friend Benjamin, and kissed him so
tenderly, that he never afterwards was afraid to show his performances to
his mother.

As Ben grew older, he was observed to take vast delight in looking at the
hues and forms of nature. For instance, he was greatly pleased with the
blue violets of spring, the wild roses of summer, and the scarlet
cardinal-flowers of early autumn. In the decline of the year, when the
woods were variegated with all the colors of the rainbow, Ben seemed to
desire nothing better than to gaze at them from morn till night. The
purple and golden clouds of sunset were a joy to him. And he was
continually endeavoring to draw the figures of trees, men, mountains,
houses, cattle, geese, ducks, and turkeys, with a piece of chalk, on
barn-doors, or on the floor.

In these old times, the Mohawk Indians were still numerous in
Pennsylvania. Every year a party of them used to pay a visit to
Springfield, because the wigwams of their ancestors had formerly stood
there. These wild men grew fond of little Ben, and made him very happy by
giving him some of the red and yellow paint with which they were
accustomed to adorn their faces. His mother, too, presented him with a
piece of indigo. Thus he now had three colors,--red, blue, and yellow--and
could manufacture green, by mixing the yellow with the blue. Our friend
Ben was overjoyed, and doubtless showed his gratitude to the Indians by
taking their likenesses, in the strange dresses which they wore, with
feathers, tomahawks, and bows and arrows.

But, all this time, the young artist had no paint-brushes, nor were there
any to be bought, unless he had sent to Philadelphia on purpose. However,
he was a very ingenious boy, and resolved to manufacture paint-brushes for
himself. With this design, he laid hold upon--what do you think? why, upon
a respectable old black cat, who was sleeping quietly by the fireside.

"Puss," said little Ben to the cat, "pray give me some of the fur from the
tip of thy tail!"

Though he addressed the black cat so civilly, yet Ben was determined to
have the fur, whether she were willing or not. Puss, who had no great zeal
for the fine arts, would have resisted if she could; but the boy was armed
with his mother's scissors, and very dexterously clipped off fur enough to
make a paint-brush. This was of so much use to him, that he applied to
Madam Puss again and again, until her warm coat of fur had become so thin
and ragged, that she could hardl