But you have not forgotten it ; you know that it exists . You know the beautiful grotto and the bright silver walls whose lustre never fades , the sparkling diamonds which never grow dim , the music which never ceases its low , soft murmur through the sweet evening twilight . The airy fairy fancies of happy Dreamland never grow old ; they , like the glorious stars above us , are always young . Perhaps you have caught a glimpse of their ethereal wings as they flew around your pillow . Perhaps you have met the same dream-boy with the blue eyes and the fair hair , the one who wore the red cap with the silver band and the white coat with pearls on the collar . Perhaps he has taken you to see all the countries of the world and the peoples , the cold waste lands and the burning deserts , the many coloured men and the wild creatures in the sea and in the woods , so that you may earn many things , but come gladly home again . Yes , who knows ? Perhaps you also have sailed round the wide world once in a pea-shell boat . From Z. Topelius . ` Moti ' Once upon a time there was a youth called Moti , who was very big and strong , but the clumsiest creature you can imagine . So clumsy was he that he was always putting his great feet into the bowls of sweet milk or curds which his mother set out on the floor to cool , always smashing , upsetting , breaking , until at last his father said to him : ` Here , Moti , are fifty silver pieces which are the savings of years ; take them and go and make your living or your fortune if you can . ' Then Moti started off one early spring morning with his thick staff over his shoulder , singing gaily to himself as he walked along . In one way and another he got along very well until a hot evening when he came to a certain city where he entered the travellers ' ` serai ' or inn to pass the night . Now a serai , you must know , is generally just a large square enclosed by a high wall with an open colonnade along the inside all round to accommodate both men and beasts , and with perhaps a few rooms in towers at the corners for those who are too rich or too proud to care about sleeping by their own camels and horses . Moti , of course , was a country lad and had lived with cattle all his life , and he was n't rich and he was n't proud , so he just borrowed a bed from the innkeeper , set it down beside an old buffalo who reminded him of home , and in five minutes was fast asleep . In the middle of the night he woke , feeling that he had been disturbed , and putting his hand under his pillow found to his horror that his bag of money had been stolen . He jumped up quietly and began to prowl around to see whether anyone seemed to be awake , but , though he managed to arouse a few men and beasts by falling over them , he walked in the shadow of the archways round the whole serai without coming across a likely thief . He was just about to give it up when he overheard two men whispering , and one laughed softly , and peering behind a pillar , he saw two Afghan horsedealers counting out his bag of money ! Then Moti went back to bed ! In the morning Moti followed the two Afghans outside the city to the horsemarket in which they horses were offered for sale .
Choosing the best-looking horse amongst them he went up XXXXX it and said : ` Is this horse for sale ?
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