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THE TAMING OF THE NIGHTMARE LITTLE JACK HORNER sat in the corner—so far the traditional surroundings of the nursery hero correspond with those in which we find him for the purposes of the story, but there being no Christmas pie in the neighbourhood, he was unable to give vent to the joyful, if somewhat egotistical, sentiment which is recorded of him elsewhere. He sat in a corner, under the window, listening to the weird moaning of the night-wind without, now tapping at the door like a wayfarer, now whistling in the chimney like a sweep, now seeming to wander, darkly muttering, like some mysterious wild thing in the copse around the cottage, now rushing like some vast monster over the roof with a hoarse roar rising to a piping shriek as it died away. Then came violent rattling at the window above him, which grew louder and fiercer till Jack expected the glass to fly to pieces, and the next moment he fancied he could hear a hoarse voice, muffled by coming through the window say, " Let me in, why can't you let me in." The vague, mystified awe that he had felt at the thousand suggestive voices of the wind changed into weird terror, and he cowered beneath the window striving not to look round, but compelled to turn by the horrible fascination of the presence of something behind him. He turned, threw open the window and looked out into the night. At first he could see nothing but the darkness, but the next moment he made out a broad, weird, goblin face with goggle eyes and a broad, queer hat, peering in through the window. " You're wanted," said the creature who appeared to be some 175