138 The Catskill Fazrves.

fore her was a boat, with gilded bows, the inside a soft pink-
and-cream color, like the lining of a conch-shell, and the sail
was like fine white silk. Of course, the little girl forgot the
words croaked by the toad and sung by the robin, as warning,
and stepped into the boat.

«JT will not move the anchor; I can just pretend to be sail-
ing on the canal—that is all, she said.

“ A large white hand glided along under the boat, and slipped
the chain which held it fastened to the shore. Snowdrop was
delighted; the boat slid along
without the sail being hoisted.
Had she but known it, two large
white hands were pushing it
steadily away from the bank.

“She enjoyed the sail, and
she was also a trifle frightened,
the current of the river seemed

to be so very strong. A hawk

 

came skimming close to the
boat, holding a crystal bubble in its beak, which the bird drop-
ped on Snowdrop’s head. Crack went the bubble, scattering
fine fragments all about, like diamond splinters, and a fragrant
liquid flowed over the little girl’s face. This bath made the
young voyager feel exceedingly queer; she rubbed her eyelids
wearily, her arms drooped, and she sank down into the bottom
of the boat asleep.
“The hawk had a famous trick of putting people to sleep, as
we have seen.
’ “The motion of the boat rocked her gently, like the softest