem to be of service to his master, but there is no telling when he may do him an ill turn.

Rap! tap! tap! came a knock at the door.

The wind was piping Jack Frost’s, for the time was winter, and it blew from the north.  The snow lay all over the ground, like soft feathers, and the hay-ricks looked as though each one wore a dunce-cap, like the dull boy in Dame Week’s school over by the green.  The icicles hung down by the thatch, and the little birds crouched shivering in the bare and leafless hedge-rows.

But inside the farm-house all was warm and pleasant; the great logs snapped and crackled and roared in the wide chimney-place, throwing red light up and down the walls, so that the dark night only looked in through the latticed windows.  Farmer Griggs sat warming his knees at the blaze, smoking his pipe in great comfort, while his crock of ale, with three roasted crab-apples bobbing about within it, warmed in the hot ashes beside the blazing logs, simmering pleasantly in the ruddy heat.

[Illustration:  Farmer Georgie Griggs.]

Dame Griggs’s spinning-wheel went humm-m-m! hum-m-m-m-m! like a whole hiveful of bees, the cat purred in the warmth, the dog basked in the blaze, and little red sparks danced about the dishes standing all along in a row on the dresser.

But, rap! tap! tap! came a knock at the door.

Then Farmer Griggs took his pipe from out his mouth.  “Did’ee hear un, dame?” said he.  “Zooks now, there be somebody outside the door.”

“Well then, thou gert oaf, why don’t ’ee let un in?” said Dame Griggs.

“Look’ee now,” said Georgie Griggs to himself, “sure women be of quicker wits than men!” So he opened the door.  Whoo!  In rushed the wind, and the blaze of the logs made as though it would leap up the chimney for fear.

“Will you let me in out of the cold, Georgie Griggs?” piped a small voice.  Farmer Griggs looked down and saw a little wight no taller than his knee standing in the snow on the door-step.  His face was as brown as a berry, and he looked up at the farmer with great eyes as bright as those of a toad.  The red light of the fire shone on him, and Georgie Griggs saw that his feet were bare and that he wore no coat.