going to his museum, selected a phial. This he handed to the maker of shadows, saying—
“The jolliwog is swift of flight,
Sharp his eye and keen his sight;
Greased lightning is the only thing
With which to catch him on the wing.
If to his haunts you′d like to go,
A stork shall take you to and fro.”
And he waved his hand towards a group of birds standing near.
"Ever so many thanks,” said the maker of shadows. "May I further trespass upon your kindness by asking you to allow another of your birds to carry a message to my friend that he may know where I have gone?”
"With pleasure,” replied the philosopher; and then he called, "Mercury! Mercury!” for that was the name of his carrier pigeon, who at once set out with his message for the capital of Common-Sense, whilst the stork, with the maker of shadows on his back, departed in quest of the jolliwog.
Meanwhile, the shadow of royalty had long since been bottled, but the maker of ghosts had in vain racked his brains to discover what he might hold but could not grasp. With his hair rumpled all over his head he sat the image of despair, when he heard a tap at the door.
"Who′s there?” said he.
"I, Mercury, with a message,” replied a small voice. The maker of ghosts started violently, and changed colour.
"I′ve got it! Mercury!” he said with a knowing smile. Then he opened the door. The bird delivered his message, and flew back again to his master.
When he had gone, the maker of ghosts sat down to dinner and made a hearty meal, for he had not eaten for ever so many hours through anxiety and worry, and his mind was now at rest.
By-and-by he put on his cap, and went into the town to make a purchase. Mercury! Yes! That was what he wanted, for that is what you can hold but cannot grasp! He also bought a mortar and a hog's bristle. Then taking the shadow of royalty he carefully clasped it around the mercury, and rebottling, calmly awaited the return of his friend.
The land to which the stork was flying with the maker of shadows
