THE LIBRARY 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
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 BOYS AT CHEQUASSET; 
 
 OR, 
 
 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE GAYWORTHYS," "HITHERTO," "SIGHTS AND INSIGHTS," 
 THE " REAL FOLKS " SERIES, ETC., ETC 
 
 BOSTON: 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY. 
 
 NEW YORK : 1 1 EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET. 
 
 Clje aaibmifof ftrstit, 
 
 1882.
 
 Entered according to Alt it Congress in the year 1863, try 
 
 A. K. LORING, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachiuette
 
 "A LITTLE LEAVER." 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 
 
 THE Osburu family was in all the bustle 
 of moving. Delightful bustle 1 better than 
 any possible perfect order to ten-years-old 
 Johnnie, who stood, at seven in the morn- 
 ing, on his father's door-step, in Pinckney 
 Street, watching the great van, or furniture- 
 wagon, upon which was piled, and being 
 piled, an apparently confused mass of boxes, 
 baskets, chairs, tables, bedding, and all the 
 multifarious plenishing of a long-established 
 household. 
 
 Behind him, doors stood open away through 
 the house ; and bare floors, littered with straw, 
 from the packing of the big crates in the 
 
 622767
 
 4 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 china-closet, bundles of carpeting, trunks of 
 clothing, buckets and barrels from the store- 
 room, occupying every possible bit of space, 
 offered a strange vista to the view. 
 
 John had not been standing still long. 
 
 o o 
 
 He had been up and "helping," since six 
 o'clock; sometimes quite effectually, and 
 sometimes the wrong way. 
 
 "We've got to go to-night, father," he 
 said, gleefully, as Mr. Osburn came out to 
 the door-way, " for the beds are all off." 
 
 "Yes," his father answered; "we shall 
 sleep in Chequasset to-night." 
 
 " But, father," said the boy, again, " how 
 old everything looks ! It seems to me noth- 
 ing looks nice, as it did in the rooms." 
 
 " The effect of disorder, Johnnie, of things 
 being out of their proper places and use. 
 But, somehow, it seems to me that Johnnie 
 himself looks a little out of his element. No 
 collar, and hair beseeching for a brush ! " 
 
 " Yes, father ; but I was in such a hurry ; 
 and I could n't look very nice to-day, you 
 know."
 
 OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 5 
 
 " All, why not? At least why not begin 
 by being nice? Here comes } r our mother. 
 I don't see that .she has found it necessary to 
 leave off her collar, or that her hair is not as 
 smooth as usual." 
 
 ' ' Oh, but mother always looks nice ! And 
 her hair has got used to keeping smooth. I 
 don't believe anything ever does rumple it." 
 
 " Give yours a little of the same disci- 
 pline, then, since you see what education 
 can do." 
 
 Johnnie disappeared among the packages, 
 and up the stairs. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn joined her husband, for a 
 moment, at the door. 
 
 " Shall you go down to the counting-room 
 this morning ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I must be there for an hour or 
 two, at least," he replied. 
 
 " Then, will you remember to call in at 
 Blake's on your way, and tell them to send 
 up that little wardrobe immediately? It 
 ought to go Avith the next load." 
 
 ' ' They promised to send it early ; but I
 
 6 "A LITTLE LEAVEN. 
 
 will look in, and remind them of it. How 
 soon do you think you will be ready to go, 
 yourselves ? " 
 
 "Not until afternoon. I made arrange- 
 ments there, as far as possible, .yesterday ; 
 and it will be important now for me to re- 
 main here until the house is cleared." 
 
 A couple of hours later John was stand- 
 ing on the sidewalk, in the midst of a little 
 curious knot of neighbor-children, who, with 
 books in hand, were on their way to school, 
 but had stopped to listen eagerly to his glow- 
 ing description and anticipation of his new 
 country home, thinking what a very lucky 
 boy John Osburn was, to be out of school, 
 and exempt from duty, and moving out of 
 town, too ! 
 
 "I suppose you won't go to any new 
 school till after vacation?" said Charlie Rob- 
 bins. 
 
 4 ' I don't know. I guess not. Hallo ! here 
 comes another wagon ! Furniture in it, too. 
 I wonder if folks are coming to move in, 
 before we get out ! "
 
 OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 7 
 
 A cart drew up behind the one that stood 
 to bo loaded, before the door. 
 
 ' ' Mr. Osburn's ? " inquired the driver. 
 
 " Yes, sir," answered Johnnie. 
 
 The man unfastened the tail-board of his 
 wagon. 
 
 " Lend a hand here, somebody, will you? 
 Where 's this to go ? " 
 
 John sprang up to the steps, and found his 
 mother at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 4 ' Mother ! there 's some furniture come 1 
 What is it? The man 's in a hurry." 
 
 Just then two men came out from the 
 front-parlor, each carrying two piano-legs, 
 which they set down in the corner of the 
 vestibule. 
 
 "Stand back, John; or run out! They 
 are coming with the piano now. What did 
 you say ? Some furniture come ? Oh ! that 's 
 the little wardrobe for your room. Tell the 
 man to wait a moment, and they will put it 
 in after the piano." 
 
 Well, Johnnie had got about enough, now, 
 I think, to crown tho day's delight ! A littlo
 
 8 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 wardrobe for his own room ! Charlie Rob- 
 bins had really nothing more to say. They 
 could only walk round and round the wagon, 
 looking at it on every side, and seeing very 
 little indeed, for it was wound about with 
 coarse cloth. But there was no doubt in 
 either of their minds that when it should 
 be unpacked it would prove to be a very 
 perfect and wonderful wardrobe indeed. 
 
 "And oh, mother ! " cried Johnnie, as soon 
 as he found a chance to speak to her, ' ' I shall 
 keep my things so nice in it, you know ! " 
 
 *' No, Johnnie, T don't know yet," replied 
 Mrs. Osburu. 
 
 John's strength of mind was to be tried 
 still further, before the end of the day, with 
 joyful surprise. 
 
 As the family alighted from the 4:20 train, 
 on time at 5 : 05 at Chcquasset, they were 
 met by Mr. Osburn, who had gone down by 
 a previous train, and led by him to a pretty, 
 dark-green carryall, drawn by a long-tailed 
 black horse, and therein comfortably placed, 
 before they had so much as found time tc 
 ask questions.
 
 OFF TO THE COUNTRY. 9 
 
 John jumped up, last, to the front seat, 
 his father. 
 
 " Oh, father, what a nice carryall ! And 
 what a splendid horse ! Where did they 
 come from? They're a great deal better 
 than you used to get at Brown's. Mayn't 
 I drive?" 
 
 " Yes, drive away. Get acquainted with 
 Blackbird as fast as you can, for I shall ex- 
 pect you to be head-coachman for us one of 
 these days." 
 
 "But perhaps we sha'n't always have the 
 same horse. Is- his name Blackbird? Who 
 told you ? " 
 
 " Is it a good name ? " 
 
 "First-rate!" 
 
 "Weil, I thought so. And since you 
 have n't any objection, we may as well settle 
 it between us. And I hope we shall have the 
 same horse a great many years. I expect to, 
 or I shouldn't have bought him." 
 
 John couldn't jump up, or clap his hands, 
 Dr throw up his cap, for he was busy with 
 the reins. But a great flash of delight
 
 10 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 jumped from his heart to his eyes, and from 
 them up to his father's face; and after a 
 breath or two, he just said, in an indescriba- 
 ble sort of emphatic tone, 
 
 "Well, that is good!" 
 
 And so Blackbird was voted into the fam- 
 ily at once, name and all ; and so, too, after 
 a little drive of five minutes, they were all 
 safely set down at the door of a plain, pleas- 
 ant, old-fashioned looking house, with a great 
 front-yard, and a long piazza ; and John 
 never thought of his room, or his new ward- 
 robe, or the hundred tilings he had been in 
 such a hurry to look after inside, till he had 
 walked round and round the horse, and pat- 
 ted him on the nose, and called him by his 
 name a dozen times, and at last, by his fa- 
 ther's desire, had once more jumped upon 
 the seat, and driven him down the avenue, 
 in triumph, to his stable.
 
 CHAPTER H. 
 
 STEPHEN. 
 
 JOHN woke next morning early. The only 
 wonder, and, as be thought, no small virtue, 
 was that he went to sleep at all. 
 
 The first sound he heard was the singing 
 .of birds, seemingly close to his window. 
 
 Then he just shut his eyes again, for a 
 minute, and let the delicious sense of all his 
 pleasures creep softly through his brain. 
 
 Is there anything more delightful than the 
 first waking in the morning in a new and 
 pleasant place, where one hopes to be very 
 happy ? The charm of freshness and strange- 
 ness, that is to make, for a day or two at 
 least, each step an exploration and discovery, 
 the vague, bright plans for doing a hun- 
 dred things, where there is, as yet, no routine, 
 nothing decided or begun, only a fresh and
 
 12 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 beautiful beginning to be made ! It seems 
 to me God gives us these new turns, these 
 fresh starts in life, with a purpose, for our 
 bettering ; and to suggest to us afar off, per- 
 haps, the wonderful joy our souls shall feel, 
 when they wake, by and by, to the new life 
 of heaven. 
 
 Well, John opened his eyes again, and 
 saw, first of all, standing awkwardly, and 
 very much in the way, just where the men 
 had hastily set it inside his door last night, 
 the new, beautiful black-walnut wardrobe. 
 There was no closet in his room, and there- 
 fore his mother had bought this. 
 
 "Isn't that jolly now?" he exclaimed, 
 and forthwith launched himself out of bed, 
 to examine afresh the shelves and drawers, 
 and try how easily he could reach the hooks 
 and manage the lock. 
 
 " If I only had my trunk in here, now ! " 
 
 But, for want of the things that were 
 really to be placed there, he had hung within 
 it, cap, coat, jacket, and trousers that he took 
 off on going to bed, in such order and space
 
 STEPHEN. 13 
 
 as they were rarely used to ; and had put his 
 shoes and stockings in a drawer, and set his 
 tool-box a chief treasure that he had kept 
 in his own especial knowledge through the 
 packing and removal on the floor. 
 
 This was suggestive. 
 
 What if he were to drive in a few extra 
 nails, lower down, for small things? 
 
 On consideration, however, he wisely came 
 to the conclusion that it might not exactly 
 do. Former experience had taught him that 
 such improvements were not always hailed 
 with approbation by maturer minds ; and he 
 therefore proceeded, as the next best amuse- 
 ment he could devise, to take down his gar- 
 ments and put himself into them ; hanging 
 his night-gown in their stead, in solitary 
 state. 
 
 Ten minutes more and he was rushing 
 down the front staircase, to the piazza door, 
 just to take a look down the lane, where the 
 bobolinks were singing (it was now late 
 in May, and they always arrive punctually 
 upon the eleventh, don't they?) and then
 
 14 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 hasten to the stable to see Blackbird at his 
 breakfast. 
 
 The house stood back a little from the 
 high-road, and was shaded on each side with 
 great elm and ash trees ; but in front, across 
 the road, and into the lane that ran straight 
 down from just opposite the gate, was the 
 prettiest green glimpse in the world. 
 
 Elms and locusts, of wild and natural 
 growth, covered it in with walls and roof; 
 and all summer long the birds and butterflies 
 made it their arcade of fashion. Aristocratic 
 birds' nests they were, that cuddled in its 
 nooks, built long ago by the oldest fami- 
 lies, and rebuilt, or replaced, in the self-same 
 spot, for nobody knows how many years, by 
 generation after generation. 
 
 And the old house, too, that looked down 
 the lane, had stood there long enough to be 
 quite in keeping with the rest ; and many 
 little feet had tottled and scampered over its 
 floors, till they came to sound with a manly 
 tramp in the old home, and at last turned 
 themselves away from it, and went out into 
 the wide world.
 
 STEPHEN. 15 
 
 Johnnie Osburn knew little of all this, 
 beyond that it was a quaint, roomy old place, 
 that, as he said, " looked as if lots of people 
 had lived in it, and always had a good time 
 there ; " and that his father had been fortu- 
 nate enough to buy it for such moderate sum 
 as he could afford to pay ; and that now, af- 
 ter two or three years' ' ' talk " about going 
 somewhere out of town to live, here they act- 
 ually were, and he had got all the indispen- 
 sable exploring and reconnoitring to do, as 
 fast as possible. 
 
 Behind the house, the ground sloped pleas- 
 antly southward a little way, and here was 
 the garden. 
 
 Beyond it, in the hollow, with promise of 
 endless delight, a little chattering brook went 
 by, from the hills to the river ; and up from its 
 opposite margin rose a green, wooded knoll, 
 which would have been a hill, and have had 
 a name of its own, if it had not been for the 
 bigger ones a little way off, that took to 
 themselves all the glory of the neighborhood, 
 and so left it simply to be known as tho 
 High Pasture.
 
 16 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 But while I have been telling you thus 
 much of the immediate surroundings of 
 John's new home, he was himself taking a 
 much more rapid survey of it all, and, 
 catching a glimpse of his father in the barn- 
 yard, has darted away to join him, and look 
 after Blackbird. 
 
 It was very pleasant, down there in the 
 barn-yard, this bright May morning. 
 
 The barn itself was a curious building, 
 nearly as big as a church, and consisting of 
 two parts, built at different times, and by 
 people who seemed to have had very differ- 
 ent purposes in its construction. 
 
 The old part was a long, large, open hay- 
 barn, with scaffolding above, and threshing- 
 floor below, having a line of stanchions for 
 cattle the whole length of its easterly side, 
 and opening to the field with great doors at 
 the south end, a real farmer's barn. The 
 other, and newer, was a small addition for 
 stable use, across the northerly end, causing 
 the entire building to assume the form of a 
 T. The whole was neatly boarded and shin-
 
 STEPHEN. 17 
 
 gled, apparently at some recent time, and 
 painted, like the house, of an agreeable shade 
 of tawny or buff brown. 
 
 John's father was talking with a man who 
 had a carpenter's rule in his hand. They 
 were planning a partition which should en- 
 close a portion of the large barn, nearest the 
 stable and behind the stanchions, for a tool- 
 room. 
 
 Another man, close by, was currying down 
 Blackbird, who stood in the angle of the 
 building, fastened by his halter to a ring in 
 the side of the barn. 
 
 Overhead was a great twittering and bus- 
 tle ; for the barn-swalloAvs, whose nests were 
 crowded close all along under the eaves, 
 were skimming incessantly back and forth, 
 for morning exercise and enjoyment, and to 
 pick up their aerial breakfast as they flew. 
 
 John thought there never was a spot or 
 scene or combination of circumstances more 
 perfectly enchanting ; or, at least, if his 
 thought did n't put itself precisely into these 
 words, it would have done so, if his scnsa-
 
 18 "A LITTLE LEAVEX." 
 
 tions could possibly have been brought within 
 such simple form of translation. 
 
 Standing there, quite quietly, between the 
 interest of hearing his father's talk with the 
 carpenter, on the one hand, and that of watch- 
 ing, on the other, the progress of Blackbird's 
 toilet, and with that living wonder and de- 
 light about him in the air, for a body 
 drawn by several opposing forces or attrac- 
 tions remains at rest, John presently per- 
 ceived, coming in at a little gate below the 
 barn that opened on a footpath to the house, 
 a boy of about his own age. A new force 
 introduced, and the body moves. Boy is 
 more attractive to boy than bird, or horse, 
 or man. John started off, on a line whose 
 instinctive direction brought Mm into the 
 footpath at the precise point to meet the 
 stranger lad, who carried in one hand a nice, 
 white, covered basket, and in the other, a 
 little china pitcher. 
 
 When John came up, he spoke, 
 " My mother sent me over with her com- 
 pliments, and she thought, as you had just
 
 STEPHEN. 19 
 
 moved in, your mother might like a few 
 warm biscuits, and a little cream, for break- 
 fast. And she says, if there is anything she 
 can do to help her in any way, she shall be 
 very happy." 
 
 " I '11 go up to the house with you, and find 
 mother," replied John. "Where do you live ? " 
 
 "Oh, just over in the next house, down 
 the road. My father's name is Mr. Sellinger. 
 He 's the minister. My name 's Stephen." 
 
 * ' And my father's name is Mr. Osburn , 
 and my name 's John," was the reply ; and 
 so they both walked up to the side-porch to- 
 gether. 
 
 John opened the door, and met his mother 
 in the passage which led from the kitchen to 
 the dining-room. She had a plate of but- 
 tered toast in her hand ; and the table was 
 nicely set in the dining-room, as he saw 
 through the open door. 
 
 * * Ah, Johnnie ! " she said, ' ' where is papa ? 
 I was just wondering how I should manage 
 to get you both invited in to breakfast." 
 
 "I'll call him in a minute. But here '3
 
 20 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 some breakfast to be invited in, mother. Mrs. 
 Scllinger has sent you over some cream, and 
 some nice hot biscuits." 
 
 Stephen came forward, and repeated his 
 mother's message. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn smiled, and a faint, soft color, 
 as of a surprised pleasure, came up hi her 
 face. She had lived for many years in the 
 city, where people come and go without tak- 
 ing a bit of notice of each other ; and this 
 warm-hearted country neighborliuess was 
 something she had quite forgotten to expect, 
 though her early girlhood knew it very well. 
 Johnnie, too, couldn't but be reminded of 
 the boy and girl who lived in the opposite 
 house to theirs in Pinckney Street, and 
 whom he had watched so long a time, day 
 after day, at the doors and windows, without 
 knowing their names ; and now, here was 
 Stephen Sellinger, who lived as far off as half 
 the length of Pinckney Street, at least, yet 
 with whom he already began to feel well 
 acquainted, and whose mother's biscuits they 
 were to eat for breakfast I
 
 STEPHEN. 21 
 
 Mrs. Osburn sent back a quiet message of 
 thanks ; and John accompanied Stephen as 
 far as the barn, whence he summoned his 
 father to breakfast ; and when they came in 
 together, he cried out to his mother, with a 
 burst of repressed enthusiasm, as he saw the 
 plate of delicious-looking rolls upon the 
 table, 
 
 "I say, mother! why didn't you thank 
 her more? Why, she's the very j 
 woman that ever I heard of 1 "
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 STEPHEN SELLINGER came over again after 
 breakfast. In a very short space of time he 
 and John found out a wonderful deal about 
 each other, as boys do. 
 
 Stephen had not always lived in Chequas- 
 sct. He could just remember, when he was 
 a very little boy, their moving from the city 
 of New York hither; he believed because 
 either his father or his mother he could 
 not exactly tell which had not been in 
 very good health. They were both well 
 enough now, he knew that; and Chequas- 
 set was a first-rate place to live in ; lots of 
 fun to be had in the summer ; though he had 
 had great times in New York, too, once or 
 twice, when he had been there in the winter 
 to see his cousins. His uncle was a Profes-
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 23 
 
 sor of Natural History, and had got a mu- 
 seum, and no end of pictures and things. 
 And Howard Sellinger was to come up hero 
 by-and-by, in his vacation, and then he rather 
 guessed they 'd have enough going on. 
 
 * * Is Howard a big boy ? " 
 
 " Yes; about fourteen. He always goes 
 into the country somewhere in the summer ; 
 and he is always hunting about for all sorts 
 of curiosities, and making collections. Did 
 you ever make a collection of anything ? " 
 
 " Only a collection of postage-stamps last 
 winter. I got a hundred and fifty. But I 
 kept them in a box, and somehow they got 
 upset once or twice in my bureau drawer, 
 and mixed up with my clothes and things ; 
 and so a good many got lost. And then I 
 began to paste the rest into a book, but I 
 could n't do it very well. I got them on 
 crooked, or put them in the wrong places, 
 and then they tore when I tried to take them 
 off again. So I gave it all up at last, and 
 I don't know where the old book went to. 
 'T was n't much fun."
 
 24 "A LITTLE LEAVEN. 
 
 " Oh, you ought to see Howard's I He 
 brought it up here last June. It 's a splen- 
 did book, all bound. And he 's got the 
 different flags of all the countries pasted in at 
 the heads of the pages, and the stamps under 
 them, just as they belong. He always has 
 everything just so." 
 
 " Oh, I say, Stephen ! " interrupted John, 
 " come with me, will you, up into my room? 
 I've got the greatest wardrobe to keep my 
 things in, instead cf a closet ! And I guess 
 my trunk 's in there by this time. I must go 
 and fix it up." 
 
 The trunk was there, and the wardrobe 
 had been set back in an appropriate place, 
 in the middle of one of the long sides of the 
 chamber. The room was a peculiar one, and 
 by-and-by I will describe it particularly ; but 
 just now I must attend to Johnnie and his 
 trunk, and afterwards I shall have all tho 
 other events of this, his first day at Chequas- 
 set, to recount within the limits of this chap- 
 ter. 
 
 John produced the key of his trunk from
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 25 
 
 his pocket, unlocked it, and threw back the 
 lid. At first view it presented rather a mixed 
 up and discouraging aspect, as certain books, 
 balls, tops, a small boat, a mass of entangled 
 string, some soiled collars, a pair of india-rub- 
 ber boots even, not quite glossy clean, and 
 other articles collected in odd corners at the 
 last, had been hastily thrust in above the 
 piles of clothing. 
 
 John threw them out, right and left. 
 
 * ' Where are you going to put these ? " 
 asked Stephen. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know. I'll find a place for 
 them somewhere, by-and-by. I want to get 
 my wardrobe fixed first." 
 
 So he took out shirts, stockings, night- 
 gowns, and so forth, and deposited each dif- 
 ferent sort of article in a separate drawer ; 
 with much neatness of effect, to be sure, but 
 with the very poorest possible economy of 
 room. There is always something very fas- 
 cinating in the aspect of unused space, which 
 is to be disposed of at will. Empty shelve^ 
 and hooks and drawers offer such a tempt-
 
 26 "A LITTLE LEAVEX." 
 
 ing look of accommodation for anything 
 whatever. They are like unspent money, 
 which may buy any of a thousand things 
 until it is once broken in upon. 
 
 By the time John had hung up his jackets 
 and trousers, it occurred to him that he had 
 somehow spoiled the charm ; that there was 
 no longer a vacant place where he might 
 have the pleasure of making a new bestowal ; 
 and he saw that he might easily have been 
 much more compact in his arrangements. 
 
 "I'll tell you what, Stephen!" he ex- 
 claimed. " I '11 empty all these things out 
 again, and pack 'em closer." 
 
 So out they came again in haste, and 
 were thrown upon the bed. But, alas ! in 
 the double transition they had now become 
 unsettled from their smooth and orderly 
 folds, and here and there the sleeve of a 
 night-gown or a shirt escaped and hung awk- 
 wardly from the pile, which Johnnie's at- 
 tempts at replacement only discomposed tho 
 more, and got altogether into a worse jumble 
 than ever ; so that I don't know whether or
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 27 
 
 how loug he might have persevered in trying 
 to reduce matters to order, if his mother had 
 not called to him from an adjoining chamber, 
 and asked him to walk into the village, to 
 buy for her a paper of leather-headed tacks, 
 which she needed to make use of as soon as 
 possible. 
 
 " There now," said he to Stephen, half in 
 vexation and half with a feeling of secret 
 relief, ' ' I shall have to leave all these things 
 here till I get back. Come along 1 " 
 
 The walk to the village was about half a 
 mile. At half the distance the road sank 
 down into a charming hollow, where the lit- 
 tle brook that came round behind Mr. Os- 
 burn's garden ran across, under a shade of 
 alders and willows. It spread out here, 
 occupying quite a wide space. The road 
 passed over a little bridge on the right-hand 
 side, and below this, at the left, was the 
 stream. A track of wheels ran through it, 
 made by persons who drove their horses 
 through the water, to cool their feet and 
 take a drink.
 
 28 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 John stopped and looked over. 
 
 " What a jolly place to sail my boat ! " he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes," said Stephen, " if you don't let it 
 get sucked away under the wall by the cur- 
 rent." 
 
 " Oh, I'd look out for that," John replied , 
 
 " When I get back I mean to biing it 
 light down here. Let's make haste." 
 
 So they walked on to the village, where 
 John made his purchase of tacks for his 
 mother, and then hurried homeward with 
 them as fast as possible. The church-clock 
 struck ten as they crossed the brook again. 
 
 " Don't your school keep ?" asked John. 
 
 "Not Saturdays," replied Stephen. "It 
 keeps till two o'clock all the other days, 
 Wednesday and all, and then we have all 
 day Saturday." 
 
 " Bully ! " exclaimed John. 
 
 It looks queer in a book, I know, where 
 boys, unless the very bad ones, the little 
 villains of juvenile romance who are regular- 
 ly set up as warnings, are expected to be
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 29 
 
 upon company behavior, and talk with ex- 
 emplary propriety, but I can't help it ; that's 
 just what he said, and if I am to tell you 
 about boys and their ways, I must tell them 
 as I know them. I do not see any other 
 honest way to do. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn was quite pleased with tho 
 expedition with which John had done her 
 errand for her, and being very busy, and not 
 having looked into his room since the morn- 
 ing, when she ordered the arrangement of 
 his furniture, she was not aware of the con- 
 fusion he had created there, and thought of 
 no objection when he said he wanted to go 
 down to the brook a little while with his 
 boat. 
 
 " Is it quite safe, Stephen?" was all she 
 asked. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am ; it's a very nice place, 
 down where the road crosses." 
 
 " Very well, Johnnie. Only don't get 
 wet ; and come back in good season. We 
 shall dine early now ; at one o'clock." 
 
 John and Stephen were occupied for some
 
 30 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 time before setting off, in putting in masts, 
 and cutting some sails for the boat, of stiff 
 white paper. They also disentangled a long 
 piece of string from the bunch of twine in 
 John's trunk, and fastened it to the bow for 
 a safety-line, or " cable," as they called it. 
 Then they went off, leaving behind them 
 the additional litter, in the already disor- 
 dered room, of scraps of paper and chip- 
 pings of wood. By this time, you see, they 
 had succeeded in getting up what the house- 
 maid would have called a ' ' very pretty mess 
 indeed." 
 
 I think you will have discovered, from 
 what I have already told you, that John's 
 character was lacking just where most boys, 
 and many men, do lack : in love of order, 
 and power of concentration, that is, in 
 the ability to keep the attention and interest 
 fixed upon one thing steadily until it is ac- 
 complished. 
 
 He was in rather peculiar circumstances 
 now, to be sure. The novelty and attraction 
 of everything around him, a new home,
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 31 
 
 a new acquaintance, new possessions, free- 
 dom from his ordinary duties, all com- 
 b'ned to unsettle him, and divide his mind 
 among multiplied objects of thought and ac- 
 tion. Usually, an acquisition like that of 
 his new wardrobe, would have been a mat- 
 ter of paramount interest for the time ; and 
 he would have succeeded in getting it, cer- 
 tainly once, into perfect and beautiful order ; 
 and would have set out with the expecta- 
 tion, at least, of always keeping it so. But 
 it must be confessed that, even in the most 
 favorable conditions, this would very likely 
 have been all, and that John's mother was 
 quite justified for the little doubt implied 
 in her answer to his gleeful assurance that 
 ' ' now he should keep his things so nice I " 
 
 Very well, you may say, is there any great 
 harm in it, after all ? He seems to be a pret- 
 ty good sort of boy. What if he does leave 
 things heedlessly about, now and then, 
 and jump from one unfinished undertaking 
 into another? Ah, you haven't found out, 
 yet how closely, in character as well aa
 
 32 " A LITTLE LEAVEN. 
 
 in all the world outside of us, one thing u 
 linked with, and dependent upon another; 
 and how " a little leaven leavens the whole 
 lump ! " 
 
 We shall see how it worked in Johnnie's 
 case ; and whether he could always be a 
 pleasant and happy and dutiful boy, with 
 this one fault in the way. 
 
 The two boys were quite successful and 
 happy in sailing their boat. The brook, al- 
 though it spread out wide and shallow over 
 the road, gathered and narrowed itself in 
 again to a deeper channel as it passed under 
 the wall into the meadow ; and so, by stand- 
 ing close to the bridge, John could launch 
 the little craft and allow it to be carried 
 down with the current, while Stephen, by 
 climbing along the wall to a comfortable 
 seat among the stones, was ready to stop it 
 with a long stick when it reached the critical 
 point where the water, with a gurgle and 
 rush, plunged under for its race onwaid 
 toward the river. Then John, who had 
 meanwhile kept one end of his cable in his
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 33 
 
 hand, could draw the boat back, and start 
 her on a fresh voyage. 
 
 They continued this amusement for some 
 time in the same way, and the a changed 
 places, Stephen managing the cable on 
 shore, and John going out on the rocks with 
 the stick. 
 
 By-and-by, during a pause in which Ste- 
 phen was righting one of the masts which 
 had tipped a little out of place, John, taking 
 a look down along the watercourse through 
 the meadows, discovered some bright blue 
 flowers growing near its margin. 
 
 "Oh, Stephen," he cried, " let 's go down 
 and get some of those blue flowers for niy 
 mother ! "What are they ? " 
 
 "They're flag-lilies, I suppose. Wait a 
 minute. I can't fix this mast ; and the sails 
 are all wet through, and coming to pieces. 
 I'll moor the vessel and come down. But 
 we '11 have to be careful, or we shall slip oft' 
 the stones into the water." 
 
 Stephen moored the boat by rolling up a 
 portion of the cable over his hand, and then
 
 34 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 putting it upon the ground with a heavy 
 stone upon it, allowing the boat to drift out 
 a little way, and rest upon the water. 
 
 There was one contingency, however, 
 which it did not occur to him to provide 
 for. 
 
 He joined John, and they decided it would 
 be best to take off their shoes and stockings, 
 and roll up their trousers, and so go down 
 over the stones that lay in the margin of the 
 water, rather than risk the soft ground of 
 the bank, or incur the danger of their shoes 
 slipping on the wet stones. 
 
 So they reached the flags in safety ; and 
 gathered a handful each of the blue lilies, 
 and were just considering whether or not to 
 explore the course of the brook farther, when 
 a rumbling noise along the road and the 
 splash of a horse's feet in the water startled 
 them both. 
 
 At the same moment a man, mounted 
 upon a heavy wagon, who had just driven 
 nis horse into the brook upon the roadside, 
 was rather astonished at seeing before him
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 35 
 
 on the water a little boat, moored, and ap- 
 parently deserted by its owner. But a glance 
 around showed him upon the wall the shoes 
 and stockings, and farther on, the just visi- 
 ble heads of the two boys among the flags. 
 Fortunately for them, he was a good-natured 
 man, who had boys of his own at home. 
 
 " Hollo ! " he cried. " Skipper ahoy ! Boat 
 loose, and a whale coming ! " 
 
 John and Stephen began to scramble back 
 over the stones at a rate of speed that threat- 
 ened a wetting. 
 
 ' ' Take it easy ! " cried out the man in the 
 wagon. " Whale's inclined to be quiet, and 
 boat's safe enough, if he don't happen to 
 drink it up." 
 
 As they reached the road, shoes and stock- 
 ings in hand, and hastened round to secure 
 the boat, the village-clock struck one. 
 
 " Dinner-time ! " cried Stephen. " We'd 
 better make haste home ! " 
 
 " Jump up, if you 're going my way," said 
 the man in the wagon, "and I'll take you 
 along."
 
 36 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 Nevertheless, John was late at dinner. 
 
 He was somewhat surprised, on coming into 
 the house, at its improved and orderly aspect. 
 A great deal had been done in this long, busy 
 morning ; and already, to his inexperienced 
 eyes, it looked as if really nothing remained 
 to do, now, but to go on and live. 
 
 "Why, mother!" he exclaimed, as ho 
 crashed into the dining-room, boy-fashion, 
 with his lilies in one hand and his dismasted 
 boat in the other, ' ' you 've got all fixed and 
 finished, have n't you? Here's a lot of blue 
 lilies I got for you down at the brook." 
 
 And depositing lilies and boat upon the side- 
 board, he was sliding into his seat at the table, 
 with a very hungry, eager look, and utterly 
 oblivious of his toilet. 
 
 " Johnnie ! Johnnie ! " expostulated Mrs. 
 Osburn, "you know you can't possibly come 
 to the table so!" 
 
 "Why, yes, I can, mother! Don't you 
 see?" he asked, with a funny, insinuating 
 look, as he seated himself. "It's a real easy 
 way."
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 37 
 
 ' * I 'm sorry if you find it so. At any rate, 
 it is quite impossible for us to have you here. 
 Go, Johnnie," she added, with decision, after 
 a pause. 
 
 I am sorry to have to record the first symp- 
 tom of ill-humor in Johnnie ; but I must con- 
 fess that the funny look upon his face, feeling 
 itself useless, changed to an equally useless, 
 and far less becoming expression ; and that 
 he did n't shut the door after him quite as gently 
 as it might have been done, or proceed up- 
 stairs with the quietest possible footstep ; and 
 even, that his mother, if her ears had been as 
 fine as ours, might have caught a muttered 
 something as he retreated, which sounded 
 like 
 
 " Catch me bringing you any more lil- 
 ies ! " 
 
 But mothers' ears have a peculiar anatom- 
 ical construction of their own, I suppose. 
 It must be a sort of little valve that opens 
 and shuts at will, for I have known them 
 look as placid and unconscious as possible, 
 sometimes, when, if they had heard all that
 
 38 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 I did, I think they must have worn a very 
 different expression ; and then, again, at night, 
 perhaps, when all the house beside was sound 
 asleep, I ha\>e known the first little moan- 
 ing, " Mother ! " from a restless and wakeful 
 child, call the mother in an instant to her 
 feet and to the bedside. It must be she is 
 most especially careful to set the little valve 
 wide open when she kisses her children the 
 last " Good-night," and lays her head on her 
 own pillow. 
 
 In the afternoon John had a new and won- 
 derful achievement to carry out. Nothing less 
 than an inquisitorial visit to the swallows' nests 
 under the eaves of the barn. This idea had 
 come into his head early in the morning, 
 during the few moments that he had stood 
 watching the curious little settlements of mud- 
 houses, built so cosily all along in a block, 
 and pouring out of every aperture their busy 
 inhabitants. A long ladder lay upon the 
 ground beside the building, and with a men- 
 tal " putting of this and that together," the
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 39 
 
 suggestion was not slow in coming to the brain 
 of a boy of ten. 
 
 So, with the help of Jacob, his father's man, 
 he raised the ladder, and climbed carefully to 
 the top, Jacob standing beneath and holding 
 it firmly for him. 
 
 When he got there, he did n't see exactly 
 what he expected, but he saw in the end 
 something better and more. The openings 
 into the nests were small and round, and 
 the nests deep, built against each other in 
 clusters. Their interior arrangements, there- 
 fore, still remained rather a mystery, aftei 
 all. He could only discover that every little 
 housekeeper evidently had a feather bed of 
 her own, laid carefully above a straw one : 
 and from one and another protruded anx- 
 iously little restless black heads, one or 
 two, or sometimes, where the family had 
 been longer established, four or five, in a 
 huddle together. 
 
 John stood very quietly, partly for his own 
 safety, and partly that he might not frighten 
 the birds, and presently, whir ! close past
 
 40 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 his head a little pair of wings went suddenly, 
 and a bird, with a beak full of mud, alighted 
 at abput a yard's distance upon an unfinished 
 nest. She laid the morsel of mud upon its 
 wall as a mason might do with a trowel ; and 
 then, poising herself on her little fluttering 
 wings, she beat it down with rapid strokes of 
 her round black head. 
 
 John was amazed. He felt the thrill that 
 comes with the first observation or discovery 
 of a new fact that one has chanced upon for 
 himself. Just as if he were the first boy and 
 this the first swallow in the world, he was 
 absorbed, elated, with a new knowledge 
 and a near approach to a great mystery. 
 
 When the bird flew away again, he came 
 softly down the ladder, without speaking 
 a word till he reached the ground ; and 
 then, eagerly, like any other discoverer, pro- 
 ceeded to publish the matter and claim his 
 glory. 
 
 " Jacob ! " said he, with wide-open eyes and 
 emphatic utterance, " I 've found out how they 
 do it ! "
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 41 
 
 At the back of the new part of the barn 
 building, as I described it to you in the last 
 chapter, were two windows, one on each side, 
 looking out at right angles to the long barn, 
 and high enough up to come nearly on a 
 level with the swallows' nests ; the new front 
 being somewhat higher than the rest. To 
 the one of these which commanded a view 
 of the spot he had just quitted, John quickly 
 betook himself, and thence watched for a 
 longer tune than he was aware, and longer 
 than most of my little friends would believe, 
 the progress of the zealous little architect. 
 He saw her come and go in ceaseless flights, 
 to and from her little house, never stop- 
 ping to chatter with her neighbors, and, 
 in fact, each one of them was all the while 
 steadily minding her own business, build- 
 ing up, little by little, with persevering labor, 
 the brown walls in which she was already on 
 one side shaping the aperture for her door. 
 He didn't see, though, all that I can toll 
 you about it. He did n't know that this was 
 the third time she had patiently gone through
 
 42 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 all this toil; that last week, in a gust of 
 rain, her house, that was just completed, had 
 come down about her ears, because of a loose 
 shingle that happened to be left lying upon 
 the roof, and which came clattering down 
 just above her. He was rather puzzled to 
 make out how such a busy, industrious little 
 creature as she seemed to be should have 
 been so behindhand in her work. Well, 
 we don't all know each other's hindrances, 
 that 's very certain. 
 
 And so the shadows grew longer, and John 
 sat and watched. I suppose he had hardly 
 ever had in his life a much happier two hours 
 than those. Yet there was one queer thing 
 about it. That, observing and admiring as 
 he was the thrift and activity of a bird, he 
 altogether forgot that there was anything in 
 the world that he himself, at that very time, 
 ought to have been doing. 
 
 When five o'clock came, John went down 
 with Jacob, driving Blackbird, to meet his 
 father at the train ; and he v^as very talkative 
 all the way back, giving him an account
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 43 
 
 of the varied excitements and enterprises of 
 the day ; but he was a little abashed when 
 Mr. Osburn asked him at last, "how he liked 
 his own little room ? " and whether * ' the new 
 wardrobe was all right ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, it's first-rate," he replied ; " oiily 
 I have n't had time to get the things fixed 
 
 yet." 
 
 "Not had time, Johnnie? Are you sure 
 that 's it ? You have had as long a day as 
 your mother, haven't you? And you tell 
 me that she has arranged the whole house 
 already, so that it ' seems like home and not 
 like moving.' I think you might have taken 
 tune." 
 
 " Well, so I did, father ; or, at least, I be- 
 gan ; but mother called me just when I was 
 in the midst of it, and sent me to the village 
 on an errand, and so I cofild n't finish, you 
 see." 
 
 Was Johnnie quite true and entire in his 
 statement? Don't you begin to see how 
 faults hang together in links, and one draws 
 another along after it ? Ill-humor, and shuf-
 
 44 "A LITTLE LEAVER." 
 
 fling excuses don't these almost always 
 accompany untidy habits ? 
 
 Not that he really wished to deceive, or 
 could have done so in this. Mr. Osburn, 
 of course, knew quite well how it all was ; 
 but Johnnie made a half statement, a 
 one-sided representation, nevertheless. 
 He did n't set things quite straight in his mind, 
 any more than in his surroundings. Thor- 
 oughness and truth are pretty much the same 
 thing in their essential element ; and people 
 who allow themselves to shuffle away any- 
 how, and smooth over hastily to the eye, in 
 outside matters, had better take heed to this 
 indication of what they will be easily tempted 
 to do in things graver and greater. 
 
 John's day, beginning with a neglect, 
 ended, as such days are very apt to do, with 
 a disappointment. 
 
 " I am going," said his father, as they drove 
 down the avenue to the house on their arrival 
 home, " to see Farmer Simmons, at the foot 
 of the lane, about a nice little cow I think I
 
 ARRANGEMENTS AND DISARRANGEMENTS. 45 
 
 shall buy of him. Perhaps, if you come too, 
 Johnnie, you may have the pleasure of driv- 
 ing her home and seeing Jacob milk her." 
 
 " That's agreed ! " cried Johnnie, joyfully. 
 
 But his mother met them on the piazza, 
 and looked with a very grave face at John. 
 
 " I have been to your room, Johnnie," she 
 said, ' ' and I have seen what I really did not 
 expect to see on your first day of possession. 
 Go directly up, and put things in proper or- 
 der. Jane is too tired to be called on for 
 anything more to-night." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " pleaded John, "just wait 
 till I come home with the cow. We sha'u't 
 be long, shall we, father?" 
 
 "I'm afraid your chance is lost, John," 
 replied Mr. Osburn. "Things that are not 
 done at the right time are nearly sure to force 
 themselves upon us when we can least bear 
 the trouble of them. Do as your mother 
 wishes, first, and then, if you are ready, 
 come and meet me, afterward." 
 
 John squeezed back a tear, for he knew it 
 was no use. Up-stairs ho went ; but in his
 
 46 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 heart lie was wrongly and unreasonably angry 
 with his mother. To this last evil of all his 
 morning negligence had brought him. 
 
 It was tedious work, picking up the scraps 
 that littered the floor, and gathering up the 
 odds and ends that he had thrown from his 
 trunk. And when this was done, he no 
 longer felt interested in arranging all his be- 
 longings to the very best aspect and advan- 
 tage. His whole mind was intent on getting 
 through his unavoidable task, and being in 
 time for Jacob and the new cow. Wherefore 
 his garments were hastily placed in the near- 
 est drawers ; his toys and traps were stowed 
 away in a heap upon the floor beside his tool- 
 box ; and so it came to pass that, while the 
 room outwardly was restored to a tolerable 
 appearance of tidiness, the cunning and wea- 
 risome elf, Disorder, crept into the new ward- 
 robe, and took possession, and laughed tri- 
 umphantly at Johnnie out of all its corners.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A NEW MIOJECT. 
 
 I PROMISED you a description of John's 
 chamber. If you like old houses, and little, 
 quaint, unusual arrangements as well as I do, 
 and as Johnnie did, you will be interested in 
 hearing about it. 
 
 The house had a square front, with what is 
 called an L extending from it behind. John's 
 room was in this L. The part which joined 
 the main building was divided at first into 
 two bedrooms, side by side, together occupy- 
 ing its entire width, but not in equal shares. 
 Back of these, at some later time, an addi- 
 tion had been made ; and the space so ob- 
 tained had been used on the one side to 
 make a large closet or small dressing-room, 
 connected with the larger of the two original 
 rooms ; and the remainder, by cutting away
 
 48 
 
 " A LITTLE LEAVEX.' 
 
 the partition which intervened, was thrown 
 into the second, or smaller. This was John's 
 room ; and was, as you will thus understand, 
 a sort of double room, having one portion at 
 right angles With the other, thus : 
 
 The opening between was finished in the 
 form of an arch, and there was a descent 
 here of a single step, the further portion 
 being lower than the other. I have marked 
 the door and windows, as you see.
 
 A NEW PROJECT. 49 
 
 At the right as you enter, stood his ward- 
 robe. Opposite the door, and beyond the 
 arch, was his bed. Opposite this, again, in 
 the right-hand end, his dressing-table, and 
 against the blank wall beside the arch, his 
 washing-stand. 
 
 Altogether, it was a very pleasant arrange- 
 ment; and John, as you may suppose, found 
 it charming from its novelty. 
 
 You may think it very strange, too, that if 
 John had before had any disorderly ways, this 
 should not have been with him a starting- 
 point of sure improvement. It would have 
 been so natural, you say, that he should have 
 felt a new and zealous interest in having 
 everything about him in perfect keeping and 
 methodical array. It seems hardly to be 
 believed that he should at once have fallen 
 into carelessness and confusion. But it is not 
 always the marked outward changes in our 
 life or circumstances that produce such cor- 
 responding change as we might look for in 
 character. We have what seems to be great 
 opportunities, and pass through them unim-
 
 50 "A LITTLE LEA VEX. n 
 
 proved ; and again, a very trifle shall turn, 
 unexpectedly, the whole course of our habits 
 and motives, henceforth. 
 
 If John had had a different room given 
 him in the same house where he had lived 
 for so many years, the taking possession and 
 arranging it, being but a single novelty, 
 would have been absorbing. But here he 
 was surrounded by novelties, drawn hither 
 and thither by various attractions ; and fresh 
 employments for his time offered themselves 
 every hour. He still had a pride and delight 
 in his room ; and he still had an intention of 
 pretty soon taking time to " fix it all up, first- 
 rate ; " but meanwhile, he was busy in a 
 dozen other ways, and all along growing so 
 used to the ownership and occupancy of the 
 pretty apartment, that before the convenient 
 occasion should come, his first enthusiasm 
 would have worn off, and it would all have 
 become an old story. 
 
 I dare say, also, you may wonder a little 
 at my thinking it worth while to tell you a 
 long story only to illustrate the impoitanco
 
 A NEW PEOJECT. 51 
 
 to a boy of ten of acquiring a habit of order 
 and exactness in little things. But a boy of 
 ten, brought up among gentle influences, is 
 not likely, I am glad to think, to have fallen 
 into very serious moral evils. It is precisely 
 these faults which seem trifling, that he is in 
 danger of; and that, according as they may 
 bo unchecked or overcome, will have a sub- 
 tle but certain influence in the formation of 
 his whole character and life. I think we are 
 put into life as into a school ; and God, 
 like a wise Teacher, gives us, at first, but 
 simple lessons to learn ; so simple, that we 
 may imagine it can be of little consequence 
 whether we learn them thoroughly and faith- 
 fully, or not; and yet they are purposely 
 provided to lead us on, easily and insensi- 
 bly, to far higher and more difficult things. 
 "Faithful in little," at the beginning, 
 " faithful," afterward " in much." It is only 
 in very untoward conditions, growing out of 
 the wrong or neglect of others, that a child's 
 life-lessons are hard ones at the first. It wag 
 not meant to be so.
 
 52 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 John used sometimes to say to his mother, 
 when she urged upon him the importance of 
 orderly habits, 
 
 "Why, mother, that's girls' business! 
 Boys want to learn different sorts of things. 
 Aunt Horatia says that Cousin Leonard is 
 nothing but a eot-betty ; all the time poking 
 into corners, and fidgeting round like" a 
 woman. I don't want to be a cot-bctty ! " 
 
 ' ' Neither do I wish it, Johnnie," his mother 
 would answer. " But one may have the in- 
 stinct and habit of order without being a 
 Betty ' at all ; much less need one be ' notJi- 
 infj but a Betty.' You can never be anything 
 great without order. It is * heaven's first 
 law,' the first condition for things of mind 
 and soul, as well as body and belongings. 
 Do you think any one could be a great mer- 
 chant, or a lawyer, or a doctor, or a com- 
 mander of armies, or a ruler of a State, with- 
 out this first of all, and at the bottom of 
 everything? God made the world by it, 
 Johnnie." 
 
 When the new tool-room was finished,
 
 A NEW PROJECT. . 53 
 
 Mr. Osburn told John that he might keep his 
 tool-box there ; and he desired the carpenter 
 to make for him a little bench of a conven- 
 ient height for him to work at. This stood 
 in one corner of the room ; and there he was 
 to keep his box, and do all his little jobs of 
 carpentry. In fact, he was forbidden, from 
 this time forward, to take any tool or work 
 of the- sort, into the house, unless by especial 
 permission. His mother expressed herself 
 greatly delighted at this new arrangement, 
 as John's tools and materials had been, foi 
 a long while, literal ' stumbling blocks ' in the 
 way of her orderly housekeeping. Moreover, 
 John was put upon his honor, as a condition 
 of his occupying such portion of his father's 
 room, not to meddle with, or borrow for his 
 own use, any tools of Mr. Osburn's, not 
 even in what might seem to him the greatest 
 emergency ; for, as his father very truly said, 
 no such necessity could arise except through 
 carelessness of his own ; for he was provided 
 with light implements of every sort that Mr. 
 Osburn himself was possessed of.
 
 54 "A LITTLE LEA VEX." 
 
 Of course, John's first impulse, on finding 
 himself so cornmodiously established, was to 
 set on foot some grand undertaking in the 
 mechanical way. For a day or two, he could 
 think of nothing sufiicicntly stupendous; 
 but, at length, one morning, as he accompa- 
 nied Jacob to drive the cow up into the High 
 Pasture, a bright thought struck him. 
 
 " I '11 tell you what, Jacob ! " he exclaimed, 
 as they crossed the brook at the foot 'of the 
 garden by means of four or five stepping- 
 stones. " I '11 build a bridge I Won't that 
 be jolly?" 
 
 < ' Rnther," replied Jacob. ' ' Only I cal'late 
 the buildin' '11 be the jolliest part on 't." 
 
 "Why? don't you believe I can build a 
 good one? " asked John. 
 
 "Doniio but yer might," replied Jacob; 
 ' ' but I guess you won't like it so well as 
 the steppin'-stoues, arter all." 
 
 "Well, the stones are nice, to be sure," 
 replied John; "but I'll build the bridge a 
 little way up, so as to have the stones, too. 
 And then, you know, people can take their
 
 A NEW PROJECT. 55 
 
 choice. If my mother came over here, she 'd 
 like the bridge best, I know." 
 
 "Most likely she would," agreed Jacob. 
 
 So, as soon as they got back to the barn, 
 John began to collect his tools and plan his 
 work, Mr. Osburu had given him leave, oil 
 condition that he should not abuse the priv- 
 ilege by wastefulness, to take material or 
 " stock," as he called it, in carpenter phrase, 
 from what had remained after the real car- 
 penter-work was finished. There was a 
 small pile of nicely-planed boards in the 
 barn, beside the tool-room door. John first 
 selected two of these, and having sawed 
 them into lengths of about three feet each, 
 he piled them upon his wheelbarrow, and 
 wheeled them down to the brook. Then he 
 went to the wood-pile, and found among the 
 long logs which had not been sawed up, as 
 yet, for firewood, two, that would answer, as 
 he thought, for the foundation of his bridge. 
 But, before attempting their removal, he 
 prudently measured their length with his 
 two-foot rule, and proceeded again to the
 
 56 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 brook to make a measurement there, from 
 side to side. He thus found out, by carry- 
 ing his rule along as well as he could from 
 stone to stone, that the distance across was 
 in the neighborhood of ten feet, whereas his 
 logs would only give him six. Here was a 
 puzzle. 
 
 On being appealed to for advice, Jacob 
 suggested that the only way would be to cut 
 down a couple of trees in the pasture. But 
 this John could not do without his father's 
 leave, both for the cutting down of the trees, 
 and for Jacob's assistance in accomplishing 
 it. He was very much disturbed and disap- 
 pointed. His whole day's plan was over- 
 thrown. He found it very difficult, as in- 
 deed many older people do, to turn aside 
 from what he had already begun with zeal- 
 ous interest, and apply his energy to some- 
 thing else. 
 
 Consequently, he loitered about for some 
 time, in a very uncertain and dissatisfied 
 manner ; and beset Jacob with reiterated in- 
 quiries ' if he couldn't possibly think of any
 
 A NEW PROJECT. 57 
 
 other way to dp," until Jacob, who was in 
 reality a very good-natured man, and would 
 willingly have given any help in his power, 
 exclaimed at last in self-defence, 
 
 " Land's sake ! boy ! Dew jest lemme be I 
 I declare to man, ye pester me so, I can't 
 ecurcely think o'my own work ! " 
 
 John stared a little, in sudden surprise, 
 both at the unusual impatience, and at the 
 new development in dialect ; for he had 
 not yet become well enough accustomed 
 to Jacob's New England country fashions 
 of speech, not to be somewhat astonished 
 at each fresh sentence that fell from liis 
 lips. 
 
 However, he quite well understood that lie 
 was not to interfere any farther at present 
 with Jacob's attention to his immediate 
 duty ; and he could easily translate the word 
 *' pester," which he had never heard before, 
 into his own familiar " bother." So he very 
 wisely turned away, and took his unrest and 
 indecision elsewhere. 
 
 Why didn't he carefully look after his
 
 58 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 tools, and restore all to their proper places, 
 ready for to-morrow ? 
 
 At noon, when Jacob came up to the 
 house to dinner, John ventured once more to 
 open the subject of the bridge. 
 
 ' ' Jacob," said he, ' ' if my father is willing, 
 won't you go over to . the pasture to-night 
 early enough to cut those trees for me before 
 you drive home the cow ? " 
 
 Jacob, propitiated by the good-humored 
 reception of his morning remonstrance, and 
 perhaps with a latent misgiving that he had 
 been " a leetle might cross-grained," readily 
 consented, and at five o'clock John met his 
 father at the train, with his eager request 
 hovering upon his lips. 
 
 "Well, what is it, boy?" asked Mr. Os- 
 burn, as he took his seat in the wagon. " I 
 see you 've got something to propose." 
 
 " Yes, father. I want, if you please, that 
 you should let me have two trees out of tho 
 pasture to build a bridge." 
 
 " Two trees ! And to build a bridge ! " 
 exclaimed Mr. Osburn. " Well, your ideas 
 are expanding rapidly."
 
 A NEW PROJECT. 59 
 
 But John explained his ideas in such a 
 way that his father saw he had really ma- 
 tured a plan of operations, and would not only 
 be disappointed, but discouraged, if denied. 
 So he gave his consent that Jacob should 
 cut down a couple of small cedars, such as 
 grew in the edge of the pasture, and help 
 John in placing them across the stream. 
 
 John exercised what to him was very 
 great self-control for the next half hour, in 
 not teasing or hurrying Jacob while he un- 
 harnessed Blackbird, and gave him his even- 
 ing feed, and finished " putting to rights" 
 about the stable. But when he took hatchet 
 and saw, and called out, " Naow then ! I 
 guess we'll go and see 'baout them air 
 trees ! " Johnnie knew what it was to have 
 a great pleasure, long deferred, come at last ; 
 and it was with many a spring and flourish 
 and antic, that he led the way down out- 
 side the garden fence, to the stepping-stones 
 across the brook, and up the sloping path 
 into the High Pasture.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 HINDRANCE. 
 
 " NAOW, Mister Johnnie," said Jacob, de- 
 liberating, as he laid his brown, brawny 
 hand against the trunk of a straight, stal- 
 wart young cedar, of perhaps six inches 
 diameter ; ' ' seems to me this 'ere 's abaout 
 as likely a sample of what you want as 
 there is hereabaouts. What d'ye say?" 
 
 John looked up and down the tree with a 
 knowing air, his hands in his pockets, and 
 an exprjssion of great responsibility and 
 authority on his face. 
 
 "Yes, Jacob," he replied at length, 
 "that '11 do. Cutaway!" 
 
 Up rose the axe, with slow, threatening, 
 deliberately-in-earnest poise, and then, 
 crash ! down came its keen edge into the 
 wood, and the splinters flew out as if in
 
 HINDRANCE. 61 
 
 indignant surprise at this onslaught upon the 
 patient growth of years. 
 
 Hack I Whack 1 the blows, with sure aim 
 come down, thicker and louder into the heart 
 of the tree, and faster and faster flew the 
 splinters, until the very centre was cut across, 
 and then Jacob paused, took a look with his 
 head on one side, and passed round to a new 
 position exactly opposite. 
 
 " Step raound here," said he to Johnnie. 
 " The tree '11 fall that way." 
 
 "How do you know?" asked John. 
 " And why don't you keep cutting on this 
 side?" 
 
 " Oh, 'cause I guess 'twould be kinder 
 pleasanter to be just abaout here, when it 
 goes over," replied Jacob. " I Ve made the 
 biggest cut, yer see ; an' a rap or tew 
 naow '11 bring it daown." 
 
 Hack ! Whack ! Crack ! A few blows 
 more, and then the top swayed, made a 
 great, shivering sweep through the air, 
 and the princely young cedar-tree iay pront 
 and helpless on the ground.
 
 62 "A LITTLE LEAVEN.'* 
 
 Twenty-five or thirty years, perhaps, it had 
 stood there, gathering its slow fibres, and 
 knitting itself in might, and now it was 
 hewn down that a little boy might build a 
 bridge across the brook ! 
 
 "Wai," said Jacob, as he paused, and 
 swung his hatchet by the middle of the han- 
 dle, " the tiling is naow to git another jest 
 as near like it as yer can, so'st yer bridge '11 
 lay even ; an' that 's a puzzler, allus. No tew 
 things ever does grow jest alike, they say. 
 I 've hearn people wonder, and make a great 
 marvel of that air, but I guess, myself, sech 
 folks never happened to try to make tew 
 things alike. They 'd ha' found aout ef they 
 had, that 't was a pesky sight easier to make 
 'em different." 
 
 They walked about from tree to tree, try- 
 ing the girths witli their hands, until they 
 had wandered quite as far into the pasture as 
 was at all desirable, considering that the stick 
 of timber, when cut, was to be carried down 
 to the brookside ; and at length, just as Jacob 
 was " cal'latin'" that "this 'ere was nigh
 
 HINDRANCE. 63 
 
 abaout same bigness as t'other," the old 
 cow, who had begun to feel a little surprised 
 at not being called for as usual, strayed along 
 homeward down the hill, and came toward 
 them. 
 
 ' ' There comes old Buttercup," quoth Jacob, 
 as he lifted the axe against the second cedar ; 
 ' ' I guess you '11 hev to 'tend her, and see 
 her 'long to the barn, now she 's got started, 
 for fear she should smell aoutthegardin, and 
 git over the brook in the wrong place. Ef 
 you '11 jest git her shot inter the yard all safe, 
 I '11 stay here an' finish up this part o' the 
 job, an' you c'u come back an' see ter puttin' 
 daown the stringers, when I git 'em ready." 
 
 John picked up a dry branch wherewith 
 to quicken Mooly's footsteps, and took up 
 the line of march in the rear, as she passed 
 along with slow and ponderous movement 
 toward the brook. 
 
 It had been a very warm day, and Madam 
 Buttercup, when she felt the cool running 
 water about her legs, was in no apparent 
 haste to proceed ; but stood midway in the
 
 64 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 stream, whisking her tail at the flies, and lift- 
 ing up her great horned head in the sun- 
 set. 
 
 Johnnie, too, stood still a moment, on the 
 biggest stepping-stone, enjoying the pleasur- 
 able conjunction and harmony of things 
 about him, and waiting to hear the rushing 
 crash of the cedar as it should fall. 
 
 The water was singing and flashing over 
 the pebbles, in the golden glow of the twi- 
 light; there was a warm, spicy, pasture-smell 
 in the air, and the old cow, going home with 
 her pailful of milk in her bag, and stopping 
 to take in her brute sense of delight in the 
 summer evening, made it all more palpable 
 with a remote sort of sympathy. 
 
 The "whish" of the cedar boughs through 
 the air roused up Johnnie and the cow, how- 
 ever, at the same moment, from their contem- 
 plations, and the path over the field to tho 
 barn-yard was soon trodden. Buttercup 
 walked docilely in, and John hasped the gate 
 behind her, and in three minutes more had 
 leaped over the stones again, and rejoined
 
 HINDEANCE. 65 
 
 Jacob in the pasture, just as the latter had 
 sawed of his tree at the proper length, and 
 was shouldering the stick to carry it down to 
 the water. 
 
 John ran before and pointed out the spot 
 where he intended his bridge should cross, 
 and sprang over to the opposite side to help 
 settle the timber .into its place. It rested 
 nicely enough against a hummock of sod at 
 one end, and above a big stone at the other. 
 
 " There ! " ejaculated Jacob, " I guess that 
 air won't move agin, onless the world cap- 
 sizes ! " 
 
 The laying of the second stringer gave 
 them more trouble, both in placing it at the 
 even and accurate distance, and in settling it 
 firmly into its position. But Jacob went 
 back to the nearest fallen tree and cut from 
 it a couple of stakes, which he sharpened at 
 one end with his hatchet, and drove them 
 into the bank, one on each side, to hold the 
 timber securely ; and there was thus, to use 
 his own expression when all was done, 
 " abaout as pooty a beginnin' of a bridge as 
 yer'd want ter see." 
 
 5
 
 66 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " Cedar Bridge ! " cried Johnnie, with a 
 bright inspiration. "That's the name of it, 
 Jacob ! " 
 
 " Wai," replied Jacob, in his quaint way, 
 " seem' the job 's over, christenin' an' all, I 
 guess we '11 step along hum as fast as we 
 can, 'caount o' gittin' there!" 
 
 Johnnie's head was so full of Cedar Bridge 
 that he almost forgot his appetite for supper, 
 though there were delicious preserved straw- 
 berries, housekeeper's treasure, that might 
 be used more lavishly now that the real 
 kingly fruit would soon be coming, and 
 Buttercup's cream, that made one think of 
 her name, and Ruth's delicious white biscuit, 
 like baked foam, dainties to which he was 
 ordinarily anything but indifferent. 
 
 Early in the morning he was awake, and 
 when Jacob drove the cow to pasture, he 
 gathered up hammer and nails, and accom- 
 panied him down to the brook, to make at 
 least a beginning before breakfast. 
 
 " Jacob," said he, as that personage crossed
 
 HINDRANCE. 67 
 
 the brook again on his return, "ask Ruth, 
 will you, to ring the big bell when break- 
 fast's ready?" 
 
 By the time the big bell sounded, he had 
 made what was really a most prosperous be- 
 ginning. He had nailed four of his boards 
 firmly, side by side, across the logs, and he 
 was able now to calculate how many more 
 he should require for the work. There were 
 seven in all, that he had sawed the day be- 
 fore, and he thought he must get five or six 
 pieces more ; besides, as he added to himself, 
 not forgetting to bring the saw with him 
 also to trim off the edges. 
 
 His slight supper the night before, and his 
 early morning work, had given him such a 
 real hungry keenness for his breakfast, that he 
 was in nowise inclined this time to shorten 
 the meal, and then he had to drive his father 
 to the station, as Jacob was to be particu- 
 larly busy this morning in the garden. 
 
 He was as bright and happy a boy as you 
 might ever see, during that drive to the vil- 
 lage, chatting merrily with his father about
 
 G8 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 the success of his great undertaking, and the 
 convenience the bridge would prove to be, 
 when it should be finished. His day was 
 auspiciously enough begun ; but, ah, dear 
 me ! I am coming to the clouds presently, 
 and I don't half like to go on. 
 
 Well, it was only a very little matter 
 that spoiled everything; just a little bit of 
 carelessness that as yet he wasn't even 
 aware of. 
 
 ' ' Jacob I " he called out from the tool- 
 room, about fifteen minutes after he had said 
 his happy good-morning to his father at the 
 train, " where 's my saw? " 
 
 " Donno," was the reply. " Ha'n't seen 
 it." 
 
 " But you must have seen it, Jacob! I 
 had it just here yesterday, and I did n't use 
 it anywhere else. What's got it, I wonder! 
 Here 's my two-foot rule, and my knife, and 
 all the rest of my things, just where I left 
 them ; and my saw 's gone ! The very thing 
 I can't do without. Bother I I wish folks 
 would let my things alone 1 "
 
 HINDRANCE. 69 
 
 "I guess nobody ha' n't meddled with it," 
 said Jacob. " Yer must ha' tooken it some- 
 where else. There's the big saw hangin' 
 up there. Yer might take that, ef yer'd be 
 kerful." 
 
 "Oh dear me! I can't take that, you 
 know ! I was n't to touch any of father's 
 tools, no matter what happened. What shall 
 I do? I can't finish my bridge, nor anything. 
 It 's too plaguy bad ! " 
 
 "I'll stop an' saw ye a few boards, ef 
 that 's all yer want," said good-natured Jacob, 
 "though Idonno's I oughter, fact. Every 
 minute 's as good as gold, jest here in June, 
 an' the weeds growin' the hull time 's tight 's 
 they c'n put in ! " 
 
 " No, you must n't stop, Jacob," said John, 
 tumbling the boards over, and rattling things 
 impetuously about, as his desperation grew 
 greater. "Father told me, the last thing, 
 not to hinder you a minute." 
 
 " "Wall, I guess Vll turn up, somehow," 
 rejoined Jacob, comfortingly, as he departed. 
 " Taint got legs, nor yet wings; an' nothin' 's 
 I know on 'd be likely t' eat it up."
 
 70 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 But it did n't turn up. It remained a most 
 perplexing and aggravating mystery ; and 
 after wondering and searching ten minutes 
 longer, in vain, and then going back to the 
 brook to nail on the three bits of board that 
 remained, and returning to explore fruitlessly, 
 once more, barn, stable, and tool-room, John- 
 nie had to give up his cherished plan for the 
 day, altogether; and repaired, heated, and 
 tired, and wholly out of humor, to his moth- 
 er's room. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn was standing at the bedside, 
 cutting out some perplexing work. A quan- 
 tity of pretty green striped chintz was thrown 
 over the foot-board, and pieces already cut 
 and arranged were piled upon the pillows. 
 A young woman sat in a corner by the win- 
 dow, sewing upon some of the same mate- 
 rial. They were making covers for the draw- 
 ing-room furniture. 
 
 John's little sister, Kathie, a child of seven 
 years old, was busy at a table, with quite a 
 new amusement. Her mother had given her 
 a number of empty spools from her work-
 
 HINDRANCE. 71 
 
 basket, and some bits of different colored mus- 
 lins ; and with these she had improvised a 
 crowd of dolls, which she had now assembled 
 as a school, and disposed in classes. The 
 whole surface of the table was occupied by 
 an arrangement of books, set up on their 
 edges, and thus forming an intricate series 
 of recitation rooms, in and out of which she 
 was marshalling her wooden scholars. 
 
 John listlessly sauntered up to her, half in 
 search of amusement, and half disposed for 
 mischief. 
 
 " What sort of witches are those, Kath!" 
 he asked, in an irritating tone of contempt, 
 and leaning, as he spoke, an elbow against 
 the table in such a manner as to break down 
 a portion of the outer wall of Kathie's sem- 
 inary. 
 
 "Don't, John I" exclaimed she, quickly, 
 in annoyance. "They're my scholars. And 
 you 're spoiling my school-house ! " 
 
 * ' Scholars ! Phoo ! hoo ! Before I 'd have 
 such a set of blockheads for scholars ! And 
 they 're so untidy, too ! Why don't you send
 
 72 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 them home to their mothers, to be made fit to 
 be seen?" 
 
 And he took up one after another, turned 
 them about, and laughed in a very teasing, 
 provoking manner. 
 
 "I wish you'd go away, John!" cried 
 Kathie. "You haven't any business here 
 in my school-room ! " 
 
 " Why not? Don't you let in visitors? 
 Oh, I know why ! It 's because you can't 
 make your scholars mind. How they do be- 
 have ! I declare, they 're actually jumping 
 out of the windows 1 " 
 
 And with this, by means of one or two 
 dexterous snaps, he sent several of the spools 
 spinning over the academic enclosure, and 
 they rolled away upon the floor. 
 
 Kathie's patience utterly gave way, now, 
 and she gave John a great push, and began 
 to cry aloud. John had a tumble, whether 
 of necessity or not, and made a snatch at 
 the table-cloth as he went down, bringing 
 all the books and spools clattering about his 
 head.
 
 HINDRANCE. 73 
 
 Mrs. Osburn, of course, dropped her chintz 
 and scissors at this culmination of the uproar, 
 the threatening of which had, in a sort of 
 half-aware way, been annoying her for several 
 minutes. 
 
 * ' John ! " she exclaimed in a tone of great 
 displeasure, " why do you come into my room 
 to disturb us all ? Is it any pleasure to you to 
 destroy Kathie's amusement, and tease her in 
 this way? Pick up all those things, and then 
 go to y,our own room, and remain there until 
 dinner-time. I am excessively displeased with 
 you." 
 
 "I couldn't help it," rejoined Johnnie. 
 " Kathie pushed me. I was only making a 
 little fun. But of course," he added, in a 
 muttering undertone, " it's all my fault ! She's 
 never to blame ! Touchy little thing ! " 
 
 Mrs. Osburn drew the little invisible valve 
 over her ears, and turned back to her meas- 
 uring and cutting; but there was a pained, 
 worried expression on her face, that did not 
 pass away for long after. John had huddled
 
 74 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 the books and spools back upon the table, and 
 gone sulkily out of the room. 
 
 Was all this well ? Were not law and order 
 sadly wanted somewhere beside, in Johnnie's 
 jurisdiction, than only among his outer posses- 
 sions ? Was n't he heedless of a good deal else 
 that was binding upon him, beyond the care of 
 tools and clothes and playthings? And was 
 not something of the same principle lacking in 
 all? He that " keepeth his spirit" can do the 
 smaller thing, can " rule the city." And I 
 think that he who learns the smaller thing, as 
 a duty, will learn insensibly, the while, some- 
 thing, at least, of the other, which includes it. 
 The true leaven will spread, until it leaven the 
 whole lump, in howsoever small a corner it 
 may begin. " The kingdom of heaven is as 
 a grain of mustard-seed."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MIDNIGHT. 
 
 THERE was a "hitch" in Johnnie's tem- 
 per that didn't get straightened for several 
 days. Things didn't go right with him, and 
 he was very uncomfortable, in many little 
 ways, to other people. The losing of hia 
 saw, and the forced suspension of his work 
 quite " threw him off the track," as people 
 say. It was especially disappointing to be 
 thwarted in this, for there was nothing else, 
 just then, that offered itself as a substitute 
 to his attention. Stephen Sellinger was ab- 
 sent from home for a few days, with his 
 father, who had gone away to preach ; and 
 John was not only deprived of his compan- 
 ionship as a resource, but was, from the very 
 circumstance of his absence, the more anx- 
 ious to finish his undertaking successfully.
 
 76 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 that he might surprise his friend with it, on 
 his return. 
 
 So time passed heavily with him ; and 
 wearisomely, I am afraid, for the greater 
 part, with his mother. He did nothing very 
 bad, to be sure ; he was not a bad boy. 
 But he was teasing to Kathie, who could not 
 enter into what he called " fun," and troub- 
 lesome to Ruth in the kitchen, and rather a 
 "disturbing force" in the household gener- 
 ally. 
 
 It was two or three days after the trouble 
 began, that Jacob called to him one afternoon 
 when he came down to the barn, a little 
 before the usual time for going to the sta- 
 tion. 
 
 "Look here, John! Why can't you jest 
 foller up that yaller hen, an' see whether or 
 no she ha' n't got a nest somewhere raound 
 here ? I 've ben mistrustin' on her for a week 
 past, she 's kep' so aout o' sight. She 's jest 
 walked aout, naow, from behind that air 
 wood-pile, an' I guess, ef yer look, yer'll find 
 sunthin' there."
 
 MIDNIGHT. 77 
 
 " I guess you know there 's something 
 there," said John, as he walked toward the 
 wood-pile; for he had by this time become 
 accustomed to Jacob's peculiar fashion of 
 imparting information. " What is it? Chick- 
 ens?" 
 
 " Ef 'tis, it's ruther a new sort, I cal'late. 
 'T's got teeth, anyhow," said Jacob, with a 
 grin. " 'T won't bite. Yer need n't be scairt," 
 added he, as John halted in a little hesitation 
 at his first words. 
 
 Wondering what sort of a thing or animal 
 Jacob had discovered, John proceeded cau- 
 tiously around the end of the wood-pile, and, 
 taking off his straw hat, laid his head close 
 to the fence to look behind it. 
 
 What should he see there but his missing 
 saw ! To be sure 1 - Did n't he remember, 
 now, having it in his hand when he came, 
 the other day, to the wood-pile, to measure 
 logs for his bridge? 
 
 Well, there it lay, just as all lost and hid- 
 den things do lie, secret and mute, waiting 
 for the chance of being found, by people who
 
 78 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 may pass them by unconsciously a dozen 
 times a day, wanting them sorely, perhaps, 
 all the while. And there it might have lain, 
 as many lost things do lie, and rusted out, 
 and become worthless, if Jacob had not 
 '' mistrusted the yaller hen," and taken a 
 peep behind the logs. 
 
 "Hi oh! Jacob!" shouted Johnnie, in 
 his great delight, resorting to slang phrase 
 to express it, " Bully for you and the yel- 
 low hen ! Come and get it out for me, will 
 you? My arm's too short." 
 
 Jacob came, reached in his long arm, 
 and drew out the tool, so lamented and 
 longed for day after day. 
 
 " Guess yer wouldn't do for an Injun," 
 he said, as he gave it back into John's pos- 
 session. 
 
 "Why not?" asked John, surprised. 
 
 " Cause yer can't foller yer own trail," an- 
 swered Jacob. 
 
 John did not stop for further explanation, 
 though the joke was scarcely palpable to 
 him, even now ; but hastened into the tool-
 
 MIDNIGHT. 79 
 
 room to "get out stock" for the finishing of 
 his bridge, leaving Jacob to proceed to the 
 village alone. 
 
 He had soon sawed up another board into 
 lengths, and wheeled them off to the brook; 
 Now he was busy and happy again. The 
 time fled away swiftly, as he hammered and 
 whistled, and by-and-by, quite tired, be paused 
 and stood up to take a look at the nearly 
 completed structure before he went back for 
 just a couple of lengths more to finish it 
 well into the slope of the bank at each 
 end. This was an after-thought. It had 
 not occurred to him when he first began to 
 nail his boards. 
 
 "I guess I'll trim off the edges first," he 
 said to himself, and down again he went to 
 the work. 
 
 Another half-hour passed by as he was thus 
 employed, and to his great surprise the tea- 
 bell sounded, as he ran up the path toward 
 the barn -yard again. 
 
 John was disappointed at being called away 
 from his work ; and yet, he reflected, it could
 
 80 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 not have been at a more suitable juncture, 
 as he was obliged to go back at any rate 
 to the barn, and there would still be an 
 hour or more of good daylight wherein he 
 might easily finish the bridge, after tea should 
 be over. So he turned toward the house, 
 and ran in the back way, and up-stairs to 
 his own room, to brush his hair and wash 
 his hands ; for he well knew there would be 
 no time gained by hastening to the table 
 without proper preparation, and being sent 
 away to make it. 
 
 "Where now, Johnnie?" asked his father, 
 rising from the table and taking his news- 
 paper to go into the parlor for his evening 
 reading, while John at the same moment 
 seized his straw hat, and was departing by 
 another door. 
 
 " Down to the brook to finish my bridge. 
 It's almost done, father, and it's a real 
 beauty ! " 
 
 "Well," replied his father. "But don't 
 stay there late. It becomes very damp along 
 the brook after dark."
 
 MIDXIGHT. 81 
 
 " No, sir." And Johnnie was gone. 
 
 Picking up his sa\r in the porch, where he 
 had left it, and flourishing it gayly over his 
 head, all the better fortified for his work 
 by a good supper, he ran down the foot- 
 path to the barn, just in time to encounter 
 Jacob at the little corner door, locking up 
 for the night. 
 
 " Hallo ! Jacob!" he cried, "leave that 
 door open a little while, will you? I've got 
 some boards to saw." 
 
 Jacob thrust up his hat with one hand, 
 bcratched his head and hesitated. 
 
 " Donno," said he, at length, " haow that 
 air '11 work ezacldy. Yer father, yer see, 's so 
 all-fired partickler 'boaut hevin' the barn shot 
 up nights, an' I don't s'pose I oughter trust you 
 with the key. I 've got to go right away my- 
 Belf, so 's ter send up Briggs ter see yer father 
 baout a little fencin' job up in the pastur'." 
 
 " Oh, I '11 lock it up all safe," replied Jolin. 
 " See if I don't." 
 
 " Secin* won't dew much good, if yer don't, 
 dew it," replied Jacob, sagaciously.
 
 82 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 "But I mill, honest and true," rejoined 
 Johnnie. "I sha' n't stay here but a few 
 minutes. Come, let's have it; that's a good 
 fellow. I'm in a hurry." 
 
 " Yer sure yer'll dew it?" reiterated Jacob. 
 
 " Of course I will. Don't I tell you so ? " 
 
 " An' hang up the key behind the kitchen- 
 door?" 
 
 " Yes, yes," said Johnnie, snatching it from 
 Jacob's hand, as he half held it out toward 
 him. "There, go along; Briggs '11 be off 
 somewhere, and you won't catch him." 
 
 " I 'm more 'n half afcared I '11 stan' a chance 
 o' ketchin' sunthin' else by ternaorrer mornin'," 
 said Jacob to himself, as he moved reluctantly 
 away. 
 
 John sawed off his two bits of board, and 
 set off to the brook with them ; first locking 
 the barn-door and putting the key in his 
 pocket. He would have to return to the 
 tool-room after his work should be finished, 
 and replace his tools, before finally locking 
 op and carrying away the key to its usual 
 place behind the kitchen-door.
 
 MIDNIGHT. 83 
 
 His work at the bridge occupied him 
 rather longer than he had anticipated. It 
 was not quite so easy as he had imagined, 
 to fit his boards perfectly against the some- 
 what irregular surface of sods. He was 
 obliged to fetcli a spade and a hatchet, and 
 to cut a little here into the bank, and there 
 to trim away the edges of his finishing bits ; 
 but at last, in this way, and with patience, 
 
 the workman's chief implement, after all, 
 let him labor in whatsoever fashion he may, 
 
 he managed to wedge them in quite firm- 
 ly and neatly. The ends of rough timber 
 were wholly covered and hidden. One 
 stepped directly from the green descent of 
 sward to the smooth flooring of the bridge. 
 
 Nobody who has not brought to a suc- 
 cessful completion a toilsome and difficult, 
 yet interesting and exciting, piece of work, 
 can imagine with what a restful joy John 
 sprang to his feet when the last nail was 
 driven to the head, and throwing his ham- 
 mer upon the bank, trod back and forth from 
 end to end over his bridge. The mere con-
 
 84 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 templation of what he had done, was so 
 very pleasant that he could scarcely make 
 up his mind to gather up his toools and leave 
 it. But the twilight was deepening, and 
 down here in the hollow it was almost dark ; 
 so at last he turned his back reluctantly 
 upon it, and made his way as well as he 
 could, laden with all his accumulated im- 
 plements, up the hill, and to the barn. 
 
 After safely depositing his tools and lock- 
 ing the door, he was leisurely strolling along 
 the path toward the house, twirling the big 
 key round and round upon his finger, when 
 he heard his name called out, in a well- 
 known voice, from over the wall. 
 
 "Hallo, Steenie ! Is that you?" he re- 
 sponded quickly, turning round upon his 
 heels toward the sound ; and at the same 
 moment, by the suddenness of his motion, 
 the key flew from his finger, and fell upon 
 the grass. 
 
 "Hold on a minute," he called out again, 
 " till I pick up this ! Never mind, though," he 
 added to himself: "I'll just speak to Steenie, 
 and then come back and find it."
 
 MIDNIGHT. 85 
 
 He was so heedless as not to consider 
 how soon it would become too dark for him 
 to discover it ; and, strange as it may seem, 
 in the end lie quite forgot to come back and 
 look for it at all ! 
 
 For Steenie had his famous New York 
 cousin with him, Howard Sellinger, who 
 ha/1 arrived that very day, before he and his 
 father reached home ; and there was such a 
 deal to be talked of on both sides ; John's 
 bridge to be told of, and wondered at, 
 they couldn't stop to go and see it to-night, 
 but they would come over the first thing in 
 the morning, and then Stephen and How- 
 ard had been round through the lane and 
 out over the field towards the woods, in the 
 exciting chase of a night-hawk, which How- 
 ard was very anxious to trace home, to ob- 
 tain an egg for his collection. 
 
 "I saw him drop down," said he, "just in 
 the edge of the trees, not far from a big oak 
 that had a withered branch. I '11 go there to- 
 morrow, and hunt the whole place over. If 
 the oak is hollow, I shouldn't wonder if the
 
 86 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 eggs were there. They do sometimes lay 
 in such places ; but generally right on the 
 ground. They never make nests, at all." 
 
 John was interested, at once ; and struck 
 very forcibly, too, with Howard's wonderful 
 knowledge of the doings of birds. 
 
 " I never heard of collecting eggs, be- 
 fore," said he. " Can you get many differ- 
 ent kinds ? " 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Howard. "I have 
 between twenty and thirty, already, and I 
 only began to collect this spring, when I 
 went up to Rhinebeck with my father, for a 
 week." 
 
 * ' But I always thought it was such a hor- 
 rid thing to rob the nests ! " said Johnnie, 
 rather suddenly bethinking himself. 
 
 "Not when you do it scientifically," re- 
 plied Howard, laughing. " The beauty of 
 it is, the birds can't count ; and as I only 
 take one for a specimen, it doesn't hurt 
 their feelings at all." 
 
 " I wonder if my father would let me 
 make a collection," said John.
 
 MIDNIGHT. 87 
 
 "My father's going to let me," said Ste- 
 phen. " He did n't exactly like it at first, for 
 that very reason, of robbing the nests; but 
 I 've promised him that I '11 never take but 
 one ; and that Howard and I won't take 
 them from the same nest ; and so he has 
 given me leave to begin. He says I shall 
 learn a good deal of Natural History by it, 
 and he supposes people can't find out such 
 things without taking some liberties." 
 
 " I mean to ask my father right off," said 
 Johnnie. "I can get some swallows' eggs 
 to-morrow. But I suppose they are not good 
 for much, they're so common." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " said Howard. "Begin with 
 whatever you can get. You must have all 
 kinds in a collection. I've got six kinds of 
 swallows' eggs. If I could only get some 
 chimney-swifts, I should have them all. But 
 they 're very hard to get at." 
 
 " Are there seven different kinds of swal- 
 lows? "asked John, in amazement. 
 
 ' Seven kinds of day-swallows," replied 
 Howard. " The night-hawks are a kind of
 
 88 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 swallow, too. They all belong to the same 
 family." 
 
 ' ' How did you ever find it all out ? " 
 
 " Oh, I've got some books of Ornithology. 
 I'll lend you one if you want it. But we 
 must go home now, Steenie. I promised 
 your father I wouldn't keep you out late, 
 you know." 
 
 Johnnie was fully possessed with his new 
 idea, and with the most enthusiastic admira- 
 tion of Howard Sellinger. He hurried up 
 to the house to make his immediate request 
 of his father ; but he found some visitors in 
 the parlor, and his father and mother very 
 busily engaged in conversation with them. 
 So, after waiting about until his first excite- 
 ment had a little subsided, he grew tired and 
 sleepy, and concluded to go off to bed. 
 
 All this time, he never once thought of the 
 key of the barn. 
 
 It was after midnight, when he was sud- 
 denly awakened by his father, who stood 
 by his bedside with a lighted candle in his 
 I uind.
 
 MIDNIGHT. 89 
 
 "Johnnie! Johnnie!" said he, in a hur- 
 ried, anxious tone, " wake up ! " 
 
 And then, when John started up in bed, 
 and looked wildly about him, he asked, more 
 calmly and deliberately, 
 
 " Are you awake, Johnnie ! Think. Can 
 you tell me anything about the key of the 
 barn?" 
 
 "Oh, yes!" eaid Johnnie, in a startled, 
 half-conscious tone ; "I, yes, I dropped 
 it, I believe. I'll go right and pick it 
 up." 
 
 "You dropped it! Are you awake, or 
 dreaming, Johnnie? Did you have the key? 
 And where did you drop it?" 
 
 " On the grass. By the path. When Ste- 
 phen came. Why? What's the matter, 
 father?" 
 
 His father uttered a sound that was like a 
 groan. 
 
 " Oh, Johnnie ! Little Kathie is very ill. 
 I was going to drive to the village for the 
 doctor." 
 
 "Oh, dear, father!" cried Johnnie, terror-
 
 90 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 stricken. "What will you do? Can't you 
 get in at a window ?" 
 
 " They are all strongly fastened, high up. 
 I should lose time. I must walk." 
 
 And he turned to go without further delay. 
 
 "Let me go, father!" cried John, spring- 
 ing out of bed. " I '11 run, I '11 go quicker 
 than any horse ! I know the way." 
 
 Mr. Osburn hesitated for an instant. He 
 had already lost time. He disliked leaving 
 his wife alone, in her anxiety, for so long a 
 time as it would take him to walk to the 
 village. Johnnie already had nearly all his 
 clothes on. 
 
 His father passed out into the entry, and 
 moved toward his wife's dressing-room. She 
 caught the sound of his step in the passage, 
 and spoke. 
 
 "Are you there?" she asked, in a tone 
 of surprise and anxiety. " You can't surely 
 have been already ? " 
 
 Mr. Osburn decided. He turned back; 
 quickly, to the door he had softly closed 
 behind him, and as softly opened it.
 
 MIDNIGHT. 91 
 
 " Go, Johnnie," he whispered. " Take 
 your shoes in your hand. Don't let your 
 mother hear you." 
 
 And, almost in the same breath, he reached 
 the dressing-room again, and answered Mrs. 
 Osburn. 
 
 " I can stay with you, now. A person has 
 just gone down toward the village, by whom I 
 have sent the message." 
 
 "Is it any one you know ? Will he be 
 sure to give it?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, quite sure; make yourself easy. 
 I am very glad not to leave you alone." 
 
 Meanwhile John went out into the mid- 
 night. 
 
 Under any other circumstances he would, 
 perhaps, have been afraid for himself, as he 
 passed out from his father's gate into the 
 high-road, where nothing else was moving, 
 and where the glooms from tree and hedge 
 lay so strangely. 
 
 All was still, with an awful sort of quiet- 
 ness, except the weird noises of the night, 
 which only made everything else seem stiller.
 
 92 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 Here and there a katydid chirped among the 
 branches, and the frogs were piping in the 
 brook. There seemed to be more stars blaz- 
 ing down upon him from the sky than he had 
 ever seen before. 
 
 But Johnnie did not stop to think sepa- 
 rately and consciously of any of these things. 
 The strange midnight scene about him only 
 deepened and made more terrible the one feel- 
 ing, that his little sister was in danger, and 
 that by his fault help was delayed. What if 
 she should die ! 
 
 Down the hill to the brook his feet flew 
 over the ground. Across the little bridge, 
 with the booming of the great bull -frogs in 
 his ears, he hurried on. Up the slope on 
 the opposite side, he slackened a little to 
 take breath ; and then down again into the 
 village, between the rows of quiet houses, 
 where people were all lying in their beds 
 asleep, he went, panting. 
 
 One woman, who happened to be wakeful, 
 heard the quick thud, thud, of his feet upon 
 the road, and put her nightcapped head out 
 of the window.
 
 MIDNIGHT. 93 
 
 "What's the matter, boy? Fire?" she 
 cried. 
 
 Johnnie did not try to answer. He was 
 saving the little breath he had to call the 
 doctor. 
 
 Doctor Doubleday heard the click of his 
 garden-gate as it swung to behind the little 
 messenger, and then the ring at the bell, 
 pulled with all the strength of two small 
 trembling hands. 
 
 * ' Who is it ? " he called, from his room 
 above. 
 
 "John Osburn," shouted the boy, with a 
 husky voice, from his long running. " My 
 father wants you, sir, as quick as you can 
 come ! My sister 's sick." 
 
 And down he sat, exhausted, on the door- 
 stone. 
 
 The doctor pulled a cord in his chamber, 
 and another bell sounded loudly through the 
 house. This roused his man, who understood 
 the signal, and in two minutes more the big 
 barn-door slid back, and John knew the doc- 
 tor's gig was getting ready.
 
 94 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 Hardly more than five minutes longer, and 
 dexterous hands had slipped the horse into 
 his harness, and the doctor had, as dexter- 
 ously, slipped into his clothes. The gig came 
 round to the garden-gate as he descended the 
 stairs. 
 
 "Jump in, little man,," said he, kindly. 
 "We'll be there in no time." 
 
 The curious woman put her nightcap out 
 again between the blinds as the wheels rat- 
 tled by. 
 
 "Oh I" said she, as she drew it in again. 
 " Somebody after the doctor. Wonder who's 
 sick ! " 
 
 The frogs piped, and the katydids chirped, 
 the stars blazed on wondrously, and the shad- 
 ows still stretched over the road, but all 
 sounded and seemed different and less ghost- 
 ly, now that Johnnie was in human compan- 
 ionship again, and was bringing swift help 
 to Kathie. Still he gaid nothing, and hardly 
 drew a long breath. Every nerve was tense 
 with anxiety. 
 
 Mr. Osburn heard the wheels upon the
 
 MIDNIGHT. 95 
 
 gravel, as they drove up to the door, and 
 come down the front staircase with a light. 
 
 His first words were to Johnnie. 
 
 " You Vave done well, my boy," said he, 
 with his hand upon his son's head. "And 
 you have had a hard lesson. Now go qui- 
 etly up the other staircase to your room and 
 to bed. We won't worry mamma about both 
 children at once. Kathie is suffering less." 
 
 Johnnie, with a great swelling in his throat, 
 passed through the hall, and up the back 
 stairway, as Doctor Doubleday ascended at 
 the front with his father. But he could not go 
 to bed while the doctor was in the house. 
 
 
 
 He must know, first, something more about 
 Kathie. 
 
 He crept around to the door of his mother's 
 dressing-room, and waited and listened. He 
 heard, now and then, a little moan of pain, 
 and once or twice his mother's voice asking 
 some question, and the doctor's in reply. 
 
 He never knew himself how long he sat 
 there ; but it had been in reality nearly an 
 hour, when suddenly he heard Kathie herself 
 quite plainly say,
 
 96 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " It don't ache hardly any now, mamma, 
 I'm getting rested." 
 
 And then, in a minute or two, he heard 
 the doctor's step across the chamber, and the 
 opening of the farther door, and the sound 
 of his voice through the entry, as he said, 
 
 " I think she will continue comfortable now. 
 Give her the drops once every hour, if she is 
 awake; but let her sleep, if she will. I shall 
 look in again in the course of the morning. 
 I don't think you will have any further trouble. 
 It has been a pretty sharp case, though, and a 
 little delay might have been a serious thing." 
 
 Mr. Osburn accompanied the doctor down 
 to the door, and returned by the back stair- 
 way to Johnnie's room. To his surprise, he 
 did not find him in bed. He went out into 
 the passage again, and round toward the 
 dressing-room. 
 
 There lay the boy upon the floor. 
 
 For the first and only time in hi life, 
 Johnnie had fainted away.
 
 CHAPTER VH. 
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 
 
 JOIIN had had a lesson. A lesson of fear. 
 Such an one as impresses upon the mind 
 some especial point of duty, which is not apt 
 to be again neglected. He was warned, now, 
 for his lifetime, against taking upon himself 
 any trust, however small, and heedlessly fail- 
 ing in his obligation. He would doubtless 
 be more careful, more faithful, henceforth, in 
 matters involving a promise, or pledge. He 
 would be pretty certain, at any rate, not to 
 mislay or lose again the key of his father's 
 barn. 
 
 But would he, in his general habits, be 
 any more orderly ? 
 
 Ah, the lessons of fear that we get, for the 
 most part, teach us only to avoid, and that 
 certain special risks ; not to become, to at- 
 tain higher and wholly. 
 7
 
 98 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 It must be a lesson of beauty to teach us 
 that. 
 
 In a few days Kathie was nearly well. 
 Meantime, Johnnie quite devtted himself to 
 her. All the gentle and affectionate side of 
 his character was drawn out. The despised 
 spools were collected, and he improvised 
 numbei-less school and family scenes, in 
 which they were made the puppets. They 
 all had names ; and by the hour at a time 
 John sat by the little table that was drawn 
 up for Kathie beside the bed, and manoeuvred 
 them for her amusement. 
 
 One morning, just as they were both grow- 
 ing rather tired of this employment, and 
 Kathie had declared that she was " getting 
 quite worn out with having so much care of 
 all these children," and that she "believed 
 she would send them oif to bed, and read 
 Rosamond awhile," John heard voices below 
 inquiring for him, and on running down to 
 the door found Stephen and Howard Sellin- 
 ger. 
 
 "Come, Johnnie," said the former, "we
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 99 
 
 want you to go up into the High Pasture 
 with us, to look for bird's nests. Howard 
 wants some cedar-birds' eggs, and there are 
 lots of 'em there." 
 
 "And then," added Howard, "we'll keep 
 on, along the brook, up toward the woods, 
 and find some vireos'." 
 
 "I've got ten eggs already for my collec- 
 tion," said Stephen, " and four or five dupli- 
 cates that I '11 give you. We got blue-birds', 
 and robins', and cat-birds', in the lanes, yes- 
 terday ; and wrens' and song-sparrows' just 
 for stepping out of the house. There 's a 
 cunning little house-wren has built in our 
 wood-shed, and laid seven eggs ; and father 
 let us take two of them, ' as an exception,' 
 he said. There don't many birds lay such a 
 lot for one hatching. I tell you it 's jolly 
 fun!" 
 
 John asked his mother's leave for the ex- 
 pedition, and whether he mightn't begin his 
 collection to-day. After he had explained 
 all that Howard and Stephen had told him 
 about it, and adduced the arguments that
 
 100 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 had had weight with Mr. Sellinger, Mrs. 
 Osburn said that she saw no objection her- 
 self, provided they kept to the conditions ; 
 but she thought there would be great temp- 
 tation, where three boys went exploring to- 
 gether, to secure more than one egg from a 
 single nest. She gave him permission, how- 
 ever, to go and share in the expedition of this 
 morning ; but he was not to consider that 
 full consent had been given for him to con- 
 tinue the pursuit, until his father also should 
 have been consulted. 
 
 John agreed to all this ; and the three boys, 
 with a basket containing their luncheons, in 
 case they should get so far from home as to 
 remain out beyond the dinner-hour, set off, 
 in high spirits, over Cedar Bridge. 
 
 Out in the pasture, and along the brook- 
 side, the air was full of the notes of different 
 birds, that John, in his city-bred ignorance, 
 could not distinguish from one another ; and, 
 had it not been for the assurances of Howard, 
 he would no sooner have dreamed ^f the possi- 
 bility of tracing them to their little, mysterious
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 101 
 
 homes, and spying out their domestic ar- 
 rangements, than of finding the fairies, and 
 getting a peep into Elf-land. 
 
 But Howard looked about him, and listened 
 with a very confident air. 
 
 " Hark !'" said he, presently, with a gesture 
 for the others to pause. "There's a brown 
 thrush ! I think he 's somewhere in that 
 clump of bushes off at the right. Wait here 
 a minute." 
 
 John and Stephen stood still, and Howard 
 moved cautiously on a little distance up the 
 brook-side. 
 
 Presently, as he made his way among the 
 bushes from which the sound proceeded, 
 there was a sudden change in the character 
 of the notes. They expressed fright and 
 anxiety. Then there was a flutter of wings, 
 and out from the little thicket flew, first the 
 merry singer and then his mate, still circling 
 in the air, however, around the spot, the male 
 bird uttering a threatening and reproachful 
 cry. 
 
 It was hardly a moment, however, that
 
 102 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 Howard kept them in their suspense ; for 
 almost immediately he emerged again, as 
 cautiously as he had entered, and came 
 quickly back toward his companions. As 
 he reached them, he held up his prize, an 
 egg, about as large as a robin's, of 'a greenish- 
 white color, dusted thickly all over with little 
 freckles of brown. 
 
 "We'll get them the best way we can," 
 said he, " and then divide spoils afterward. I 
 went in, because I knew where to look, and 
 just what sort of a nest to look for. There 
 were three eggs, just one apiece if we had 
 been rapacious enough to take 'em. The 
 bird wasn't sitting. They generally lay five, 
 I believe. Maybe we '11 find another nest be- 
 fore we go home. Now let 's keep on up the 
 hill, among the pines and hemlocks, and look 
 after cedar-birds. Where's your box, Stce- 
 nie?" 
 
 Stephen produced a box, filled partially 
 with cotton-wool, wherein Howard placed 
 the egg carefully, and then they kept on up 
 over the slope of the pasture.
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 103 
 
 The sociable little cedar-birds, or wax- 
 wings, were there, as Stephen had said, " lots 
 of 'em." It was just the place for them. Only 
 a short flight either way took them into or- 
 chards and gardens on the one hand, and 
 wide pastures on the other, where was prom- 
 ise of endless store of fruits and berries the 
 summer long; and, meantime, there were 
 raids to be made upon hordes of worms and 
 slugs and caterpillars that would else spoil 
 alike their feast and the farmer's profit. Back 
 they would come, after these flights of forage 
 and frolic, among the still, spicy evergreens, 
 and gather coseyly in little groups, four or 
 five on a branch, talking over, in a gentle, 
 gossiping way, their late exploits, or pluming 
 their feathers for another foray. 
 
 The boys went slowly along among the 
 ecattered trees, looking carefully up in each 
 as they passed, and trusting, as Howard said, 
 that "if they came upon one nest they'd be 
 sure to find more, for these little fellows 
 almost always build in neighborhoods." 
 
 They got farther in, among the cedars and
 
 104 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 pines that belted the pasture, where it was 
 stiller and more shady, and by-and-by, in 
 the first crotch of a cedar-tree, at least four- 
 teen feet from the ground, Howard's observ- 
 ant eye caught glimpse of a little nest, se- 
 curely lodged, and built of grass and roots 
 ar d bits of pine and hemlock. 
 
 "There it is ! " he cried, " and the thing is 
 now to get at it ! The little robbers are like 
 the old scribes, they like high seats in the 
 synagogue. Steenie, can you shin?" * 
 
 " Try me and see," replied Steenie. 
 
 "We're like the three brothers that always 
 went travelling together, in the old fairy 
 tales," said Howard. " What one can't do 
 another can. It'll be your turn next, John- 
 nie." 
 
 "I don't see what I can do," answered 
 Johnnie, with a shade of dissatisfaction, as 
 he looked up at Stephen, who had got, by 
 this time, hand over hand, half way up the 
 tree. "I can't climb much yet," he added, 
 with an emphasis that seemed to imply ho 
 didn't mean to be a great while learning.

 
 WOOD-rATHS. 105 
 
 "Oh, you'll do it in a week as well as 
 Steenie. "Well, old fellow, what d'ye see?" 
 
 " I see four eggs," replied Stephen. " The 
 bird's off." 
 
 " Drop one into my cap," said Howard, 
 holding it up, high above his head. " 
 
 Down came a little, grayish egg, splashed 
 with dark brown spots, into the very middle 
 of the soft crown of the cap ; and down 
 came Stephen, like a lamplighter along the 
 side of his ladder. 
 
 Searching still, from tree to tree, they 
 found, within a short distance, two other 
 nests, of like situation and construction, as 
 Howard had predicted ; and taking an egg 
 from each, that each boy might have a speci- 
 men, they passed on, along the open ridge of 
 high land, beyond the trees, quite elated with 
 their success. 
 
 It was a long tramp, and the least pleas- 
 ant part of their excursion, over the back- 
 bone of the hill, around toward the western 
 elope that brought them down into the edge 
 of pleasant woods again, where they struck
 
 106 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 the course of the brook, and presently would 
 have to cross the high road, which here passed 
 through a fragrant grove of pine. *Beyond, 
 they would keep on, until they had made a 
 large circuit, of which Mr. Osburn's house 
 was very nearly the centre, and would 
 emerge by the old oak, near Farmer Sim- 
 mons's field where Howard traced the night- 
 hawk, and so home, through the lane. 
 
 They were very glad, when they reached 
 the shelter of the wood by the brook, to sit 
 down for a while, and eat the luncheon from 
 their basket, and have a drink of cool water 
 from the tin cup that was tied to its handle. 
 
 "I suppose," said Howard, as he threw 
 himself down against the mossy knoll at 
 the foot of a chestnut, "if we had looked 
 about for them, we might have found chc- 
 winks' nests up there on the ridge. It's just 
 the place for them. But the sun was so 
 blazing hot, it would hardly pay. "We'll 
 go there some other time, when it's cooler, 
 or earlier or later in the day. They hide 
 their nests very cunningly on the ground.
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 107 
 
 You might stumble right into one, before 
 you saw it." 
 
 " Did you find the night-hawk's nest, the 
 other day?" asked John. 
 
 " No nest" answered Howard. " They 
 don't care for such conveniences. Two 
 great, muddy-looking, speckled eggs, just 
 tumbled together in the gravel. And I had 
 the greatest luck, coming back, over the 
 farmer's field. Just in the edge of his rye, 
 I started up a bobolink. They 're among 
 the very rarest sort of nests to find. You 
 never know where to look for them. They 're 
 just like any other patch of grass, and the 
 birds generally keep so still and close, 
 sometimes, even, if you're right upon them. 
 However, Mrs. Lincoln skedaddled this time, 
 and one of her little, blotchy eggs is safe in 
 mv box at home." 
 
 r 
 
 After the boys were well rested and re- 
 freshed, they set off once more, across the 
 brook, and plunged again, beyond, into the 
 deep, green wood, through which lay their 
 circuit home, and among whose leafy nooks,
 
 108 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 they knew, were lodged invisibly, all about 
 them, the little dwellings of which they had 
 come in search. 
 
 There was something in the still beauty 
 and seclusion of the forest that impressed 
 Johnnie, who had lived nearly all his life 
 in the bareness and bustle of city streets, 
 very strongly and wonderfully. It was like 
 walking, wide awake, into a dream. He 
 saw and felt what heretofore had only 
 come to him through his imagination ; and 
 a whole infinity of life and delight seemed 
 opening before him, as he came to know 
 what a world was lying close around him ; 
 that the real, veritable woods, where the 
 birds and squirrels truly lived, and might 
 any day be seen and watched, were thus 
 within only a ten or fifteen minutes' ramble 
 from his father's door. 
 
 He had been used to walk down to the 
 Charles River, and look away, over its blue 
 waters, to the shores of Roxbury and Cam- 
 bridge, where " the country began," with a 
 feeling that a great wealth and mystery lay
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 109 
 
 somewhere there in the distance, fields and 
 forests, such as he read of in his story-books, 
 but never expected to get really into, any 
 more than he thought of ever travelling off 
 to the westward far enough to put his hand 
 upon the blue sky that seemed to drop down 
 there, away off, and rest against the hills. 
 He had nearer glimpses, sometimes, when 
 he took summer drives with his father and 
 mother; but such a spot as this he had 
 never, in all the ten years of his life, been 
 let loose in before. 
 
 The very breath of the forest, that came 
 through oaks and pines and beeches and 
 chestnuts, and over beds of fern and moss, 
 touched him with a sort of awe, as if the 
 solitudes it was born in had made it al- 
 most holy. It gave him the same feeling 
 though he did not analyze his sensations, or 
 compare them together, as I am doing 
 that he once had, when he got into a great 
 city church on a week-day, and explored the 
 choir, and felt the organ pipes, and climbed 
 up into the pulpit, and laid his hand, with
 
 110 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 a childish reverence, on the minister's great 
 Bible. 
 
 All about them they heard, at intervals, 
 the various songs of the forest birds. The 
 tiny wood-sparrow trilled its simple strain un- 
 ceasingly. The shy quail called out, from the 
 underbrush, "More wet! More wet!" Now 
 and then, the piercing " chcc, chee ! " of the 
 oven-bird was reiterated in a shrill crescendo ; 
 and the vireo, with untiring warble, seemed 
 to overflow in irrepressible music. 
 
 If John had come here merely for a walk, 
 and the pleasantness of it, he would have 
 just noticed, probably, that the birds were 
 singing, and that would have been all. He 
 would not have received separate impres- 
 sions of the different notes. But as his 
 companions distinguished them, and named 
 the birds, one after another, through their 
 recognition of the songs, his wonder and his 
 interest grew greater ; and he peered with 
 curious eyes in bush and branch, to get, if 
 he might, a " sight- acquaintance " with the 
 little, winged people.
 
 WOOD-PATHS. Ill 
 
 " Look well under your feet, boys," said 
 Howard, "and among the bushes. We shall 
 very likely come upon a partridge-nest; and 
 if we could only light upon an oven-bird's ! " 
 
 They did find the former, and not very 
 long after Howard had spoken ; but they 
 were not to have all their good luck in one 
 day. The oven-bird's nest is by no means 
 to be met with every time one walks in a 
 wood. 
 
 The partridge-nest was a little hollow 
 scratched out under a bush, and lined with 
 grass and leaves. The shy and crafty little 
 mother, on the approach of their accidental 
 footsteps, had scrambled hastily from off her 
 eggs ; and they first caught sight of her, 
 limping about among the underbrush, and 
 poking her head here and there, in every 
 direction but the right one, as if she really 
 couldn't find her own nest. 
 
 ' Just go the way she doesn't," said How- 
 ard. "That's the way to manage cunning 
 folks. You must always take them by con- 
 traries. She started from somewhere here."
 
 112 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 And looting closely into the little thicket 
 where they first surprised her, and away 
 from which she was artfully trying to lead 
 them, they found her treasure, more than a 
 dozen dainty, cream-colored eggs. 
 
 Such abundance was hard for the boys to 
 resist. 
 
 "I'm sure," said Stephen, "my father 
 would say this might be an exception to the 
 rule. If we can take one egg where there 
 are only two or three, I should think we 
 might take three out of a dozen , should n't 
 you?" 
 
 Howard didn't know. He supposed they 
 ought not to make the exceptions them- 
 selves. 
 
 John was looking with longing eyes at 
 the nest ; but for a minute or two he was 
 quite silent. He was trying to settle the 
 question between his judgment and his con- 
 science. He could see no reason why they 
 might not each take an egg, if Mr. Sellinger 
 had not objected to taking two froin the 
 wren's nest, where there were seven. He
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 113 
 
 felt veiy sure, if his mother were there, she 
 would release him from his promise in this 
 case; but still, it was a promise.. John, 
 with whatever other faults he might have, 
 was honest. 
 
 He put his hands in his pockets, and 
 turned off rather quickly, at last ; speaking 
 out his conclusion with a little gruffness that 
 betokened the effort he had made. 
 
 "Any way," said he, " I can't have one. 
 I promised my mother I would not take any 
 from the same nest you did ; and I suppose 
 it don't make any difference whether there 's 
 two or twenty." 
 
 " Well," said Howard, " I suppose I might 
 manage it, if I had a mind. I have n't made 
 any promise ; and my father always lets me 
 judge whether it will do to take more than 
 one. He knows I never rob a nest. But I 
 don't like anything that looks like dodg- 
 ing." 
 
 So they came to the decision, at last, to 
 take but one ; but to note the spot, and re- 
 port the whole case at home, and if permis- 
 8
 
 114 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 sion were given, to come back again for two 
 more eggs. 
 
 This turned out to have been the very 
 \\isest way possible ; for Mr. Sellinger and 
 Mr. Osburn were convinced by this scrupu- 
 lousness as to the letter of the promise that 
 the boys might be trusted to keep it in its 
 spirit ; and they were allowed to govern 
 themselves in all such cases, thenceforth, by 
 Howard's judgment on the spot. If they 
 had taken an unauthorized latitude, on this 
 first day of their birds'-nesting excursions, 
 with however good a show of reason, their 
 parents might have distrusted the tendency 
 of the whole thing. As it was, by refrain- 
 ing from the inch, they gained the ell ; and 
 their honesty and good faith proved, emphat- 
 ically, their best policy. 
 
 "What is that?" exclaimed John, catch- 
 ing Howard by the arm, and checking him 
 in his walk, as he pointed to the trunk of a 
 tall, dead pine, up which, round and round, 
 pausing here and there, and tapping so-
 
 WOOD-PATHS . 115 
 
 norously upon the hollow stem, something 
 black and white was crawling, so close to 
 the tree, that at first Johnnie could hardly 
 make out whether it really were a bird or 
 not. 
 
 "Oh, that's a woodpecker I Let me see I 
 A hairy woodpecker, I think. I wish we 
 could find his nest. They dig way into a 
 dead branch, or a rotten fence-post. Some- 
 times you '11 find one in a hollow stump. 
 I 'm afraid that fellow has got his pretty safe 
 out of our reach, if it's anywhere about that 
 old shell he's climbing." 
 
 The pine-tree was very tall, and had been 
 broken off at the top. They could discover 
 nothing that looked like an opening as far 
 as they could see up the sides of the stem ; 
 and Stephen thought it would be rather use- 
 less trying to ' ' shin " after the woodpecker ; 
 who, while they were talking, had reached 
 the very summit, and sat there, in proud 
 inaccessibility, uttering a shrill whistle, as if 
 of triumph. 
 
 " I wouldn't give up," said John. "We
 
 116 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 might hunt out his nest, somewhere, maybe. 
 I don't believe it's way up there." 
 
 "Oh, you'll soon find out," said Howard, 
 "that seeing a bird isn't finding his nest, by 
 any means. We see a good deal in this 
 world that we never get at." 
 
 Which was a very sententious utterance 
 for a boy of fourteen. 
 
 The wood-path they followed next led them 
 down over a rough, rocky slope, through a 
 thicket of savin and other bushes, till they 
 came out into a lovely, wild, little opening, 
 where, from between high banks at the left, 
 poured down over its narrow bed of stones 
 and moss one of the scores of little, sinonn^i 
 
 * o o * 
 
 gurgling streams that, fed by hidden springs 
 in the deep heart of the wood, strayed hither 
 and thither, falling from hollow to hollow, 
 among the shadows, or glancing out sud- 
 denly into the sunlight, till they found their 
 way to The Brook, par eminence, that gath- 
 ered them all in, and bustled on to carry its 
 accumulated wealth to the great River. 
 
 Ferns and herbs grew close down and into
 
 "WOOD-PATHS. 117 
 
 its edges, and tall wood-grasses bent down 
 their lithe spires into its ripples, and drifted 
 out their full length on the current ; and the 
 water drew to itself their wild juices, and 
 turned a deep, clear, coffee-brown ; and so 
 poured itself rich in who knows what 
 elixirs of healing out and on among 
 the sedges, between which it spread into 
 little, dusky pools, and seemed to pause a 
 space to take breath and determine whither 
 next. 
 
 "That's what old Aunt Patty Pulsifer 
 would call < yarb tea,' " said Stephen, as he 
 bestrode the stream just where it leaped out 
 from the last shady nook into the shallow. 
 "Have a drink?" and he caught up a dipper- 
 full, and offered it to Johnnie. 
 
 John threw out his hand, with a backward 
 movement, that sent the dipper whirling up 
 into an alder bush, and the water showering 
 about in scattered drops, to find its level, 
 und creep into the current again as best it 
 might. 
 
 "Hallo, Johnnie!" cried out Howard,
 
 118 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 from a clump of bushes higher up. " Here's 
 a chance for the youngest of the three broth- 
 ers, at last 1 Come here, will you?" 
 
 John hastened up to where Howard was 
 standing, on a gray, mossy rock, above 
 which, high over his head, swung from the 
 outmost forked twig of a young maple- 
 tree, that sprung, tall and graceful, from 
 behind the feathery birches, a little pouch- 
 shaped nest, whose outside was curiously 
 filigreed with bits of mosses, gray and 
 green, on a foundation of thin strips of 
 birch-bark, twined round and round, and 
 glued firmly at the top, across the angle of 
 the maple-spray. 
 
 ' There 's what I 've been looking for all 
 day," said Howard. " A vireo's nest. And 
 you're just the boy to get the first peep into 
 it." 
 
 "I don't see how," said Johnnie. "Un- 
 less I could fly." 
 
 "Brains are a match for wings, some- 
 times ; and for a good many other things, 
 that for that reason we needn't have the
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 119 
 
 trouble of," said Howard. " See here ! Can 
 you climb up on my shoulders?" 
 
 He knelt down for a moment, while 
 John scrambled up, as if for a ride " pick- 
 back," and seated himself astride. Howard 
 held him by the legs, and raised himself, 
 with some effort, to his feet again, thus 
 bringing Johnnie comfortably up to the ne- 
 cessary height for grasping and bending 
 down the branch. Which having done, he 
 peeped eagerly into the soft interior of the 
 pretty nest, lined with grass and dry pine 
 leaves, and reported four eggs. 
 
 "Four?" exclaimed Howard. " Are you 
 sure?" 
 
 ** Yes, sure," replied John. " But they 're 
 not all alike. Three of 'em are beauties, 
 white, with two or three little brown spots 
 on one end ; the other is bigger, and speckled 
 all over, like the thrush's egg." 
 
 " Good ! " cried Howard. " That's a cow- 
 bunting ! Out with it, and one of the vireo'a 
 
 O ' 
 
 too!" 
 
 "Two?" asked Johnnie. "Shall I ?"
 
 120 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 "Yes, to be sure; and make haste," said 
 Howard, who had played Atlas almost long 
 enough. 
 
 John slid down to the ground, as Howard 
 utooped and put him off his shoulders, with 
 an egg in each hand. 
 
 *You see," said Howard "the cow-bunt- 
 ing is a bird that hasn't a right to any sort 
 of consideration. She never builds a nest, 
 or takes care of her eggs after she lays them. 
 She just leaves them round on charity, to be 
 hatched or not, as it happens ; and it 's no 
 robbery to take them wherever you find 
 them. In fact, it's a kindness to the other 
 poor birds that get so imposed on. I think 
 we've had uncommon luck, for one day," he 
 continued, as Steenic came up with the box, 
 and received the double addition to their 
 gains. "A thrush, three cedar-birds, a par- 
 tridge, a vireo, and a cow-bunting ! " 
 
 "If we don't get any more, we can't di- 
 vide 'em even," said Steenic. " Three into 
 seven goes twice, and a cow-bunting over! 
 Who '11 have that ? "
 
 WOOD-PATHS. 121 
 
 " Suppose we wait till we find out wheth- 
 er we are to get a couple more partridge- 
 eggs, and then we shall each have one of 
 them, and a cedar-bird's ; and we '11 draw 
 lots for the choice of the others." 
 
 "That's it!" cried Stephen. " Bully for 
 you, Howard I " 
 
 They kept on, across the little runnel of 
 " yarb tea," and around through the woods, 
 that were thinning, now, toward the fields, 
 and came out as Howard had proposed, a 
 little beyond the old oak with the withered 
 branch, near which he had found the night- 
 hawk's eggs, a few days before. 
 
 Along by the rye-field, they met Farmer 
 Simmons. 
 
 *' Well, boys," said he, " been eggin'? It's 
 astonishin' what takes the youngsters, all at 
 once, and all together ! Here 's my boy comes 
 to me, chock full of it, a week or two ago, 
 the fellers up to the 'cademy started the idee, 
 an' now, here's a chap all the way from 
 New York, sharp-set after the same identi- 
 cal thing 1 Wonder how they telegraph it
 
 122 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 round ! Wish our Gin'rals could git up the 
 same sort of a secret understandin' ! Guess, 
 if they did, they might do a pretty smart 
 stroke o' birds'-nestin', round there, down 
 South!"
 
 CHAPTER VHI. 
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 
 
 JOHN'S days were not all days to be 
 " marked with a white stone," as the last. 
 He had his days of trouble, still. Life isn't 
 all a ramble in the wildwood, even to a boy 
 of ten, rejoicing in his first summer in a 
 country home. 
 
 During the past week which they had spent 
 in the city, John had continued at his school, 
 and had brought home with him from day 
 to day, his various items of school prop- 
 erty. Books of only occasional use, with 
 some story-books that had been lent to 
 his companions, were first collected, and 
 these became included in the packing of 
 his mother's library. His slate and pen- 
 cils, copy-book, spelling-book, and so forth, 
 were only brought home the very day before
 
 
 124 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 the final removal, and went to make up the 
 list of miscellanies that he himself collected 
 and bestowed at the last, many of them, 
 as we have seen, going to complete the fill- 
 ing of his trunk, and being heedlessly thrown 
 together, at his unpacking, on the floor of his 
 wardrobe. 
 
 He had never, as yet, taken the trouble to 
 gather together and arrange all these vol- 
 umes and articles, for future use. 
 
 Consequently, when his father said, as 
 he did two or three times during the period 
 he had spent in the various enterprises 
 and amusements I have been describing, 
 "Well, Johnnie, we must have a little 
 studying pretty soon. It won't do to forget 
 the lessons altogether. All play and no 
 work makes Jack a mere toy," it gave 
 John a feeling of vague discomfort and dis- 
 relish, quite apart from any unwillingness to 
 employ in study the small portion of time 
 that would be required. 
 
 He didn't Jcnow exactly where anything 
 was.
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 125 
 
 How much important work in the world, 
 I wonder, has been put off and neglected 
 and sacrificed for just such reasons? 
 
 At last, one morning, the fiat went forth. 
 And, as will often happen, it came, as John 
 thought, exactly at the wrong time. 
 
 Howard and Stephen had a famous plan 
 arranged for * ' fishing " after swallows' eggs ; 
 and this morning they were to carry it into 
 execution, and had begged Johnnie to come 
 over and see how their contrivance worked. 
 
 The nests were some six feet below the 
 top of the Bellingers' great back-kitchen 
 chimney, which was hardly ever used ; and 
 Howard had tied some cotton-wool to the 
 end of a stick, of the necessary length to 
 reach them, and was to wet it with gluten, 
 whereby he hoped a gentle dip into a nest 
 would cause the eggs to adhere, and bring 
 one or more of them safely up. John was 
 very curious to see it done. 
 
 But that very morning, as he left the break- 
 fast-table, Mr. Osburn said to him, 
 
 "John, this is Monday. You must begin
 
 12(? "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 this week with a little steady employment. 
 I don't expect much; but what I do require 
 of you, I shall require strictly. Bring me 
 your ' Greenleaf.' " 
 
 John never gave any "glum looks" to hia 
 father. He would not have dared. But hia 
 face by no means expressed alacrity or will- 
 ingness, as he replied, 
 
 " Why, father, I don't know where it is, 
 I 'm sure. And I don't believe I 've got any 
 slate-pencil." 
 
 " I put some of your books, Johnnie, in 
 the little chimney cupboard in my room, 
 when I unpacked the box," said his mother. 
 "If you look ttere, I dare say you will find 
 * Greenleaf am/ ng them. And I rather think 
 you will discover a slate-pencil or two some- 
 where among your sundries." 
 
 John walked off up stairs, not in the least 
 as he would have gone, if it had been a ques- 
 tion of birds' eggs ; and, rather to his secret 
 disappointment, found the book, without any 
 difficulty at all, just where his mother had 
 raid.
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 127 
 
 "Well; how far have you 'gone,' John- 
 nie, as the boys say ! " asked Mr. Osburn, 
 taking the well-thumbed Arithmetic in his 
 hand. "About thus far, I imagine." And 
 he opened where there was a tolerably dis- 
 tinct division between the soiled and the 
 clean portions of the volume. " This seems 
 to be about the tide-mark." 
 
 "I'd got through Reduction," said John- 
 nie, "and was just going into Addition of 
 Compound Numbers." 
 
 " Yes, this is just the place," said his fa- 
 ther. " Very well ; it is always better, I think, 
 in recommencing any study, or even the read- 
 ing of a book, to begin a little back of where 
 one left off. It makes a surer join. The new 
 knowledge holds better to the old. That 's 
 the way you find it in your seams, don't 
 you, mother?" he added, playfully, to Mrs. 
 Osburn. "So, Johnnie, if you please, I'll 
 try you with a lesson in Miscellaneous Ex- 
 ercises in Reduction. You may begin with 
 these sums that have the answers attached, 
 so that you may be sure your work is
 
 128 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 done before you leave it. You can take 
 from No. 39 to the end of the page, can't 
 you, since you have gone over the ground 
 so lately?" 
 
 " I suppose so," said Johnnie, rather dole- 
 fully. 
 
 ' ' Your mother will give you a sheet of 
 paper and a pencil ; and, as you finish the 
 working of each sum upon your slate, you 
 may copy it carefully upon the paper, and 
 have them all in readiness to show to me 
 when I come home." 
 
 "I advise you, Johnnie," said Mrs. Os- 
 burn, "to go right to your room, and set 
 resolutely about it." 
 
 " Can I go over to Stephen Sellinger's, 
 just a little while, first? He wanted me to 
 come this morning, to help him get some 
 swallows' eggs." 
 
 " You may do as you think best," said 
 Mr. Osburn. " I should advise you, as your 
 mother says, to go right up-stairs and attend 
 to your work, first ; and then play, with an 
 easy mind afterward."
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 129 
 
 "Oh, I shall have plenty of time to do 
 the sums," said John, " after I come back. 
 And then my mind will be easy for them, 
 you know. I sha' n't be gone long." 
 
 "Very well," said his father, smiling. 
 " Only you might lose more by putting 
 off, than by taking the time now. You 
 can't tell exactly how long the sums may 
 occupy you, nor what you may be wishing 
 to do by-and-by. You are not working by 
 the hour, but by the job, remember." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know," replied Johnnie, bright- 
 ening up into great cheerfulness. "I'll do 
 them the first thing after I come back." 
 
 And in three minutes more, he was in Mr. 
 Scllingcr's yard. 
 
 His mother took up the " Greenleaf " from 
 the breakfast-table, and carried it up-stairs to 
 her room. Her look was a little doubtful 
 and foreboding. She had some reason to 
 fear that the hardest part of the "job," that 
 day, might be her own. 
 
 Half an hour later, over in Mr. Sellinger's 
 yard, the boys were just at the critical and
 
 130 " A LITTLE LEAVEN/' 
 
 exciting point of their extraordinary under- 
 taking. 
 
 A ladder had been raised to the top of the 
 kitchen porch, and rested against the eaves 
 of the building. A man had climbed, by 
 this, to the roof, and was cautiously draw- 
 ing up after him a second and shorter lad- 
 der, which Howard, standing on the flat-roof 
 of the porch, reached up to him. This sec- 
 ond ladder had lost a rung at one end, which 
 made it all the more convenient for their 
 purpose. The man, after he had safely 
 drawn it up, rested it against the sloping 
 roof, with the two ends in the gutter, and 
 climbed, himself, cautiously, to the ridge- 
 pole ; where he once more drew the ladder 
 after him, and placed it, now, against the 
 chimney ; the length of the two sides, be- 
 yond the lowest remaining rung, which rested 
 across the ridge-pole, allowing it to-be planted 
 firmly upon the shingles. 
 
 "NVhen he had fixed it thus, as securely as 
 he could, the man seated himself, astride, 
 upon the apex of the roof, between the lad-
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 131 
 
 der and the chimney, grasping the former 
 firmly, with both his hands. 
 
 " Now, my man !" he called out to How- 
 ard, who was standing at the top of the first 
 ladder, with his long stick in his hand. 
 
 John and Stephen had clambered up the 
 grape-vine trellis to the roof of the porch ; 
 and Stephen stood already, like many an 
 older aspirant, with feet upon the lower 
 rounds of the ladder, waiting for him at the 
 top to step from his position that he might 
 instantly mount and take it; and now ho 
 echoed excitedly the call. 
 
 "Yes, up with you, How', and give a 
 fellow a chance ! " 
 
 Howard reached his magician's wand, ihat 
 was to draw such wonders from the depths, 
 up to his assistant on the ridge-pole ; and 
 then, carefully, with hands and feet, climbed 
 up over the shingles to the foot of the second 
 ladder, calling back, as he did so, to the boys 
 behind, 
 
 "No farther, mind I You're not to get 
 upon the roof, you know ! "
 
 132 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 Mr. Sellinger had consented to this ex- 
 ploit, only on condition that no one but 
 Howard himself, and the man who was to 
 assist him, should go upon the top of the 
 building. 
 
 So, while Howard, poising his rod in one 
 hand, ascended to the top of the chimney, 
 Stephen and John, with heads one above 
 the other at the eaves, looked up after him, 
 breathless and expectant. 
 
 " Abracadabra aldoborondi foskofor- 
 nia hifalutin jibbenainosay ronzede- 
 volly boo ! " cried Howard, aloft, bran- 
 dishing his rod with an air of mystery and 
 might, like a wizard uttering his enchant- 
 ments. 
 
 "Chip, chip, cheep! Chee ! Chee-e!" 
 chattered the swallows, circling above him 
 in the air, and w r ondering, possibly, if the 
 end of the world had come. 
 
 Peering down, then, into the murk of the 
 great chimney, and pausing a moment, until 
 his eyes became accustomed to the dimness 
 within, and he could discern the rough,
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 133 
 
 basket-like nests of twigs that were built 
 against its sides, Howard let the stick slide 
 carefully through his fingers, straight down, 
 until the wad of cotton at the end, well sat- 
 urated with gluten, went plumb into the 
 middle of a nest. Cautiously, and almost 
 breathlessly, he drew it up again, like a man 
 sounding with greased plummet for golden 
 sands ; and lo ! safely adhering to the sticky 
 knob, came up into view three tiny, clear- 
 white, slender-oval eggs ! His ingenuity had 
 triumphed. 
 
 With one hand he dexterously transferred 
 them to his jacket-pocket, while with the 
 other he suddenly launched the stick, like 
 a javelin, over the heads of the rest of the 
 party below, and away out upon the grass- 
 plat. 
 
 The other boys had hardly begun to think 
 of the feat being accomplished, when all was 
 done. It was really quite like a stroke of 
 legerdemain. 
 
 " Hallo ! " cried John, who from his posi- 
 tion could not watch the proceeding so nar-
 
 134 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 rowly as he would have liked, " What's the 
 matter, now ? Can't you do it ? " 
 
 " Do it? It 's done ! Clear the la-la ! " 
 
 Down went Johnnie and Stephen, by lad- 
 der and trellis ; down came Howard, heed- 
 fully, over the shingles, and after them to 
 the ground ; and, lastly, down came man 
 and ladders. 
 
 " I 'm afraid I 've robbed the nest, this time," 
 said Howard, as he displayed his treasures 
 to the others. "But I could n't help it. I 
 had to take my chance about that, hit or 
 miss, neck or nothing ! " 
 
 " What a jolly dodge it was, though!" 
 cried Stephen, in great glee, as he turned 
 his egg over in his hand. 
 
 " Now for a grand blow-out ! " said How_ 
 ard. "I've got all those eggs to attend to 
 that we brought home yesterday and the day 
 before, and then we '11 divide 'em. Come up 
 to my room." 
 
 John hesitated. He knew he ought to go 
 home to his lessons. And yet there was a 
 long morning before him still ; and it surely
 
 AT LOOSE EtfDS. 135 
 
 would n't take a great while to blow a dozen 
 eggs, or so. Besides, he ought to see How- 
 ard do it. so that he might learn ho\v. It is 
 a nice and difficult thing to do, to empty 
 successfully these tiny, delicate shells, and 
 keep the specimens perfect. 
 
 The three boys entered the house together, 
 and passed up-stairs ; though Johnnie's con- 
 science still tugged at his footsteps, and made 
 them lag a little. 
 
 Howard's room was a very pleasant place 
 to look at. Not that it was particularly ele- 
 gant in point of furnishing ; Mr. Sellinger 
 was not a rich man, ami this was not even 
 the " best chamber." But, wherever Howard 
 was, there was always evident the spirit of 
 order. And so, of beauty. 
 
 Nothing was left lying about, out of place. 
 There was neither stick, nor scrap, nor string, 
 upon the carpet. Chairs stood in their proper 
 places, the lid of his trunk was down, closet- 
 door and bureau-drawers were duly closed, 
 and no ends peeped out to betray their con- 
 tents.
 
 136 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 The house-maid said, " it was no work at 
 all to take care of Master Howard's room. 
 There was never nothing to pick up ; and 
 she believed the very dust did n't settle there 
 like it did in the rest part of the house." 
 
 And yet Howard, as you must have seen, 
 was not a boy to be called a " cot-betty.' 1 
 Manful, enterprising, efficient, no such title 
 of derision could possibly attach to him. 
 
 By the head of his bed. against a window 
 that looked out upon the porch wherefrom 
 they had just descended, and was overhung 
 with the green drapery of the grape-vine, 
 stood a small table ; and upon this, along its 
 further side, was ranged a row of books, 
 set up on their edges, in the order of their 
 size. 
 
 John read their titles with a growing feel- 
 ing of respect. 
 
 " Leverett's Lexicon" and " Gould's Vir- 
 gil;" " Sherwin's Algebra," a work on Ge- 
 ology, and one on Natural Philosophy ; 
 " Nuttall's Ornithology," " Shakspeare," and 
 " The Bible."
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 137 
 
 Before these, laid neatly one upon another, 
 were two Atlases, one of the usual maps, 
 and the other of Physical Geography, 
 a portfolio, and a slate, with sponge and 
 nicely-sharpened pencil fastened to it by a 
 cord. 
 
 ' ' What a capital window this is 1 " cried 
 Johnnie. " I wish I had such a nice place 
 to do my studying in. Do you have all 
 these lessons in vacation ? " 
 
 4 ' School was n't to break up for four or 
 five weeks when I came away," said How- 
 ard. " But I hadn't been very well in the 
 spring ; and I wanted so much to be in the 
 country in egging-time, that father said I 
 might come up here now, if I would promise 
 him to learn certain lessons every day, until 
 vacation. He said he should trust me to do 
 it, and so I'm on honor, you see." 
 
 " Well, I 'm sure I should n't mind it a bit, 
 in such a nice place as this, and things so 
 handy." 
 
 Johnnie thought, as he spoke, with an in- 
 ward recoil, of the task that awaited him at
 
 138 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 home, of the slate and pencil that were to 
 be hunted up, a vague idea, moreover, 
 haunting him that the slate had slipped out 
 of its frame, and that the latter was n't "any- 
 where." It seemed as if Howard's studying 
 and his own were two very different affairs. 
 And so, in truth, they were. 
 
 " Here are the eggs," said Howard, taking 
 the box from a shelf in the closet, wherein, 
 carefully bedded in cotton, lay the beautiful 
 spoils of the last few days. " And now don't 
 touch me, or speak to me. Only look."' 
 
 It was interesting to watch, as he cau- 
 tiously punctured the tinted shells at each 
 end with the point of a long needle, which 
 he turned gently, like an awl, with a gradual 
 pressure, until he bored it through ; and then, 
 putting his lips to the smaller ends, blew 
 out their contents, one after another, into his 
 washing-basin. He did it slowly and pa- 
 tiently, Stephen and John keeping quite still 
 at his side, and " only looking," as he had 
 said. Only one egg got slightly cracked in 
 the process, and that Howard mended with
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 139 
 
 a slip of transparent sticking-plaster. In two 
 or three, was a bird partially formed, but 
 of a pulpy, gelatinous consistency, only ; and 
 the breath gradually expelled it successfully 
 from the shell. The head and bill, and the 
 round mass of the body, were plainly discern- 
 ible in the substance that was ejected. 
 
 John looked on with a curious wonder and 
 delight till all was finished, and Howard dis- 
 tributed to each his share, all drawing lots 
 for choice among those of which there were 
 no duplicates. IIo\v light the empty little 
 bubbles felt ! Then he waited to see How- 
 ard deposit his own in the larger box which 
 he took from his bureau ; and which con- 
 tained his whole collection. There they lay, 
 on a bed of sawdust, nearly fifty of them, of 
 differing sizes and hues, from the gre:it 
 white egg of a Canada goose, to the tiny, 
 speckled morsel of the house-wren. 
 
 "I'm having a box made on purpose, at 
 the cabinet-maker's in the village," said How- 
 ard, " of black walnut, divided into compart- 
 ments ; and they are to be filled half-way with
 
 140 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 black-walnut sawdust. The eggs look splen- 
 didly against the dark color." 
 
 Johnnie felt a sort of uncomfortable excite- 
 ment as Howard said this, that was partly 
 an eager wish to have just such an one him- 
 self, combined with an instinctive doubt as 
 to whether his father would think it worth 
 while ; and partly a feeling that went further 
 back, suggesting dimly the incongruity be- 
 tween this and the generality of his other 
 arrangements. 
 
 With Howard, everything was fit and in 
 keeping. It was easy and natural for him to 
 go on, adding, as he had opportunity, to his 
 possessions, things of convenience and orna- 
 ment. He had begun at the beginning, and 
 laid his foundation of order and nicety ; and 
 all fell in appropriately. John did not reason 
 just so about it ; perhaps he scarcely under- 
 stood his own intuitive perception ; but the 
 vague discomfort he felt admonished him of 
 this and nothing else. 
 
 He felt more disinclined than ever to leave 
 his friends, and Howard's pleasant room, and
 
 AT LOOSE EXDS. 141 
 
 go home, where was work to do, and nothing 
 ready for doing it. He loitered, looking over 
 the eggs, admiring and asking questions, until 
 at last Howard said, good-naturedly, laying 
 the box back in the drawer, 
 
 " There, I can't tell you any more, now. 
 It 's time for me to be at my Virgil." 
 
 "And I'll go and get the * Young Voy- 
 ageurs,' and come and sit here while you 
 study ; shall I ? " asked Stephen. 
 
 " Yes, "returned Howard. " Only mum's 
 foe word, remember." 
 
 "All right," said Stephen. "Come on, 
 Johnnie." And he led the way out of the 
 room, and down the stairs. 
 
 John bade him good-by, and left the 
 house. Slowly he walked down the garden- 
 path, and into the bit of lane, from which 
 the little gateway opened upon the foot- 
 path below his father's barn. 
 
 Jacob stood in the great south door-way, 
 cleaning a harness that hung over the bar. 
 
 " Seems to me, yer don't come back as 
 spry as ycr went," said he as John was pass-
 
 142 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 ing along. ' ' What 's the matter ? Got lead 
 iii yer boots ? " 
 
 " No," said John, laughing. "But I've 
 got my hands full of birds' eggs. And then, 
 oh, dear me, Jacob! Have you got a 
 slate-pencil? " 
 
 "Oh, ho! That's the triberlation, is it? 
 Got some cipherin' tew dew, I guess ! Wai, 
 no, I ha' n't got no slate-pencil. Ha' n't 
 hed none sence I went ter deestrick school, 
 ten year ago, up in Henniker. When I hcv 
 any cipherin' ter dew, I jest scratch it aout, 
 with a piece o' chalk, on a board. Comes 
 as handy 's any way. How many eggs yer 
 got?" 
 
 " Six. Look at this blue cat-bird's. Isn't 
 it a beauty ? " 
 
 " Didg' ever see a night-heron's ?" asked 
 Jacob. ' That 's abaout 's harnsome 'n egg 's 
 I knows on. 'N' I know a place, tew, where 
 yer might get 'em. Oii'y 't 's an awful long 
 way off, an' a nasty kind of a situation when 
 yergitthere. Agreat, dark, lonesome, muggy, 
 musty swamp. Real scary kind of a place.
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 143 
 
 But there 's a great colony of herons there, 
 up'n the old pines." 
 
 "Oh, Jacob ! how jolly ! " exclaimed John- 
 nie. "We'll go I How big are the eggs? 
 And what color are they ? " 
 
 " Kind of a light yaller green. Bigger '11 
 a pullet's. Clear an' smooth. Not a spot 
 on 'em." 
 
 " Oh, Jacob ! " repeated John, ecstatically. 
 "Where?" 
 
 ' ' Way up on the road to Pontaug. Five 
 mile, sartin. Turn off from the road, right 
 inter the swamp, an' go ahead, tell yer find 
 'em, or slump ! " 
 
 "Slump! Poh, ho I Catch us slump- 
 ing!" 
 
 " Tell yer what," said Jacob, giving a last 
 polish, with a bit of wash-leather, to the sil- 
 ver rings in the saddle ; " best way '11 be, ef 
 yer father's willin', jest ter take me'n the 
 wagon 'long, some day. P'raps yer might 
 want' a hist, now '11' then, over tho stumps. 
 An' them air pines is pooty tall climbin', 
 tew, I tell yer!"
 
 144 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " We might take a ladder with us, in the 
 wagon," suggested John. 
 
 1 ' Yes, we might. But I ruther guess we 'd 
 hev ter keep it iu the wagon. An' 't would n't 
 be likely ter dew much good, 'n sech a case. 
 Yer '11 dew well enough, ef yer git yer own 
 legs ter the place, let alone ladders." 
 
 "Well, anyhow, we'll go; won't we, Ja- 
 cob?" 
 
 " Purvidin'," replied Jacob, sententiously. 
 
 ' ' I wonder if we could n't go to-morrow ? " 
 pursued Johnnie. 
 
 " I wonder haow much cipherin' yer 've got 
 ter dew, ter-day?" rejoined Jacob. "You 
 jest tend ter that, naow, fer a spell; an', 
 mebbe, we' 11 go this arternoon. Mind, I say, 
 mebbe; I don't say sartin; though I don't 
 see nuthiu ter hender, 's the man said 'baout 
 the water comin' over Nyaggery Falls. Yer 
 father's comin' aout 'n the noon train, an' 
 onless he's figgered aout sunthin else for 
 yer, p'raps he won't hev no 'bjection ter that." 
 
 For a minute or two, John seemed seized 
 with a sudden madness.
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 145 
 
 First he rushed a little way down the path 
 toward the lane, again ; then, struck by a 
 new consideration, he stopped short and 
 turned around; then he stopped again, with 
 a very uncertain, perplexed expression ; 
 then he suddenly broke into a run again, 
 and rushed, without pausing, up the lawn, 
 into the house, and called out frantically 
 to Mrs. Osburn, from the dining-room, 
 where he had given just one hurried glance 
 around, 
 
 ' ' Mother ! Mother I Where are you ? Are 
 you up-stairs? Where's my ' Greeuleaf ?" 
 
 Mrs. Osburn did not answer. 
 
 John had a habit, which boys are rather 
 apt to fall into, of behaving as if his mother 
 were a sort of ubiquitous household pres- 
 ence, to be invoked anywhere, and at any 
 moment within doors. He would come in, 
 as he had now done, at the extreme end of 
 the house, and commence shouting, " Moth- 
 er ! Mother ! " almost as soon as he stepped 
 over the threshold, continuing to call with 
 more and more impatience in his voice, dur-
 
 J46 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 ing his whole progress through hall, parlor, 
 and up the staircase, never reflecting that 
 his mother might by no means feel inclined 
 to a like exercise of the lungs, or even that 
 she might chance to be lying down, or talk- 
 ing with a friend, or occupied in any one <;f 
 a dozen different ways that would make such 
 vociferation after her a very unpleasant inter- 
 ruption. 
 
 So she had come to the resolution, and 
 given Johnnie to understand, that she should 
 not attempt to answer him, until he came 
 where she was. On an occasion like this, it 
 really did not matter to him ; the calling 
 was a mere affair of habit ; he was going up- 
 stairs in any case ; but there might be cir- 
 cumstances in which he would really be se- 
 .riously inconvenienced, by not being able to 
 speak to her from the foot of the staircase, 
 or from a neighboring room, and obtain an 
 answer. People are obliged, sometimes, to 
 speak to each other in such -i manner ; and 
 when they never do so unnecessarily, no one 
 objects to save trouble by replying in a voice
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 147 
 
 adequate to the distance. John deprived 
 himself of the resource in emergency, by 
 making it, heedlessly, an invariable prac- 
 tice. 
 
 He got half way np-stairs before he re- 
 membered this maternal edict, and desisted 
 from his effort to obtain a reply ; and then 
 it was with irritation, and a muttering of, 
 
 ' ' I should think you might answer a fel- 
 low, anyhow I " not actually intended, or 
 not to be considered as intended, for hia 
 mother's ear, yet reaching her none the less, 
 as of course he knew it would be likely to 
 do. 
 
 Still she sat placidly sewing as if she had 
 heard nothing from first to last, when John 
 entered the room. 
 
 " I want my ' Greenleaf,' " said he, gruffly. 
 
 "There it is, upon the table. Do you 
 know how late you are ? " 
 
 John glanced at the clock upon the mantel- 
 piece. It was past eleven. 
 
 "Oh dear me!" he exclaimed, crossly t 
 u It 's too hot to do sums."
 
 148 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " Is n't it too hot to wear your cap in the 
 house, Johnnie ? " 
 
 " I 've got my hands full." 
 
 John did not stop to show his mother the 
 eggs, and claim admiring congratulation for 
 them, as he usually did ; but walked off, 
 through the dressing-room, to his own cham- 
 ber. Things were not going on pleasantly. 
 
 He put his eggs into the pasteboard-box 
 his mother had given him, bedded with cot- 
 ton to lay them in, which he kept on a high 
 shelf in his wardrobe. This, at least, he 
 was obliged to be careful of. A very little 
 thing might crush the whole. 
 
 Then he began his search for slate and 
 pencil. He found the former, as he had ex- 
 pected, among the heap of articles on the 
 floor of his wardrobe; but without a frame, 
 and the pencil was nowhere to be seen. He 
 tumbled over drawers, he felt in pockets, 
 he shook and stirred everything into worse 
 and worse confusion ; but no pencil was forth- 
 coming. 
 
 Ah ! order is often more than money I A
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 149 
 
 cent or two would buy pencil enough to lust a 
 year, but fifty dollars would n't bring John- 
 nie an inch just at the. instant when he 
 wanted it so much ! 
 
 "Mother!" said he despairingly, as ho 
 returned to her chamber at last, " I can't find 
 a slate-pencil anywhere ! There is n't one in 
 the house." 
 
 His mother rose from her seat, and walked 
 over to a little table that stood in a corner of 
 the room. There was a drawer in this table 
 that was used for the reception of all sorts 
 of small stray articles. These she looked 
 over, but even here was no slate-pencil. 
 
 "I don't know what you '11 do , Johnnie," 
 she said. ' ' The time is growing short. You 
 had better begin in some way. I will give 
 you a sheet of foolscap, and you may work 
 out your sums on that, and then copy them 
 upon this," showing him a nice, smooth 
 sheet of white paper, which, with a care- 
 fully sharpened lead-pencil, she hud laid in 
 readiness for him, with his " Grecnlcaf." 
 
 "I never can do sums on paper," said
 
 150 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 John, disconsolately. " I make ten times as 
 many mistakes when I can't rub out." 
 
 "Why, what has become of your slate- 
 frame?" inquired his mother, noticing sud- 
 denly the slate he held in his hand. 
 
 " It came off the last day at school," said 
 John. "I brought it home in my satchel, 
 but I don't know where it went to afterward . 
 'Tisn't there now." 
 
 ' ' Was n't your pencil tied to the frame ? " 
 
 "Yes; but it kept slipping out of the 
 string. I '11 tell you ! " said he, brightening 
 up ; "I '11 run back to Steeuie's, and get him 
 to lend me one." 
 
 " That 's a bad plan, depending on your 
 neighbors," replied his mother. 
 
 ' ' Oh, I dare say he 's got half-a-dozen. If 
 he hasn't, Howard has." 
 
 " Nevertheless, if I allow you to borrow 
 one this once, you must take it back to him, 
 directly you have done with it. That will 
 give you some trouble. And before to-mor- 
 row you must go and get some for yomself. 
 Will you be sure to remember ? "
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 151 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I '11 be sure," replied Johnnie, 
 throwing his slate on the sofa, and hurrying 
 off to his room after his cap. 
 
 It was nearly twelve when he came back, 
 and really began upon his work. 
 
 There had been no delay in obtaining the 
 pencil. Howard had produced from his ta- 
 ble-drawer an oblong box, neatly stored with 
 pens and pencils, and supplied him at once ; 
 but John lingered to communicate Jacob's 
 wonderful intelligence of the heronry, and 
 the plan of visiting the swamp ; and even 
 Howard could not resist listening and ask- 
 ing questions. In fact, the three boys were 
 in a state of such excitement that twenty 
 minutes slipped away quite unnoticed as 
 they talked the project over. 
 
 Mrs. Osbiirn looked grave when John 
 came back ; but she said nothing then. She 
 did not wish to disturb his mind with reproof 
 just as he was about to begin a lesson that 
 would require calmness .and attention. 
 
 For three quarters of an hour, or more, 
 John ciphered and copied, at first, without
 
 152 "A LITTLE LEA VEX." 
 
 much difficulty or interruption ; but the ex- 
 amples gradually became longer and more 
 complicated. He lost considerable time over 
 the " silver tankard " question, forgetting that 
 for gold and silver, troy weight not avoir- 
 dupois must be used. The shorter the 
 time grew, the more he found that figures 
 would n't be hurried up. Arithmetic is a 
 thing that must either be done, or left un- 
 done. There can be no slighting, or half- 
 way work about it. 
 
 The slate was growing very blurry, with 
 frequent rubbings out, his brows were 
 knit, he shifted uneasily in his seat and 
 was giving frequent anxious glances at the 
 clock, when, just as he was about to ap- 
 peal to his mother for help over a special 
 hobble, she was summoned to the parlor to 
 receive a visitor. 
 
 Johnnie's time of trouble had come. Twen- 
 ty minutes more, and his father would have 
 come, to find the task he had set unfinished. 
 Over and over again he read the question 
 whose answer would not come right; and
 
 AT LOOSE ENDS. 
 
 over and over he calculated the figures with- 
 out discovering his mistake. At last, lean- 
 ing his head, that was growing every minuto 
 more tired and confused, between his hands, 
 and resting his elbows on his knees, he gave 
 up, and waited helplessly till he heard his 
 mother's step upon the stairs. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! " he cried, as she entered tho 
 room again, " do just look at this awful sum, 
 and see if you can tell where the mistake is ! " 
 
 " I really can hardly spare the time, John- 
 nie," replied Mrs. Osburn. "I have left a 
 lady in the parlor who is to stay and dine 
 with us ; and I have some orders to give 
 about the table. But let me see what it is," 
 she added kindly, seeing him to be in real 
 distress. " Let me look at the book. Is 
 this it ? Phineas Bailey ? " 
 
 * * Yes, that's it. I don't see what they pick 
 out such names for, to make the questions 
 harder. John Webster is plain enough ; but 
 I knew I should get into a mess with Phiii- 
 eas Bailey ! " 
 
 " Let me see, "repeated his mother, taking
 
 154 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 the slate. " According to the book, Phineas 
 is entitled to $69,856.75 for his work ; and 
 you give him $76,756.75. That's treating 
 au enemy generously, at least ! " 
 
 " Oh, dear me, mother ! Don't laugh ! It's 
 horrid. I shall* never be ready for father 
 when he comes ! " 
 
 " Don't you see, Johnnie, it's Jiu. ry that is 
 doing all the mischief? Hurry, and worry 
 that always comes with it ? " 
 
 "Yes, mother; but I must hurry now," 
 pleaded Johnnie. ' ' Do, please, look it over. 
 I'm so tired." 
 
 " Why, here 's the mistake, Johnnie, at the 
 very beginning ! Eight times seven are how 
 many ? " 
 
 " Fifty-six. Six, and five to carry." 
 
 ' ' And eight times three ? " 
 
 ' ' Twenty-four. And five to carry, why 
 so it is ! " exclaimed Johnnie, astonished at 
 his own blunder. "Twenty-nine! And I've 
 been saying, all the time, eight times three 
 are twenty-seven, and five are thirty- two ' 
 Thank you, mother ! I can do it now ! "
 
 AT LOOSE END&. 155 
 
 His mother stood bv, a minute or two, 
 while he went through the remainder of the 
 sum. correcting figures that were made wronj 
 
 O o O 
 
 by the error at the outset ; and then, when 
 he laid down his slate-pencil to copy the ex- 
 ample on paper, she quietly took it up and 
 sharpened it with a knife she kept in her 
 work-basket. He had worn the nice point 
 quite down to a round, blunt end. Next, 
 she brought a dampened rag, and taking up 
 the slate, as he safely transferred the amount 
 that was justly due to Phineas Bailey, sho 
 wiped it clean on both sides. 
 
 " I think, "said she, as she gave them back 
 to Johnnie, " that half the trouble in doing 
 any work is diminished, when one's imple- 
 ments are all in proper order for use. I could 
 not accomplish so much sewing in the same 
 time, if my work-basket, by any accident, 
 became disordered, as if all were straight 
 and comfortable." 
 
 John felt the comfort of the clean slate, 
 and the sharp pencil, as he set clear, round 
 figures for his next example ; and his head
 
 156 A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 was really less confused, now that the blurr 
 of the old work was wiped away. If he 
 had only had a little more time I 
 
 But just as he had reduced 15 miles, 6 
 furlongs, 37 rods, to rods, his father's step 
 sounded on the stairs, and he came up into 
 the dressing-room. 
 
 He saw that John's work was not yet done, 
 and he did not interrupt him then with ques- 
 tions, but quietly gave the necessary atten- 
 tion to his toilet, and went down-stairs. He 
 would not interfere with the last chance. 
 
 John had hardly written out the answer, 
 $ 87,781.33, when the dinner-bell rang. 
 
 It was all over now I He had his hands 
 and face to wash, and his hair to brush ; and 
 he must not go down late to dinner. And 
 there was yet another example remaining to 
 be done 1
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 
 
 " No, my son," was the grave answer, just 
 as John had expected. " No special favor for 
 the day in which there has been a special 
 neglect." 
 
 And so the brilliant scheme of the swamp 
 expedition fell through for that afternoon. 
 
 It was rather dull and dreary. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Osburn, and their lady visitor, went off 
 for a drive, taking Kathie with them. 
 
 John had hastened over to Mr. Sellingcr's 
 with his ill news of postponement ; but had n't 
 even the forlorn consolation that we turn to 
 when we say, " misery loves company." The 
 other boys took it much more easily than he 
 did. They had an alternative of pleasure. 
 
 Mrs. Sellinger was to go from home this 
 afternoon, to visit a friend with whom she
 
 158 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 was to remain until the next day but one. 
 Mr. Sellinger had some parish calls to make ; 
 and as he was to go for his wife on Wednes- 
 day, preferred, if possible, that Howard and 
 Stephen should be her escort to-day ; al- 
 though he would have set aside his own 
 convenience rather than deprive them of an 
 especial pleasure. 
 
 They were to take an early tea, at Cross- 
 bridge, and drive home in the evening by 
 the light of a young moon. All very pleas- 
 ant for everybody but Johnnie, whose sole 
 anticipation was a solitary walk to the village 
 to supply himself with slate-pencil. Well, 
 it does n't do for people to ye off the track. 
 One failure, one omission, one delay, sets the 
 whole plan of a day, a year, a lifetime of- 
 ten, awry. Our own disorder brings confu- 
 sion into the order of things laid out for us. 
 
 " To-morrow," Mr. Osburn had said to 
 Johnnie, " your lesson must be the first 
 thing. Nothing else can be allowed till 
 that is finished. I shall wish you to write 
 two neat pages in your copy-book. I tel 1
 
 THE IIEEON SWAMP. 159 
 
 you now, that you may be sure and have your 
 things in readiness." 
 
 Ah, the distasteful copy-book ! It was 
 crumpled and blotted, half written through, 
 with very unequal care. The first page was 
 nicest of all. Where, then, was improve- 
 ment? But when he wrote that first page, 
 he did it with a pleasure. The blue covers 
 were bright and smooth, and the white leaves 
 unsoiled. It was the pleasure of a begin- 
 ning. All boys know that. But very few 
 know the better pleasure that comes from 
 a ' ' continuance " in well and careful doing. 
 The satisfaction of adding, from day to day, 
 one's faithful be*t to what has been done 
 before, keeping all fair until the end. 
 
 John's glimpse of better things, in How- 
 ard's fashion of doing, had, thus far, stirred 
 only a discontent. The leaven in its first 
 working was only bitter. 
 
 I do not wish to make my pages trying 
 or tedious, by dwelling on mishaps and dis- 
 appointments. I am quite willing, provided 
 only the needful lesson be got as we go on,
 
 160 "A LITTLE LEAVES'." 
 
 to pass them over as lightly as may be in 
 my story, as children themselves do in their 
 lives. Keenly sensitive to suffering, that 
 their little trials may teach them all they 
 ought to learn, they are endowed with a 
 wonderful elasticity, lest they should be ut- 
 terly crushed. A page or two in a book, 
 an hour or so in a day, are really as long a 
 worry as they can bear at once. 
 
 So, if I should n't skip the remainder of this 
 unsatisfactory Monday afternoon, you, my 
 little reader, probably would. 
 
 It went by and came to an end, as surely, 
 if not as swiftly, as if its minutes had been 
 crowded with pleasure. The sky was blue ; 
 the air was sweet; the brook was singing 
 along under Cedar Bridge ; the swallows 
 were merry about the eaves ; Jacob was 
 " puttering round" comfortably in the barn 
 and yard, and ready with his quaint answers ; 
 and so John could n't help having a tolerably 
 good sort of time, though not the time he had 
 planned and hoped for. 
 
 " Well, Jacob," Avas his conclusion, when
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 161 
 
 his father had returned, and he stood by at 
 the unharnessing of Blackbird, 4 ' it is n't much 
 matter, after all. I 've got it to think of; and 
 if I'd gone., it would have been all over. I 
 guess we '11 go to-morrow, don't you ? " 
 
 "Wai, not ezackly," replied Jacob. "I 
 guess yer '11 have to take it out in 'lottin' a 
 spell longer. I've got the lawn ter mow 
 tcr-morrer, an' I can't answer fer nex' day. 
 That's tew fur off to cal'lato on. The wust 
 o' puttin' off things is that they most allers 
 keeps gittin' put off." 
 
 With which sombre bit of philosophy 
 John was obliged to leave the subject. 
 
 The next day the copies were written, 
 and the lawn was mown. Wednesday was 
 rainy. More copies, and a feeble attempt 
 at ' ' putting to rights ; " but things were ' ' so 
 old " shabby books, crumpled copies, and 
 frame less slate, made such a sorry show 
 when got together, that, as Johnnie said, 
 there ' ' was n't much good in it ! " Rather, 
 the old evil overshadoAved the good, and 
 made it unapparent.
 
 162 "A LITTLE LEAVEN/' 
 
 Thursday came, with a bright sun ; the 
 hay was shaken out of the cocks to dry, and 
 while this was doing, John was wisely busy 
 with his " Greenleaf," and his mother was 
 carefully putting up a nice basket of dinner ; 
 for to-day, after these preliminaries were ac- 
 complished, they were actually to go, at last, 
 and explore the Heron Swamp. 
 
 " Did Howard tell you," asked Stephen of 
 John, as the three boys scrambled delightedly 
 into the wagon, when all was ready, " of the 
 luck he had yesterday? He slyed off into 
 the woods, all alone, early in the morning, 
 and over there among the oaks under Red 
 Hill, he found a golden-crowned thrush's 
 nest, with four eggs in it." 
 
 * ' Why, he did n't tell me that ! I thought 
 it was only an oven bird's ! " 
 
 *'Oh, yes; he did find an oven bird's. 
 But he found a golden-crowned thrush's, too. 
 And a roarercaprilla's into the bargain ! " re- 
 plied Stephen, a merry mischief coming 
 inlc his eye. 
 
 Johnnie stared. "A u-hat$" exclaimed 
 he, in amazement.
 
 THE HEROX SWAMP. 163 
 
 Whereat Howard laughed out, and Ste- 
 
 O ' 
 
 phen, seeing he enjoyed the joke, repeated, 
 with pompous emphasis, 
 
 " A roarercaprilla's, to be sure! Didn't 
 you ever hear of that? What's the use of 
 collecting birds' eggs, if you don't know the 
 scientific names ? " 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! " shouted Howard. " Hanker- 
 vish ! " 
 
 Johnnie looked from one to the other in 
 bewilderment, as if he believed they had 
 both gone out of their wits. 
 
 Stephen lost something of his funny ex- 
 pression, and looked up, a little abashed, at 
 Howard. 
 
 " Why," said he, " isn't that right?" 
 
 " About as near as ' haukervish,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 " What do you mean? " asked John. 
 
 " AVhy," said Howard, " in the first place, 
 I shall have to tell you a story. When Stee- 
 uie, here, was a little fellow, and hadn't 
 learned much English, and Elsie was smaller 
 still, she said something one day about a
 
 164 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 haiikish,' which was short, with her, for 
 'pocket-handkerchief.' Steenie put on the 
 scientific, as he was doing just no\v with 
 you, and corrected her. 4 You must n't say 
 hanlcish, Elsie,' said he ; ' it is n't hankish, it ' 
 hanlcervishl' And so, at Uncle Sellinger's, 
 whenever anybody tries to be very wise, and 
 makes a blunder, we sing out ' Hanker- 
 vish ! ' " 
 
 " Well, what is it, then?" asked Stephen, 
 a little impatiently, not quite relishing the 
 joke being so suddenly turned against him- 
 self. 
 
 " Aurocapillus," replied Howard. " It's 
 a bird that has as many names as a Prince 
 Royal. However, aurocapillus, golden- 
 crowned-thrush, or oven-bird, there was 
 only one nest, and I "ve got just one egg ; a 
 little white thing, with a sprinkle of brown 
 on the big end. The nest is the great curi- 
 osity, though, for the way they hide it. We '11 
 walk round there some day, and have a look 
 at it. It's under a bank, with a roof built 
 over it, and just a little hole at the side to go 
 in at."
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 165 
 
 " How far have we got to go now, Jacob ? " 
 a-sked Johnnie. 
 
 " Four mile, or so," replied Jacob. 
 
 " Gracious ! what a way ! " cried Stephen. 
 * I thought it was nearer. Let's play Vege- 
 table Conundrums. Don't you remember, 
 How', those jolly ones they used to make at 
 your house, last winter? A tailor's son 
 planted his father ; and what came up ? " 
 
 ' Planted his father ! Came up ! " repeated 
 John, astonished, never having heard before 
 of vegetable conundrums. 
 
 ' Yes. I '11 tell you. Pa Snips ! " 
 
 A little too profound for Johnnie, who 
 looked blank. 
 
 "Here's an easier one," said Howard. 
 " Plant an hour, and what comes up? " 
 
 "Thyme," answered Stephen. "Plant 
 tight shoes, and what comes up? Corn, of 
 course ! " 
 
 ' ' Hee I hee ! hee ! " snickered Jacob from 
 the front, who now began to comprehend the 
 principle. Johnnie saw through it also, and 
 roused up attentively for what might corne 
 next.
 
 166 " A LITTLE LEAVEX." 
 
 "They planted a French Republic, and 
 what came up ? " 
 
 Stephen had n't heard this, and nobody 
 guessed, of course. 
 
 " A crown imperial," said Howard. " My 
 mother made that, and we call it the Prize 
 Conundrum." 
 
 " Looka-here ! " cried Jacob, unexpectedly. 
 
 ' ' Guess I can try my hand at that air 1 Plant 
 a South'n C'nfed'r'cy, an' what '11 it come up ? 
 Beet ! " 
 
 "Plant Jacob's hair," said Stephen, sau- 
 cily, " and what '11 it come up ? " 
 
 * ' Steenie 1 " exclaimed Howard. 
 
 " Reddish ! " shouted Steeuie, defiant. 
 
 Jacob, unperturbed, laughed good-humor- 
 edly. 
 
 " Guess ef yer plant some folks' heads, yer 
 might grow punkins, likely 's not," said he, 
 and now they all laughed. 
 
 " We 're getting rather personal, "said How- 
 ard. "Plant a dancing-school. There'll 
 come up hops ! " 
 
 " Plant the middle of the afternoon?"
 
 THE ITERON SWAMP. 
 
 "Four o'clock." 
 
 " Plant {he rising sun?" 
 
 " Morning-glory." 
 
 " Plant a good jounce," said Jacob, as the 
 wagon gave a sudden "flump." There'll 
 come a Johnnie jump-up ! " Which there 
 had, for Johnnie was nearly thrown over the 
 back of the seat. 
 
 " Plant a cat's tail? " asked Howard. 
 
 " Well what?" rejoined Stephen. 
 
 "Fir!" 
 
 "Plant let me see plant fire, and 
 what '11 come up ? " said Stephen. 
 
 " Smoke, to be sure," replied Howard. 
 
 " Sunthin else, tew, "said Jacob. "Ashes!" 
 
 "Plant Jacob's felt hat," said Johnnie, 
 making his first essay. ' ' What '11 come 
 up?" 
 
 " Squash ! " shouted the boys, all together, 
 in glee. 
 
 " Plant three boys in a wagon, goin' ter 
 Heron Swamp, and what '11 come up ? Goose 
 tongue, and all kinds o' garden sass ! " 
 
 Then you may well imagine there was an
 
 168 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 explosion. Jacob's grand conundrum was 
 like a mine of rockets let off after an exhibi- 
 tion of small single fireworks. 
 
 "Plant my mother's gingerbread," says 
 Stephen, diving under the seat into a basket, 
 and producing a slip of the fragrant yellow 
 cake. ' ' Two-lips ! " And he suited the ac- 
 tion to the word. 
 
 " Four-lips ! " corrected Howard, seizing a 
 share for himself, while Johnnie, leaning 
 back, held out his hand, and cried out, 
 
 " Six-lips!" 
 
 Not very brilliant joking, perhaps; but 
 jokes and gingerbread had pungency enough 
 between them, and to merry-hearted, hungry 
 boys, it little mattered which furnished most. 
 
 Jacob said nothing about his lips, but they 
 were not omitted in the distribution. 
 
 Down a hill, round a curve, into a 
 hollow, where the road stretched on, straight 
 before them for more than a mile, dark with 
 the close growth of trees and underbrush on 
 either side, rank with a wild, damp, earthy 
 smell, wherein the flavor of old pine stumps
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 1G9 
 
 was largely mingled, yet now and then bless- 
 edly overcome, when a sudden breath of wind 
 swept by, that had paused on its way, where 
 the wild honeysuckles blossomed, this was 
 the Swamp. 
 
 They drove on till they could look back 
 and forward, either way, without seeing any- 
 thing but the long, straight road, hemmed in 
 with gloom, H^d running off toward the sun- 
 light ; and then they turned aside among the 
 trees, and fastening the horse behind a clump 
 of birches, set off, stoutl} r and cheerily, on 
 their trump into the depths. 
 
 Jacob produced a little hatchet from the 
 wagon, and with this, and his big jack-knife, 
 cut and prepared for each of the boys a long, 
 tough, oak stick, before they started. 
 
 The walking was easy for a little way, 
 impeded only by the underbrush and vines ; 
 but by-and-by the soil grew rapidly more 
 marshy and wet, and they were obliged to 
 spring from .tussock to stump, and from 
 stump to tussock. Then their long sticks 
 were of great service as leapiug-poles.
 
 170 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 Farther and farther they penetrated the 
 weird gloorn of the Swamp. Closer and 
 ranker grew the smell of paludal vegeta- 
 tion ; of the decaying woods, and all the 
 debris of growth and death, that time and 
 winds had scattered in the wild and secret 
 recesses of the place. Bodies of animals 
 lay here and there, sending forth a horrible 
 effluvium to the infrequent passer-by. Twice 
 they came within sight of the huge carcass 
 of a horse, that had, perhaps, been driven 
 there and slain, or had wandered in and 
 died. 
 
 On they scrambled and leaped and stum- 
 bled. Over the tangled roots, from stump 
 to stump, above darkly shining waters, a 
 wearisome and awesome way; sometimes^ 
 round about, where was a boggy interval too 
 wide to leap, until they found a pathway over 
 some fallen log ; and again, springing, with 
 the help of Jacob's long and stalwart arm, 
 where their leaping-staves, alone, could not 
 carry them. 
 
 " Don't you smell something horribly
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 171 
 
 fishy ? " asked Stephen, as a new odor assailed 
 his unaccustomed nostrils. 
 
 "I smell everything, I think," answered 
 Howard. "Why yes," he added, "I do, 
 certainly, get, just here, ' an ancient and fish- 
 like smell.' What can it be ? " 
 
 " Why, fish, of course," replied Jacob. 
 "We're comiu' pooty nigh naow, ter the 
 herons' head-quarters. Yer see, they hav a 
 middlin' long stretch of it, from here ter the 
 river, after their provender ; an' there's one 
 thing that 's pesky queer 'baout them air 
 birds. Ef they happen, anyhow, gaapin' 
 or so, to drop a fish, fiyin' over, they never 
 come daown to look for it, but jest let it lay, 
 an' go straight back ter where they got it, fer 
 more. I donno whuther it 's cause they 're tew 
 pesky praoud t' own up their kerlessness, or 
 whuther they 're sech fools that they duuno 
 haow ter mend th' matter. A little o' both, 
 mebbe ; same 's 'tis with folks." 
 
 " Hark ! what 's that? " cried Johnnie, sud- 
 denly, whose nerves were strung to an easily 
 startled pitch by this time, through the strange
 
 172 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 aspects and odors, and the unearthly stillness 
 and solitude with which they had been sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 ' ' Quawk I quawk ! " sounded harshly in 
 the air over their heads ; and great, dark 
 birds flapped heavily over the tops of the 
 trees. 
 
 Suddenly down dropped a small fish a 
 river-herring right before them, into one of 
 the little, dusky pools that gleamed, here and 
 there, among the roots and sods. 
 
 "Quawk! quawk!" reverberated again, 
 in still more, strident tones, as the dispos- 
 sessed heron soared up higher, making a 
 restless circuit in the air, and then swooped 
 off, again, in the direction whence he had 
 come a moment before. 
 
 ' ' There ! that air feller 's jest gone an' done 
 it ! " exclaimed Jacob. " Seein"s believin', 
 sure enough." 
 
 A little farther on, and they heard moro 
 and more constantly the flapping of the great, 
 brown wings. 
 
 " Hereabaouts is where they collernize,"
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 173 
 
 said Jacob, looking up at the stems of the 
 tall old pines they came out among, at last, 
 in a drier sort of soil that seemed like an 
 island in the surrounding morass. The tall 
 trunks were whitened with the excrements 
 of the birds that had held their undisturbed 
 possession for nobody knows how many 
 years. High up, against the rough, stained 
 sides, were built their nests, of twigs, set semi- 
 circularly against the trees, like wall-baskets. 
 
 A strange settlement it was, and of strange 
 inhabitants. The boys felt as if they had 
 got into some wild, fabulous place, such as 
 Sinbad the Sailor visited in his search after 
 the Koc's egg; and they looked up and 
 around, in a sort of indefinite expectation of 
 wonders that might yet reveal themselves. 
 
 " Naow ! " said Jacob, " there 's a job fer 
 yer ! Shin up, an' help yerselves ! " 
 
 It was by no means to be done in a min- 
 ute, however ; neither was it, in any way, 
 a very inviting undertaking. They waited 
 awhile, resting and considering. 
 
 " Well, \ve 're in for it ! " said Howard, at
 
 1 74 * A MTTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 last. " A ad we \v:m't go home without the 
 eggs!" 
 
 'That's real Yankee grit!" said Jacob, 
 approvingly. ' ' That '3 the way to take Rich- 
 mond ! Thunder an' guns ! I wish my old 
 gran'sir' was alive, jest ter show folks naow- 
 a-day, Lao'w ter dew things ! He nevei 
 walked iiound and raound a job; he jest 
 went at li: with both fists. Up there, 't Pol- 
 lards ville giLeral trainin', he gin 'em a lesson 
 once, 't I gutsb folks ha'n't forgot yit ! " 
 
 " Tell us ah -about it, Jacob ! " exclaimed 
 John, who had uiore than once been enter- 
 tained with the like /erninisceuccs. And as 
 he spoke he settled h.-ii ^lf comfortably on a 
 pine stump, to listen. 
 
 "Yes, let's have it/ joined in the other 
 boys, making a like dispCb.% of themselves. 
 
 "Wai," returned Jacob, modestly; "I 
 don't set up ter be no gret hand at a story ; 
 but seem' the congregation "s all sct'n ready, 
 'spose I must let yer hev it somehow. 
 
 " Yer see, ther' was a grand muster o' all 
 the milishy raound ; and my gran'sir', he was
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 175 
 
 Cap 'n of a comp 'ny. Th' Gov'nor, he was 
 there, an' all the big folks ; an' they trained 
 'em raound, 'n' revooed 'em, pooty much all 
 day ; .an' then, towards eveniu', they hed a 
 sham-fight. They hed a hull brigade on the 
 field, an' folks said, as seen it, that the ma- 
 noovers was wonderful. Anyhaow, one on 
 'em must ha' ben suuthin a leetle remark- 
 able. 
 
 " Yer see, my gran'sir' was posted with his 
 men, way daown o' one side o' the field, an' 
 fer some time he did n't hev much ter dew 
 with the gineral goins on ; an' by the time 
 his orders come, he was gittin' a leetle mite 
 res'less. Fin'lly the Gunnel's orderly come 
 ridin' up, an' gin the word, * Forrud ! ' march ! ' 
 An' march they did ! 'T was gittin' duskish, 
 an' somehow or nuther, arter th' word was 
 gin aout, they did n't remember ter 'tend ter 
 that pertickler set o' men, fer a pooty con- 
 sider'ble spell. My gran'sir' marched on, 
 'cord in' t' orders, 'cross the tramin'-field, an' 
 over a wall, an' straight thro' a cornfield, 
 till they fetched up, fer a minute, 'longside o 1
 
 176 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 old Simon Spanker's barn; a tumble daown 
 old thing, jest ready ter go to pieces. My 
 gran'sir' would n't give in. He 'd been ordered 
 ter march, an' he war n't the man ter halt till 
 th' orders come. ' Daown with the barn, 
 men ! ' says he. An', fact, them fellers pitched 
 in with a good will ; an' in ten minutes they'd 
 laid the sides flat, an' marched over 'em ! 
 An' twarn't till the thing was nigh 'baout 
 done, that the officers waked up, an' sent 
 'em word ter halt. It 's my belief, cf they 
 hedn't he'd ha' marched to the North Pole, 
 afore he 'd ha' stopped ! " 
 
 Peals of laughter from the boys, at the 
 story itself, and Jacob's peculiar style of 
 narration, echoed among the old trees, and 
 startled the herons from their high perches. 
 
 " We may as well go to work," said How- 
 ard, rising from his temporary seat, and meas- 
 uring, with an upward look, the nearest trees. 
 
 "Let's each choose one," said Stephen, 
 u and see who '11 shin it first, and find the 
 most." 
 
 " So I say," assented Johnnie, who waa
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 177 
 
 eagerly awaiting the chance to exhibit his 
 newly-acquired accomplishment, the result of 
 most persistent daily practice among the cedars 
 of the High Pasture ; to the extensive detri- 
 ment of Ms clothing, and sometimes of less 
 absolutely extrinsic integument. 
 
 "Very well," said Howard. "I'll take 
 this." And he laid his hand against the 
 rough, encrusted bark of a tree, some thirty 
 feet from whose base was built one of the 
 singular nests whose outside promised so 
 little, but within which lay, as they believed, 
 such treasures of exquisite perfection. 
 
 Above their heads, among the tall, rustling 
 tops of the pines, swooped and flapped un- 
 easily the disturbed herons, little wonted to 
 such invasion of their fastness ; uttering al- 
 most incessantly the harsh " quawk, quawk," 
 as they went and came, or circled restlessly 
 and suspiciously about. 
 
 " And I '11 have tins," said Stephen, taking 
 ais stand at the foot of another tree near by, 
 which gave equal promise of reward for the 
 labor of climbing.
 
 178 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 * ' Here 's a bigger nest than either," shouted 
 Johnnie, " and not so far up. I don't care 
 for that, though ; I can shin as well as any- 
 body, now ! " 
 
 " Here, Jacob ! " called out Stephen. "Give 
 us a start, will you ? These trees are a pretty 
 good armful, here at the bottom." 
 
 Jacob came over, and gave them the de- 
 sired assistance, and very effectually ; begin- 
 ning with John, as the youngest and least 
 experienced, though the latter rather scouted 
 the favor. 
 
 Standing close under the tree, he first lift- 
 er 1 , the boy to his shoulders, and then, as 
 he climbed upward, gave him a vigorous 
 boost, by legs and feet, till he got quite be- 
 yond the reach of a helping hand. In like 
 manner, he successively and quickly aided 
 the other two ; and now came the great 
 scramble. 
 
 Stephen was the most expert, and Howard 
 had the greatest length of limb ; but Johnnie 
 had less distance to climb, and, moreover, 
 got the first " boost." So it ended in his
 
 THE HEROX SWAMP. 179 
 
 reaching the goal just an instant before the 
 others, who came up almost together. All 
 three plunged their hands eagerly into the 
 nests. 
 
 * That 's what I call comin* pretty well up 
 to the scratch!" called out Jacob, from be- 
 low. " Look out, naow, an' don't break yer 
 bones comin' daown ! Got anything?" 
 
 " Yes, plenty ! " said Howard, in reply. 
 
 <l Only one here," said Stephen, who had 
 hoisted himself comfortably across a strong 
 branch that started from the tree, just under 
 the protuberance of sticks and straws that 
 formed the clumsy, one-sided heron's nest. 
 
 ' ' I suppose the bird '11 lay more. Anyhow, 
 I Ve got it. How shall I get it down ? " 
 
 "Put it in your mouth, as I did mine,'* 
 answered Howard, who had rapidly accom- 
 plished his descent, and now removed the 
 great egg from between his distended lips, 
 that he might reply. 
 
 John, meanwhile, was coming down his 
 tree, carefully, without a word. 
 
 " Mine was a great nest, three times as big
 
 ISO " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 as Steenie's," said he, as he touched terra 
 firma and looked round ruefully, " aud not 
 a plaguey thing in it ! " 
 
 " That 's a pesky shame," said Jacob, sym- 
 pathetically. " Cometer look agin, I ought 
 to ha' known better than ter start ycr up 
 that air tree. It 's an old uest, by the size 
 on 't. An' that 's another cur 'ous thing abaout 
 them birds. They never build the hull house 
 till they see haow big a fam'ly they 've got ; 
 and then they just put on an addition front 
 'nough ter 'commerdate, an' pull away the 
 fust wall when the second's finished." 
 
 The heads of the three boys were clus- 
 tered together over the heron's eggs. 
 
 "I thought it was strange," said Stephen, 
 " that such big birds could grow up in such 
 little nests ; but I never should have guessed 
 such a funny thing as their piecing out the 
 house after the young ones were hatched. 
 Aren't the eggs splendid, though?" he add- 
 ed, ecstatically. 
 
 " AYon't they look superb in the black 
 walnut sawdust?" said Howard.
 
 THE HEEOX SWAMP. 181 
 
 "Oh, dear!" exclaimed John, uneasily; 
 11 1 hope I shall g;-t one ! " 
 
 "Of course you will," replied Howard. 
 " There 's no end of nests round here. You 
 don't suppose we're going home with one 
 apiece ! Is n't it queer, though, to come 
 through such a pokerish place, and among 
 all sorts of filthiuess, to get such beautiful 
 things ? " 
 
 Meanwhile, Jacob had been quietly ex- 
 ploring a little farther on. He stood now, 
 with his hatchet in his hand, at the foot of 
 a tall dead trunk of monstrous girth, that 
 had, years since, apparently been scathed by 
 lightning, and now stood, nearly divested of 
 branches huge and bare except where, 
 high above, it was covered with a bas-relief 
 of clustered nests, not adjoining, but in close 
 proximity to each other. 
 
 " Here you are!" shouted Jacob. "A 
 reg'lar fam'ly settlement ! It 's your chance, 
 Johnnie ! Come along ! " And so saying, 
 he uplifted his hatchet and struck a smart 
 blow into the side, about two feet or so from 
 the ground.
 
 182 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 "Why, Jacob! What are you going to 
 do ? " exclaimed John. ' ' Cut down the tree ? 
 I should think that was a queer way to get 
 eggs ! " 
 
 " So should I," returned Jacob, quietl} r . 
 "But, yer see, there's more'n one way ter 
 kill a cat, besides chokin' her ter death with 
 butter ! " And, as he spoke, he aimed his 
 hatchet higher, and with a couple more 
 strokes made a second deep notch at a simi- 
 lar distance, further up. 
 
 ' ' Ah, ha ! " cried Howard. ' ' I see it now ! 
 You 're a brick, Jacob ! " 
 
 Resting his feet, successively, in the 
 notches thus made, Jacob clasped the stein 
 of the tree with one arm, and using the 
 hatchet with the other, cut a third step for 
 the ascent ; and so on, till his head came on 
 a level with the group of nests. 
 
 ' ' Four on 'em ! An' eggs in every one ! 
 Sho-o ! " shouted Jacob, as a pair of the dom- 
 iciliary proprietors, who had been frightened 
 away by the first onslaught on the founda- 
 tions of their homestead, came heavily flut-
 
 THE HEEOJST SWAMP. 183 
 
 termg near. " How many '11 yer Lev, John- 
 uie ? " 
 
 " Four ! " John shouted back, in high ex- 
 citement. 
 
 " How '11 I git 'em daown? " called Jacob. 
 " I can't take 'email in my mouth, ter once ; 
 an' they would n't stan' no kind o' chance in 
 my trousis pockets ! " 
 
 "Here! catch my cap!" cried Howard, 
 tossing it up as he spoke. "Put 'em in 
 that, and double it up, and hold it between 
 your teeth ! " 
 
 " So I can, fact ! " replied Jacob, as he de- 
 posited an egg from each nest in the crown 
 of the cap. "Two heads is better'n one; 
 'specially when a cap 's flung into the bar- 
 gain ! " 
 
 And in a minute more, the cap, with its 
 treasure, was safe in Johnnie's hands. 
 
 Now he was really rich ! Four great, beau- 
 tiful, li^ht-green herons' eggs ! Now he could 
 make his own bargains for duplicates ! 
 
 " Joe Simmons has got some owls' eggs," 
 said he. " I 'II get one of them from him."
 
 184 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " And some of those Academy boys have 
 been down to Long Cove, and brought back 
 any quantity of terns' eggs," said Stephen. 
 " Joe told me so yesterday. We '*! all have 
 some of them. He '11 make a trade for us. 
 I don't believe anybody knows of this place." 
 
 "Who 's for another climb?" asked How- 
 ard. 
 
 " I," " I," shouted the others. 
 
 And so, in utter disregard of soil or 
 scratch, habited as they were for the ex- 
 cursion, in their otherwise discarded clothes, 
 they climbed tree after tree, and brought 
 down almost more spoil than they could 
 comfortably carry away. 
 
 "Now, let 's start for the wagon, 'count 
 o' gittin' there, as Jacob says," suggested 
 Stephen, when they had numbered, among 
 them, sixteen splendid eggs, successfully 
 blown, beside half-a-dozen or more that were 
 either cracked in the process, or contained 
 young too far grown to be ejected. " I 'm 
 getting hungry. And we 've got all that 
 awful swamp to travel over again."
 
 THE HEEON SWAMP. 185 
 
 * ' And all those horrid things to smell ! 
 F f !" exclaimed Johnnie. 
 
 " It 's just like a fairy tale," said Stephen. 
 " Going through all sorts of fearful things to 
 get a talisman." 
 
 " Or crossing the Styx into the Elysian 
 Fields," said classical Howard. 
 
 " Wai," said Jacob, " sticks and stones, 
 and slosh, and what not, it 's got to be did, 
 an' we might as well set about it ! " 
 
 Before setting off, they gathered handfuls 
 of dry grass and pine-leaves, and, depositing 
 their egg-shells carefully among them, that 
 they might not jostle together, they tied the 
 whole mass in Jacob's great pocket-handker- 
 chief, which he volunteered to take into his 
 own custody, and insure for the journey. 
 
 This done, they were ready to attempt the 
 Slough of Despond again. 
 
 Somehow, it did not seem so long in going 
 back, as it had in coming. Distances hardly 
 ever do. 
 
 Just before they emerged from the Swamp 
 to the dryer ground about its border, Stephen,
 
 186 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 as he was setting his foot upon a tussock of 
 grass, was startled and surprised by the sud- 
 den rushing out from the long sedge, of a 
 little creature whose motions were so darting 
 and swift, that he could hardly tell what sort 
 of animal it was. 
 
 "See there, Howard!" he called out, 
 standing still upon the stump where he hap- 
 pened to be, " what 's that running away, 
 there?" 
 
 Threading in and out, between the sedgy 
 hummocks, it hurried nimbly and shyly along, 
 until it suddenly seemed to dive under one, 
 and went out of sight. 
 
 " It 's a swamp-sparrow ! " cried Howard. 
 " Where did it come from?" 
 
 " Right here, "answered Stephen, pointing 
 to the tuft of grass before him. 
 
 "There must be a nest there," said How- 
 ard, and carefully parting the long, rank 
 herbage, he uncovered a little ground nest, 
 with five eggs. They were of a very pale 
 blue, nearly white, liberally splashed with 
 brown.
 
 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 187 
 
 "What a find!" exclaimed Stephen, in 
 delight. ' ' Whose are they ? Yours or 
 mine ? " 
 
 "Yours, to be sure. You started the 
 bird." 
 
 " But I did n't know what it was, when 
 I had started it," said Stephen, honestly. 
 "It looked as much like a mouse, as any- 
 thing. And I should n't have thought of 
 finding a bird's nest here." 
 
 "Well, it is found," replied Howard. 
 " And you 're the Columbus. Pick out your 
 egg, and come along. I had got entirely 
 past the place when you called me tb turn 
 round." 
 
 So Stephen took one of the little tarnished- 
 looking things, and stepped cautiously 
 on, around the spot, leaving the rest un- 
 harmed. 
 
 The boys made a capital dinner, when the 
 baskets were opened on their return to the 
 wagon, accompanied with drinks of clear, 
 cool water, which they dipped up from a
 
 188 THE HEEON SWA3IP. 
 
 little run that found its way down along tho 
 edge of the swamp, from some hidden spring 
 in the woods above. 
 
 Then they laid their bundle of eggs in an 
 emptied basket, and set off, homeward, in 
 great glee at the success of their expedition. 
 They were hilarious over their " loot," as 
 Howard called it, and talked over magnifi- 
 cent plans for exchanges. 
 
 " Only look out," said Howard, as Ste- 
 phen was enthusiastically enumerating the 
 duplicates of rare eggs that he knew to be in 
 the possession of one and another boy, who 
 would*be glad to "swap" them for herons' 
 ' ' look out you don't do as the milkmaid 
 did in the primer, when her green gown 
 came to grief before she got it. You '11 have 
 your foot in the basket, in a few more flour- 
 ishes of that sort." 
 
 "No I won't! 
 
 ' Egg-collector, careful 
 
 Of the precious casket, 
 Knowing eggs are eggs, 
 Tightly holds his basket* 1 "
 
 THE HERON SWAMP. 189 
 
 sang Stephen, modifying Saxe's rhyme, and 
 lifting the precious freight to his knee . 
 
 "I don't want," said Jacob, deliberately, 
 as the boys jumped, at last, from the wagon, 
 : n Mr. Osburn's yard, "to be puttiii' tew 
 ma*./ notions in yer heads ter once ; but 
 what 'ud yer say, naow, some day afore 
 long, to a kingfisher's nest?" 
 
 " A kingfisher's nest ! " shouted the three, 
 in a breath. " Do you really know of one, 
 Jacob?" 
 
 "Wai, no, I don 't, for sartin; but I 
 see one fly over ter-day, when we was in the 
 Swamp, and I feel kinder imiardly persuaded 
 where he must ha' come from ! " 
 
 " Well," said Johnnie, with the calmness 
 of an absolute certainty, " if you do, it 'a a? 
 good as anybody else seeing the nest, I 'U 
 ask my father to let us go."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 KINGFISHERS. 
 
 HOWARD'S box came home from the cabi- 
 net-maker's. It was a very beautiful thing 
 for the purpose. The soft, rich, dark color 
 of the wood, the little square spaces for 
 the eggs, carefully bedded with fine, even 
 dust of the same the neatness and com- 
 pactness of the whole, to the nicely-fitting 
 cover, and the small lock and key ; these the 
 boys looked at with eager and delighted 
 two of them with half envious eyes. But, 
 as I have said before, elegant as the arrange- 
 ment was, it seemed only " exactly like How- 
 ard ; " just in keeping with everything else 
 belonging to him. 
 
 He handled his beautiful specimens with 
 the delicacy of touch that a lady might use 
 in assorting her jewels; and no pearls or
 
 KINGFISHERS. 1 91 
 
 diamonds were ever laid into theii velvet 
 cases with the genuine satisfaction tha* 
 Howard felt in arranging in their order 
 these trophies of his, that he had wrested, 
 with an energy and enterprise that repudi- 
 ated all suspicion of effeminacy, from swamp 
 and hillside and forest. 
 
 Joel Simmons, the farmer's son, was then 
 pilot on the expedition after the kingfisher's 
 nest. Haying came on, and Jacob was too 
 busy. But Joel knew all the wild haunts, 
 far and near; and a hint from Jacob of 
 " them air steep sand-banks, where the river 
 runs through, beyond Chestnut Ridge," was 
 quite sufficient for him. 
 
 The only difficulty was, here were four 
 boys, all egg-collectors, and all equally eager 
 for the fun of the undertaking; and they 
 could not hope to find more than one king- 
 fisher's nest. Whose should the egg be ? 
 
 It became a bargain of duplicates. By 
 this time, by daily searching, and much good 
 luck, the boys had greatly added to their 
 stores of wood-birds' eggs, to say nothing
 
 192 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 of other varieties obtained by trading ; and 
 they first bought off Joel Simmons' claim, 
 and rewarded his services as a guide, by con- 
 tributing each something that he had not yet 
 procured. 
 
 Stephen offered him his choice between a 
 crow and a tern ; Howard bestowed a rarer 
 yet, a humming-bird's egg, of which he had 
 two, that had been given him by his friends 
 in Rhiiiebeck. John added a pigeon-wood- 
 pecker, and a titmouse. Now it only re- 
 mained for these three to bargain among 
 themselves, or to draw lots for the prize. 
 
 ' ' I don't see the use of bein' so partick- 
 ler," remarked Joe, while the matter was 
 under discussion, " about takin' an egg or 
 two, more or less. Besides, you can't dig 
 into a kingfisher's nest, without pretty much 
 breakin' it up." 
 
 "But Jacob says," said Stephen, "that 
 that don't make any difference. They '11 come 
 back to the nest, whether or no." 
 
 "Well," put in Johnnie, "you know, 
 How', you're to go by your own judgnic.it
 
 KINGFISHERS. 193 
 
 in taking the eggs. Perhaps we'll find such 
 a lot, that we can each have one, as well as 
 not." 
 
 " They don't lay more than six, according 
 to Nuttall," said Howard. 
 
 "Well, I'm satisfied, you know, for one," 
 said Joe ; ' ' and I should think if you went 
 halves with the birds, it would be fair 
 enough." 
 
 " Break into a man's house," exclaimed 
 Howard, " and go halves with him for his 
 silver spoons ! " 
 
 The wood-path that took them over Chest- 
 nut Ridge, struck in toward a ledge of rocks 
 from the roadside, where the thoroughfare 
 stretched for a mile or more along a flat 
 surface, bordered on either hand by a low, 
 young growth of birch and maple, over 
 whose green tops one could look away, un- 
 obstructed, as over a green heaving sea, to 
 the bald escarpment that reared up, west- 
 wardly, its precipitous face. Toward thia 
 they turned, and over this how, they 
 13
 
 194 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 could scarcely guess, except that Joe Sim- 
 mons knew a way they were to go, 
 through the deep wood, to the river. 
 
 " My father says," said Joe, as they ap- 
 proached the wonderful, upheaved mass of 
 stone, crested with the magnificent forest, 
 but revealing, here and there, the quality of 
 its foundation, "that there's jest as good 
 granite here, if folks would work the ledge, 
 as there^ is in the Quincy Hills. I s'pose 
 there's lots of things in the world, that folks 
 haven't found out." 
 
 "Kingfishers' nests, and all," said John; 
 not prospecting for granite, but intent on his 
 own especial object. 
 
 By the time they entered the woods, up 
 the steep, zigzag path that wound from 
 point to point along the ledge, they had left 
 a long way behind them the road that was 
 so busily travelled, short as the interval had 
 seemed to them, when they had only meas- 
 ured with the eye its unbroken extent. 
 
 Jt was no mere strip of woodland they 
 came into now, bounded by turnpikes, 01
 
 KINGFISHERS. 195 
 
 cut up by railway; where the teamster's hal- 
 loo, or the rumble and shriek of the locomo- 
 tive would break in upon, and destroy the 
 illusions of deep stillness. It was truly a 
 bit of" forest primeval;" overlying the boun- 
 dary between two straggling country towns, 
 and stretching miles up and down along the 
 river ; so that where the watercourse thus 
 broke through, in one of its most beautiful 
 reaches, the woods were only interrupted to 
 begin again upon the farther side, and thence 
 they might have walked on and on, in the 
 hush of its green glooms, till they should 
 come suddenly out on the wild and beautiful 
 banks of Pontaug. 
 
 John was growing fast, in this great, free 
 country life. He had felt and seemed like 
 quite a little boy, a short time ago, in the 
 city, where he knew the way only about a 
 few sidewalks, and up and down the avenues 
 of the Common. There was a part of him 
 that did not get fed, except meagrely, in his 
 picture and story books ; and now this puny, 
 starveling imagination, these cramped per-
 
 196 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 ceptions, were starting suddenly forth inlo 
 the life that was made for them, among rich 
 and abounding realities. Rivers and hills, 
 and forests and lakes, would be something 
 more to him, now, in the mental image he 
 was getting of them, than mere blurs and 
 blots and zigzags on a bit of paper. The 
 old, stereotyped phrase, even, "the face 
 of the country is diversified," would be 
 able, at last, to suggest a rational idea, in- 
 stead of remaining forever a weary, wornout 
 form of words. Johnnie did n't know it, 
 but his morning sums were, perhaps, the 
 least part of the education he was getting 
 now. His other and wider " Exercises in 
 Green-leaf," were doing him quite as much 
 good. 
 
 For a long way their path was constant 
 climbing, not very steep, to be sure, ex- 
 cept at the first, but every rock and root 
 and gully made a step up, for them, and 
 never a descent. Now and then, they sat 
 down for a rest, and took breath, and lis- 
 tened. Happy and eager as they were in
 
 KINGFISHERS. 197 
 
 their enterprise, they were rather subdued in 
 their enjoyment at, these moments. Even 
 boys, I think, are hardly ever frolicsome in a 
 deep wood. They sat still, drinking in that 
 bountiful air, fragrant with all sorts of won- 
 derful distillations of earth and tree and 
 herb ; and listening to the music of scores 
 of little invisible brooks and waterfalls, that 
 called out to each other from their separate 
 solitudes, like human lives that give out a 
 melody to each other as they go on, each its 
 own way, to the great deep where all are 
 by-and-by to meet together. 
 
 Up they came, at last, to the summit of 
 the Ridge, but between the openings of the 
 trees they could look here and there either 
 way, and get a peep at the great landscapes 
 that lay below. Little gleams of the river 
 shone out in the distance on the side whither 
 they were going; and on the other stretched 
 the woods and pastures to where they got 
 just a glimpse of the high road, like a chalk- 
 like on a green carpet. 
 
 " Do you want me to take you up to the
 
 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 top of the Dome?" asked Joel Simmons. 
 " It's just the biggest look-out that ever was." 
 
 "A Dome? Up here in the woods?" 
 asked Johnnie, who had been brought up in 
 the shadow of the great dome of the State- 
 House, and knew no other. He had heard 
 of St. Paul's and St. Peter's indeed, but they 
 were across the Atlantic. 
 
 "Yes, we've got a Dome. Why not?" 
 replied Joe. " Been built longer, too, than 
 any church-steeple. Didn't you see it, when 
 we came across the White Birch Lot ? " 
 
 " I saw a great round rock, on the top of 
 the Ridge, to be sure," answered Howard. 
 "Is that it?" 
 
 "Yes, that's the Dome. And for all it 
 looks so smooth and slopin', there 's a first- 
 rate comfortable way to get up to the top 
 of it." 
 
 " Sha'n't we tumble off?" asked John, to 
 whom the idea of scaling a great round rock 
 was as if it had been the veritable State- 
 House Dome itself. 
 
 "Oh, no! It's broad enough when you
 
 KINGFISHERS. 199 
 
 get on to it," replied Joe. "I'll take you 
 right up the back-stairs, as easy as any- 
 thing." 
 
 Turning to the left, as he spoke, he led 
 them along the summit of the Ridge until 
 they came to the side of the Dome opposite 
 to that which rose so round and smooth to 
 the view from the White Birch Lot. 
 
 Here, it rested comfortably against a nat- 
 ural bolster of earth behind, which so banked 
 it up, that the height to be scaled was mate- 
 rially lessened. Besides, partly by accident, 
 and partly by art, a sort of loose, scrambling 
 causeway of small stones was here heaped 
 up, which Joe designated as the " back- 
 stairs." After ascending this, they found 
 themselves upon a rib, or groove of the rock, 
 which broke its smoothness, and which led 
 them around and up, safely, to the very top. 
 
 There was plenty of room, round as the 
 Dome had appeared from below; even John 
 no longer thought of sliding off. 
 
 And what a glorious panorama they saw 
 thence I
 
 200 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 The windings of the river, the patch- 
 work of the fields, with their different tinta 
 of growing harvest, the roads and hedges, 
 that checked the landscape with their lines 
 of drab and green, and, above all, the 
 great sky-full of blue beauty that overhung 
 and embraced the whole, and in the midst 
 of whose breathing stillness they seemed to 
 stand I 
 
 They looked on it all silently. Boy-nature 
 was held in check for a space, while some- 
 thing deeper asserted itself. Something that 
 rose, heaving, in the bosom, looked out 
 earnestly from grave eyes, and at last, too 
 great to be contained, exhaled itself, spirit- 
 like, in a long, sighing breath. 
 
 Boy-life awoke again. 
 
 " I say," said Stephen, coming first to 
 himself, ' ' I think we 've found the JRoc's 
 
 egg!" 
 
 "I wonder," said Howard, whose moder- 
 ate knowledge of geology gave him an inter- 
 est beyond that of the others, " where ever 
 this great boulder came from?"
 
 KINGFISHERS. 201 
 
 " It 'a been here always ! " replied Joe, sur- 
 prised at such a question. " As long as the 
 Kidge has I " 
 
 "Well, I suppose that hasn't been here 
 always," returned Howard. "There don't 
 seem to be any ' forever ' outside of the 
 Bible. They say in the geologies, that the 
 world has been turned upside down, and 
 inside out, nobody knows how many times. 
 And these great rocks, that are lodged this 
 way on the tops of the hills, they say were 
 brought along and left by some tremendous 
 flood that came down, ages ago, from the 
 North Pole." 
 
 " P'r'aps," answered Joe. "But folks say 
 a great many things that they a'n't sure of." 
 
 Howard laughed, and did not resume his 
 lecture. And after one more silent look, the 
 boys came down, as we all have to do, from 
 their grand height, and its glorious glimpses, 
 to attend again to their own little especial 
 and personal business of the day. 
 
 Down the Ridge, toward the river, was 
 another scramble. At its foot, a level space
 
 202 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 intervened, covered with young trees and 
 underbrush, and then they came out upon 
 the high, sandy bank, that overlooked the 
 stream. 
 
 " We shall have to get down, somehow," 
 said Joe. " If there's a kingfisher's nest any- 
 where, it'll be right in the face of the bank, 
 and we can't see it from here." 
 
 So they walked along until they came to 
 a more gradual slope, and found a gravelly 
 gully, by which they could descend to the 
 bed of the river. 
 
 "It don't seem," said Stephen, as they 
 stood in the deep ravine, where nothing stir- 
 red but themselves and the leaping river, 
 " as if this same water, a little way down, 
 would get among all those great mill-wheels, 
 and have to go to work ! " 
 
 A grown man might have looked at the 
 careless boys, intent only upon present pleas- 
 ure, and have thought something of the same 
 sort. 
 
 " I see a hole in the bank, up there ! " ex- 
 claimed Johnnie. "Do you suppose that's 
 it?"
 
 KINGFISHEES. 203 
 
 " Yes, to be sure ! " cried Joe and How- 
 ard, at the same moment, as they caught 
 sight of it also. 
 
 " And now," continued the former, " we 've 
 got to go back again the way we came. It's 
 nearer the top than the bottom." 
 
 "I'll stay here," said Stephen, "and tell 
 you when you get to the place." 
 
 So the other three went back, and scram- 
 bled up the gully again, and walked thence 
 along the edge of the bank, till they came 
 to the point opposite to where Stephen re- 
 mained standing below. 
 
 " There it is ! " shouted the latter. " You 're 
 right over it now ! " and he hurried up after 
 them. 
 
 Just where they stood, above the orifice, 
 the shelving bank projected, the sandy soil 
 having Mien away from under it. Below 
 the nest, it sloped out at an angle that 
 would give them a comfortable foothold, if 
 once they reached it. This they accom- 
 plished by proceeding along the edge of the 
 bank, until they came to a place where they
 
 204 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 could more easily begin their descent, and 
 then upon their hands and feet, they backed 
 themselves down. The uncertain soil kept 
 slipping away from under them, and their 
 horizontal progress along toward the nest 
 was more difficult even than the descent had 
 been. But slipping and scrambling and cling- 
 ing, they got there. 
 
 The entrance hole was small, just big 
 enough to introduce an arm. 
 
 Joel did so. 
 
 "It's a good deep one," said he, " I can't 
 reach the bottom. We '11 have to dig." 
 
 So, with eager hands, the boys fell to 
 work, enlarging the opening, and reaching in 
 to scrape out handfuls of the loose earth at 
 the sides. 
 
 Presently, an angry, rattling cry made it- 
 self heard above their heads. Looking up, 
 they saw perched on a fallen log that pro- 
 jected over the bank, a few feet down the 
 stream the " head of the family," the male 
 kingfisher, making very vehement gestures 
 of disapproval and indignation.
 
 KINGFISHERS. 205 
 
 His crest of close feathers was raised ex- 
 citedly from his head, like a straight, stiff 
 growth of hair brushed up from a man's 
 forehead ; and his short, turned-up tail jerked 
 and vibrated angrily. 
 
 At the same moment, almost, all four of 
 the boys started back suddenly, as an an- 
 swering cry came from within the nest, and 
 the female bird fluttered through her de- 
 spoiled entrance-hall, and soaring over their 
 heads, dropped down, beyond, as if wounded, 
 upon the water. 
 
 ** Yes marm 1 " cried Joe. ** You 're very 
 cunning ! But it is n't you we want 1 " 
 
 And knowing now that the coast was 
 clear, the house-breakers redoubled their en- 
 deavors. 
 
 After about ten minutes of vigorous labor, 
 they had excavated a passage of sufficient size 
 for a small boy to crawl into. 
 
 " Now, Johnnie ! " said Stephen. " You're 
 the smallest. Go ahead ! " 
 
 And, head first, in went Johnnie, at the 
 hole. Presently, all of him had disappeared,
 
 206 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 except his feet. Then, for a minute, he waa 
 Gtationary ; and then his legs, with very con- 
 vulsive movements, gradually emerged ; and 
 then, working backward upon his elbows, he 
 came forth, bearing a beautiful white egg, 
 safely, in either hand. 
 
 *' Two ! " exclaimed Howard. 
 
 "Yes," answered John. "I had to use 
 my judgment, this time. I could n't holler 
 back for orders with my head in that sand- 
 hole ! " 
 
 ' ' How many were there ? " asked Ste- 
 phen. 
 
 " Six, as near as I could tell. Shall I go 
 back and get another ? " 
 
 " No," answered Howard. " I think we've 
 taken all we ought; and besides, it's a little 
 too tough a job for you to try again, spunky 
 as you are ! One of 'em 'j yours, by all 
 rights. You saw the nest first; and you 
 * went in and won.' So Steenie and I '11 
 draw lots for the other." 
 
 They made the best of their way back to 
 the bank again, sat down and took breath ;
 
 KINGFISHERS . 207 
 
 and then, with two spires of grass, held in 
 Joel Simmons's hand, Howard and Stephen 
 drew lots for the egg. 
 
 It fell to Stephen. 
 
 Howard couldn't help looking a little dis- 
 appointed, quietly as he acquiesced in the 
 decision. He had wished very much for one 
 of these rare eggs. 
 
 "I'll tell you," said Johnnie, "I don't 
 care so much for rare ones, as I do to have 
 a good many. Mine don't make much show, 
 yet. If you'll give me a rusty blackbird and 
 a wood-thrush, you shall have the kingfisher. 
 Besides, I can get another next year, now I 
 know where to come for it. 
 
 And so it was settled ; only Howard gen- 
 erously threw a beautiful, light green egg of 
 the black-billed cuckoo into the bargain.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 
 
 morning, in the beginning of August, 
 John awoke early, and lay watching, by the 
 dim light that came in through closed blinds 
 and partly drawn curtains, the constellations 
 of flies upon the white ceiling of his room. 
 
 His father, the evening before,, had been 
 showing him in the heavens, the Great Bear, 
 the Northern Crown, the Swan, the Dolphin, 
 and the Harp. 
 
 Johnnie was trying to make out some re- 
 semblances to . these in the little, accidental 
 groups of black dots above his head. 
 
 But his dark stars were restless. Just as 
 one fly crawled exactly into the right place 
 to finish the tail of the Great Bear, the two 
 Pointers flew away. 
 
 By-and-by he gave it up, and turning his
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 209 
 
 cheek round npon his pillow, lay comfortably 
 considering his plans for the day. 
 
 Looking forward through the archway of 
 his room, he happened to see, through the 
 half-opened door of the wardrobe, his box 
 of birds' eggs. 
 
 " I must have a bigger box, somehow," he 
 said to himself. ' ' There is n't any fun in 
 keeping them all heaped together, that way. 
 I 've a good mind to put them in one of 
 the drawers in the wardrobe. Only then I 
 could n't take them out very well to show to 
 anybody. Besides, Jane would be stuffing 
 all sorts of things right in on top of 'em. 
 People never seem to think it's any matter 
 where they put my things when they pick 
 them up. I wonder if mother has n't got 
 some sort of a big box that I could have." 
 
 And suddenly, at this point, there flashed 
 into his head a bright idea, the germ of a 
 very excellent plan for fitting up something 
 that should in some degree resemble the 
 elaborate arrangement of Howard Sellinger. 
 
 "If she'll only give it to me!" he ejacn- 
 14
 
 210 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 lated aloud. " Oh, dear, I hope she won't 
 be too busy to see about it ! " 
 
 After breakfast, he came to his mother, 
 very anxiously, with his request. She was 
 going to be very busy ; but when she looked 
 round at him, and saw the great longing in 
 his eyes, she put aside her own thoughts for 
 the moment, and gave her full consideration 
 to what he asked. 
 
 There was a certain very handsome paste- 
 board box, large and stout and strong, 
 in which Mrs. Osburn had had a cloak sent 
 home the winter before. It was standing 
 now upon the top of a bureau, in one of the 
 spare chambers, and had some laces and rib- 
 bons in it. The outside was covered with a 
 dark-green watered paper; and inside it was 
 lined smoothly, with one of a soft and deli- 
 cate shade of brown. 
 
 This he asked for, as "a very great 
 favor, indeed, mother ! " 
 
 " I think so ! " said Mrs. Osburn. " What 
 shall I do with my ribbons and laces? And 
 what can you possibly do with the box?"
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 211 
 
 " I can divide it all off into compartments, 
 for my eggs. I 've thought it all out, mother, 
 and I know I can do it." 
 
 "I'm afraid you would only spoil the box 
 and then we should both be badly off." 
 
 " No, I won't. You know I'm a real good 
 carpenter." 
 
 " But carpenters don't work in paste- 
 board." 
 
 "Oh, there's got to be some wood-work 
 about it, too. Any way, it's all the same. 
 I've got a plan, only you wouldn't under- 
 stand it ; and besides, I suppose you can't 
 stop." 
 
 His mother laughed. 
 
 * ' Perhaps I might be too stupid at under- 
 standing your description ; and I can't very 
 well stop now, to be sure. I've some pickles 
 to make, and I shall be in the kitchen for an 
 hour or two. After that, I'll see about it. 
 But mind, I don't, by any means, prom- 
 ise." 
 
 "Oh, mother!" pleaded Johnnie, "I wish 
 you could tell me now; I could do evei so 
 much in an hour or two."
 
 212 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 "You may do this," said Mrs. Osburn, 
 *' if you are willing to work upon a chance. 
 You may collect your materials, and make 
 whatever beginning you can, without the 
 box ; and then, bring all to me, when I am 
 at leisure, and if I see a probability of suc- 
 cess, I will give it to you. Perhaps, too, I 
 may be able to help you with my advice, 
 after I am once brought to comprehend the 
 matter," she added, sm&ing. 
 
 " Oh, that '11 do ; thank you ! " replied John, 
 very heartily. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn went into the kitchen, and 
 Johnnie ran off to the barn. 
 
 It was " real vacation time," now, as he 
 said ; so for a week or two there had been 
 no " Greenleaf" to do. He was to begin his 
 lessons soon again, however, doing a little, 
 daily, for the few weeks before the Academy 
 should open, lest the examination should 
 take him at a disadvantage. 
 
 At about ten o'clock, Mrs. Osburn went 
 up-stairs to her own room, took off her white 
 apron that she had worn in the kitchen,
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 213 
 
 Bmoothed a little the soft, glossy folds of her 
 hair, and sat down in her low sewing-chair, 
 beside the little workstand in the window. 
 
 Just as she had done this, John made hia 
 appearance, with a basket, containing tools 
 and materials ; and taking his place on a 
 cushion at his mother's feet, and setting the 
 things beside him on the floor, began, forth- 
 with, to expound. 
 
 "You see, mother, I've got out these slips 
 of wood, all just alike; and I guess they're 
 just the right length, for I went up-stairs and 
 measured the box. I did n't touch it, though. 
 I'm going to set them lengthways" 
 
 " Lengthwise." corrected his mother. 
 
 "lengthwise, through the box, and 
 
 fasten them at each end with one of those 
 tiny little tacks you 've got. And then I must 
 have some pasteboard, and cut it in little 
 pieces, and fasten them in between to check 
 off the squares. Don't you see?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, I see. But do it neatly, you 
 must have patience, and not be too eager to 
 finish."
 
 214 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " Oh, no, I won't," said John, " I meab 10 
 have a box every bit as good as Howard 
 Bellinger's." 
 
 * ' I think I know of something I can do to 
 s 
 
 help you, already," said Mrs. Osburn, enter- 
 ing with real interest into the scheme. " But 
 first, I'll bring the box." 
 
 And she went across the hall into the op- 
 posite chamber, and laying her bits of finery 
 nicely away into a drawer, brought back the 
 emptied box to the delighted Johnnie. 
 
 ' ' Don't you think it would be a pity to 
 put those unpainted pine sticks against this 
 beautiful light brown lining?" she asked. 
 
 "Why, yes," answered John, hesitat- 
 ing. " Only I hav'n't got anything better to 
 put in. What could I have?" 
 
 " I might cover them nicely for you, with 
 paper, to match." 
 
 "Oh, how jolly! Could you? But you 
 hav'n't got any paper have you?" 
 
 Mrs. Osburn went to her closet, and took 
 from a shelf a roll, which she opened and 
 showed to John. It was some that had
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 215 
 
 been left after the drawing-room was pa- 
 pered. It was of a lovely, light-brown color, 
 with btripes of a darker shade. The ground 
 tint was almost precisely a match for the 
 lining of the box. 
 
 "Wouldn't that do?" she asked. 
 
 " Of course it would," said Johnnie, glee- 
 fully. "Mother! you're a brick!" 
 
 " Bather a knock-down compliment," said 
 Mrs. Osburn. " And I can't make out what 
 it implies, exactly ; unless that I am dull and 
 ugly and coarse and hard. Is that it? Or 
 what is a brick, humanly speaking?" 
 
 "It isn't that I I don't know as there's 
 any definition to it. It's just a brick, and 
 that's all. 
 
 " Something useful and substantial, may- 
 be." 
 
 "Yes, and something you couldn't have 
 any decent kind of a house without," cried 
 Johnnie, triumphantly. 
 
 " Now, John," resumed Mrs. Osburn, after 
 she had laughed merrily at this sally, "I 
 find these light stripes are just the right
 
 216 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 width for doubling over your slips of wood. 
 Can you cut them out neatly for me, while 
 I do the gumming ? " 
 
 John readily undertook this part of the 
 task, and went busily to work with the scis- 
 sors, while his mother, with a brush and a 
 bottle of mucilage, pasted each one care- 
 fully, and smoothed it nicely over a slip of 
 wood ; first measuring the latter accurately, 
 and shaving the ends, as required, to fit 
 neatly into the box. In about half an hour, 
 all were ready, and set up on their edges 
 in the broad window-seat, to dry. 
 
 Then, like the good householder, from her 
 treasures of new and old, she produced the 
 next thing needed, a couple of sheets of 
 strong, stiff pasteboard. These she cut into 
 lengths corresponding with the width of the 
 box, and went on to cover them, in like man- 
 ner as the others, with the colored paper. 
 
 "But, mother," said John, "you can't get 
 'em in, so. They'll have to be cut in little 
 pieces." 
 
 "Yes," replied his mother; " but I think
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 217 
 
 I can paper them best in this way, and cut 
 them up afterward. I must only be sure to 
 let them dry perfectly, first." 
 
 So, for another half-hour, thejr went on 
 busily with their cutting and pasting. By 
 that time, the wooden slips were sufficiently 
 well dried for handling, and John eagerly 
 proposed to take them, and go on with hia 
 share of the work, as carpenter. 
 
 But Mrs. Osburn had a better way. She 
 first requested John to mark, carefully, by 
 measure, at each end of the box, the differ- 
 ent spaces at which he wished the partitions 
 to be set. There were to be two wide in- 
 tervals, for large eggs ; and then, by twos 
 and threes, the spaces were to diminish 
 gradually, until they were of the right pro- 
 portions for such tiny specimens as those of 
 the wren and the titmouse. 
 
 Now, Mrs. Osburn brought the inevitable 
 " Spalding " into play. With this, delicately 
 managed, she fastened each strip securely 
 and invisibly into its place. Then she meas- 
 ured the spaces between, and after ruling
 
 218 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 lines, at corresponding distances, along the 
 slips of covered pasteboard, she cut them 
 in pieces with a very sharp, strong pair of 
 shears. These pieces, in their turn, were 
 just touched on the edges with the glue, 
 and pressed into their places ; thus checking 
 off the whole interior of the box into regular 
 compartments of graduated size. 
 
 John looked on, eager and absorbed, until 
 all was finished; only rendering assistance, 
 now and then, by reaching to his mother the 
 articles she was using j and especially by 
 picking up the shears, which, as it is the 
 nature of these implements to do, were con- 
 tinually sliding about. 
 
 "Why, mother 1" he exclaimed, as he re- 
 stored them to her lap for certainly the tenth 
 time, " how they do keep dropping! They 
 are determined to stay on the floor ! I think 
 you might as well keep them there." 
 
 His mother laughed. 
 
 " It reminds me of Mr. Micawber and his 
 friends," said she. " I can only answer as 
 one of them did."
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 219 
 
 "What was that?" asked John. 
 
 "Oh," replied Mrs. Osburn, "he was a 
 very slippery sort of man in money matters, 
 and always getting into difficulties. But he 
 had rendered these friends of his a very im- 
 portant and generous service. So they were 
 making a plan together, to provide for him. 
 * But,' said one of them, ' before the time 
 comes, he will be continually arrested, or 
 taken in execution, for debt.' * Then,' re- 
 plied Miss Betsey Trotwood, < he must be 
 continually set free again, and taken out of 
 execution.' Now, my scissors bright, easy- 
 going Micawbers that they are are con- 
 tinually sliding down hill; but, for the sake 
 of their valuable service, all we can do is 
 just to keep continually picking them up 
 again." 
 
 John laughed. His mother was very apt 
 to amuse him in this way, with little pleas- 
 ant illusions and sallies, when they were to- 
 gether. He hardly ever had a conversation 
 with her, without some little mutual brush- 
 ing up of wits.
 
 220 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 "What book is that in?" he asked. 
 
 " Dickens's 'David Copper-field,'" replied 
 his mother. 
 
 " I guess I should like to read it, should n't 
 I?" 
 
 " I guess you would. Only some things 
 in it you might enjoy more when you are a 
 little older. You would like Ham and Peg- 
 gotty, and the house on the beach made out 
 of the hull of an old vessel, and all that 
 early part of the book, very much, now ; and 
 then there are the school stories ; and Aunt 
 Betsey, and Janet, and the donkeys ; and Mr. 
 Dick and his kite." 
 
 " I mean to read it, right off," said John- 
 nie, very nearly even diverted from his box, 
 on the point of completion as it was. But, 
 as his mother placed the last little square 
 of pasteboard where it belonged, his whole 
 mind came back, loyally. 
 
 "Mother, it's bully!" he exclaimed. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn started back, with a funny 
 gesture of being excessively shocked. 
 
 "It is what?" she ejaculated with an em- 
 Dhasis of dismay.
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 221 
 
 "Oh, well," said Johnnie, "I'll talk lady- 
 fashion. It is," mincing up his mouth and 
 turning his head on one side, "it is per- 
 fectly e-elegant I the, swe-etest thing I ever 
 saw in my life ! " 
 
 "You did n't learn that from me," retorted 
 his mother, laughing. " Now talk common- 
 sense fashion. Are you really satisfied with 
 it?" 
 
 " I wouldn't take Howard's for it, mother ! 
 And his cost five dollars." 
 
 " A little that we contrive ourselves is of- 
 ten much more satisfactory than a great deal 
 contrived for us," said Mrs. Osburn. " I have 
 thought, sometimes, when I have turned and 
 Jrimmed up an old dress, that I liked it a 
 great deal better than if I had bought a new 
 one, and had it made by my dress-maker." 
 
 "But this isn't old," insisted Johnnie. 
 "It's new, and splendid! Don't that soft, 
 brown lining look nice, all the way through? 
 I'll get some black-walnut sawdust to put 
 the eggs in. That'll look first-rate among 
 the brown squares, won't it?"
 
 222 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 * I don't know," said Mrs. Osbum, 
 " whether it will be quite so appropriate 
 in a box like this, as in one of walnut it- 
 self. It might scatter, too, and soil the lin- 
 ing." 
 
 "That's so," said John. "But what can 
 I have? They look so nice on a dark color. 
 Cotton-wool don't show them off, at all." 
 
 "It should be something in keeping, I 
 think, with the other coloring of the box," 
 said Mrs. Osburn. "What if you were to 
 get some pretty specimens of moss, of dif- 
 ferent shades, and place your eggs on them. 
 You might do it quite artistically ; suiting 
 the color of the ^loss to that of the egg ; 
 for instance, the blue robin's egg on delicate 
 gray, the cream-colored partridge's on dark 
 green or brown, and light eggs, generally, on 
 the darker tints, and vice verfa." 
 
 " That '11 be just the very thing ! " exclaimed 
 John. "I'll have such a box as nobody else 
 ever saw ! I '11 go this afternoon and get the 
 moss." 
 
 " Only remember," said his mother, "that
 
 THE GEEEN BOX. 223 
 
 it will ouly do to use the dry kinds. That 
 beautiful bright-green moss, that you see 
 about the brook, would soil the box, and 
 not keep its color, either. Besides, you don't 
 want conspicuous shades, only back-grounds 
 to set off your eggs. They furnish the color- 
 ing. There are a great many pretty wood 
 and rock-mosses, that would be well worth 
 the trouble of obtaining. In this way, you 
 will have two collections in one." 
 
 " And I won't tell a single living soul till 
 it 's all done ! They '11 see if I can't get up 
 a box ! There 's more than one way to kill 
 a cat, besides choking her to death with 
 butter ! " 
 
 And, electrifying his mother with this ap- 
 plication of a proverb from Jacob's repertory, 
 he capered off out of the room. 
 
 The box stood, for firm and thorough dry- 
 ins, in Mrs. Osburn's window-seat all the 
 
 O ' 
 
 afternoon. Meanwhile, John searched wood 
 and pasture for every possible pretty variety 
 of moss.
 
 224 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 The next day, after his mother was seated, 
 for the morning 1 , in her own apartment, he 
 came to her with his basket, and began to 
 display his specimens. 
 
 " See here, mother !" he exclaimed. " Look 
 at these beautiful, broad pieces of light-green ! 
 I peeled them off a big rock in the High 
 Pasture. And these little, crispy, gray bits, 
 aren't they like frost on the window- 
 panes? I got off some trees in Farmer 
 Summons's woods. And here 's a lot of dark 
 brown; and there's some splendid cup-moss, 
 somewhere," he added, lifting up the pieces, 
 and searching deeper into the basket. " I 
 wish I could take them all out on some- 
 thing." 
 
 * Wait a minute," said Mrs. Osburn, aa 
 she reached to the bell-cord near her, and 
 pulled it. 
 
 "Jane," she said, to the girl who answered 
 the summons, " bring up, if you plea3e, 
 the large, old waiter from the dining-room 
 closet." 
 
 Upon this, when it came, John poured
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 225 
 
 out, comfortably, all his mosses, and pro- 
 ceeded to sort and select them. 
 
 "You will need to be very careful," said 
 his mother, "not to soil or scratch the lining 
 of your box, in putting in the bits of moss. 
 You must break the pieces a little smaller 
 than the squares you wish to fill, and then 
 finish the gaps with little choice scraps, such 
 as you can select and fit in." 
 
 "Yes," replied John; "and then here's 
 another thing. A good many of these pieces 
 are thin, and won't fill the squares up high 
 enough. They ought to be all even." 
 
 " I can give you some cotton to put in, 
 wherever it is necessary," said Mrs. Osburn. 
 
 After two or three trials, and with little 
 hints and helps from his mother, he became 
 quite expert at arranging the squares. 
 
 He first selected the egg that was to 
 occupy the space, and then the moss that 
 would best contrast with and set it off. 
 Then, from a large piece, he would break 
 the most beautiful fragment, and lay it care- 
 fully in ; filling up the corners and inters ticea 
 15
 
 226 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 with little spires or scales or cups to cor- 
 respond, and managing, usually, to make a 
 little depression, or cradle, where the egg 
 was to lie. Nothing could be prettier than 
 some of these little beds, and the delicate- 
 hued shells that rested in them. The con- 
 trasts of color the blending and grada- 
 tions of shade were a real study ; and he 
 was very glad of having his mother's eye 
 and taste to appeal to. She quite forgot her 
 own work ; and the whole morning, nearly, 
 slipped away, as they shifted and arranged 
 and consulted and admired. 
 
 The effect of the whole, at last, was very 
 beautiful. 
 
 "Where are you going to put it, John- 
 nie? "Mrs. Osburn asked. " It really is too 
 pretty to be hidden away, or to be left where 
 there will be any risk of injury. Had n't 
 you better let me find a place for it down- 
 stairs ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, mother ! " replied John, eagerly; 
 "it wouldn't seem as if it were really my 
 CWB. I can bring it down to show to people,
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 227 
 
 you know. I '11 take good care of it in my 
 room." 
 
 " As you do of all your other things ! Ah, 
 Johnnie ! " 
 
 "Well, I shall keep this all by itself, 
 somewhere ; in my wardrobe, I suppose. 
 But I don't believe the drawers are long 
 enough to hold it." 
 
 '' One of them is," said his mother." 
 
 "Why!" exclaimed Johnnie, surprised. 
 "They're all just .exactly alike." 
 
 "Are you sure? I think not." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I know they are. Just come 
 and see." 
 
 Mrs. Osburn smiled as she rose from her 
 seat and followed her son out of the room. 
 
 "There, mother!" and he confidently 
 threw open the doors of his wardrobe, for- 
 getting, in the triumph of showing he was 
 right, to be ashamed of the disorder be- 
 trayed. 
 
 "And there, Johnnie!" repeated his 
 mother. 
 
 She had stooped, and put her hand under 1
 
 228 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 the bottom of the wardrobe, and now, as she 
 spoke, slipped forward a long drawer, which 
 occupied the whole size of the piece of fur- 
 niture, and which John had never discov- 
 ered. 
 
 " Why, mother ! " he cried. " Why did n't 
 you ever tell me of that before ? " 
 
 " Was it worth while to provide an addi- 
 tional lumber-place?" 
 
 John looked a little ashamed. Pie closed 
 the wardrobe doors, to shut off the disarray 
 from view, and said nothing. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Osburn, "there you 
 have a nice, separate place, where you can 
 keep your eggs. I advise you not to throw 
 in any old boots on the top of them ! " 
 
 She made no further allusion to the state 
 of things above, but left the leaven to work. 
 
 John brought his beautiful dark-green box, 
 with its many- tinted contents, and placed it 
 in the drawer. It occupied nearly all its 
 width and half its length. A happy idea 
 struck him of a use to be made of the re- 
 maining space. He took down from the
 
 THE GREEN BOX. 229 
 
 upper shelf, where he had hitherto kept his 
 eggs, a number of pretty birds' nests, which 
 he had found empty in his rambles, and 
 brought home. These he laid in beside the 
 box. 
 
 His specimens were all safely and beauti- 
 fully arranged, at last. 
 
 " Order reigned in" at least one corner of 
 " Warsaw." But, somehow, as he turned 
 away he was not entirely satisfied. 
 
 He could not forget how it was behind 
 the doors.
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 KEFOEM. 
 
 No. John was very far from being satis- 
 fied. His first thought in the morning was 
 of his beautiful collection of eggs ; and he 
 jumped from his bed to pull out the invisi- 
 ble drawer, uncover the handsome green box, 
 and enjoy a fresh look at the order and per- 
 fection within. 
 
 Howard and Stephen came over, and ad- 
 mired as enthusiastically as he could wish. 
 Still, the having one thing, and that only, 
 complete and beautiful, discomforted him 
 with a continual, secret uneasiness. He 
 looked at it, and displayed it again and 
 again ; and wondered all the time, within 
 himself, why he didn't enjoy it more, after 
 all. 
 
 "I'll empty out that old wardrobe, from
 
 EEFORM. 231 
 
 top to bottom, this very day, and fix it up ; " 
 was the resolution he came to, at last, as he 
 woke on the second morning, and found that 
 it was raining, and no out-of-doors plan 
 could be made. 
 
 It happened to be the very day, however, 
 that Mr. Osburn had fixed for him to resume 
 his lessons. 
 
 ' I wish, father," said he, at breakfast, 
 this fact having recurred to him, " that I 
 need n't begin to study to-day." 
 
 "I dare say," replied his father. "But 
 what better thing do you propose to do?" 
 
 " I want to clear up my wardrobe ; it 
 looks like everything." 
 
 " Oh, very well ! If you have set yourself 
 that Herculean task, I certainly won't impose 
 any other upon you. Only, I shall expect 
 to see one of two things accomplished when 
 I return home, perfect order in the ward- 
 robe, and no traces visible of the process ; or, 
 half-a-dozen examples in Compound Numbers 
 correctly worked out and copied." 
 
 John joyfully agreed to the conditions ;
 
 232 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 although, perhaps, he hardly realized all that 
 was involved in the phrase " no traces visible." 
 He found it to be no insignificant part of 
 his pledge, when he had fairly investigated 
 the multifarious accumulations that loaded 
 shelves, drawers, and floor ; and considered 
 that these were not only to be cleared out, 
 but disposed of. 
 
 Fortunately, it was Jane's day for sweep- 
 ing that part of the house ; and she told him 
 "not to mind the rubbish; but leave it all 
 together on the floor, and she would take it 
 away." 
 
 So he first took down all his clothing from 
 the hooks, and laid it on the bed. Then he 
 got up in a chair, and explored the upper 
 shelves. All sorts of things had been thrown 
 up there from time to time, to find their own 
 lodgment, and take care of themselves. It was 
 a marvel how the box of eggs had escaped 
 demolition, an hundred times. There was the 
 tail of a kite, a bow without a string, 
 some arrows, a collapsed air-balloon, his 
 school satchel, some straps and scraps of
 
 KEFOEM. 233 
 
 leather, a couple of odd socks, a blue and 
 a white one, whereof the bereaved counter- 
 parts were thrust back disconsolately in one 
 of his drawers, the top stick of his missing 
 slate-frame, with sponge and pencil attached, 
 and a further catalogue of similar things, 
 which boys and their mothers can well im- 
 agine. Dust and fragments from the birds' 
 nests and bits of cotton-wool were intermin- 
 gled with all the rest ; and when John had 
 fairly faced it all, and glanced downward 
 upon the like heterogeneous heap on the 
 floor, he felt, for a moment, almost inclined 
 to give it up, and go to his half-dozen 
 examples in Compound Numbers. 
 
 It was well his father had imposed the 
 alternative. His mind inclined, I say, for 
 an instant, toward this ; but then it re- 
 coiled again, and swung back to its first 
 purpose. 
 
 "Ughl" he ejaculated, half in despair, 
 and half in determination. 
 
 And then he made a great onslaught upon 
 the shelf next the top, which was most of
 
 234 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 all chaotic, and brought down an armful of 
 its accumulation, which he deposited upon 
 the carpet. This operation he repeated, from 
 point to point, till he had cleared shelves 
 and floor of everything but dust. 
 
 Next, he proceeded to the task of assort- 
 ing. He made three piles ; one of mere 
 rubbish, which was to await Jane and her 
 dust-pan for final disposition ; one of articles 
 suitable to be replaced in his wardrobe ; and 
 a third of such things as might be useful to 
 him again at some time, and which he yet 
 did not wish to have lumbering his shelves. 
 These he must consult his mother about. 
 
 Borrowing a brush of Jane, he swept off 
 the dust and scraps, and then put neatly 
 away upon the upper shelf all that was wor- 
 thy of replacement out of the confusion that 
 had taken up three. Of the two that were 
 left vacant, he appropriated the lower one, 
 as being most accessible, to the bestowal of 
 his school-books, slate, and copy-book. 
 
 " If they only looked nicer," he said to 
 himself, " I would ask my mother for that
 
 REFORM. 235 
 
 little painted table up in the attic, and put 
 them on it in my window here, so that I 
 could sit right down to them every day, as 
 Howard does." 
 
 But, for the present, he only piled them 
 tidily together, on this lower shelf. 
 
 Then he went on to the emptying and 
 arranging of his drawers. Here, also, he 
 found that, when superfluities were removed, 
 and articles folded and laid compactly, there 
 remained two drawers quite clean and empty. 
 One of these he concluded to take for such 
 miscellaneous matters as he was sure to 
 want, and as might be placed there in or- 
 derly fashion. Jane very kindly disentan- 
 gled and wound for him his mass of string 
 into a shapely ball, which he deposited in 
 one corner with especial satisfaction ; both 
 for the convenience it would be to him to 
 have it thus in readiness for use, and for 
 the creat relief he felt that it would no 
 
 O 
 
 longer be spinning and snarling about every- 
 thing else upon the premises. 
 
 Now the jackets and trousers and other
 
 236 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 clothing remained to he hung in their places, 
 and all would be complete. But some of 
 these were soiled with dust and mud ac- 
 quired in recent expeditions, and had been 
 hastily hung up without proper attention. 
 He could not be content to put them back 
 in this state, where everything else had as- 
 sumed an aspect of neatness and regularity. 
 So he took them to his window, which over- 
 looked the flat roof of a back piazza, and 
 hung them out across the sill. Then he 
 obtained a clothes-broom from his moth- 
 er's dressing-room, with which he sprang 
 out upon -the piazza roof, and rubbed and 
 brushed away at the dangling legs, till they 
 were restored to very tolerable cleanliness ; 
 and at last, he disposed of them all upon their 
 separate hooks ; the nicer garments upon one 
 side, and the older ones, his "rampaging 
 suits," as he called them, upon the other, 
 with his little dressing-gown and night-gown 
 at the back. Shoes and slippers he set side 
 by side upon tho floor ; and then with n 
 long breath of intense self-congratulation, 
 he surveyed what he had done.
 
 REFORM. 237 
 
 The wearisome little imp Disorder 
 was cast out at last. 
 
 One little spot made beautiful had ended 
 BO in beautifying all the rest. 
 
 Was it not like the working of one little 
 good in character? 
 
 " Mother," said John, reporting himself a 
 few minutes afterward in Mrs. Osburn's 
 room, " I've got it all to rights, and it looks 
 first-rate. But there 's a parcel of stuff, odds 
 and ends, you know, that I haven't any 
 place to put. Can't I have an empty box in 
 the attic to stow them away in, and keep up 
 there until I want them? I can't get along 
 without some sort of a lumber-place." 
 
 " I suppose not," said his mother, smiling. 
 "I find it so myself. But then, I keep my 
 lumber-place as tidy, in its way, as any other 
 part of the house, especially since a certain 
 member of the family has been forbidden to 
 go there." 
 
 " Well, mother, I won't rummage, nor 
 throw things about. Truly. I'll only have 
 a box there to keep my own things in."
 
 238 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 " Very well. I will try you. You will 
 find, at the head of the stairs, a soap-box 
 that has just been emptied. You may have 
 that. But I advise you to put away your 
 things as nicely in it as you would in your 
 wardrobe. You will find the advantage 
 when you go to look for anything. Be- 
 sides, a truly orderly person is orderly out 
 of sight." 
 
 "Oh, yes, mother; I don't mean to have 
 any clutter anywhere. I could n't bear it, 
 having my drawer of eggs so nice, and things 
 all topsy-turvy above. It seems like a kind 
 of a lie." 
 
 " I was waiting and hoping for something 
 of this kind, Johnnie," said his mother, look- 
 ing very deeply pleased. " I had made up 
 my mind not to interfere any more with re- 
 monstrances, but to let you learn, as I was 
 sure you would, somehow, the beauty of a 
 better way."
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 THE LEAVEN WOEKS. 
 
 " MOTHER," said John, " couldn't I have a 
 new set of school-books, before I go to the 
 Academy ? " 
 
 "Do you mean new copies of those you 
 already have?" 
 
 "Yes, mother. My * Greenleaf is horrid. 
 And my geography has had ink spilt on 
 the cover. And then I must have a new 
 slate and a copy-book. I wish father would 
 get them for me, right off; and then I would 
 have things all nice in my piazza-window, 
 just as How' Sellinger has. I shouldn't 
 mind studying half so much. But I do 
 hate so to take down those looking things 
 to study with ! " 
 
 " I am heartily glad, Johnnie, that you 
 have begun to weary of untidiness. But,
 
 240 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 for all that, I do not think I ought to en- 
 courage you to throw aside what was bought 
 for you so little while ago. You will, un- 
 doubtedly, be obliged to have some new, ad- 
 ditional books, when you begin at a new 
 school, and the expense of furnishing them 
 will be quite enough. No, you will have 
 to smooth out the old ones as well as you 
 can." 
 
 "Oh, dear, mother! There's no such 
 thing as ' smooth ' to 'em ! And then my 
 slate-frame is gone. I can't, fix 'em up ! " 
 
 " Smooth your face, Johnnie. And then 
 bring all the things here. We '11 look them 
 over, and see what can be done." 
 
 John went to his room, and brought back 
 his whole collection in his arms. 
 
 "There, mother!" he exclaimed as he let 
 them all fall upon her sofa ; * ' Did you ever 
 see such a miserable lot? All my proper- 
 ty is in calamities, as that man told father ! " 
 
 " Let us just see how much of it can be 
 redeemed," said his mother, laughing. " In 
 the first place, I think we can find the rest
 
 THE LEAVEN WOKKS. 241 
 
 of the slate frame; and that, with your ex- 
 cellent carpentry, can soon be replaced. In 
 the general picking-up about the house, after 
 we moved in, I dare say it may have been 
 carried off, with other etceteras, to the attic. 
 There is a great box which stands just beyond 
 the pile of carpeting, in one corner, in which 
 Jane gathered up all sorts of things that were 
 too good to burn or throw away ; and if 
 you look there, you may very likely find the 
 other pieces." 
 
 "Well," said Johnnie, with not much ani- 
 mation, " but then, there are the books. 
 Carpentry won't help them any." 
 
 " One thing at a time," replied Mrs. Os- 
 burn. " Go and look for the slate-frame." 
 
 With a sort of vague confidence in his 
 mother's universal powers of restoration, and 
 almost of creation, John obeyed. 
 
 Singularly enough, the very topmost ar- 
 ticle upon the box was a side-piece of the 
 missing frame. By removing a few bulky 
 things, and searching deeper, he found, with 
 very little delay, the others. 
 16
 
 242 "A LITTL.E LEAVEX." 
 
 "But, mother," said he, "It's all notched, 
 and stained with ink. And it 's got my name 
 printed at both ends. I left out the ' r' the 
 first time." 
 
 " Carpentry will remedy the first trouble. 
 And then there is some very dark-brown 
 paint, I think at the stable. You might 
 paint the frame over." 
 
 " So I can," assented John, quite gleefully. 
 Unless it be a hammer and nails, there is 
 nothing a boy likes better to experiment 
 with than a pot of paint and a brush. 
 
 " This is such a little job, mother," he said, 
 " may n't I bring my things in here, and do 
 it? All I want is a knife, and a sliver of 
 wood to make pegs of." 
 
 " You may bring up the waiter that you 
 used the other day for the mosses. And 
 then you may get what you need from the 
 barn, paint and all." 
 
 John hastened off. His zeal in the mat- 
 ter was fully awakened, now. In a very fen 
 minutes, all the articles were collected, and 
 he set eagerly to work.
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 243 
 
 While he was thus busied, Mrs. Osburn, 
 with a paper-folder, smoothed out, patiently, 
 the turned-up corners of his books, leaf by 
 leaf; and then, going into her husband's 
 little library, she placed the volumes under 
 his heavy paper-press, which she screwed 
 down tightly, and so left them for a while. 
 
 Then she turned her attention to the copy- 
 book. There was still enough fair paper 
 left to be written over to make it well worth 
 using, at least until he should begin at school. 
 But the scrawls and blots in the early part 
 were simply disheartening. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn, however, was not without 
 a resource. She produced from her " Om- 
 nium Gatherum," as she called a small, shal- 
 low closet of shelves in her room, some sheets 
 of colored paper, from which she selected one 
 of a bright green shade. With a needle and 
 thread, she basted together the defaced leaves 
 of the book, fastening them back at the same 
 time to the cover. Then she cut and fitted 
 the green paper, so as to make a nice, fresh 
 covering to the whole, folding it in, the en-
 
 244 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 tire breadth of the book, and so concealing 
 behind it all but the fair sheets that remained 
 to be written. She pasted it down, careful- 
 ly, with mucilage, and then laid it away un- 
 der the other books in the press. 
 
 " Mother," said John, "I'm all ready to 
 paint. But how shall I set up the slate, 
 so as to paint all round at once ? " 
 
 " There is a tall, round, tin box in the closet, 
 with some tacks in it," said his mother, after 
 thinking a moment. " You may use that. 
 Rest the middle of the slate upon it, and 
 paint one side at a time. If you are careful, 
 you can turn it over without touching the 
 frame. But, wait a minute," she added, look- 
 ing at the paint-pot ; " I think I can make that 
 a better color. Run down and ask Jane for 
 her box of red ochre that she uses for the 
 bricks." 
 
 This obtained, she took a little from it upon 
 the end of her paper-folder, and dropped it 
 into the paint, stirring it in with the brush. 
 Trying it upon a bit of wood, she then shook 
 in a little more. Now it became of a fine, 
 dark reddish-brown, or mahogany color.
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 245 
 
 " That will do," she said. " I think you'll 
 have quite an elegant frame, after all." 
 
 John painted, and turned, and painted 
 again. Meantime, his mother made one 
 more search in his behalf, and brought forth 
 some nice, strong, dark-gray linen, from a 
 drawer. She removed his books from the 
 press, and made pretty covers for them with 
 this, pasting it down firmly, inside, with 
 mucilage. Then, she cut squares of white 
 paper, and printed upon them the titles, clear- 
 ly, with pen and ink. These she gummed 
 across the backs of the volumes. Now, for 
 a while, to prevent relapse, they must re- 
 turn into the press again. But first, John 
 seized them, and lifted up his voice in a 
 great rejoicing. 
 
 "Why, mother," he exclaimed, you've 
 made them all over new I They 're splen- 
 did ! I 'd rather keep them now, than not ! " 
 
 ' ' 1 suppose we shall say so of all our ' ca- 
 lamities,' Johnnie, when we have once found 
 out how to make the best of them." 
 
 When the slate-frame was dry, John var-
 
 246 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 niched it. It was now really very handsome, 
 His mother gave him a crimson silk cord, 
 and with this he fastened a new pencil and 
 piece of sponge to the top. 
 
 By the time all this was accomplished, 
 the books, too, were ready. They had re- 
 mained nearly two days in the press, and 
 the leaves were thoroughly straightened into 
 their places. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn consented that he should 
 have the painted table for his window, and 
 gave him a little Turkey-red table-cover with 
 a bright border. 
 
 You can't think what an air of cheerful- 
 ness seemed to break out over everything in 
 John's room, when he had set this in its 
 place, at right angles to the window, and 
 arranged upon it all his nice, dark-covered 
 books. His Atlas, covered to match, lay in 
 front. On this, his copy-book, contrasting 
 pleasantly, with its outside of brilliant green ; 
 and then his slate, with its shiny, mahogany 
 colored frame and crimson cord. 
 
 All spoke of daily occupancy and pleas-
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 247 
 
 ant work. He drew up his chair before it, 
 and sat down. 
 
 Opposite, at his right hand, was the ward- 
 robe, with its gloss of freshness still upon it, 
 and, as John knew, in perfect order within, 
 from top to bottom. Yes, to his precious 
 box of eggs, that lay there safely, in all its 
 beauty, and had truly been at the bottom of 
 the great reform. 
 
 His story-books were on a tiny set of 
 hanging shelves, in the middle space of the 
 wall at one side of the wardrobe. These, 
 also, he had collected, astray in corners 
 about the house, and replaced compactly. 
 Upon the opposite space of wall his mother 
 had hung a beautiful Bible picture, the 
 Calling of Samuel. 
 
 This little ante-room, before the arch, looked 
 now like a sort of library. All the sleeping 
 and dressing arrangements' were beyond. 
 
 He brought his little Bible from the book- 
 shelf, and laid it with his school-books, for 
 everv-day use. The like placing of Howard's 
 had silently spoken its lesson.
 
 248 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 All these may seem very trifling details; 
 but it was just by means of these that the 
 "little leaven," which was precisely what he 
 needed, got into Johnnie's life. 
 
 " You must pick up your things, Johnnie ! " 
 ' You really ought not to leave everything 
 about so ! " 
 
 "Master Johnnie, it's a shame for you to 
 make such a clutter ! " " Your clothes are 
 in such confusion ! " 
 
 Reproofs and remonstrances like these, 
 unavoidable as they were, had come to give 
 John only a general sense of discomfort, and 
 of the necessity for a certain external acqui- 
 escence, which he always felt as an interrup- 
 tion and a "bother." He had learned, as be 
 could not help but learn, from his constant 
 experience, that Disorder was a bad thing ; 
 but the absolute good of perfect and pre- 
 vailing Order, as available to himself, he 
 had never before seized hold of and taken 
 in. 
 
 Radiating from the pleasant little room, 
 went forth, now, a sunny influence of im
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 249 
 
 provement, over his whole daily life. Hi? 
 lessons were punctually and carefully pre 
 pared, and then the cheerfulness of " duty 
 done" went with him into his other occupa- 
 tions. He was more observant of personal 
 neatness. He grew more careful of his clothes. 
 He became unwilling to hang away anything 
 that he had soiled or torn among garments 
 that were nice and ready for wearing. 
 
 He enjoyed, more than ever, visiting How- 
 ard Sellinger in his room, and noticing all 
 his nice and ingenious arrangements. He 
 felt, all the while, that he had something to 
 return to at home that was not unworthy in 
 the comparison. So good, in all things, 
 draws to good, to be encouraged and con- 
 firmed ; while evil shrinks away, uneasy and 
 ashamed. 
 
 Week after week, the same instinct of 
 thoroughness, of -having all in keeping, 
 of Truth and Order, in short, worked 
 insensibly, into other things. 
 
 The quietness and beauty of his own little 
 room had come to seem like a presence there,
 
 250 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 that reproved him, if he went into it after 
 having given way to selfishness or ill-temper 
 with Kathie or the servants. 
 
 Coming, nicely dressed, as he now did 
 oftener than he used, into the drawing- 
 room for a moment, to find a lady sitting 
 with his mother, perhaps ; greeting her in 
 the courteous manner he had been taught, 
 and catching, as he did sometimes, a word 
 in praise of his " gentlemanliness," as he 
 departed ; how could he but be reminded, 
 if he had, in any impatience or disappoint- 
 ment, spoken disrespectfully to his mother, 
 when he had been alone with her, but a 
 little while before? 
 
 Such contradictions came to press upon 
 him painfully, whenever they were evident ; 
 for John was an innately truthful boy. He 
 came to feel, in an instance of the sort, that 
 it was " a kind of a lie," as he had said of 
 the old disorder in his wardrobe. And so, 
 he could not contentedly rest in the con- 
 sciousness of one point of improvement 
 made, letting all the rest go. The order-
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 251 
 
 ing of character would be, now, like the 
 other ordering. Once begun, he would 
 never be able to leave off till every corner 
 should be cleaned out, the last speck of dust 
 and rubbish swept away, and all set fair and 
 true, " from top to bottom." 
 
 There was a rapid and marked develop- 
 ment of good in him, during these bright 
 weeks of late summer and early autumn. 
 
 He had passed a birthday, now, and was, 
 in his twelfth year. He had been examined, 
 and entered into the Academy ; taking rank 
 in a class of boys among whom were several 
 considerably older than himself. His ambi- 
 tion was awakened to hold his place, and do 
 himself credit. All things seemed to work 
 together, a single right impetus once given, 
 to incite and help him to improve. 
 
 He liked to keep his Bible upon his study- 
 table, among his other books of daily use. 
 It had given him a stronger feeling of liking 
 and respect for Howard, from the moment 
 he had noticed his so placed. But the keep- 
 ing it there was but a daily hypocrisy, if it
 
 252 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 remained unopened. If he had had no other 
 motive, he was too true for that. And so, 
 he came to reading it regularly and faithfully 
 every morning, as he felt sure Howard did. 
 
 Do you see how a boy, unconsciously and 
 silently, acknowledged his Master, and let 
 his light shine? 
 
 Do you see how the leaven of a little thing 
 was working to great good? 
 
 One beautiful, golden afternoon in early 
 September, the Sellingers all came over to 
 take tea with the Osburns. 
 
 Professor Bellinger had been staying, for a 
 day or two, at his brother's house, and he 
 and Howard were to leave Chequasset the 
 next morning, and return to New York. 
 
 The three boys had very nearly monopo- 
 lized him during his stay ; and very willingly 
 monopolized he was. He had gone over all 
 their favorite walks and wood-haunts with 
 them, and had found new beauties for them, 
 and opened their eyes to new knowledge at 
 almost every step.
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 253 
 
 Now, while the other older members of 
 the party were gathered in the great upper 
 hall, near what Mrs. Osburn had named her 
 " sunset window," and, quietly seated there, 
 were enjoying what Johnnie called " grown 
 folks' talk," the boys had laid violent 
 hands upon the Professor, and carried him 
 off to the brook, to see or explain some new 
 wonder. 
 
 The truth was, they must needs keep up 
 some constant little bustle and excitement, 
 lest the thought of these last hours of their 
 pleasant summer companionship should come 
 back upon them with too unwelcome a re- 
 minder. 
 
 "Jest look there," cried Jacob, as he met 
 them coming back over Cedar Bridge; "in 
 that air patch o' corn ! Ther's a reg'lar 
 camp-meetin' o' swallcrs ! Or a caucus, 
 I donno which. Anyhow, they're settlin* 
 matters up, spcrritooal or p'litical ; an' in 
 a few days more, they '11 all be off." 
 
 " Oh, dear, me ! " sighed Johnnie, " all the 
 nice tilings are going together ! It don't
 
 254 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 seem as if it could be time for the birds to 
 go. It isn't a minute, hardly, since they 
 were building their mud nests." 
 
 " We've had many a good time since then, 
 though," said Stephen. 
 
 Yes, the swallows were truly holding a 
 fall convention. It was a little late, even 
 now, for it. But the summer days had been 
 beautifully prolonged, this year, and scarcely 
 a chill wind or a storm had come, as yet, to 
 remind them of their flitting-time. 
 
 Johnnie almost forgot to be sorry, pres- 
 ently, in watching them. Fluttering up and 
 down over the corn-patch, settling in close 
 groups among its stalks, coming, in cease- 
 less accessions, from every direction, it 
 seemed as if all the birds, for miles around, 
 were gathering to this one spot. The whir 
 of their numberless wings, theii eager chatter, 
 and incessant wheelings and shiftings, were 
 exceedingly curious and exciting to listen to 
 and behold. 
 
 "I'm afraid my mother won't see them," 
 exclaimed Johnnie, suddenly ; and he started 
 off, in great haste, toward the house.
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 255 
 
 The next moment his voice sounded from 
 the foot of the front staircase. 
 
 " Mother ! There 's such a lot of swallows, 
 out in the corn-patch, as you never saw ! It 's 
 black with 'em, and they're coming all the 
 time ! Go out to my room, please ; you can 
 Bee them nicely from there." 
 
 And then he ran back to the Professor and 
 the boys. 
 
 He was neither afraid nor ashamed, now, 
 to ask his mother and her friends to go into 
 his room. 
 
 Mrs. Osburn led the way around, through 
 her dressing-room, to John's chamber ; whence, 
 as he had said, they could look directly down 
 upon the corn-patch, and the restless flock 
 of birds. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Osburn, " Johnnie has 
 got to part with his swallows. With all his 
 ornithological researches, I don't think any 
 have interested him more than they. He has 
 watched them through the whole season. 
 They were building when we first came 
 here."
 
 256 "A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 "Is this John's room?" asked Mr. Bellin- 
 ger, looking about him with real interest and 
 admiration. The sun had gone round from 
 that end of the house, and the blinds were 
 thrown open. The soft, mellow scent of the 
 air, and the bright afternoon glow from sky 
 and landscape, poured in and pervaded the 
 chamber. The pure light fell upon nothing 
 discrepant or unsightly. There were some 
 added embellishments since the day of the 
 grand revolutionizing that we know of. In 
 each window hung a little pot of German ivy, 
 that Mrs. Osburn had given Johnnie from a 
 number that she had been raising. A great, 
 beautiful, many-horned, pink-lined shell a 
 piece of John's property, given him by an 
 old ship-master, an acquaintance of Mr. 
 Osburn, and reclaimed from some other corner 
 of the house to place here stood upon a 
 little bracket, and held a few bright-leaved 
 sprays of a trailing vine that John had al- 
 ready discovered in a wood walk. Some 
 large, curious birds'-nests, too large for 
 the drawer, with the mossy boughs upon
 
 THE LEAVEN WORKS. 257 
 
 which they were built, had been fastened 
 ugainst the walls. 
 
 " Is this John's room? What a very 
 sumptuous suit of apartments ! He must be 
 a proud and happy boy here. But all his 
 arrangements declare that." 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Osburn, "Johnnie has, 
 somehow, been inoculated with the love of 
 order, I think." 
 
 " Not inoculated," replied his wife. " Mor- 
 ally, that process doesn't often succeed. He 
 has taken it the natural way, from Howard 
 Sellinger." 
 
 " Howard, certainly, has been of great good 
 to him," said Mr. Osburn. 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Osburn, " it began with 
 that egg-collecting. Johnnie could n't arrange 
 those beautiful things with the method and 
 care he has done, and be content with in- 
 congruity elsewhere. From one thing to an- 
 other, he has gone on, reforming his fash- 
 ions ; and improving, I can very well see, in 
 many other ways."' 
 
 That 's the secret," said Mr. Sellinger. " If 
 17
 
 258 " A LITTLE LEAVEN." 
 
 we can only get just one thing right, in or 
 outside of us, it is n't in our nature to rest 
 until all is so. * A little leaven leavens the 
 whole lump.'" 
 
 " And if one life shines, the next life to it 
 must catch the light." 
 
 ** All we have to do, any of us, I think," 
 said Mrs. Sellinger, " is just to shine. I 
 have long since made up my mind that the 
 only real good, great or small, is communi- 
 cated so, from life to life. We take from 
 one, and pass on to another. It is the in- 
 fection of excellence." 
 
 "You touch the border of a great truth," 
 said the minister, reverently ; "it is the 
 Leaven of the Kingdom, the Christ-work 
 in the world. The true apostleship and spir- 
 itual succession." 
 
 THE END.
 
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