Part 14 (1/2)

”Well, I will tell you,” said the picture, gravely. ”And this is it. The story is a poem, Jimmieboy, and it's called:

”THE HORRID FATE OF JUMPING SAM.

”Small Sammy was as fine a lad As ever you did see; But one bad habit Sammy had, A Jumper bold was he.

And, oh! his fate was very sad, As it was told to me.

”He never, never, would stand still In school or on the street; He'd squirm if he were well or ill, If on his back or feet.

He'd wriggle on the window-sill, He'd waggle in his seat.

”And so it happened one fine day, When all alone was he, He got to jumping in a way That was a sight to see.

He leaped two feet at first, they say, And then he made it three.

”Then four, and five, the long day through, Until he could not stop.

Each jump he jumped much longer grew, Until he gave a hop Up in the air a mile or two, A-twirling like a top.

”He turned about and tried to jump Back to his father's door, But landed by the village pump, Some twenty miles or more Beyond it, and an awful b.u.mp He'd got when it was o'er.

”And still his jumps increased in size, Until they got so great, He landed on the railway ties In some far distant state; And then he knew 'twould have been wise, His jumping to abate.

”But as the years pa.s.sed slowly by, His jumping still went on, Until he leaped from Italy, As far as Was.h.i.+ngton.

And he confessed, with heavy eye, It wasn't any fun.

”And when, in 1883, I met him up in Perth, He wept and said 'good-by' to me, And jumped around the earth.

And I was saddened much to see That he knew naught of mirth.

”Last year in far Allahabad, Late in the month of June, I met again this jumping lad-- 'Twas in the afternoon-- As he with visage pale and sad Was jumping to the moon.

”So all his days, leap after leap, He takes from morn to night.

He cannot eat, he cannot sleep, But flies just like a kite, And all because he would not keep From jumping when he might.

”And I believe the moral's true-- Though shown with little skill-- That whatsoever you may do, Be it of good or ill, Once in a while it may pay you To practice keeping still.”

A long silence followed the completion of the blurred picture's poem.

For some reason or other it had made Jimmieboy think, and while he was thinking, wonderful to say, he was keeping very quiet, so that it was quite evident that the fate of Jumping Sam had had some effect upon him. Finally, however, the spell was broken, and he began to wiggle just as he wiggled while his picture was being taken, and then he said:

”I don't know whether to believe that story or not. I can't see your face very plainly here. Come over into the light and tell me the poem all over again, and I can tell by looking in your eye whether it is true or not.”

The picture made no reply, and Jimmieboy, grasping it firmly in his hand, went to the window and gazed steadily at it for a minute, but it was useless. The picture not only refused to speak, but, as the rays of the setting sun fell full upon it, faded slowly from sight.

Nevertheless, true story or not, Jimmieboy has practiced standing still very often since the affair happened, which is a good thing for little boys to do, so that perhaps the brief life and long poem of the rejected picture were not wasted after all.

XI.

JIMMIEBOY AND THE BLANK-BOOK.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”OH! DEAR!”]

Somebody had sighed deeply, and had said, ”Oh dear!”