You’ll say, now, “I guess that race was enough for you!” But you’re wrong; for I’ve had several trips since; and now you’ve a perfect right to retort, “Well! you are a bigger balloonatic than I took you for.”
Perhaps you’re right.
AUGUST’S “’SPERIMENT.”
August was rather a troublesome boy. Generous and jolly,—his playmates called him a firstrate good fellow, but older people complained that he was curious, meddlesome, and always “cluttering round.”
But here is mamma’s opinion:
“August was born to be busy. He is inventive too. He asks questions to gain information, and he handles things to see how they are made.”
“What is he tinkering at now, mamma?” asked Tom. “He has got hold of an old, old book, full of f ss, and all yellow; he’s rigged two pans in a barrel, and bought a naptha lamp, and locked us all out of the attic.”
“And he just came in with a covered basket, mamma,” said Katie, “carrying it ever so carefully. I was jumping rope in the hall, and he asked me not to joggle. What do you suppose he was doing, mamma?”