are so
reckless, you know. Now, if you'll conclude to take this I'll get the
publisher to write out some more stories, and bring 'em round to you,
so's you can study up on him. I know he did ever so many other things,
but I've forgot 'em; my memory's so awful poor.

"Less see! Who have we next? Ah, Franklin! Benjamin Franklin! He was
one of the old original pioneers, I think. I disremember exactly what he
is celebrated for, but I think it was a flying a--oh, yes, flying a
kite, that's it. The publisher mentioned it. He was out one day flying a
kite, you know, like boys do nowadays, and while she was a-flickering up
in the sky, and he was giving her more string, an apple fell off a tree
and hit him on the head; then he discovered the attraction of
gravitation, I think they call it. Smart, wasn't it? Now, if you or me'd
'a' ben hit, it'd just made us mad, like as not, and set us a-ravin'.
But men are so different. One man's meat's another man's pison. See what
a double chin he's got. No beard on him, either, though a goatee would
have been becoming to such a round face. He hasn't got on a sword, and I
reckon he was no soldier; fit some when he was a boy, maybe, or went out
with the home-guard, but not a regular warrior. I ain't one myself, and
I think all the better of him for it.

"Ah, here we are! Look at that! Smith and Pocahontas! John Smith! Isn't
that gorgeous? See how she kneels over him, and sticks out her hands
while he lays on the ground and that big fellow with a club tries to
hammer him up. Talk about woman's love! There it is for you. Modocs, I
believe; anyway, some Indians out West there, somewheres; and the
publisher tells me that Captain Shackanasty, or whatever his name is,
there, was going to bang old Smith over the head with a log of wood, and
this here girl she was sweet on Smith, it appears, and she broke loose,
and jumped forward, and says to the man with a stick, 'Why don't you let
John alone? Me and him are going to marry, and if you kill him I'll
never speak to you as long as I live,' or words like them, and so the
man he give it up, and both of them hunted up a preacher and were
married and lived happy ever afterward. Beautiful story, isn't it? A
good wife she made him, too, I'll bet, if she was a little
copper-colored. And don't she look just lovely in that picture? But
Smith appears kinder sick; evidently thinks his goose is cooked; and I
don't wonder, with that Modoc swooping down on him wit