One fine summer evening a gentleman came riding down a hill in a country covered with pleasant farm houses, green fields, and little groups of trees. He had a small boy in the wagon with him.

There was a brook at the bottom of the hill. A bridge was built over the brook, and the road passed over the bridge. The horse and waggon, with the gentleman and his boy in it, went swiftly over the bridge and up the hill; but just as they began to ascend, one of the traces broke.

One of the traces? What is a trace? Do you know my boy? The traces are those long, stout straps of leather which pass along the sides of the horse, and are fastened to the waggon. The horse draws a waggon, or a chaise, by means of the traces. Therefore they are always made very strong. You can see a picture of some traces in “Rollo learning to Talk,” a book about as large as this, at the story of a Goat for a Horse. The next time you take a ride, I advise you to look at the traces on the horse, and see how strong they are. See too how they are fastened to the horse, and how they are fastened to the chaise.

If one of the traces should give way, that is, should break, in going up a hill, what do you think would be the consequence? Why, the waggon would go back, partly held by the other trace. That was the way with this waggon; it went back, the horse was frightened, the gentleman jumped out, the boy called out, “whoa,—whoa,—WHOA.”

It did not do any good. Boys had better be still when there is any difficulty.

The waggon backed until, just as it was going off the bank, a boy ran up and put a stone behind the wheel. That stopped it.

This was not the boy who was in the waggon. It was another boy. The gentleman had not seen him before. He had on light colored clothes, a patched jacket, and an old straw hat; one side of the brim was almost worn out with catching butterflies; the knees of his trousers were stained with the grass. The gentleman looked at him a minute, and said “thank you, my boy.” Then he began to look at the harness. When the gentleman had examined the traces, he found that the leather was not broken; it was only the tongue of a buckle by which the trace was fastened that was gone; for the harness was new, and the waggon was a handsome one.

“I wish I had a piece of twine to fasten it with, till we get home,” said he to his son, as he felt in his pockets. He then looked around to see where the little fellow was who had trigged the wheel. Do you know what I mean by trigging the wheel? The boy was sitting on the trunk of a tree, by the side of the road, and as the gentleman turned around to see him, he was just pulling out a long piece of twine from his pocket.

“Here is a string, sir,” said he; and he got up and came to the gentleman. He seemed tired however, for he went back and sat down again immediately.

“I thank you,” said he, “but I am afraid it is not strong enough.”

“You can double and twist it,” said the boy.

They twisted the string, and then doubled it and twisted it again, and so tied the harness. The gentleman and his son then got into the waggon again, and were going to ride up the hill. The gentleman hesitated a moment whether he ought to offer to pay the boy for his string or not. Do you think he ought to?

“I would pay him,” whispered his little son; “he looks like a poor boy.”

“Yes,” replied his father,“but perhaps he would make a bad use of the money. Perhaps his father and mother would not like to have him have any money.”

“Why cannot you ask him?”The gentleman then turned to the boy who was still sitting on the log, and said,

“What is your name, my little fellow?”

“Jonas.”

“Where do you live?”

“Sir?”

“Where do you live?”

The boy hesitated a moment as if he did not understand him. Then he said,

“I don’t know sir.—I don’t live any where.”

The little boy in the waggon laughed.

“Don’t know where you live?” said the gentleman. “Well, what are you doing out here?”

“I have been catching butterflies.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I don’t know sir.—I came from the city.”

“The city! What city?”

“I don’t know sir,—the city back there. I don’t know what the name of it is.”