"Ah, then I should have died too!" said Dicky, wiping the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "But how came you to load the pistol last night, father?"
"Because," replied his father, "I thought I heard something fall in the parlor, and the passage-door being directly after shut to in a still manner. I loaded the pistols, thinking that thieves had broken into the house, and pushed up the sash to shoot the first that came out."
"Then it was lucky," said Richard, "I did not come out again, or you might have killed me; for I got up in the night to let Juno out of the shed, where I had tied her up, and she was making a sad howling. Indeed, before I was aware, she ran into the parlor, and, as it was quite dark, I tumbled over her."
"And broke the geranium tree," added his father.
"Yes, I did indeed," said Dicky, "but I did not go to do it. After that I turned Juno into the yard, and this I dare say is all the noise you heard."
"There is an old saying, my dear little friends," said Mr. Random, "which I wish you to attend to, because it has a great deal of truth in it: 'The pitcher that goes often safe to the well may come home broken at last.' And so, though the thoughtless and giddy may go on for a long while without danger, it will overtake them sooner or later. Here is a strong instance of escape from the consequences which might have attended Richard's thoughtlessness; besides which, his mother could get no more sleep all night, and I, after running the risk of catching cold in searching over the house, have this morning been at the expense of new fastenings to the doors and windows. The next time, however, you rise, Richard, to alarm the family, you shall in future roost with the hens or bed in the stable."
Dicky now thought that his parent's resentment had subsided, and, upon the latter's calling to him to come, he sprang across the room with the greatest alertness; but how suddenly was his smile cast down when Mr, Random, taking his hand, ordered him to wish his young friends much mirth and a good appetite, while he was going to be punished for his misconduct. At once were all their little hands put out to prevent Mr. Random's resolution of taking him away, but all their petitions were in vain. Richard was forced into an empty cellar, and left with no other companion than a glimmering rushlight. Here he was told he might do as much mischief as he pleased. The iron bars kept him from getting out on one side, and the door was padlocked on the other. In this dilemma he marched round and round, crying, with his little candle, and saw stuck on the walls the following lines:
"Empty caves and commons wild
Best befit a thoughtless child,