“Did you ever hear,” said Mr. Harwood, “that a pigeon eats its own weight of food every day? Now, I am sure, you and I know one boy in the world, Peter, who could do as much.”

“What is to be done with that prodigious cake you carried up here, Mr. Harwood?” answered Peter, casting a devouring eye upon it; “the crust seems as hard as a rhinoceros’ skin, but I dare say it is very good. One could not be sure though, without tasting it! I hope you are not going to take the trouble of carrying that heavy load back again?”

“How very polite you are become all on a sudden, Peter!” said Laura, laughing. “I should be very sorry to attempt carrying that cake to the bottom of the hill, for we would both roll down, the shortest way, together.”

“I am not over-anxious to try it either,” observed Charles Forrester, shaking his head. “Even Peter, though his mouth is constantly ajar, would find that cake rather heavy to carry, either as an inside or an outside passenger.”

“I can scarcely lift it at all!” continued Laura, when Mr. Harwood had again tied it up in the towel; “what can be done?”

“Here is the very best plan!” cried Harry, suddenly seizing the prodigious cake; and before any body could hinder him, he gave it a tremendous push off the steepest part of Arthur’s Seat, so that it rolled down like a wheel, [62] ]over stones and precipices, jumping and hopping along with wonderful rapidity, amidst the cheers and laughter of all the children, till at last it reached the bottom of the hill, when a general clapping of hands ensued.

“Now for a race!” cried Harry, becoming more and more eager. “The first boy or girl who reaches that cake shall have it all to himself!”

Mr. Harwood tried with all his might to stop the commotion, and called out that they must go quietly down the bank, for Harry had no right to give away the cake, or to make them break their legs and arms with racing down such a hill: but he might as well have spoken to an east wind, and asked it not to blow. The whole party dispersed, like a hive of bees that has been upset; and in a moment they were in full career after the cake.

Some of the boys tried to roll down, hoping to get on more quickly. Others endeavoured to slide, and several attempted to run, but they all fell; and many of them might have been tumblers at Sadler’s Wells, they tumbled over and over so cleverly. Peter Grey’s hat was blown away, but he did not stop to catch it. Charlie Hume lost his shoe, Robert Fordyce sprained his ancle

, and every one of the girls tore her frock. It was a frightful scene; such devastation of bonnets and jackets as had never been known before; while Mr. Harwood looked like the General of a defeated army, calling till he became hoarse, and running till he was out of breath, vainly trying thus to stop the confusion, and to bring the stragglers back in better order.