hn could have had his way, he would
have discovered a cave full of diamonds, and lots of nail-kegs full of
gold-pieces and Spanish dollars, with a pretty little girl living in
the cave, and two beautifully caparisoned horses, upon which, taking the
jewels and money, they would have ridden off together, he did not know
where. John had got thus far in his studies, which were apparently
arithmetic and geography, but were in reality the Arabian Nights, and
other books of high and mighty adventure. He was a simple country-boy,
and did not know much about the world as it is, but he had one of his
own imagination, in which he lived a good deal. I daresay he found out
soon enough what the world is, and he had a lesson or two when he was
quite young, in two incidents, which I may as well relate.

If you had seen John at this time, you might have thought he was only
a shabbily dressed country lad, and you never would have guessed what
beautiful thoughts he sometimes had as he went stubbing his toes along
the dusty road, nor what a chivalrous little fellow he was. You would
have seen a short boy, barefooted, with trousers at once too big and too
short, held up perhaps by one suspender only, a checked cotton shirt,
and a hat of braided palm-leaf, frayed at the edges and bulged up in
the crown. It is impossible to keep a hat neat if you use it to catch
bumblebees and whisk 'em; to bail the water from a leaky boat; to catch
minnows in; to put over honey-bees' nests, and to transport pebbles,
strawberries, and hens' eggs. John usually carried a sling in his hand,
or a bow, or a limber stick, sharp at one end, from which he could sling
apples a great distance. If he walked in the road, he walked in the
middle of it, shuffling up the dust; or if he went elsewhere, he was
likely to be running on the top of the fence or the stone wall, and
chasing chipmunks.

John knew the best place to dig sweet-flag in all the farm; it was in a
meadow by the river, where the bobolinks sang so gayly. He never liked
to hear the bobolink sing, however, for he said it always reminded him
of the whetting of a scythe, and that reminded him of spreading hay; and
if there was anything he hated, it was spreading hay after the mowers.
"I guess you would n't like it yourself," said John, "with the stubbs
getting into your feet, and the hot sun, and the men getting ahead of
you, all you could do."

Towards evening, once, John was coming along the road home with s