hat I could wipe off with my hand this
thinner solution, and if water would do it, water was plenty, and I
would wash it off. A cousin of mine lived not very far off, and I knew
that in the yard of her house there was a pump. Inspired by this idea, I
set off at a run, and did not slacken my pace until I reached the spot.
Here another difficulty met me. I could not reach the handle of the pump
so as to get the benefit of the stream from its mouth, and it was only a
complete shower-bath that would restore me to respectability. I set to
work to find a rope, and fastened together quite a complicated piece of
machinery, as I thought, by which I managed to pump the ice-cold water
upon my devoted head. The effect was not as immediate as I had hoped.
But I had faith if a little was good, more must be better.
Creak--creak--creak--went the pump-handle, which did more work that
afternoon than in half a dozen days' washing.

Creak--creak--creak! But the tar only became harder and harder, until I
was encased in sheet-armor, like the famous Black Knight. Presently, my
cousin Jenny, an especial friend of mine, hearing such continual
pumping, and becoming anxious for the family supply of water, came out
to see what was the matter. Seeing a small figure curled up under the
spout of the pump, drenched to the skin and black as Othello, she
stooped down to investigate the phenomenon. Oh, what was my despair when
she discovered who it was, and in what plight!

To say she laughed would be to give a feeble idea of the peals of
laughter that succeeded each other as she stood and looked at me. She
would try to control her merriment for a moment, only to break forth
afresh, until she was obliged to sit down from sheer exhaustion. Every
time she glanced at my woe-begone countenance, and drenched condition,
she would go into fresh convulsions of fun. At last she recovered breath
enough to inquire into my case, and to assure me she would do what she
could for me; but she soon found, to my despair, that what she could do
was not much to my relief. The clothes could not be got off, and
certainly they could never be got clean. She did manage, with a strong
pair of shears, to cut off the pockets in my breeches, and then, fearing
my mother would be alarmed, she bade me go home, and she would promise
to secure me against a whipping.

I fancy she thought this last promise would be easily kept.

Somewhat comforted, I took up my line of march toward the