Then his father took him by the collar, and stood him up, and saw at once what was the matter. Que had sprained his ankle.
It seemed to Que, during the next four weeks, as if that ankle never would heal; but it did at last, and John Lee, who had carried the mail in the mean time, was loath to give the job to Que again. He felt for Que through his pain, but charged him one twelfth of fifty dollars for doing his work a month, and would like to do it a while longer.
There isn’t much more to tell of Que as a mail-boy. The end of the year found him the possessor of forty-five dollars and five shillings.
The next year the Point afforded a horse, and Que took the mail on the horse’s back; the year following they had a horse and wagon, and Que drove that; when they have a railway I have no doubt Que will be a conductor; and when the mail is blown through a tunnel, Que, of course, will blow it.
Even the second snag, you see, needn’t lay you a dead weight on the earth.
Mary B. Harris.
WHAT THE CLOCK SAYS.
THE clock’s loud tick
Says, “Time flies quick.”
“Listen,” says the chime;
“Make the most of time,
For remember, young and old,
Minutes are like grains of gold;
Spend them wisely, spend them well,
For their worth can no man tell.”