How new and clean it looked! The workmen had gone, and no one was in sight.
"What a nice playhouse it would make," thought the boy. Then he stepped carefully into the wheel.
"This is my castle," said Bertie to himself, "and the brook is the river Rhine, and"—
Bertie did not finish his sentence. Suddenly there was a terrible roaring over his head, and the wheel began to go slowly around. The next thing the boy knew he was lying upon a pile of blocks and shavings, feeling very much as if he had been through his mother's sausage-mill, but very thankful that he was not still going around that swiftly-moving wheel. He was not very much hurt, but it was a long time before he cared to look at the water-wheel again.
JAMIE.
One day lit-tle Jam-ie went with some friends to see some mov-ing pic-tures and a play called "The Johns-town Flood." He had been told the sto-ry be-fore and knew how it turned out. So he sat ver-y still through three acts, and then he saw a man who had been giv-en the name of "Paul Re-vere" just for that play, be-cause he was go-ing to do some-thing such as a real and great Paul Revere once did, more than a hun-dred years be-fore, a thing to warn the land of dan-ger and help the peo-ple to be free.
The man in the play had to mount a horse and gal-lop down a val-ley shout-ing to the peo-ple to go to the hills to get out of the way of a great flood which had bro-ken out from a res-er-voir a-bove the cit-y.
Just then, as the man mount-ed the horse, on the stage, little Jam-ie left his seat and ran home as fast as he could.