LITMIR.BIZ

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post. Then Rollo clambered down out of the chaise, and he and his father walked into the shop.

      They found the corporal busily at work mending a chair-bottom. Rollo stood by, much pleased to see him weave in the flags, while his father explained to the corporal that he wanted a small seat made in front, in his chaise.

      “I do not know whether you can do it, or not,” said he.

      “What sort of a seat do you want?”

      “I thought,” said he, “that you might make a little seat, with two legs to it in front, and then fasten the back side of it to the front of the chaise-box.”

      “Yes,” said the corporal, “that will do I think; but I must have a little blacksmith work to fasten the seat properly behind, so that you can slip it out when you are not using it. Let us go and see.”

      So the corporal rose to go out and see the chaise, and as they passed by the wheelbarrow at the door, as they went out, Rollo asked him what was the price of that little wheelbarrow.

      “That is not for sale, my little man. That is engaged. But I can make you one, if your father likes. I ask three quarters of a dollar for them.”

      Rollo looked at it very wishfully, and the corporal told him that he might try it if he chose. “Wheel it about,” said he, “while your father and I are looking at the chaise.”

      So Rollo trundled the wheelbarrow up and down the road with great pleasure. It was light, and it moved easily. He wished he had such a one. It would not tip over, he said, like that great heavy one at home; he thought he could wheel it even if it was full of stones. He ran down with it to the shore of the stream, where there were plenty of stones lying, intending to load it up, and try it. But when he got there, he recollected that he had not had liberty to put any thing in it; and so he determined at once that he would not.

      Just then his father called him. So he wheeled the wheelbarrow back to its place, and told the corporal that he liked it very much. He wanted his father to engage one for him then, but he did not ask him. He thought that, as he had already expressed a wish for one, it would be better not to say any thing about it again, but to wait and let his father do as he pleased.

      As they were going home, his father said,

      “That was a very pretty wheelbarrow, Rollo, I think myself.”

      “Yes, it was beautiful, father. It was so light, and went so easy! I wish you would buy me one, father.”

      “I would, my son, but I think a wheelbarrow will give you more pleasure at some future time, than it will now.”

      “When do you mean?”

      “When you have learned to work.”

      “But I want the wheelbarrow to play with.”

      “I know you do; but you would take a great deal more solid and permanent satisfaction in such a thing, if you were to use it for doing some useful work.”

      “When shall I learn to work, father?” said Rollo.

      “I have been thinking that it is full time now. You are about six years old, and they say that a boy of seven years old is able to earn his living.”

      “Well, father, I wish you would teach me to work. What should you do first?”

      “The first lesson would be to teach you to do some common, easy work, steadily.”

      “Why, father, I can do that now, without being taught.”

      “I think you are mistaken about that. A boy works steadily when he goes directly forward in his work, without stopping to rest, or to contrive new ways of doing it, or to see other people, or to talk. Now, do you think you could work steadily an hour, without stopping for any of these reasons?”

      “Why—yes,” said Rollo.

      “I will try you to-morrow,” said his father.

      The Old Nails

      The next morning, after breakfast, Rollo's father told him he was ready for him to go to his work. He took a small basket in his hand, and led Rollo out into the barn, and told him to wait there a few minutes, and he would bring him something to do.

      Rollo sat down on a little bundle of straw, wondering what his work was going to be.

      Presently his father came back, bringing in his hands a box full of old nails, which he got out of an old store-room, in a corner of the barn. He brought it along, and set it down on the barn floor.

      “Why, father,” said Rollo, “what am I going to do with those old nails?”

      “You are going to sort them. Here are a great many kinds, all together. I want them all picked over—those that are alike put by themselves. I will tell you exactly how to do it.”

      Rollo put his hand into the box, and began to pick up some of the nails, and look them over, while his father was speaking; but his father told him to put them down, and not begin until he had got all his directions.

      “You must listen,” said he, “and understand the directions now, for I cannot tell you twice.”

      He then took a little wisp of straw, and brushed away a clean place upon the barn floor, and then poured down the nails upon it.

      “O, how many nails!” said Rollo.

      His father then took up a handful of them, and showed Rollo that there were several different sizes; and he placed them down upon the floor in little heaps, each size by itself. Those that were crooked also he laid away in a separate pile.

      “Now, Rollo,” said he, “I want you to go to work sorting these nails, steadily and industriously, until they are all done. There are not more than three or four kinds of nails, and you can do them pretty fast if you work steadily, and do not get to playing with them. If you find any pieces of iron, or any thing else that you do not know what to do with, lay them aside, and go on with the nails. Do you understand it all?”

      Rollo said he did, and so his father left him, and went into the house. Rollo sat down upon the clean barn floor, and began his task.

      “I don't think this is any great thing,” said he; “I can do this easily enough;” and he took up some of the nails, and began to arrange them as his father had directed.

      But Rollo did not perceive what the real difficulty in his task was. It was, indeed, very easy to see what nails were large, and what were small, and what were of middle size, and to put them in their proper heaps. There was nothing very hard in that. The difficulty was, that, after having sorted a few, it would become tedious and tiresome work, doing it there all alone in the barn,—picking out old nails, with nobody to help him, and nobody to talk to, and nothing to see, but those little heaps of rusty iron on the floor.

      This, I say, was the real trouble; and Rollo's father knew, when he set his little boy about it, that he would soon get very tired of it, and, not being accustomed to any thing but play, would not persevere.

      And so it was. Rollo sorted out a few, and then he began to think that it was rather tiresome to be there all alone; and he thought it would be a good plan for him to go and ask his father to let him go and get his cousin James to come and help him.

      He accordingly laid down the nails he had in his hand, and went into the house, and found his father writing at a table.

      “What is the matter now?” said his father.

      “Why, father,” said Rollo, “I thought I should like to have James come and help me, if you are willing;—we can get them done so much quicker if there are two.”

      “But my great object is, not to get the nails sorted very quick, but to teach you patient industry. I know it is tiresome for you to be alone, but that is the very reason why I wish you to be alone. I want you to learn to persevere patiently in doing any thing, even if it is tiresome. What I want to teach you is, to work, not to play.”

      Rollo felt disappointed, but he saw that his father was right, and he went slowly back to his task. He sorted out two or three handfuls

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