moon-stones
for eyes. The fisherman hung the talisman on a chain and wore it round
his neck.

From that morning on, everything prospered with the youth. His boat
never leaked, he was never caught in a storm, and the fish came to his
lines and nets the instant he threw them overboard. Within a year or two
he had grown so rich that he was able to buy the finest merchant ship in
the world, and became a master mariner. Surely no more splendid fellow
than this gallant, young captain was ever found on the Seven Seas. He
sailed to cold and foggy Flannel Land, where the inhabitants all have
incurable head colds, and have no other cloth but red flannel; he traded
in the ports of gorgeous Velvet Land, whose inhabitants dress in velvet,
and cover their walls with velvet hangings and their floors with velvet
rugs.

One pleasant morning, running before a fine westerly breeze, he came to
the Eastern Islands. Down the street of the bazaar walked the Master
Mariner, followed by those who had articles to sell. Some showed him
bright-colored birds which they had caught in the forests; others waved
squares of figured cloth and called upon him to buy them; others still
offered strange flasks and bottles of brass and gleaming copper. At the
end of the street, the Master Mariner discovered a little quiet counter
on which lay some dozens of puffy and distended brown-leather bags.

"What are these?" said the Master Mariner to a tall, lean man with
beady, brown eyes who was in charge of the shop.

"These are breezes, Master Captain," replied the shopman. "If you are
going south, here is a bag of a very reliable northwest wind" (he picked
up one of the brown bags); "if you are going east, here are some of the
best-assorted westerly gusts. I am selling them at a very low price
to-day, in fact at less than they cost me. What will you have?"

"I'll have a smart easterly," replied the Master Mariner.

He put down fifty gold pieces on the counter, took the bag which the
shopman gave him, and walked away.

Now all these leather bags looked very much alike, and instead of
selling the Master Mariner a brisk easterly breeze, the shopman had made
an error, and sold him a frightful storm.

Again the Master Mariner went to sea; but luckily for him, he put the
imprisoned storm away in a locker, intending to use it on some other
voyage. Presently he came to Silk Land, loveliest of all the Cloth
Islands. There the inhabitants dress only in the finest