• TABLE OF CONTENTS
HIDE
 Frontispiece
 Title Page
 Preface
 Table of Contents
 Front Matter
 Scene of the story
 Old Polypod
 The great black bear
 Beechnut's picture of Paris
 Arielle
 Preparing for a ride
 Embellishment
 Sickness
 Agnes
 A sound sleeper
 Maleville's farewell














Title: Beechnut
CITATION THUMBNAILS PAGE TURNER PAGE IMAGE ZOOMABLE
Full Citation
STANDARD VIEW MARC VIEW
Permanent Link: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/UF00064932/00001
 Material Information
Title: Beechnut
Series Title: Beechnut
Physical Description: Book
Creator: Abbott, Jacob,
Publisher: Harper & brothers
 Record Information
Bibliographic ID: UF00064932
Volume ID: VID00001
Source Institution: University of Florida
Holding Location: University of Florida
Rights Management: All rights reserved by the source institution and holding location.
Resource Identifier: ltuf - ALG0962
alephbibnum - 002220759

Table of Contents
    Frontispiece
        Page ii
    Title Page
        Page iii
        Page iv
    Preface
        Page v
        Page vi
    Table of Contents
        Page vii
        Page viii
    Front Matter
        Page ix
    Scene of the story
        Page x
    Old Polypod
        Page 11
        Page 12
        Page 13
        Page 14
        Page 15
        Page 16
        Page 17
        Page 18
        Page 19
        Page 20
        Page 21
        Page 22
        Page 23
        Page 24
        Page 25
        Page 26
        Page 27
        Page 28
        Page 29
        Page 30
        Page 31
    The great black bear
        Page 32
        Page 33
        Page 34
        Page 35
        Page 36
        Page 37
        Page 38
        Page 39
        Page 40
        Page 41
        Page 42
        Page 43
        Page 44
        Page 45
        Page 46
        Page 47
        Page 48
        Page 49
        Page 50
        Page 51
        Page 52
    Beechnut's picture of Paris
        Page 53
        Page 54
        Page 55
        Page 56
        Page 57
        Page 58
        Page 59
        Page 60
        Page 61
        Page 62
        Page 63
        Page 64
        Page 65
        Page 66
        Page 67
        Page 68
        Page 69
        Page 70
        Page 71
    Arielle
        Page 72
        Page 73
        Page 74
        Page 75
        Page 76
        Page 77
        Page 78
        Page 79
        Page 80
        Page 81
        Page 82
        Page 83
        Page 84
        Page 85
        Page 86
        Page 87
        Page 88
        Page 89
        Page 90
        Page 91
    Preparing for a ride
        Page 92
        Page 93
        Page 94
        Page 95
        Page 96
        Page 97
        Page 98
        Page 99
        Page 100
        Page 101
        Page 102
        Page 103
        Page 104
        Page 105
        Page 106
        Page 107
        Page 108
        Page 109
        Page 110
    Embellishment
        Page 111
        Page 112
        Page 113
        Page 114
        Page 115
        Page 116
        Page 117
        Page 118
        Page 119
        Page 120
        Page 121
        Page 122
        Page 123
        Page 124
        Page 125
        Page 126
        Page 127
        Page 128
        Page 129
        Page 130
        Page 131
        Page 132
        Page 133
    Sickness
        Page 134
        Page 135
        Page 136
        Page 137
        Page 138
        Page 139
        Page 140
        Page 141
        Page 142
        Page 143
        Page 144
        Page 145
        Page 146
        Page 147
        Page 148
        Page 149
        Page 150
        Page 151
        Page 152
    Agnes
        Page 153
        Page 154
        Page 155
        Page 156
        Page 157
        Page 158
        Page 159
        Page 160
        Page 161
        Page 162
        Page 163
        Page 164
        Page 165
        Page 166
        Page 167
        Page 168
        Page 169
        Page 170
        Page 171
        Page 172
        Page 173
    A sound sleeper
        Page 174
        Page 175
        Page 176
        Page 177
        Page 178
        Page 179
        Page 180
        Page 181
        Page 182
        Page 183
        Page 184
        Page 185
        Page 186
        Page 187
        Page 188
        Page 189
        Page 190
        Page 191
        Page 192
    Maleville's farewell
        Page 193
        Page 194
        Page 195
        Page 196
        Page 197
        Page 198
        Page 199
        Page 200
        Page 201
        Page 202
        Page 203
        Page 204
        Page 205
        Page 206
        Page 207
        Page 208
        Page 209
        Page 210
        Page 211
Full Text



A fmuwconA Sror,
n1 nmmr or TIE ROLLO BOQ(S.


UP


L.





























M-, rai b Ad d Coa hk y4-r IV
NARP= a aorme,
b so Clak OEM cr *a nLftm Url fst me T4a.
------------------^-----n ---^^













PIEPACE.




Tn development o the mal eotimia hi the
human heart, in early lie,--ad every thing in
whc elats to the fmatkon of charaoter,-b dtW-
mined in a hr greater degree by aympthy, ad by
the induence of example, than by formal pceph ad
didactic in.trtion. If a boy hem his &thr spek-
ing hingdy to a robin in the aprng,-weleomng ist
coming and offering it food,-there arises at cn is
his own mind, a filing of indn toward the bid,
sad toward all the animal creation, which ib prodmad
by a sort of sympathetic action, a power somewat
similar to what in phyEidal philosophy is eald
"i. On the otherand, if tbh there, intea ofd
ng the bid, gos eagerly fr a n order that
may shoot it, the boy will sypathi in that dea
and growing up under sooh an inaos, thmr l be
gradually formed within him, through th terioum
teadey ofthe youthhl heart to vibrated in mbn ht
heart that enr, a dipoitd to kll d dmd y
mn L.JmI I.", -6 -- r A. lU -. r






V1 PairrAC.

bJ n ed of my formal instrution in either a .
Of a thooand children brought up under the forma
of the abovederibed inflenes, nearly eery one,
when h se a brd, will wish to go and gat armbs
to feed it, while in the latter oae, nearly evy ou
willjust rtainly lookfor a toe. Thu the grow-
lng up in the right atmosphere, rather than the receiv-
ing of the right intruction, is the condition which it
is most important to secure, in plans for forming the
characters of children.
It is in aooordance with this philosophy that these
stories though written mainly with a view to their
moral influence on the hearts and dispositions of the
reader contain very little formal exhortation and in-
truction. They present quiet and peaceful picture of
happy domesti life portraying generally such condt,
sad agrexing such sentiments and feeling a it is
deirabbe to exhibit and express in the presence o
dldre.
The book, however, will be found, perhap,afternA
to be umehl mainly in entertaining and musing the
youthful reader who may pere them, as the writing
of them bha been the amusement and rreatiu of the
author in the interval of more serious punuits.















CONTENTS.

-04-


L-OLD Pc .. 11
IL-Ta GauA BLACK BSAa, . .. IM
IIH-Bucnsr T's PrICTU or Pana, .
IV-AuL,. .. .. .
V.-.PurAu e 1o A RmID, . 0
VL-EMLwm.arrT, . .111
VIL-SIC 14
VIn.-Ae, . . 1U
IX.-A Souom SLzaXta 174
X -MArLT.zv.'s FAnWsUt, . .
















ENGRAVINGS.

--~-

PA'S
BuaUamr's PTrus or0 PAue-FhPomnncz.
OLs PaTOD. . . . .
Bunam HoMn TB B, . . .60
BnaUnoxM CAM, . . 68
Tn Coooa.Ma, . . .. 8
CATo T1 HE . 102
Tah W a . . .. 129
MA.LLtYnX Aas, .'. .. 16
Ama, . .. 188
MAlIar.zL' SU 8m r . . 188
FPaWaZ. To MAarIL, . . t065






71





m


FRANCONIA STORIES.



ORDER OF T= VOLUMm

MALLEVILLE. RODOLPHUS
WALLACE. ELLEN LINN.
MARY ER8KINE. 8TUYVESANT.
MARY BELL CAROLINE.
BEECHNUT. AGNES
















BCENE OF THE STOBT.
Mr. Hmery' hboae at the entrance of a vld ga in In w
oas The time ib smer.

PRINCIPAL PERSON&.
Mae BeT, a lady riding at Fraaooo Her husband I
absent frem bom .
Pmonr, ber son, tea yme old. Hi proper nase is Al-
phomeM though called generally Phony
MuzyTiun Phmny's coin from New York, visiting at Mr

ioum r, a French boy frm Caqda, lirig at Mr. Henryl
His proper nam is Antonio Blancntte, but the dbUdre
always called n B lebut
WALrLac a collg student, Malklille's brother, spending his
vaetio at Mrs Heoryk'
Mai Br., Ma lllle's i~ad nddin with her mother
the mei rboiod of Mr. Henry'.











BEECHNUT.


CEAPTrl I.
OLD POLYPOn-

1b..r .i. xM Sl.' I eriamw eb.a "
PHONNY was impulsive and ardent in his
character, and always eager to lead. Mal
Sleville was quiet and submissive, and generally
very willing to follow. Thus, they agreed very
well together, and seldom got involved, in dis-
pates; for Malleville was almost always ready
to be governed by Phonny's guidance, and to
aoquiesoe in his decisions.
And yet Phonny was often very oqaprious
and changeable. Like other impulsive and
ardent boys of his years, he went from one
thing to another in his plays, without mhob
reason, or regard to consistency, drawing Mal.
leville with him, when she was his play.mae
as he passed in his caprice from one plan or
undertaking to another, each new oe being
oon abandoned in its turn.


~~71]





It BaCsvorT.

For instance, one summer morning after break.
frt, when be and Maleville came out to play, he
proposed to Malleville that they should take the
garden tools and go out into the garden and.
weed his border. He had a border in the oor.
ner of the garden, which Beechnut had assigned
him, and he had sown a great number of flower
seeds in it, about a month before the time of
which we are speaking. The border was now
covered with a very luxuriant vegetation, weeds
and flowers having come up together there
in great profusion. Phonny had neglected this
border entirely since putting the seeds into the
ground, but now the idea seemed to strike him
that it would be good amusement to go and put
it in order. Malleville assented to the propol.
So he went into the barn to get his little wheel-
barrow and the toob.
He loaded up his wheel-barrow with a great
number and variety of agricultural implements,
so as to be sure and have all that he should
need, and proceeded toward the garden. Mal-
leville followed him, gathering up such tools a
6el off fom the wheel-barrow as he went along
and dragging them on herself as well as she
eold after him. Phoony worked upon the





OLD POLuroe. S

a very ooniderabe litter in the walk oppomi
to hi border, by the weed, with big root,whk
he poled out from among the fown%, nd
threw down there-nd then became third.
He told Maleville that it wa a fne day to go
a.fishing, and Ohat he thought they had better
go down to the pier and h a little while. In
the mean time, he would leave the tool, he
said, where they were, and the wheelbarrow;
for he was coming back to work in his garden
again, after he had rested himself a little while,
fishing.
He had some trouble in finding his fihing.
line. He looked in the proper place for it, but
it was not there. He was sure that he had put
it there, he id, when he last ued it. Some
body must have taken it away. He went to
ask Beechnut if he had seen it anywhere.
"Yes," said Beechnut, "it i round the mo.
ner of the houe by the well You let it there
day before yesterday when you came home
from fishing, and went to the wll to get a drink
of water."
"Oh ye," aid Phonny, "so I did. Now I
recollect."
The hook wa off from Phoany's le. He
hed mowr hooiks somewhere. n a be. i th





14 BaI1oruT.
b sllmmn sb es pibhr.
house, but he did not know exactly where.
He looked in all the probable places that he
could think of, and inquired of everybody that
he met, but they could not be found. After.
fretting a little at this vexation, and wishing,
somewhat pettishly,"that peopleorould not take
his things," he contrived to make a hook of a
large pin which his mother gave him, and went
down to the pier. He threw his line out upon
the water, and then sitting down upon a log.
which lay upon the pier, he began watching the
cork for the indications of a bite. Malleville-
stood by his side, with her hands behind her,
and with her eyes fixed upon the cork, very in.
tently, too.
Phonny soon became tired of fishing. A
boy of his years has, in fact, a feeling of con.
tempt for fishing with a pin, which soon be-
comes wholly irresistible when the attempt is
not successful. So Phonny drew in his line,
saying that it was of no use to fish that morn.
ing. He did not believe, he said, that there
was a fish in the river. Besides, he said, he did
not blame them for not biting at a pin.
Phony's explanations were not very coan
sirest with each other, but he was beginning
. &i A t .L *






OL& Pol.rea. I

thingg that inoonistency so thrive uPpo
ill-humor.
He drew his line out of the water, wound it
.up, and went back to the house. There was a
wagon standing out in the yard.
"Ah, Malleville," he exclaimed, "here's the
wagon. It is jut the thing. Let us get in, d
have a ride."
He, accordingly, leaned his ishinA^le up
against a tree that was near by, and helped
Malleville into the wagon. Then he took the
long reins and fastened the ends of them to the
shafts of the wagon, one to each shaft, au hil
dren do when there is no hore, and they wih
to make believe drive. He raised the shafts, too,
from the ground, and then, with great labor
and much tugging, he drew the wagon along
toward a wood-pile, and there rested the shaft
upon the wood so s to keep them in a horiso-
tal position. Malleville was much pleaded with
being drawp in this manner, and she Ued
Phonny to go on, and give her a nde in the
wagon all about the yard. But Phony said
that she was too heavy.
Phony then got into the wagon, took the
rein and the whip, and then began to drive
*.t 2-2L-- &"& A --!-A At &L-





iU Ba eroT.
nm..r a..aimq L maSOs amom
harss whioh was lying upon the door of the
wagon, under his feet, wau somewhat in his
way. Sohe threwitoutupon the grass. He
pretended that the wagon was a ship at sea in
a storm, and that he was throwing the cargo
overboard. His idea amused both himself and
Malleville very much.
When the harne wau all thrown out, Phon.
ny gattred up the reins again, and began to
drive on, talking all the time in a very rapid
manner about the soenery supposed to be in
view, and the various objects and incidents
which he fancied or invented, s occurring by
the way in their imaginary ride. Sometimes
he would pretend that they were going through
a dark and gloomy wood, and that he was
afraid that they would meet with bears or rob.
bers; and he would whip his horses and urge
them on with the utmost vigor, to escape from
the dangers. Then he would come out into an
open country, very rich and beautiful; and
would point out to Malleville the streams and
lakes and water-falls, or the lofty preipices and
the dark mountains which ov su ooesively into
view. Then he would rein up his horses and
atp at the door of an imaginary taver, ad
hol loeg coaeratious with tih landlord about





OLD PenTov H

the accommodations which he wanted at the
tavern, and the terms on which the landlord
would furnish them.
Phonny amused himself and Malleville in this
way for about a quarter of an hour, and then he
became tired of riding. He got down from the
wagon, and helped Malleville down. He looked
upon the harnee lying upon the ground, with *
an indistinct idea in his mind, that it was his
duty to put it back into the wagon again before
he went away; but then he thought that he
should come back again pretty soon to take an-
other ride, and in the mean time, that he would
go into the work-shop and ee what Beeohlt
was doing.
The work-shop wa a large room in a building
connected with the sheds and barns, where farm-
ing implements were made and repaired; sad
Phonny and Malleville, having heard a ham-
mering in that direction, while they were in the
wagon, rightly inferred that Beechnut was at
work there. They found him, when they had
entered the work-shop, employed in mending
the rakes, in order to be ready for the haying
season, which was soon to come on. Beeo-kt
was sending before a great benh. Thet
we siz or eiaht a rake ao this beh. whieh






3I BaeroroT.
ams s..8 ,s uab mw. we M.,
Beechnut had brought in to be repaired; and
be was now at work upon them, putting a
tooth into one, a new handle into another, and
a wedge to tighten a loose joint into a third.
Phonny climbed up upon the bench, and sat
down upon the edge of it, near where Beechnut
was working. He also helped Malleville up,
sad gave her a eat by his side.
Beechnut was just driving in a long wooden
peg, which was to form a new tooth for the
rake that he was mending. *
Oh, Beechnut," said Phonny, that reminds
me. You promised a great while ago to make
me a wooden horse, and you have not done it"
SHaven't I ?" said Beechnut.
"No," rejoined Phonny. "And so you have
broken your promise. I don't think you keep
your promise well, at all."
"That is a heavy charge to make against
me," sid Beechnut. When did I make the
promise ?
"I don't know," replied Phonny. "It was
great while ago. You promised to make me
gaping horse "
And when did I promise that it should be
amds" aid Beesohmt, til going om with hh
work.






Os Po&T.vro.
.- --
"Oh, I don't know," replied Phowny. "No
partiular time. You wen to make it for me
some time or other; and you have sur made
it, at any time."
SThere is more time oming," said IBeeko
nut; "plenty of it. Perhaps I shall make it
some time or other yet'.
But you ought to have made it before now,"
said Phonny. "I don't think you keep your
promise at all. Then, besides, 1 don't think
that you always tell the truth."
Hi-yol" said Beechnut. "What a char
acter I am getting."
"I remember," continued Phonny, whe
you were going with us after Carlo, lat summer,
you told the men along the road, that we want-
ed to buy a dog, when we did not wish to buy
one at all, we only wished to get bck our own."
SBut we wanted to buy him back," said
Beechnut. I told the men that we wished to
buy a dog, and that was true. We wished to
buy Carlo."
SNo," said Phonny, "I don't think it wes m.
And, besides, you deceived them at any rat.
You made them think that we wanted to ay
some new dog whra we only wanted to gt





W Biaosro T.

*I did not deceive them," said Beechnut.
If they were deceived at all, they must have
deceived themselves. I told them that we
wished to buy a dog. If they inferred from
that that it must be a new dog that we wanted,
and not any old one, it was their fault that they
were mistaken, and not mine. I am sure I di4
S not tell them that it was a new dog."
But I think you deceived them," said Phon.
ny, and it is as wrong to deceive any body, as
it is to tell a lie."
"Always?" asked Beechnut.
"Yes, always," replied Phonny, very posi
tively.
It is generally rather unsafe, to affirm any
proposition whatever as universally true, since
general rules are so extremely liable to excep-
tions. Phonny thought that he was on very
safe ground in making this assertion, but he
found in the end, that it was difficult ground to
be defended.
Once I knew a boy," said Beechnut, speak.
ing very gravely, "who had a hen; and as he
thought that she would forsake her nest if he
took the eggs all out and left it empty, he made
Schalk egg, and left it there, for a nestgg




~' -a

S


Os& Po.tro.


remd .eashU m. u
He wished to make the poor hen think it was a
real egg, and so deceive her."
The boy that Beechnut referred to in this
am was Phonny himself.
"I know who you mean," said Phonny.
*You mean me. But that is a different thing
That was nothing but a hen. I meant that ib
was always wrong to deceive mns."


I could tell," said Phouny; "
"Do you think," asked Beech
roold be wrong for a man to wes
r a oork-le, so exactly made
hmnU think it was a ra oan ?"





U BnaoamuT.

eI don't think they could do it," aid Pbon.
ay,-" possibly."
*But suppose they could do it," persisted
Beehnut, would it be wrong ?"
"Yes," said Phonny, desperately. He did
not know how else to get out of the corner into
which Beechnut had driven him. "And be-
sides," he added, after a moment's pause, "that
is a different thing."
"Different from what ?" asked Beechnut.
"Why, from your telling the men in Num-
ber Five that you wanted to buy a dog, when
you only wanted to find our own."
"So it is," said Beechnut; "I admit it.
-And I think myself that it would have been
better if I had told them honestly that we had
lost a dog, and wanted to find him. And now
if you will tell me what my punishment shall
be, I will submit to it patiently."
"Welll" said Phonny, "your punishment
shall be to go now and make my wooden-horse."
"It shall be done," said Beechnut, "a soon
a I have finished this rake."
Aooordingly, as soon as Beechnut had com-
pleted the repairs of the rake that he had in
hand, he conducted Phonny and Malleville out
into he shed to look at a great lon whih he had





01 POLsT e. i
bsap skg. ItqeSabb -
laid aide some time before for the body of the
wooden-hore. It was a log of a ery birreg.
lar shape, bearing, however, some rde mes.
blaoe to a horse. Beeohnut had observed thi
odd conformation of the log as it lay in the
wood-pile the winter before, when he was ut.-
ting up the wood, and had, accordingly, thrown
it aide, intending to put legs to it some day or
other for Phonny; but the convenient time for
doing it had not arrived until now.
"There," said Beechnut, as he pointed out
the log to Phonny and Malleville. "What sort
of a horse do you think that will make for you "
"Most excellent," replied Phonny. "Haul
him, and put his legs in immediately."
So Beechnut and Phonny pulled the log out,
and after tumbling it over and over two or thr
times, so as to get it out where they all oold
stand around it to take hold of it, they lifted it
up, and, wth great labor, lagged it into Beob.
nut's shop. Malleville tried to help in the work
by taking hold of a sort of branch which rep.
resented the tail, and lifting at it with the little
strength which he had at her disposal. Thi
the monster was finally got into the bsop ad
tumbled down there upon the floor. .
Beechnut then began to make the lesIr





t BaacrorT.
GmUM s amm MOM~ s Wdem.
the hone, and to bore boles with a great auger,
in the body, for the insertion of them. While
he was doing this, Phonny asked what name his
horse should have when he was finished.
"I don't know," said Beechnut. "You must
name him yourself. You can't call him a
quadruped, for he is going to have more than
four legs."
What is he going to have more than four
legs for ?" asked Phonny.
"So as to make him a galloping-horse," re-
plied Beechnut. "If I make six or eight legs,
and have them of different lengths, you can
rook him back and forth, on his various legs,
and so suppose that he is galloping. You had
better go and ask Wallace what would be a
good name for an animal with six or eight legs.
He will find out by his Latin and Greek."
Well," said Phonny, I will."
"Or no," said he again, after a moment's
thought. It will be better for you to go, Mal.
leville: because you ee I want to stay and ee
Beechnut finish the horse."
"But I want to stay too," said Malleville.
SWhy, that isn't of so much consequence,"
argued Phony. "You ee it is necessary for
m to know how horses are made, for perhaps





OLn PoLurT W


I dall have to make one myself some day. I
may want to make a little one for you, if I oa
only find a log'next winter. Soit is better that
you should go and ask Wallace about the

Malleville was easily persuaded in obh cases
a these, and though she had no great confidence






obmeinf of o WmNm Sum. i Wk.
-s Bas ro.

Phonny threw back his head and laughed
aloud.
"Oh, Polypod he exclaimed. "What a
same Oh, Mollypod l"
The legs of the horse were soon finished.
They were formed of short poles sharpened a
little at one end, so as to be driven firmly into
the auger-holes which had been made to receive
them. They were set in such a manner as to
spread a little laterally, so as to prevent the
horse from falling over upon his side. The
egs, too, were of different lengths, the middle
ones being a little longer than those extending
before and behind, so that when a rider was
seated upon the horse, and rocked him to and
fro, a sort of jolting motion was produced,
which Phonny called galloping, and which he
and Malleville found very agreeable. When
the work was done, they carried the horse out
to a place where there was a solid plank plat-
form at the end of the house, and established
him there. Beechnut brought out two buffai
robes from the barn, and folding them twice, he
placed them upon the horse, one behind the
other. The foremost formed a saddle for Phon.
ny, and the other a billion for Malleville. -1
happened that there was a sort of branch grow





O.& PoLT.vre. I.


ing out of the log, between MalleTiBe' eeat sd
Phonny's, which was very convenient for Md.
erille, to enable her to hold on. When all was
thus ready, Beechnut taught them a song to
sing, which be made up for the occasion, and
then he went away, leaving the children sing-
ing and riding old Polypod, keeping time by
their music, with the jolting of the horse.
















OLD POLPoB.

The ong was this:

"Fa caid slow,
or the has *wa we 1%
,*w
WrU.ki.ngrw.e





- BisoioUT.

6bl ad a nqau
Up in te air,
Tll bird weM diehg, Begn doUll a
m ,old Podypod I Ho, old Malypod I
lrmai, rmbnilm Ab tble Polypod"

The children sang this stasa with great glee,
and at the top of their voice, adding every time
they came to the end of it, a chorus of loud and
long-continued shouts of laughter.
About two hours after this, Beechnut, in look.
ing about the yard and garden, found the traces
of disorder which Phonny and Malleville had
left in the walk opposite the border in the gar-
den, and about the wagon in the yard. He put
the things which Phonny had left out of place,
properly away, and noted the time which it re-
quired to do so. The time was ten minutes.
He then went in search of Phonny.
Well, Phonny," said he, "how do you like
old Polypod ?"
"Very much, indeed," answered Phonny.
"Have I fulfilled my promise now, to your
satisfaction?" continued Beechnut.
"Yes," said Phonny, "entirely."
And did I submit to my punishment, for not
telling the exact truth to the men in Number
File, with a good grace '





O;9 PoLTPro. s


Yes," rid Phonny.
"Now," continued Beechnut, *I have a
charge against you. You have been at work
in the garden, and you left the wheelbarrow,
and the tools, and ever so many weeds, in the
walks; and then you went to play in the wagon,
and finally left it out of its place, and with the
reins tied to the shafts, the harnesses on the
ground, and every thing in confusion."
Phonny appeared quite astounded at these
heavy accusations. He did not know what to
say.
m Are you guilty or not guilty ?" said Beech-
nut.
Why guilty, I suppose, replied Phonny, "bat
I will go and put the things right away."
"No," replied Beechnut, "that is done al.
ready. "Every thing is put away excepting
your fibhing-pole. That is your property, and
I have nothing to do with it. The garden and
the wagon, it is my business to take care of so
I have put them in order, and all you have to
do is, to submit to the proper punishment for
putting them out of order."
"Well," said Phonny, I will. What is the
punishment r'
You mwt pay double dama ," Msa BasBL





SBBOisUiwT.
Res smouend bum fte pl"W
nut. It took me ten minutes to put the thing.
away, and you must do work for me, equal to
twenty minutes. But then, a your time is not
worth more than half as much as mine, it will
take you forty minutes to do the work."
Well," said Phonny. "What is the work
to be?"
Turning the grindstone for me to grind the
soyte, after tea," said Beechnut.
Phonny made no objection. In fact, he went
to his work so good-naturedly, and was so in-
dustrious in doing it, that Beechnut released
him at the end of half an hour.
Beechnut never scolded; he always punished
the boys that he had dealings with, for their
faults and delinquencies. It is true, the boys
were not obliged to submit to his punishments,
but they generally did so of their own accord,
for the punishments were always reasonable
and just, and Beechnut was, moreover, very
good-natured, though still very firm, in indiot-
ing them. Sometimes his punishments were
of a very odd and whimsical character, and
afforded great amuaement,-while yet they an-
swered the purpose of punishments perfectly
well. They were sometimes, too, in nams and
form at least, pretty severe. He once actually





OLP PoeLTre. 8


Isun a village boy, for some rebellio again ,
his authority. He hang him to the limb of i
tree.. The only material difference betwea
the hanging of this boy, and a regular exeo
tion, was, that the rope in the boy's oa, in
stead of passing round his neck, was put undeo
his ams.





U BuoIuwoT.
kIfte p" 01NO at lt1%



CarrTaR II.
Tas GNasT BLACK B1AB.
Taun was another promise that Beechnut
had made to Phonny and Malleville besides the
one in relation to the wooden-horse, which for
a long time he postponed fulfilling. It was the
promise to relate to them the incidents of his
early life in Paris, and the circumstances by
which his father had been led to come to Amer-
ica. Thd reason why this story had been so
long postponed was, that Beechnut said it could
not be well understood without having his
picture of Paris at hand, to look at the places
which he should refer to in his story. Beech.
nut had a large and handsome picture of Paris
hanging up in his room. He had brought it
with him from Paris, when he came to Ameri.
ca together with a great many other similar
treasures. These things had all been left at
Montreal, when Beechnut and his father came
acre through the woods from Canada to the
United States, but Beechnut had sent for them
atrwards and had safely roeived them By





Tan GamAs BLAOe BIAS. M.

meas of these treasures Beechnt had oon-
trived to make his room in Mrs. Henry'f hooe
a very attractive place; and among the vaiou
objects of interest and uriosity which he had
oleoted there, not the least alluring his
large colored picture of Paris which hung up
in the room in a conspicuous position. This
was the picture that he referred to as esential
to a right understanding of the story of his
early life.
Although Beechnut's room was, as we have
said, a very attractive place, still he spent very
little time in it, being occupied generally during
all the hours of every day in his work about
the house and farm. There were the evening
hours, it r true, but during the summer the
evemngs were very short, and during the win-
ter it wu too old in his room to remain there
long. There was indeed a fire-place, but
Beechnut never had a fire in it, or at leat very
seldom. It happened thus that he spent very
little time in his room, and no convenient op.
portunity occurred for being there with Phmony
and Maleville so a to sit opposite to the piture
of Paris ad hear the story. In fat, it is 5m
posNie to say how long it would have beo
before ah an opportunity would have bee





M8 B|uow8VT.

presented, had it not been for a certain great
black bear.
It may seem extraordinary that there should
be any connection between Beechnut's oppor.
tunities for story-telling and the movements of
any bear. But so it was. The way in which
it happened was thus:-
A large black mother bear that had been
living for some time with other bears in remote
regions among the mountains, at length about
the middle of the summer became tired of the
dismal solitude of her abode, or else perhaps
she found it difficult to obtain food enough in
the woods for her young oubs, which having
become pretty large wanted a great deal to eat
The old bear came, accordingly, through the
woods toward the settlements of men,.: see
what she could find there. She was very sac-
essful in this expedition. She found a fock
of sheep sleeping quietly at midnight in a lonely
field near a farmer's log house. The bear crept
up slily to the place and seized a lamb in her
monstrous jaws, and then ran off into the
woods again. The lamb set up a loud and in.
eemant bleating in its agony of terror, though
the sound of it grew fainter and fainter as it
was borne of through the thickest. The while





Tar Gasua AsAE BDAx. M

look of shep ws ar oued by thesi sudd *e
i and all began to bleat too, ad to rnm s
Sdredful panic toward the hows, to larm
heir mater. They all ran thus except oe,
he mother of the lamb that was carried away.
She, instead of lying toward the house, rar
toward the dark and gloomy thickets where her
amb had to mysteriously and dreadfudly dip
eared, determined to attack the unknown ene.
my with the utmost fury, if she could oertake
it, whatever it might be. She, however, could
aot overtake it. The bear knew perfectly the
way that she wa to go. Sh6 had ey, too,
that enabled her to see her way, even through
the densest recess of the forest, and in the
darkness of midnight. The sheep, on the other
band, was soon bewildered and lost, and rM to
ad fro in an agony of distress and terror.
The farmer came out with a lantern to die.
over the ause of this commotion, but he aould
not ascertain any thing satisfactory. He sap
poed, however, that some wild animal had
come from the woods and frightened the fock,
but he could not determine whether any of the
heep or lambs had been carried away. The
darkness ad the confuiou prevented him frim
mseti those that remained, to ee if al wme





M BrasonuT.
Ahs ft br mmft s Ms
there. lie presumed, however, from the blet-
ing of the mother-sheep above referred to, ad
from the other symptoms of distress which she
manifested, that one of her lambs was gone.
In the morning all doubt was at once re.
moved, on the first survey of the ground; for
the spot where the bear had struggled with her
prey was plainly to be seen, and her track could
also easily be traded into the thickets, marked,
where the ground was soft, by the impression
of her own footsteps upon the pathway, and at
other places by blood.
On making these discoveries, the farmer's
indignation was aroused to the highest pitch
against the bear.
"The bloodthirsty wretch!" he exclaimed.
"What a cruel monster to carry off and butch-
e a poor innocent lamb like that 1"
There was, however, no just cause for this
indignation-certainly not on the part of the
farmer himself,-for he was rearing this very
lamb for the identical purpose to which the bear
had appropriated it, namely, to kill it for food
for his family. He had the very day before
killed another of his lambs, and roasted a part
of it before the kitchen fire, to make a dinner
ir his children Men often exhibit this sam





TIn GiauT Biaea BIAI. "

kind of nreonambl .n in oesuring one am.
other. They condemn very severely in their
neighbors, things which they do themselves
without any compunction.
nresonable a it was, however, the farm
was extremely idignant. He left the tracks
which the bear had made, just a they were,
and called his neighbors in to see them. The
neighbors were indignant too; and a they
had looks and herds which were in the same
danger, they oon formed a plan for arming
themselves, and setting off into the woods in a
company, to endeavor to intercept the bear in
her great, a kill *
For arms, the farmers got out all the mskets,
fowling-piece, and pistols that they could find
in their houses; and those who had nothing that
would shoot, supplied themselves with pitch.
forks hatchets, and great clubs. One man
made a ort of spear of the point of a mythe,
which he contrived to fasten into the end of a
handle that had once belonged to a pitchfork.
He out away a part of the blade of the soydp
with a cod chiel, o as to form asort of sbank
which could be drive into the handle. Itmade
a very formidable looking weapon, minded
When it wa finished, the man randihed it Is





U B 0seaUMT.

the air before him, and sid that al he wanted
now, was to see the bear coming at him with
her mouth open, and he would give her some-
thing to swallow not quite so tender as the lerh
of that lamb.
In the mean time, the messengers who had
been sent abroad, galloped from farm-house to
farm-house, spreading the tidings. One of them
came to Mr. Henry's, and told Beechnut the
news, in hopes that some of Mrs. Ienry's work.
men might go with them. It happened, how-
ever, that these workmen were all away. At
the time when the messenger came to the house,
Phonny was down by the river, upon the little
pier, fishing. Malleville was just going down
to join him, but her attention was arrested at
seeing the horseman ride rapidly into the yard;
and when he stopped before Beechnut, who was
saddling the horse at a post near the barn, she
walked up to the place to hear what was the
matter. After telling the story to Beechnut,
the horseman rode away as fast as he oame.
Beechnut left the saddle, loose, upon the back
of his horse, and hurried into the house. Mal-
leville walked slowly and thoughtfully down
toward the pier, thinking of the bear and the
lamb, and intending to tell the story to Phomy





Tan G0asi BLAIe BalA. *

Phoao y bad heard the footstep of the bore,
* be came galloping along the reed, and so hd
looked round to se what wal th matter. He
bserred that the horeman, after a moment.
onversation with Beechnut, went galoping
mak again u fast as he came. This exited
is curiosity. He stood, aooordingly, upon the
Her, holding his fshing-pole in his hands, with
the line in the water, but with his face turned
iway from it toward Malleville, thus watching
er as she approached, instead of looking for a
xite at the end of his line. As soon as Malle-
rille came near enough to be heard, he called
mt to her, saying,
SMalleville, what was it that that man gal-
oped into our yard about?"
About a bear," said Maeville.
SWhat bout a bear?" asked Phonny very
mgery.
SIt is about a bear," exolaimed Mallevile,
coming now pretty near to Phonny, so that she
could speak in her ordinary tone of voice "that
anie out of the woods and carried of poor
little lamb. The men are all going ofinto the
woods to shoot the bear, and bring the lamb
imm again."
Are they ?r said Phony eagery.





4 BroDrMwT.
sn umae a web eh.ssro
Immediately, in a very hurried and excited
maner, he laid his firing-pole down upon the
pier, placing a at stone aor.o it *o keep it
steady, and set off toward the house. Malle-
ille ran after him, urging him to wait for her.
He ws running so fast, that she could not keep
up with him. Phonny, however, was too much
excited by the intelligence which he had re -
oeived, to pay any heed to Malleville's calls.
He made his way, a fast as he could, into the
yard, to find Beechnut. He caught a glimpse
of him going into a back shop. Phonny fol-
lowed him there, and found him examining an
old gun which he had taken down from a high
shelf there.
"Are you going into the woods to shoot the
bear asked Phoiny.
"I am going into the woods," repbld Beech.
nut, "but I do not expect to shoot the bear."
"Has my mother given you leave to gor?
asked Phonny.
Yes," replied Beechnut. This was tre.
Beechnut had been into the house an had in-
formed Mrs. Henry of the circumstances of the
asie, and had asked permiion to accompany
the expedition into the woods. Mrs. Henry
had been at first entirely unwilling to give her





Tns GaIAT BLAOGI SlAL.

oonaet that he should go. But Beosmat aid
that the had ooks of sheep to be defandd
wll a the neighbor, and that it was inoun.
beat on him,sinoe all the men attached to the
farm were away, to be ready to go with the
other firmes, and, whatever might be the diffi
oulty or the danger, to take his hare of it with
the rest. So Mrs.Henry finally oonsented.
"I mean to go, too," said Phonny. "I will
go and ask my mother."
So Pbonny ran off to the house. In a few
minutes he returned again, looking very dwn.
cat and disoonolate. Beechnut wa still at
work upon the gun. His attention was wholly
absorbed by it, so that he paid no attention to
Phonny. Malleville was standing by looking .
at the gun wth an expression of mingled ouri-
osity and awe.
Will she let you go ?" ked Malleville in a
very gentle voice.
"No," said Phonny, peevishly. "And I dos's
ms why. I might go as well as Beechnt."
She will not let you go then?" said Bech.
ant, napping some part of the gun beck ad
forth in his attempts to put it in order.
"No," said Phony, speaking in a very fit.
te tune.





U Ba sroMU.

*How provoking said Beechnut.
"Ye," rejoined Phonny, "it is provoking
indeedd"
"And how unreasonable mid Beechnut.
"Yes," responded Phonny.
"If I were you I would not bear it;" said
Beechnut.
"Why, what would you do?" asked Phon.,
ny.
"Oh, I don't know," said Beechnut. "I
would do something or other very desperate.
I wold fret about it all day."
Phonny war silent.
"You will not find another thing so good
to fret about in a twelve-month." continued
Beechnut. "It is astonishing what trials and
straits innocent boys are put to bjiard-hearted
mother. Here now is a boy that his mother
will not allow to set off in a company of fifty
men, with dogs and guns, to make a tramp of
six miles through the woods and mountains
hunting a wild beast,--nd he bear it, dear
little fellow, as patiently as a lamb I"
So saying, Beechnut began to pet Phouny
gently on the back.
Phomy seized leather trap, apart of an
bridle which chanced just then to be lying





TnI GaXAS B9A*e BMAB. l
Turm n Gsmau. 3A DAL *e

on the beach, and gave Beeshnt a gust
whbak arow the shomldW with it, and then ra
offoutofthe ahop. He tried very hrd to lok
cro until he had got out of eight, but he oudd
not quite eftet it. He burt into'an invl.
untary and ditressing laugh jut a he wa
paying the door. But he recovered him-lf
almost immediately, and Beechnut having put
up the gun, and followed Phonny to the door,
aw him stading there pretty near, ad looking
a sul len as ever.
"Poor little lamb I" said Beechnut in a tone
of great.oondolence.
Phonny ran at Beechnut on hearing thee
word, to pound him with his fist, but Beech-
nut evaded him by running round the honr
and thus lAping out of his pursuer's way.
He alo said by way of deprecating Pbhoay's
displeasreIf
*I meant the lamb that the, bear carried
away-not you."
"No," aid Phonny, you meant me. I
know you did."
Beechnut watched his opportunity wile
dodging about the horse to put the saddle pop
iyo, and tofate the girth. Hethee si.
demly retreated into the shop, Mad came at a





44 B owroMO.
a nw..h.m.. b as gue. eh e
moment afterwards with his montain-ae,
which was a smail and light axe, though the
handle was a long as that of any other axe.
With this ae in his hand, he mounted the
hose and began to ride away.
"Are you not going to take the gun," asked
Phonny.
"No," replied Beechnut.
"Why not F asked Phonny.
"Oh, thee a various reons," aid Beech-
nut. As he said this, he was advancing rapidly


A r% ILu iM SUu I





Tas GaBAt Bha, a BmA,. 4 .

mdUfl of gre to throw at Beeche t a I e a.
tried away, and then walked beak to meet Ml.
levife. He told Malleville that Beehnut was
the greatest tease that ever he knew, ad he
hoped that the bear would atoh him in the
woods and eat him up.
Phonny then went and got a wooden gag
which Beechnut had made for him some time
before, and amusd himself and Malleville for
more than two hours in rambling about the
yards and gardens, and shooting at arious ob-
jects which he made, in his imagination, answer
as representatives of bear. The hing-pole,
which he had left upon the pier, was entirely
forgotten.
Beechnut was brought home about the middle
of the afternoon of that day quite serioudy hart.
The manner in which this accident befel him
was as follows:-
The party of men that were to go out to but
the bear met at an appointed place of read
vous near the houe of the farmer whoe doek
had been attacked. Here they agreed upoM
the rule of the expedition. They were d
to proceed together, following th track of
the ber, s long as the track could be see.
The they were to separate into diftset pm





a ,Bases .uv.

tiMe each under its own heder, and poaee.
by different path. though in the use general
direction. They were all to be very oaref.
not to fire a gun unle they should actually ee
the bear, o that the report of a Run heard in the





Tax GanA Baeoz B-AL. ,

him whether he expected that an od sh bear
was going to stand stilB lke ample-to wm e
he came up with hi ae. to ut hr down.
Beechnut took all this railery in very good part
and trudged patiently on in his place in the line,
with the axe upon his shoulder.
After getting about a mile and a half into the
woods, the leaders of the party lost sight of the
track and could not recover it again. The
company then divided into several distinct par-
ties and went on at a little distance from each
other so as to explore a considerable breadth of
forest a they advanced. The party to which
Beechnut was attached consisted of about six
men. The leader of this party was an old and
experienced hunter, whom the men called Uncle
Harry. Beechnut joined this division beoase
he had more confidence in Uncle Harry than in
any of the other commanders. The rest were
noisy and talkative, but Uncle Harry was quiet
and still, and yet very observant and watehudl;
he said but little and made no pretensio, while
the others were continually calling out to the
company to go this way and that, and direc-
mg their attention to discoverie which always
turned out to be nothing in the end. Bdemt
observed all these things, ad eomelAdd tht





48 BaeBO UTr.

thr would be the best chance of meeting th
bear in following Unole Harry.
He was right in this conjecture. Unole Ha
ry knew the whole country perfectly well, am
he formed a perfectly correct judgment of th
route which the bear would be likely to take
He went on, however, without making any dim
coveries, for more than three miles, pasingove
and through all sorts of difficulties and obstacle,
which cannot .be particularly described. A
length, just as h was entering a wild nad dis
mal glen, almost surrounded by rocky precipi
oes, he suddenly stopped, and said,
"Hurh I"
He pointed up the glen. The men all looked
and there, upon the ground, under a large oak
tree, they saw a monstrous black bear rittinl
up and looking at them with fierce and glaring
eyes. A moment afterwards they heard alooI
low and angry growl.
Beechnut immediately looked all around tb
glen to me if there was any way by which tb
bear oould escape from them in cae she we
attacked by the men and wounded. He sa
that there was one path leading up the rook
upon one side of the gle, which emed to al
ford the only egre. He immediately left th





Tos GUsAT BLses B3AL. a

party, and inning into the thicket, he ie
round in circuit until e oe out t this palt,
about half-way up the auent. Beo be
reached this point, however, he heard ome td.
my discharged from the guns.
When he reached the path, he sheltered him-
self behind a great tr that wa there, and
then peeping out upon one side he looked down
into the glen. The bear had disappeared.
She had been slightly wounded by one of the
guns, and had scrambled upinto the oak-tree.
The men were loading their gus anew. Pre-
ently they fired a second time. The bear was.
slightly wounded again, and terrified at the noise
made by the guns and at the smoke and fire, he
came down the tre6 with great impetuosity and
ruhed toward the pith which Beechnut was
guarding. Beechnut stood all ready with his
axe a she came climbing up the steep path, and
at the instant that her head came within his
reach he dealt upon it tremendous blow, and
felled the bear to the ground. He immediately
began cutting of her head with rapidly repeated
strokes of the ae, and before any of the me
could reach the place the head was svred
completely from the body.
The report of A gupa and the bouhts of t






M 8sBOBNoT.


men brought up one of the other parties to the
spot The ret had wandered too far away to
hear them. The men who assembled made a
sort of hand-barrow of the stems of young and
lender trees to put the carcas of the bear
upon, and carry it home. They found a road
in returning which tooklhem back by a nearer
way than that by which they came. When
they began to approach the settlements of the
farmers, Uncie Harry and the other men in.
sited that Beecknut should get upon the bar.

















*UU Irm Ia &
,0





Tan GBIAT BLAeK BIA,.

row too, that they might carry him home In
triumph. Beechnut wished to decline tA
honor, but the men all absolutely insisted on
his compliance. So he mounted upon the bar.
row, and took his seat upon the bear.
The procession went on very well in this
way for a short distance, but at length they
came to a little bridge, which, though strong
enough for ordinary travel, could not bear this
great load, consisting, as it did, of the bear
and Beechnut, and the mer that were carry-
ing them. The bridge broke down, and half
of the party fell into the brook. Beechnut,
being the highest, fell the farthest, and the sharp
end of one of the poles of the barrow entered
his leg and made a shocking wound.
For ti rest of the way he had to be carried
in earnest, and he arrived at home at last, in the
condition in which great heroes so often nd
themselves-covered with glory, but tormented
with pain.
Another of the disasters of the day wa. that
Phony lost his fishing-line. Alare h bit at
his book while he was in the yard with Mail
vile shooting imaginary bear. The fsh was
strong enough to pull the fsing-line, po, and
all into the river, notwithstanding the fst stoae






Br3ion UT.


which Phonny had placed over it, to ooere it.
Phonny went down in the ourme of the after.


b
i





BaronruT's Pvpivii o0 PARI. &
na- d aumft nb wow m me




CAFTIas III.

BascIaNT's PIroTua or PARIS.

Fos two or three days Beechnut sufered a
great deal of pain from his wound. He was
feverish and restless besides, and very thirsty
all the time. Phonny and Malleville went in
sometimes to mee him, but he could not talk
much with them, and so they soon went out.
Pponny went up to the bed-side at one time
and asked Beechnut whether there was not
ay thing that he could do for him. "Yes,"
said Beechnut, "if you will just go up into the
mountains and bring me down a little brook, so
that I can have it running here by my bed-side
and drink as much a I want, I will be everlast
ingly thankful to you."
Phonny laughed, and said that he could not
do that; but he would go down to the well and
get him a pitcher full of cool water. Beechnut
replied that that would not do him any good;
for if Phony brought the water, they wod
not let him drink it.





9 Ba-ouavT.

-Won't they let you have any thing to
drink ?' uked Phonny.
"Very little," said Beechnut.
Phonny had the opportunity very soon after-
wards to see how little they gave Beechnut to
drink, for the nurse came to the bed-side and
asked him if he was thirsty. Beechnut said he
was. So the nurse took up a little water in a
teaspoon from a tumbler which was standing
upon a small table at the bedside, and put it to
Beechnut's mouth. Beechnut took the water,
and then turned restlessly over and shut his
eyea. Pretty soon after this Phonny went
away.
Two days afterwards Phonny and Mallevife
came to Beechnut's door one morning a4er
breakfat, and peeped into the room. Beech-
nut aw them, and called out to them to come in.
As they entered, they perceived at once that his
whole appearance was changed. His coun-
tenance wa beaming with health and happi-
eW.
"How do you do this morning?" said
Phonny.
S"WaI,," said Bshoaut, emphatically,
swinging his ars at the sae time over his
beadf, Well. Perfectly well. I never felt





BamsonMuT' Psro.av or PAsts.

better in my life. I would mow an aon of
gras this morning u well as not, if they wopd
only bring it to me here upon the bed. And I
am going to have beef-steak for breakfast
Think of that l"
Phonny said he did not think much of that.
He had had beef-steak for breakfast himself
every morning for a week.
"But I am a convalescent," replied Beech-
nut. The greatest happiness in the world for
a boy, is to be a convalescent and to have beef.
steak and a cup of coffee for hh breakfut."
"Only," continued Beechnut a moment at-
terwards, in a saddened tone, I have got to be
still on this bed a week longer, till the wound
gets healed."
Beechnut then attempted to sit up in his bed
a little by way of showing how strong he was.
He found, however, that he was not so striag
as head supposed. In fact, he felt very weak
and on attempting to raise his head he became
faint and giddy. He was therefore very glad
to lie down again.
He, however, gained a great deal of strength
in the course of the day. Phonny and Melle.
vile came in several times to se him, ad.rin
the afternoon he was well enough to hr





SBnnnrcurvr.

Phoony read a story from a book; only Beech.
mt got asleep during the reading. Pbonny
looked a little disappointed when he turned
found at the most interesting part of the story
id maw that Beechnut was aleep; but the
wrne seemed pleased, and said that she was
rery glad. The very best thing, she said, that
ioud be done with a book in the case of any
ep who was ick, was to read him to deep with
t If it were not for that effect of reading, she
ever, she said, would allow a book to come into
Sick chamber."
After his sleep Beechnut felt quite rested and
refreshed; and Phonny, happening to cast his
eyes upon the picture of Paris which was hang-
ng upbn the wall not far from the bed, in such
Position that Beechnut could easily see it as
ie lay with his head upon the pillow, reminded
Beechnut of his promise to tell them about Paris
at some time, and about his early life there.
Beechnut said that he would perform his prom.
Me that very evening after tea. Accordingly,
ifter tea Phonny brought Malleville up into
leehnut's room to hear the story.
The head of the bed upon which Beechnut
Ma lying was at one end of the room not far
ken a window. The picture of Paris wa





Basllewo Ps6oewa or PAsIe. I

hanging over thedre-place which was bppcte
to one ide of the bed. The window was be.
tween the bed and the fre-place. Near the
head of the bed, and between it and the win-
dow, there was a great esy chair," as it was
called. It was large, and was very comfortably
lined and stuffed. It belonged in Mrs. Henry's
room, and had been brought into Beechnut's
room that he might sit in it a soon as e should
be able to sit up.
When Phonny and Malleville came in to
Beechnut's room to hear his story, Malleville
took possession of the easy chair and established
herself there. Phonny climbed up upon the
bed and sat with his back against the foot-board.
Thus he could look toward Beechnut while
Beechnut was talking, and could also ee the
picture at any time by turning his head a little
toward one side.
When they were all ready, Beechnut began
as follows.
"There is a river that runs through Paris.
The name of it is the Seine."
"Yes, said Phonny. "I knew that Paris
was on the Seine. I learned it in the Geog
raphy."
You can see the river in the nieture" said





68 BEECHNUT.
The riwr eMa. Pmnny's beotng.
Beechnut, pointing to the pipture, but taking
no notice of Phonny's interruption.


















3IICIUVT'I CHAMUIR.

A copy of Beechnut's picture of Paris is put
into this book for a frontispiece, and the reader
by referring to it from time to time, as he reads
this conversation, will better understand Beech-
nut's remarks, besides getting a more clear idea
of some of the more important localities of the
city of Paris than any mere description could
possibly give.





Bascan1Ur' PicTuas or Passl. i

SYe," said Phomny, "I u iL. Wbh way
dos it run ?"
"That is a very enable question said
Beechnut. It is almost sensible enough to bal-
ance the folly of the observation which you
made before."
"What observation "' asked Phonny.
The observation," replied Beechnut, that
you knew .before that Paris was upon the river
Seine."
SWell I did know it, truly," said Phonny.
SI do not doubt it," replied Beechnut. "But
there was no need of interrupting the story to
boast of your knowledge."
"Well, which way does the Sein flow ?
asked Phonny.
It flows toward us, as we look at the pic-
ture. Do you ee that little island in the middle
of the river ?"
"Yes," said Phonny. "I ee two."
"I mean the largest," added Beechnut.
"The one nearest this way," said Phouny.
"I ee it."
"So do I," aid Malleville.
It is a pretty large land in reality," Mid
Beechnut, *though it looks small in the picture
It has a eat many streets and squares in i





sO BaIO-NUT.
1u dml dk De, I5ms inm eU
and various public building and churches
They call it the city."
What for asked Phonny.
"I don't know," said Beechnut. "They
never call it the island, but always the city.
There is a great cathedral church upon it, which
is celebrated all over the world. This church
has two square towers."
Yes," said Phonny, I see them."
"It is called the church of Notre Dame," said
Beechnut. "It is not at all like the churches
and meeting-houses in this country, with pews
in the middle and a pulpit at one end."
"What is it like ?" asked Malleville.
Oh, you can not get any idea of it," replied
Beechnut, "without seeing it. The interior is
of vast size, with enormous columns rising to
support the arches to the roof, and when you
look up it seems as if you were looking to the
sky. And all around there are sculptures and
monuments, all carved in stone, and great paint.
ings on the walls, and chapels along the sides
with immense numbers of little candles burning
before the crucifies and the images of the Vir-
gin, and hundreds of persons from all parts of
the world walking to and fro, and priests in
white robes, chanting mases and burning in.





BsoIn NUT' PioTUo or PAise. -
fsii -m I2s PA I"b~e&
ens, while the sound of the organ is thunder.
ing all the time along the arches and aides."
SI should like to go there," said Maleville.
"So should I," said Phonny, "very much in.
deed."
"Then besides the church," continued Beech.
nut, "there is an enormous hospital upon the
island, with sick people in it by the thousand
They lie in beds placed in rows in long halls.
The nuns and nurses are walking about the
rooms taking care of these sick people, and the
physicians come round every day, bringing stu-
dents with them, and. going along from bed to
bed to prescribe. The hospital is so large
that it takes a great many hours to go over.
it alL"
"I should not want to see so many sick peo.
ple" said Malleville.
"I should said Phonny.
SCan we see the hospital in the picture ?
asked Phonny.
"Not very well," replied Beechnuta "It is
not far from the church, on the right hand ide
of the island "
There are a great many bridges areos the
Seine," continued Beechnut.
"Yes," aid Phomny. "I mean nt count





* BNaUVNUT.
AMilge bMa. ned Waft M, l-emM.
them. One, two, three, four, five, , even,

When Phonny had got to seven he was some-
what puzzled for the rest, as he could not count
the bridges about the island very well.
Some of these bridges," aid Beechnut, "are
wide, for carriages, and others are narrow, be-
ing intended only for foot-men. It is good fun
to go over, half-way, upon one of these bridges,
and look down upon the river."
What do you see ?" asked Phonny.
"Oh, you see boys fishing upon the banks,"
replied Beechnut, and a great many little boats
sailing about."
And ships?" asked Phonny.
"No," replied Beechnut, "you can never
have ships upon a river among bridges. The
masts are too tall."
But they have ships in London," said Phon.
ny, and bridges too."
"But not together," replied Beechnut. The
ships never go above the bridges. The bridges
e all in the upper part of the city, and the
ships in the lower. They could not have a
bridge in the lower pert of the city where the
shipping is, and that is the reason that they
made the tunnel."





BasrasorT' Psiroas.or PARs. U

"I cn s ome of the little be in the
river, in the picture mid Mallevill.
"Yes," aid Beehnut. Only the river is a
great deal larger in reality than it appears in
the picture, and there ae a great may mor
boats. Then then are the great eating bath
ing-houses, and washing-houes, and mill."
What are they ?" asked Phonny.
"The washing-houses," replied Beechnut,
"are very long and large houses, made one
story high, and handsomely painted. They
are anhored in the river, and they float upon
the water. There are rows of openings, like
doors, in them, all around, opening down to the
water. At each opening there stands a woman,
washing clothes in the river, and banging them
when she pulls them out of the water, with a
great club on the edge of the boat."
"What boat ?" asked Phonny.
Why, the washing-house itself is a sort of
monstrous boat, and there is a flat place at the
edge, at the bottom of the openings, where the
washer-women stand, for them to beat the
olothe upon."
Yes," aid Phonny, "I understand. But I
don't ee any view of the washing-ouses im
the pioture."





a DIBOIM UT.

"Np," mid Beechnut, "there is not room is
Such a picture for a hundredth part of whla
you can Me in Paris itself. There are the mill
besides that are not represented in the pioture
They are large buildings floating upon thi
water with wheels at the sides of them, like the
wheels of a steam-boat. The water of the rrvej
lowing by, while the boat is kept still by iti
moorings, makes the wheels go round, and thai
carries the machinery."
How curious I" said Phonny.
"Yes," said Beechnut. "You see a greo
many curious things in standing upon tU
bridges at Paris, and looking down upon thu
water. Sometimes you may ee something tha
is horrible."
"What ?" asked Phonny.
Why, you might possibly see the dead bodj
of a man floating by. There are a great man]
miserable wretches in Paris, and a great man;
of them drown themselves in the river. Their
there are others that fall in and get drowned
accidentally. The police take them out a
soon as they see them, but the water is always
so turbid that they are not easily seen, and the,
Sfoat away down the river two or three mild
There there is a great net stretched aorom th





Basesxor's Pivroea or Pasii. 0
5tenmth oUmet thR pIg
tnram to catch the bodies. This net is eas.
med every day, and all the bodies an *'ee
beck to Paris again."
"To be buried F' asked Phonny.
"No not immediately. They first put them
in a particular building which stands in a very
public place upon the bank of the river, where
any body can go and see them, to wee if they
are their friends. This building is called the
Morgue. The bodies are put upon marble
sids, and a little stream of water runs over
them all the time. The clothes which were
taken off from them are hung up near, for
sometimes they might be known by their
lothes."
"Can any body go in and see them?" asked
Phonny.
SYes," said Beechnut. "The door of the
Morgue is always open, and people are all the
time going in and out. I went in a great many
times."
"What did you see ?' asked Phonny.
"Beechnut," said Mallville, I wish you
would tell us about something el. I don't like
to hear so much about that."





66 BannuaB T.

building facing this way. in the middle of the
picture, with the gardens before it."
"Yes," said Phonny, "with the end to the
river."
"That," continued Beechnut, "is the famous
palace of the Tuilleries, where the king lives;
-the king, or the emperor, or the president,
whichever it is. In front of it are the gardens
of the Tuilleries, full of groves of trees, and
pleasant walks, and beds of beautiful flow
ers."
"I can't see the flowers," said Malleville.
"No," rejoined Beechnut. They would be
too small to be seen on such a picture; but
there are, in fact, a great many flowers there.
Then there are beautiful marble statues, and
fountains, and thousands of ladies and gentle-
men walking to. and fro, or sitting under the
trees upon chairs kept there for the purpose,
and soldiers walking aboutto preserve order
and guard the gates."
"Won't they let any body go in," asked
Phonny.
"Oh yes," replied Beechnut, "they let every
body go in, provided they are neatly and prop.
ery dremed, and have not any parcel in their
hands. The garden is for .pleasure, and they





Brn@oRMUT' PiorTaU or PAIas. I

do not allow any thing that looks like beioes
to enter there. All the world may go if they
go only to enjoy themselves. At a certain
hour in the evening the drum beat, and then
every body must go out. The children of Paris
like to go into the gardens of the Tuilerie
very much. There is a great round pond of
water in the middle of it, where they can sil
their boats. You can see this pond in the
picture, with the fountain playing in the center
of it, only it looks very small."
"Where ?" said Malleville; "I don't see
it"
Phonny said that he saw it, and he jumped
down from his place upon the bed, went to the
fire-place, and then. climbing up in a chair, he
pointed out the pond to Malleville.
"By-and-by," continued Beechnut, "I am
going to tell you about an adventure that I had
in the gardens of the Tuilleries, at this basin
or pond; but now I want you to look at the
great open square, this side of the gardens of
the Tuilleries, where you see two founttainL
one on each side."
"Yes," said Phonny. "Here it is: and
these are the fountains."
So saying, Phoany pointed at the fontaine






* BBouucUT.

with his ager. Then he got down from his
bhir and remsmed his former position upon the
bed.
*I can see them perfooetly well from here"
said he.
"There is something between those foun-
tais," resumed Beechnut, "in the middle of
the square, which is thought very wonderful,
but I presume that it will not interest you er
much."
What is it ?" asked Phonny.
SAn obelisk," replied Beechnut. "You can
see it-standing up straight and tall in the mid.
dle of the square. The wonder is, that though
it is very large and very high, like a lofty stee-
pe, it is all one single ston from top to bottom.
It was made and set up in Egypt, thousands of
years ago, and is covered with hieroglyphics.
They brought it from Egypt, and set it up in
Paris in this square. It required prodigius
engines to move and lift such an enormous
stone."
"I see another obeli," said Phonny.
*There it is." o saying, he pointed to a
talU olumn which maybe en in the picture to
the let of the gardens of the Tuillerie, ring
from a sqaU opening amua the buildings.





BnraMOan's Pietras or Paur. W

SNo," sai Beechnt, that is at obkIk.
That is the column of the Place Vesd
There is a statue of Napoleon upon the top of
it. The column is covered with bras upon
the outside, from the bottom to the top, with
presentations of battles upon it. Napoleon
got the brass by melting up between four aod
five hundred brass cannons that he oonquere4
from his enemies in the wars."
SBehind the Tuilleries" continued Beeohnut,
Sis a great parade-ground, where the troops are
reviewed every morning at ten o'clock, with
drums beating and color lying."
"I should like to go and me them" said
Phonny.
"So should I," said Ma ille "if they
would not fire. It frightens me when they
fire."
You would like better to go to the Louvre
Malleville," sid Beechnut.
Where is the Louvre ?" aukd Mallevile.
It is directly behind the parade-ground. It
is built on four sides of a quare with an open
space in the center."
After attentively examining the piotre for
ome time, Phonny and Malleville both aw the
palace of the Louvre. They eoM ealy m a





Bsnonnut.
VY Bn80IWOT.

out its square form, though that front of it
which was turned toward them was somewhat
concealed by smaller buildings which stood be-
tween the Louvre and the parade-ground.
Beechnut explained to them that there were
immense picture-galleries in the Louvre, con-
sisting of long halls,-so long, some of them,
that you could scarcely see from one end to
the other,-and yet the walls were entirely cov-
ered with the most beautiful paintings, through
the whole extent. Here, he said crowds of
ladies and gentlemen were continually walking
up and down, or sitting upon cushioned benches
and looking at the paintings, or observing the
artists who were at work everywhere along the
apartments making copies. Beechnut described
the Boulevards too, a broad and splendid street
going all around the city. The beginning of it
may be sen on the left where it commences at
a church without a steeple, seen at the corner
of the picture. This church, Beechnut aid,
was a very beautiful one, and was called the
Madeleine.
Beechnut alo showed Phonny and Mallevile
where the great hotel was situated to which a
large proportion of the English and American
travlrs who go to Par, resort. It was on





BasBOeM T'B PiCnTWs or PAss1. 11

the left of the gardens of the Tuillerie,'upoo the
broad street which may be-seen in the piotu
between the gardens and the columns of the
Place Vend6me. The name of this hotel was
the Hotel Meurice. There were pictures of
carriage in the street opposite to this place,
very small, so small indeed that Malleville could
not very well make out what they were.
Jeechnut, however, told her that they were oar-
riages, nd that they were filled with English
and American travelers going out to ride.
As he said this, Beechnut threw his head over
upon the pillow toward the other side, so a to
turn away from the picture, and exclaimed with
a sigh,
"Oh, dear mel I am tired."
But you promised to tell us the tory of
Your adventure in the gardens of the Tuilerie,'
said Phonny.
"Not now," said Beechnut. "No more now.
Come to-morrow."
So Phony got down from the bed, and per.
oeiving that Beechnut wua very tired, he- took
Malleville by the hand, and led er gently out
of the room.






n Bllsron


Mi*"6WfWW-L


abw "


11- -!.-': I-


alt a &VA beawe FIVU Siau UvM %A Bam s a A Iv.w
pile of pictures which he had been collecting
for some time from newapers and books, with
the intention of putting them into his srap
book when he had leisure. He wau.now trim-
ming the edges of these pioturem with a pair of
shear,.
Ah, Beechant," said Phonny, coming up to
the bedside. You must not work. Madll
viDe and I will trim thee pictures for you."
"This is not work," replied Beeohnat. Thi
L Il--





AIaBLLa. 9
emeumai Re, be. kmsegs eM
"Oh no," maid Phonny, "it is work to trim
pitures; and hard work too to trim them
straight. I have tried it. You had better let
Malleville and I do it for you."
"No," said Beechnut. "I will fish the
work now I have begun it, and you and Male-
ville may come and sit here together in the
eay chair, and I will tell you the story of my
adventure"
So Phonny and Malleville took their places
as Beechnut had directed, and he began his
story as follows.
"My father was a maker of musical boxes,
and he used to live in Geneva, in Switzerland."
Did he make your musical box for you?"
asked Malleville.
Beechnut had, among his other treasure, a
very handsome musical box, which played seve-
ral very pretty tunes indeed. Malleville and
Phonny bad often taken it to hear it play.
Beechnut kept it very safely in a drawer which
was always very carefully locked, and he
seemed to prize it very highly. Malleville
knew that this musical box came with Bech.
nut's other valuables from France, and aooord
ingly whem she heard that Beechnut's fathe
was a musical box.maker br trade. he theuaW





74 BuSoNurT.
"n*mssuh .-ao hk,. OdhMUNW ."
at once that he must have made Beechnut's
box.
Yes," said Beechnut, in reply to her ques-
tion; and it was the last box that he ever
made; and that is the reason why I value it so
much."
"My father," continued Beechnut, "got
along very well in making musical boxes at
Geneva for some time, but at last some unlucky
man invented a new way of making them by
using machinery for some of the important
parts, so that the boxes could be made a great
deal cheaper than before."
I should think that that was lucky," said
Phonny, not unlucky."
It was unlucky for my father, at any rate,"
said Beechnut, "for he, and all other workmen
like him, who only knew how to make the music
cal boxes in the old way, were thrown out of
employment."
Why did not your father learn to make
them by the machinery ?" asked Phonny.
"I don't know," replied Beechnut. "Per.
hap. he might have learned, but my mother
died about that time, and that disheartened him
mor and more, and inlly he determined to go
away from Genera. So he packed up his toolk





AbtaLLa -
mb!uib mm6 Ml sl g n blS
in a trunk, and sod all his furniture, aad then
et of with me to go to Paris."
After he had been in Paris some time,"oon
tinted Beechnut, nd could not get any thing
to do, he became very much disoouraged ad
depresed. We lived in a little room in a home
upon the land that you see there in the pio-
ture; the island that I told you wa called the
city."
"Was it near the church that you lived?"
asked Phonny.
"No," said Beechnut, "it was at the other
end of the island, the end this way. I felt very
unhappy to se my father so distresed, and one
day I thought I would go out and take a walk,
and see if I could not find something for him to
do. And if I could not do that, I thought at
least that I might amue myself by fading
somebody more distresed than we were, and
perhaps helping them a little in their troubles
even if we could not get out of ours.
"I walked across the bridge which leads
from the city toward the Louvre. You oan
me it upon the picture at this end of the island.
The bridge was covered with marriage and
popl going and coming. When I got aer
the bridge, and ame t the stret which rum





n Bad B no o UT.

along the bank of the river, I found it full of
omnibuses, coaches, and men on foot, with mul.
titudes of people at the corners, having books
and pictures for mae, and drinks of various
kinds, and refreshments. There was a row of
women sitting on little benches along the edge
of the side-walk, exercising their various trades.
One was shearing and trimming dogs, another
was brushing boots for persons who were going
by. A man would come up to the place and
put his feet, first one and then the other, upon
a little stool which she had ready for him there,
while she would clean and polish his boots
without having them taken off Another had
Lucifer matches to ell, another hot cakes,
which she was all the time frying over a little
portable furnace. Presently a cocoa-smas came
along with his cocoa-fountain on his back, and
his cups tinkling."
What does that mean ?" asked Phonny.
SA cocoa-man," said Beechnut, "is a man in
Paris who sells a kind of drink which they call
coooa. It is very cheap, but Idon't think it is
verygood."
"No," aid Phouny. "I have drank it, and
I don't like it very well."
"h is not your kind of coco," rejoined





ABIISLL9
SAnn,. aW,

Beechnut, that the coooa-man selb in Pari.
It is something quite difesnt, I believe. But
whatever it is, he carrie it in a great Sat tin
an, strapped to hi back, and ruing high above
his head. The can is gayly painted, and it has
a pipe and a stop-oook, which comes out under
the man's arms, o that he draws out the drink
conveniently before him into little tin tumble,
which hecarries in hi hand. Thee tintum-
bler. he Jige together a he walks along to
let people know that the oooo-marn is com.
ing.
"The one that came along where I was
walking was stopped by a mischievou boy,
who asked for two drinks of cocoa, one for
himself, he aid, and the other for another boy
who was coming round the corner. When the
coooa-man had drawn out the drinks, the boy
handed the caps back to him, asking him to
hold them for a moment while he took the
money out of his pocket. The cocoa-man
took the cups, and while his hands were thus
coined the boy turned the stopcoook and set
the cooo to running out o'the can, and thea.
ran away, laughing at the oooo-man's dis-
tress.






78 BzBcaHUT.
Bisdmw h olpos theo isL peiutsm .

















TRE COCOA-MA.

S1 saw it all, and went up immediately and
turned the faucet again so as to stop the run-
ning of the cocoa. The cocoa-man was very
angry with the boy, but was very thankful to
me. I lifted up the cover of his can and helped
him pour back the two cups of cocoa. He
said that he was very much obliged* to me in-
deed, and asked mne if he could not do any
'thing to serve me. I told him no, unless he
could help me get something for my father to
do. He said he did not know of any thing





AslaeLL. M

that he oould do unless he should buy a ca
and become a coooa-merchant If my father
lked that, he would teach him, he id, all
about the business. Then he put his hand into
his pocket and took out a seo, and gave it to
me. He aid that if he was rich, he would
reward me more. I told him that I did not
need any reward, but that I would take the son,
for it would help my father a little. So I took
it, and went away."
What is a so t" asked Phonny.
"It is a piece of money like a cent," said
Beechnut
"I took my sou," continued Beechnut, "and
walked on. Presently, as I was going across
by the parade-ground, I found two small chil-
dren with their bo3%e. They had been flying a
small kite which their bone@ had bought for
them at a toy-shop."
1 What is a bosse asked Malleville.
"Why, it is a sort of maid," replied Beech.
nut, that takes care of children, and walks out
with them, and helps them play. The kite which
theee children had wa very small, and it bhd a
thrad for a string. The kite had got caught
m a tree, and the bone could not get it dowa.
I went to them, and offered to climb the tre





SBannosu T.

and release the kite; nd I began to do as, bu
a polioeoffioer came by, and said that it we
forbidden to climb the trees. So I was obliged
to desit. The bone said it was no matter
She would pull upon the string, she said, and
perhaps the kite would come down. So she
pulled very h~a, but instead of bringing the
kite down, she only broke the string off na
the kite, and then the string itself, but nothing
else, came to the ground. It was a very pretty]
scarlet thread.
"The bonse sid that I might have the threat
to pay for my kindness in trying to get the kite
I did not know that it would be of any use to
me, but it was very pretty, and I concluded t4
take it and carry it home to show to my father
I had not any thing else to wind it on, and so 1
wound it upon my sox, and then put it in ml
pocket. Then we all went away. I went on0
way, while the bone and the children went in
other. We left the kite dangling in the tree.
"I went along into the street that you ms
there in the picture, paying between the gar
dens of the Tuilleries and the odlumn in th
Place Vend6me, until I came to the great iroi
gate leading into the gardens. I went in
There were thousand of ladies and gentle





A*ieiaa. em

walking about, ome talking together they
walked, some looking at the fountains, or the tat.
s, or the beds of fowen; while there were othb
n sitting at their leiure in chair under the tres.
I sauntered on among these crowd, not know-
ing where to go or what to do, until I ame at
length to the great circular basin which you me
there in the picture, with the fountain in the
middle of it. The fountain was not playing
then, so that the water was smooth -in every
part. There were a great many people walking
around the basin. There was a little boy there,
rather plainly dressed, who had a small boat
which he was sailing upon the water of the
basin. There was a very pretty young woman
with him, who, as I supposed, was his boau."
And was not she his boass1" asked Malle.
ille.
"No," replied Beechnut. "I found out after
ward that she was his sister, though I did not
know it at the time. He called her Arielle." -
"What a pretty name," said Malleville.
"And what was the boy's name ?" asked
Phonny.
"Adolph" said Beechnt.
"That is not a very pretty name," id
Phonon.





l B2u2swNT.
Ads mbe. kmnsbme in
SNo," added Beechnut, but it was a very
petty boy, and he had a very pretty boat. Hi
sister had rigged it for him, and he had come
out to ail it that day for the first time. Head
a string tied to the bows of the boat to keep it
from getting away from him, but just as I orne
up to the place, he had, in some way or other,
accidentally dropped his string, and the boa
was ailing away over the water out of his reach
There were some other boys there who began
to laugh at him, and went about to pick up little
pebblestones to throw at the boat and make it
go away farther. Poor Adolphe was greatly
distresed and began to cry. Arielle looked dis-
tresed too. She begged Adolphe not to cry,
and said that she would contrive some way or
othertoget his boat back again. Butwhen he
looked at it and saw it floating slowly away, far-
ther and farther, she did not know what to do."
"Hoh I" said Phonny. "Why did not the
boy pull up his trowser and go right in and
et itr
"WL police would not have allowed hia to
ds t," replied Beechnut. "The polio, are
very trict about all much things as that, h the
public gardens in Pari. Beside, Iprem he
wter was too deep,"








I mu inn ey reoooted my log thnm ,"
eomtined Beechnut, "and thought that I eeld
get bck the boat in ome way or other by
means ofhat So I went up to the brink of
the basin and aid to the other boy, don't Istr
throw stones at the poor little fellow's veow
Let us try to get it back for him.
"They then stopped throwing stones, bat
they sid that there was no way to get the vs
l back. One of the boys had a small pbble
stone in hi hand which he had not yet thrown.
I asked him to let me look at it. I then took
out my scarlet thread, and.asked him if he
thought it would be possible to tie that thread
to the pebbletone o as to make it hold. He
said he thought it would; and then I asked him
to try and me if he oould do it."
"Why did not you do it yourself?" aked
Phonny.
Because replied Beechnut, I wanted to
get those boy.interested in bringing back the
veral, by giving them something to do about it.V
"That was a good plan," said Phonny.
"Yes," iidBeehnt. *ff I had gd e for.
ward by myef alone to get back the vres.e
peoialy afer hring reproved them for thrqW-
ino tnm at it I shoan narhau have had thei






ie BaesunwT.

.wili, and when I had got the boat pretty ear
tb shore, they might possibly have puhed it
oat again. But I knew that if I engaged them
to help me, they would be a much interested in
Peting book the vessel a ."
*And did you get it back?" asked Male-
vile.
SI will tell you," replied Beechnut. "The
boy tied the end of my scarlet thread to the
pebble-stone a carefully as he could, and then
1 unwound a considerable length of the thread
from the eio, and placed it in a little coil upon
the brink of the asin. I then asked one of the
other boys, the largest one in the company,
whether he thought he could toss the stone
gently over the vessel into the water beyond it,
in such a manner that the line should fall across
the deck of it. Oh, yes,' he said, easily
enough.'"
SImmediately," continued Beeohnut, "s w
rl of the other boys wanted the privilege of
throwing the stone; but I told them we would
take turns in doing it, for as the essel had
coated away so far from the shore, it as not
at al probable, I sid, that the operation would
mooed on the fint trial. Indeed,I bopsd that
it would not. for I wised to give several of th





Aa _&_I_._

boy an opportunity oto t thes e. Aad ia
fiot it did not mooeed the irt tin. They
had to try three time. The third tir the
wtooe went into the water a little way beyoe
the verel, and the thread fel down upoa the
ieek between the two masts. 'Now,' aid I,
'gently, boys, gently. Pull low and very
steadily '
The boy began to poll upon the thread
and they drew the stone up until it cam agala
the farthest ide of the vesse, and then, b)
drawing in very gently and steadily, the verl
was brought in slowly toward the shore. As
oon as it came within reach I took it out, re-






5 1hamo35'.
-W Mrldi OW*Avq I


that in some way or other his vwel would get
put into the water again, that he was very im-
patient to go away. He pulled Arielle so hard
by the arm while she was talking with me, that
she began to walk slowly along, and as Arielle
was speaking to me at the time I walked along
with her. Thus we all went on together up th
grand alley, toward the palace of the Tuilleries.
You an see where we went upon the picture."
"Stop," saidPhonny. "Wait till I lookand

So sayin, Phonny went to the fire-place and
climbed up into a hair before the picture, and
then helped Malleville up and let her stand by
his ide. The representation of the plaoe was
so small upon the picture that the children could
not see very well. Still they could make out
the basin, ad the grand alley leading toward
the palace.
As w walked along, Arelbe mid that sh
wa very much obliged to me indeed, mor to me,
she sid, than to all the other boy put together;
br it was owing to me entirely that the boat
wa eorered. She said that she lived in d r.








tain areet t fr from the Bolevad, and the
hr father ws a lithograpbic printer, ad the
her busrine wa to color the prints when tb
were engraved. She sid also that if I woua
go with her to her rooms, he would give a
one of her picture, and let me me how rh
colored them; and she asked me if there w
not any thing ele that she could do for me.
SI told her that I should like very muoh in
deed to me her color her picture, but that wha
I wanted most wa something for my father to
do. She asked me what my father could do
and what ort of a place he wanted to get.
told her a much as I knew about him, and the
she rid that they wanted to get a porter at tU
hose where rhe lived, and that perhaps hl
would like that situation. He would have a
fae opportunity, she sid, to make musical
boe in the porter's lodge."
"I don't know what a porter is," Msid Mall
vile, "or a porter' lodge."
SThere ae different kinds of porters," Ma
Beechut. "In this country, he is a man wh
carries trunks about. Bt the kind of port.
that Arlle meant was not that. It is a dilr.
eat buiness altogether. The porter that ds
meant, has a small room at the entree of a


"1 1





a Banise T. ,
rm o s bmmhft.k &A..A.m"
pest bour to attend to the people that go in
ud out. The houses in Paris e vry large.
ome of them are built around an open court,
mud have range of apartments for a great many
iifbrent families. There i a great door in the
middle of the front of the house, large enough
sometimes for carriages to drive in. At the en-
trance of these house there is a little room, or
n office, with a sort of window opening out
into the pasage-way, where the porter sits all
the time to keep the door, and me who goe out
sad in, and to answer questions about the peo.
pie that live there, and take letters for them,
md let them in at night after the door have
been locked, and to do all such things."
I don't see how he can do all those things"
mid Phonny, and stay all the time in his own
little room."
Why, which of those things is there," ased
Beechnut, that he could not do in his room?"
He could not open the door," replied Phou.
ny, and let people in."
"As to that," replied Beechnut, the front
door is always left op all day, so that people
can come in themselves."
"Then what prevents the thieves and rob.
bers from getting in ?".asked Phonny.








"The porter himlt" replied BMaehmat
*who sits in his little offe where he oan s
every body that goes in and out. The, ym
see that in tie day-time there i no going to
the door to let people in. If the persons that
come belong to the house, they ome directly
in. and passing by the porter's lodge, they go
directly to their own apartments. If they are
strangers or visitors, they oome in too, as far as
to the porter's lodge, and there stop and tell
what they want"
But then," continued Beechnut, at night,
after the house is looked up, if any body oomer,
the porter has to open the door and let them in,
though be does this without going out of his
own room."
How does he do it ?" asked Phoany.
There is a cord," answered Beechnut,
*that hangs near his window, which is on
nected with wires along the walls, and the lao
wire is f tened to the night-latch, so that by
pulling the oord the door is unfastened, and the
person let in. I have got up and pulled the
oord for my father in the night a great many
time.~
*And did your father get the porter' pam
at that housee" asked Pboony.








Yes," replied Beechnut. "I went home md
told him what Ariele had sid, and he weat
directly to the house and applied for the place.
I went with him. My father showed the pro.
prietor his recommendation. and the propri.
etor engaged him. We lived in that porter's
lodge two or three year."
"And did Arielle live in that same house ?"
asked Malleville.
"Yes," said Beechut. "She had a room
very high up indeed, but it was very pleant
when we once got there. Her room was very
neatly arranged, and she used to sit at a ta-
ble by a window all the morning, coloring
pictures for the print-sellers in the Boulevards.
She colored them beautifully. When she had
no pictures to color, she used to draw pictures
on stone for her father to print. It was she
who first taught me to draw, and, at last, when
I came away, she gave me that picture of
Paris. My father made my musical box too in
the porters lodge, at his leisure time. It was
the last musical box that he ever made."
Here there was a long paue. Beeohnut
was thinking of his father, and of be. happy
time he used to have in going up to see Arlee
in her room, and in sitting with his father ia the






nk~mdn amwq -- '-

porter's lodge, and seeing the people that wer
loesmntly coming and going. ToanUy ad
Malille were thinking of the story that thy
ad heard.
Beechnut, after remaining lent for a sort
time, took the board, with all his outtings upon
it, and put it away at the foot of th bed. He
then laid his head down upon the pillow, telling
the children that some other day he would
tell them more, but that now they might go
away.
"Well, come, Malerille," sid Phoany.
So they got down out of the easy chair, a-d
went away.









*





"N BnmeomoT.
DIAbmmVaY. Rimeau




CaTrrUa V.

PhiArInoe hFO a RIDs.

BanouMu was so patient and submissive
during his confinement to his room on account
of his wound, and obeyed so implicitly all the
orders and directions both of the physician and
the nurse, that he recovered very rapidly. At
last, he advanced so far that he could sit up in
the easy-chair, with his foot upon a cushioned
tool before him. Here he amused himself one
afternoon in making a pair of crutches, and the
next day he walked upon his crutches all about
the room. Phonny was so much pleased with
this operation, that he said he wished that
Beechnut would make him a pair of crutches.
Those which Beechnut had made for himself
were too long for Phonny, though he tried a
long time to walk upon them.
SWon't you make ms some crutches b
aswd Phonny.
"Yes," said Beechnut, "the first time that
you get hurt, so that you can not walk upon
v ln y l_.90





PaIuABINse A RsaI.

"No," aid Phony," I want them now. Or
tay, I'll hurt myself now, and then I mai
ave them."
So saying, he tumbled down upon the foor,
md pretended to have sprained hi ankle dread-
ully; and then he went limping about the
room, moaning piteously, and making the most
ludiorous contortions, both of fae and figure,
peatly to Malleville' amusement.
"I can't make you any crutches," said
Beeohnut, but I will make you a pair of stilts
mome time, if you will go and get leave for me
to take a ride."
"Who shall I get to give you the leave
iuked Phonny.
"Any body," replied Beechnut, "who has
authority to give it. Your mother, or the doo-
tor, or the nurse."
"The nurse hu gone home," said Phonny.
I'll go and ask mother."
Phonny went out, and it was more than an
hour before he returned. He came at last
running into the room, anlling out in great
glee that he had got permission. He had goes
to his mother first, and she had aid that s
oduld not take the responsibility of giving
Bschant leave to ride, but that Phomoy at





M4 BmBB0WWT.

go to the doctor. So Pbonny immediately M
off to find the dootor, who lived about half i
mile from Mr. Henry's. Phonny found him at
home, very fortunately, and after hearing Phon.
any's request, he mid that on the whole he
thought it would be safe for Beechnut to take
a ride, if he would put his foot upon a good
pile of cushioni, and not drive faster than i
walk.
But then there is one dicunolty," mid Phoo
ny, there is nobody to harness the horse."
Where are the men ?" asked Beechnut.
"They have both gone off into the woods,'
aid Phonny. But I can go and find them
and get one of them to come home."
"No," aid Beechnut. "You and I can hr
nes the hoae. That is, we co ld if it wen
not for one difficulty."
"What is that asked Phonny.
You will not be willing to follow my direo
tioan," aid Beechnut.
"Ye, I will," replied Phonny. I will fol
low them exatdy
Very well," said Beechnut, we will try ii
In the first place then, you and Mailevibe ma
go down and me if yea cam open the wagon
A.-.___ 9.-- -.a. if__-- ---- IL-- _A.- -._ L,





PnnrAssIw ros A RIns. 6
so.msr .ms e, ann.. ,,-.--
wago out. esr mt take hold of the dhabf
d Maleville must push behind. In this way
get the wagon along as fr as you can toward
the back door."
Phonny and Mallevile suooeeded in perform-
ng this part of the operation very well. They
got the doors open and backed the wagon out,
and then they succeeded, though not without a
great deal of tugging and pushing, in getting it
along near to the back door. Phonny then
came up into Beechnut's room again for further
orders.
"Now," said Beechnut, "which will be the
beat horse for us to take '?
"The Marshall," sid Phonny.
Well," said Beechnut, you may take the
Marshall. Go to his tall, and unfasten him and
lead him out. You need not trouble yourself
about keeping out of the way of his fore-feet,
for all you have got to do if he treads on you is
to tickle him a little under his shoulder, and he
will take his foot of."
Beechnut aid this with so grave an air that
Phonny thought he was in earned, so he replied
soberly,
Y, and in the mean time I should be dmd-
y hurt."






w DBBOIWO T.
S'nh t OW. PWha begie IhO wM
"Never mind that," said Beechut. "You
oould tickle yourelf then, perhaps, ad that
would relieve the pain."
"No," said Phonny, positively. "I shll not'


S-. jf l, M w v -w a J w U
that, come and tell me."
So Phonny went away to execute his con-
mision. He found no difficulty in untying the
Marhall, and leading him out of the table. Of
oomr after what Beechnut had mid, he took
social car not to stadin the way of the Mar.


*.I





PRa asrr e roS A RA I. .

afll' fet He led th horn into t earriage.
home,and fiatened him to one of the gI t
wooden pins driven into the beamr to heag the
harnbes upon. Then he took down the wagon-
harnes and put it upon the horse's beck. He
got it on first wrong side before, and in chang-
ing it he got it twisted. It took him some time
to get it right He, however, succeeded at last,
and then he put the collar on. Malleville stood
by all the time looking on. He also sooeeded
in putting on the bridle, the horse aiding him in
the operation by holding down his head and
opening his mouth for the bits.
1 have a great mind to put the orupper on,"
said Phonny, and then it will be all done."
"No," said Malleville. "Beechnut said that
you must not try to put the cropper on."
"That," aid Phonny, "was only because be
supposed that I could not do it. But I can:
and he will be very glad to find that it as dore.
I can do it as well as not by standing up upoe
this bench."
The bench which Phonny referred to was one
which was standing in the carriage-bhom ea
e corner, and Phoony, after bringing it oa
into the md e of the donrd rthe rse apt
*h side of it in such a position, that he though





s Ba s w wor T.

when standing upon the bench he could put the
crupper on. When he had brought up the
horse into the right position, he aied Malleville
to hold him by the halter, while he got up upon
the bench. The horse' head was turned away
from the door.
Malleville could bold the Marshall' head
very easily by his halter, but, unfortunately, she
could not hold his body, and the horse, perhaps
suspecting what Phonny was going to do,
stepped round a little to one side, while Phonny
was getting up upon the bench, so as to move
away just far enough from the bench to prevent
Phonny from reaching him.
There said Phonny, "now he has moved
away. What did he do that for ?"
So Phonny got down from the bench again,
and turning the horse entirely round, he brought
him up to the bench again, nearer than before.
There," said he," keep him exactly so, Mal
leville."
Malleville took the bridle and held it as nearly
as possible in the exact position in which Phon.
ny put it into her had, he found, however,
that holding the bridle was not holding the
horse, for uts u Phonny tpped up upon the
epeh again, to make a new attempt to put e





PsariA e rFoRa RA t. .
ann...e...mr. nauhmtmne.as,.
the crupper, the hone stopped away before-
It was only a very little that he moved-vty
little indeed; but it was enough efeotMully to
prevent Phonny from reaching him.
"There said Phonny, a little impatiently.
" Now you have let him move away."
Why, I could not help it," said Malleville.
" I held him exactly as you told me."
"Then I wish you would go round by his side,"
said Phonny, and push him back into his place."
On hearing this direction, Mallevile dropped
the bridle and went along toward the Marshall's
side, intending to push him back toward the
bench again, according to Phonny's suggestion.
But the horse, finding himself at liberty, and
seeing the door of the arriage-house open be-
fore him,-for in turning him round to bring
him up to the bench the second time, Phoony
had given him a position with his head toward
the door-quietly walked of out into the yard.
He went first to the well to ee if there was any
water in the tub where he usually drank, but
finding that there was not any, he moved away
to one side where the gras was vry grees ad
beautiful, ad began to crop and eat it; though
the bits, which were in his mouth, were t
amw in hi way.








Phoony, after uttering some exclamations of
disappointment and chagrin, followed the hore
and attempted to catch him. But he could not
do it. Whenever he got near to him, the Mar
shall would shake his head and walk away.
"Oh, dear me I" said Phonny. "Now what
hall I do? He won't be caught."
"You must go and tell Beechnut," said Malle.
ville.
"No," said Phogny, "that will not do any
good. Beechnut can not catch him,-with noth-
ing but one foot and his crutches."
The truth was, Phonny was ashamed togo to
Beechnut and tell him of the difficulty,since he
had got into it by disobeying his instructions.
He made, accordingly, several more attempts
to catch the horse, but in vain. He began to
be in great perplexity, and his distress was fnal-
ly much increased by hearing the thumping of
he crutches upon the stairs, which warned him
shat Beechnut was coming down.
To Phony's great relief Beechnut did not
eem at all surprised to see the horse astray,
when be appeared at the door. On the con-
tary, he sat down upon the step quite at
k rseM, and aid the crotches down by his
sid.





Pa As, IO son a R1,. IM

Phony r"' id Beechnut, at length, when he
w comfortably ated.
What r id Phonny.
SCome here," said Beechnut.
So Phonny came.
"Go into the house and bring me out a hand.
ful of core malt," aid Beechnut.
SYe," said Phonny, "I will." And mo ay.
ing, he ran off eagerly into the houe, very
gad to oeppe from the presence of Beechnut,
without having incurred his displeasure. He
expected that Beechnut would have ap red
dipleas edbut he did not. Beechnut looked
and spoke as placidly a u ual, just u if noth-
ing had happened.
In a few minute Phonny returned with the
alt.
Beechnut took the alt in his hand, and thee
creeping down to the lowermost step of the
door, which wa formed of a great flat stoe.
he held it out toward the horn.
-Now," said be to Phonny, "do you and
Malleille go and drive the Marhall up this
way. Drive him very gently."
So Phony and Maleville, each taking up
&lde stiok from the ground, went round to the
farther side of the Marshal, and began di




University of Florida Home Page
© 2004 - 2010 University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries.
All rights reserved.

Acceptable Use, Copyright, and Disclaimer Statement
Last updated October 10, 2010 - - mvs