The Thrush's Nest
Shelley was a young gentleman and as grown-up as he need ever expect
to be. He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up. They are
people who despise money except what you need for to-day, and he had
all that and five pounds over. So, when he was walking in the
Kensington Gardens, he made a paper boat of his bank-note, and sent it
sailing on the Serpentine.
It reached the island at night: and the look-out brought it to
Solomon Caw, who thought at first that it was the usual thing, a
message from a lady, saying she would be obliged if he could let her
have a good one. They always ask for the best one he has, and if he
likes the letter he sends one from Class A, but if it ruffles him he
sends very funny ones indeed. Sometimes he sends none at all, and at
another time he sends a nestful; it all depends on the mood you catch
him in. He likes you to leave it all to him, and if you mention
particularly that you hope he will see his way to making it a boy this
time, he is almost sure to send another girl. And whether you are a
lady or only a little boy who wants a baby-sister, always take pains
to write your address clearly. You can't think what a lot of babies
Solomon has sent to the wrong house.
Shelley's boat, when opened, completely puzzled Solomon, and he took
counsel of his assistants, who having walked over it twice, first with
their toes pointed out, and then with their toes pointed in, decided
that it came from some greedy person who wanted five.
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