And such wonderful kites as he could make! They quite astonished the whole neighborhood, birds and all. A famous one which he made was, as he declared, a genuine portrait of a round-shouldered, bullet-headed member of Congress he had seen, whose brains being made of feathers, were just the very ones to go off in a high wind, at a tangent, and never touch any sensible thing, or cut even a curve in the air, much less a difficult question. So the member of Congress was painted on an immense sheet of tissue paper, and furnished with an exceedingly long tail, made of scraps of cotton-wadding tied on a string at intervals of four inches, and so light that it balanced his brains to perfection. When he was finished, he was dubbed “The Honorable Mr. Kite;” and many a fine day did the honorable gentleman air his feather-brains over the broad fields, and look down with his stupid fat face at the delighted boys, who all took turns in giving him a “flier.”
The Hon. Mr. Kite.
But perhaps the very best of Johnny’s social accomplishments came out on rainy days, when he told stories without end, so excellent was his memory of what he had read or heard; and the bright play of his features added so much to the interest, that the boys declared, when they came to read the very same stories in books, as sometimes happened, they did not seem one quarter as good. I really feel tempted to tell you one of them, though, like the boys, you will lose three-quarters of the interest because you do not get it direct from him. Shall I.
Aunt Fanny had read thus far in her manuscript, when she paused, looked up, and repeated, “Shall I?”
“Oh, yes! yes! if you please,” cried all the children.
“But it won’t seem more than a quarter as entertaining.”
“Oh, you funny Aunt Fanny! you know we shall like it just as well—better. But tell us, did you hear that jolly Johnny Goodfellow tell a story?”
“Of course I did,” she answered, “and this is the way he did it. First, let’s all sit down on the carpet.”