The leap, however, had been somewhat too vigorous, and Mr. Jinks found one of his grasshopper legs under the animal; while the other extended itself at right-angles, in a horizontal position, to the astonishment of the hostler standing by.
"All right!" cried Ralph, with a roar of laughter.
And setting spur to the terrified animal, he darted from the door, followed by general laughter and applause, with which the clattering of Mr. Jinks' sword, and the cries he uttered, mingled pleasantly. This was the manner in which Jinks set out for revenge.
CHAPTER XXXII.
AN OLD BIBLE.
On the morning of the day upon which the events we have just related occurred, little Redbud was sitting at her window, reading by the red light of sunrise.
If anything is beautiful in this world, assuredly it is the fresh, innocent face of a child, flooded with the deep gold of sunrise, and with cheeks still bathed in the delicate rose-bloom of slumber.
Morning and childhood go together, as all things pure, and fresh, and tender do; and in the face of the child, sitting there in the quiet morning, an imaginative mind might have discerned, without difficulty, more than one point of resemblance. The dews sparkling like diamonds on the emerald grasses, were not brighter or fresher than her eyes;—the merry breeze might have been gayer, but had not half as much thoughtful joy and tenderness as her gentle laugh;—the rosy flush of morning, with all its golden splendor, as of fair Aurora rising to her throne, was not more fair than the delicate cheek.
In a single word, Miss Redbud—about whom we always grow extravagant—was a worthy portion of the bright, fresh morning; and the hardest-hearted individual who ever laughed at childhood, and innocence and joy, (and there are some, God help them,) would have thought the place and time more cheerful and inspiring for her presence.
Redbud had been reading from a book which lay upon the window-sill. The idle breeze turned over the leaves carelessly as though, like a child, it were looking for pictures; and the words, "From dear Mamma," were seen upon the fly-leaf—in the rough uncouth characters of childhood.