"I didn't find it in a book. I found it in a paper."
"Are you sure you can say it without being prompted?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am!"
"Very well. I shall call you the first one after recess."
"The Thunder Storm, by Richard Stuart," called out the teacher at the appointed time.
Richard rose from his seat, and with a slight flush on his face, took his position on the platform, bowed and commenced, with great animation:
"The thunder roared,
The clouds grew big,
The lightning flashed,
And killed a pig."
He had made his parting bow and taken his seat, before either his teacher, or the scholars, had time to recover from their surprise. Miss Wheeler stood in front of her desk, a little ruler, with which she thumped upon it to call the scholars to order, in her hand, staring at the place where the boy ought to be, but where he was not. Then recovering herself in a degree, she glanced toward Richard, whose eyes were fixed on a book before him, a suspicious smile playing about his mouth. She could endure it no longer; but burst into a hearty laugh in which all the scholars joined.
"Richard," said the teacher after school, "how came you to get such a piece as that? I supposed from the name it would be very fine."
"I thought it was a good one; and it was easy to learn. I said it to father first."