"That means that you have something."
"Well, yes; a little one. But I don't think very much of it."
This didn't satisfy us. Jimmy, like many greater artists, was a poor judge of his own productions. Some of his ballads of which he had been proudest were so long and dull that we had almost told him they were failures; but it would have required a very hard-hearted boy to say anything unpleasant to Jimmy. Others, which he thought little of, the boys would call for again and again.
"Let us hear it, please," said Ned.
"I'm afraid I've left it at home," said Jimmy, feeling in his pockets. "Oh, no; here it is."
So we sat down on the horse-block in front of the Quaker meeting-house, and while Ned whittled the edge of the block—which had not been rounded off quite enough, by previous jack-knives, to suit his fancy—Jimmy read his newest ballad.
"It is called 'The Unlucky Fishermen,'" said he; "and you will probably recognize some of the characters.
| "Joe Chase and Isaac Holman, They would a-fishing go; They rose at sunrise Friday morn, And called their dog Fido." |
"What!" said Ned, interrupting, "the little yellow cur that Joe bought of Clam Jimmy for a six-pence?"
"Yes, that's the one."