Пітер Пен у Кенсінгтонському Саді

           Despairingofthefairies,heresolvedtoconsultthebirds,butnowheremembered,asanoddthing,thatallthebirdsontheweeping-beechhadflownawaywhenhealightedonit,andthoughthishadnottroubledhimatthetime,hesawitsmeaningnow.Everylivingthingwasshunninghim.PoorlittlePeterPan!hesatdownandcried,andeventhenhedidnotknowthat,forabird,hewassittingonhiswrongpart.Itisablessingthathedidnotknow,forotherwisehewouldhavelostfaithinhispowertofly,andthemomentyoudoubtwhetheryoucanfly,youceaseforevertobeabletodoit.Thereasonbirdscanflyandwecan’tissimplythattheyhaveperfectfaith,fortohavefaithistohavewings.

           Now,exceptbyflying,noonecanreachtheislandintheSerpentine,fortheboatsofhumansareforbiddentolandthere,andtherearestakesroundit,standingupinthewater,oneachofwhichabird-sentinelsitsbydayandnight.ItwastotheislandthatPeternowflewtoputhisstrangecasebeforeoldSolomonCaw,andhealightedonitwithrelief,muchheartenedtofindhimselfatlastathome,asthebirdscalltheisland.Allofthemwereasleep,includingthesentinels,exceptSolomon,whowaswideawakeononeside,andhelistenedquietlytoPeter’sadventures,andthentoldhimtheirtruemeaning.

           ’Lookatyournightgown,ifyoudon’tbelieveme,’Solomonsaid;andwithstaringeyesPeterlookedathisnightgown,andthenatthesleepingbirds.Notoneofthemworeanything.

           ’Howmanyofyourtoesarethumbs?’saidSolomonalittlecruelly,andPetersaw,tohisconsternation,thatallhistoeswerefingers.Theshockwassogreatthatitdroveawayhiscold.