At the Back of the North Wind Illustrated - online book

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	92 At the Back of the North Wind
	fond of singing, and at home he used to sing, to tunes of his own, all the nursery rhymes he knew. So he began to try Hey diddle diddle, but it wouldn't do. Then he tried Little Boy Blue, but it was no better. Neither would Sing a Song of Sixpence sing itself at all. Then he tried
		Poor old Cocky too, but he wouldn't do. They all sounded so silly! and he had never thought them silly before. So he was quiet, and listened to the echoes that came out of the dark corners in answer to his footsteps. At last he gave a great sigh, and said, "I'm so tired". But he
	did not hear the gentle echo that answered from far away over his head, for at the same moment he came against the lowest of a few steps that stretched across the church, and fell down and hurt his arm. He cried a little first, and then crawled up the steps on his hands and knees. At the top he came to a little bit of carpet, on which he lay down; and there he lay staring at the dull