"Glad!" said Phonny, looking up surprised, and somewhat displeased. "What are you glad for?"
"For the sake of the fishes," said Beechnut.
"Hoh!" said Phonny. "And the other day, when I did catch some, you said you were glad of that."
"Yes," said Beechnut, "then I was glad for your sake. There is always a chance to be glad for some sake or other, happen what may."
This, though very good philosophy, did not appear to be just at that time at all satisfactory to Phonny.
"I have had nothing but ill-luck all this afternoon," said Phonny, in a pettish tone. "That great ugly black horse of Thomas's trod on my foot."
"Did he?" said Beechnut; his countenance brightening up at the same time, as if Phonny had told him some good news.
"Yes," said Phonny, "Thomas came along near where I was fishing, and I laid down my fishing-line, and went up to the horse, and was standing by his head, and he trod on my foot dreadfully."
"Did he?" said Beechnut, "I am very glad of that."
"Glad of that!" repeated Phonny. "I don't see whose sake you can be glad of that for. I am sure it did not do the horse any good."
"I am glad of that for your sake," said Beechnut. "There never was a boy that grew up to be a man, that did not have his foot trod upon at some time or other by a horse. There is no other possible way for them to learn that when a horse takes up his foot, he will put it down again wherever it happens, and if a boy's foot is under it, it will get trod upon. There is no possible way for boys to learn that but by experiencing it. The only difference is, that some boys take the treading light, and others get it heavy. You have got it light. So if you have only learned the lesson, you have learned it very easily, and so I am glad."
"No, it was not light," said Phonny. "It was very heavy. What makes you think it was light?"
"By your walking," replied Beechnut. "I have known some boys that when they took their lesson in keeping out of the way of horses' forefeet, could not stand for a week after it. You have had most excellent luck, you may depend."
By the time that Beechnut and Phonny reached the house, Malleville had put on her bonnet and was ready to go. Mary Erskine said that she would go with them a little way. Bella and Albert then wanted to go too. Their mother said that she had no objection, and so they all went along together.
"Did you know that we were going to have a new road?" said Mary Erskine to Beechnut.
"Are you?" asked Phonny eagerly.
"Yes," said Mary Erskine. "They have laid out a new road to the corner, and are going to make it very soon. It will be a very good wagon road, and when it is made you can ride all the way. But then it will not be done in time for my raspberry party."
"Your raspberry party?" repeated Phonny, "what is that?'
"Did not I tell you about it? I am going to invite you and all the children in the village that I know, to come here some day when the raspberries are ripe, and have a raspberry party,-like the strawberry party that we had to-day. There are a great many raspberries on my place."
"I'm very glad," said Malleville. "When are you going to invite us?"
"Oh, in a week or two," said Mary Erskine. "But then the new road will not be done until the fall. They have just begun it. We can hear them working upon it in one place, pretty soon."
The party soon came to the place which Mary Erskine had referred to. It was a point where the new road came near the line of the old one, and a party of men and oxen were at work, making a causeway, across a low wet place. As the children passed along, they could hear the sound of axes and the voices of men shouting to oxen. Phonny wished very much to go and see. So Mary Erskine led the way through the woods a short distance, till they came in sight of the men at work. They were engaged in felling trees, pulling out rocks and old logs which were sunken in the mire, by means of oxen and chains, and in other similar works, making all the time loud and continual vociferations, which resounded and echoed through the forest in a very impressive manner.
What interested Phonny most in these operations, was to see how patiently the oxen bore being driven about in the deep mire, and the prodigious strength which they exerted in pulling out the logs. One of the workmen would take a strong iron chain, and while two others would pry up the end of a log with crow-bars or levers, he would pass the chain under the end so raised, and then hook it together above. Another man would then back up a pair of oxen to the place, and sometimes two pairs, in order that they might be hooked to the chain which passed around the log. When all was ready, the oxen were started forward, and though they went very slowly, step by step, yet they exerted such prodigious strength as to tear the log out of its bed, and drag it off, roots, branches, and all, entirely out of the way.
Monstrous rocks were lifted up and dragged out of the line of the road in much the same manner.
After looking at this scene for some time, the party returned to the old road again, and there Mary Erskine said that she would bid her visitors good-bye, and telling them that she would not forget to invite them to her raspberry party, she took leave of them and went back toward her own home.
"If all the children of the village that Mary Erskine knows, are invited to that party," said Phonny, "what a great raspberry party it will be!"
"Yes," said Beechnut, "it will be a raspberry jam."
THE END.