What do you think happens when the weights which make the clock go get down, down, to the very bottom of the clock? Why, then they have to wind them up to the top again, and they begin anew.
JONAS.
One fine summer evening a gentleman came riding down a hill in a country covered with pleasant farm houses, green fields, and little groups of trees. He had a small boy in the wagon with him.
There was a brook at the bottom of the hill. A bridge was built over the brook, and the road passed over the bridge. The horse and waggon, with the gentleman and his boy in it, went swiftly over the bridge and up the hill; but just as they began to ascend, one of the traces broke.
One of the traces? What is a trace? Do you know my boy? The traces are those long, stout straps of leather which pass along the sides of the horse, and are fastened to the waggon. The horse draws a waggon, or a chaise, by means of the traces. Therefore they are always made very strong. You can see a picture of some traces in “Rollo learning to Talk,” a book about as large as this, at the story of a Goat for a Horse. The next time you take a ride, I advise you to look at the traces on the horse, and see how strong they are. See too how they are fastened to the horse, and how they are fastened to the chaise.
If one of the traces should give way, that is, should break, in going up a hill, what do you think would be the consequence? Why, the waggon would go back, partly held by the other trace. That was the way with this waggon; it went back, the horse was frightened, the gentleman jumped out, the boy called out, “whoa,—whoa,—WHOA.”
It did not do any good. Boys had better be still when there is any difficulty.
The waggon backed until, just as it was going off the bank, a boy ran up and put a stone behind the wheel. That stopped it.
This was not the boy who was in the waggon. It was another boy. The gentleman had not seen him before. He had on light colored clothes, a patched jacket, and an old straw hat; one side of the brim was almost worn out with catching butterflies; the knees of his trousers were stained with the grass. The gentleman looked at him a minute, and said “thank you, my boy.” Then he began to look at the harness. When the gentleman had examined the traces, he found that the leather was not broken; it was only the tongue of a buckle by which the trace was fastened that was gone; for the harness was new, and the waggon was a handsome one.