Part 7

"We can find out that he is wise and good, and that he doesn't let us know every thing in a minute, even about his wisdom and goodness, and that we've got to wait until we get into another world before we can understand the meaning of some things that happen in this world; so we learn to have faith in him,--that is, to believe he will make every thing right sometime, even though we can't see how."

"Do you suppose we shall ever know just how the trees and grass came to be so green?" said Felix, who was getting sleepy, and looking dreamily into the thick, low boughs of the apple-orchard.

"Why, we know that now; that was explained long ago."

"Was it? Well, I'd like to know how. I never heard any one tell about it."

"Hasn't your teacher at school told you what makes colors?"

"She's talked something about it; but I never saw any sense to what she was saying, and so I didn't pay attention."

"I learned about that in the primary school, but I didn't understand it very well until I read about it in my 'Science for the Young.' I'll see if I can explain it to you."

There was a rubber ball among the little boy's playthings, and Johnny asked him if he might take it a few moments. As the boy was not using the ball, he handed it to Johnny very willingly, saying, "You can play with it as long as you've a mind to."

Johnny threw the ball on the floor of the piazza in a straight line, remarking,--

"You see, Felix, the ball bounds right back to my hand, in just the direction in which I threw it down."

"That's nothing: everybody knows that a ball always does so."

"But that is just the way some of the rays of light bound back whenever they strike any thing which is not transparent; that is, if they strike it directly, or at a right angle. The rays which come back are called reflected rays. Every thing which is not transparent reflects light that shines upon it; that is, the light bounds back. It is just the same with heat: that which is not absorbed by the substance upon which it falls, bounds back, or is reflected."

"If that's so, what of it?"

"Why, that's what makes the grass green, and flowers of different colors, and your suit blue, and your necktie red, and your eyes brown: that's what makes things seem to be colored."

"Seem to be colored? Why, they are colored! my suit was colored with a blue dye, and there's a kind of green dye in grass: I've got it on my stockings and handkerchiefs many a time."

"The juice, or fluid, in the grass looks green, just as the grass does, because its particles are so arranged that they absorb all of the light except the green rays, and those they reflect. The substance of those roses out there in the garden absorbs all except a red part of the light, and reflects that. Your collar reflects all the colors in the light, and that makes it white, which is the mixing of all the colors together in certain proportions. My spectacle-case looks black, because it absorbs the light without reflecting any of it.'"

"I don't believe that," replied Felix: "I shall always believe things are colored in themselves, without any regard to the light. How do you know that there are different colors in light? You can't see any thing but a kind of yellow."

"You can't see yellow, unless it is reflected."

"Why, yes, you can. Look over in that field; it's just as yellow there where the sunshine falls as can be; and where it falls between the trees here in the orchard, the green looks yellowish, while it is just bright green under the trees; and the sun itself is just as yellow as can be."

"The grass has been mowed out in that lot, so the sun has dried it, and changed the substance of it so that it reflects more yellow rays. I suppose that here in the orchard more of the rays striking the parts that are not protected by the trees gives a different reflection. As for the sun being yellow, it isn't always yellow; that is, I mean it doesn't always look yellow; I have seen it look quite red."

"If it isn't yellow, I'd like to know what color it is!" exclaimed Felix, rather impatiently.

"I don't suppose it is any color at all, though it gives the impression of a good many colors to our minds: color is nothing but a sensation produced by the kind of light that is reflected to our eyes. But light that is not separated at all, gives us only a sensation of whiteness. I don't suppose the sun would look yellow to us if we could see it without looking through any air. The air even changes the direction of the sunlight so as to make the sun appear to us to rise a little while before it does rise."

"I don't see how folks found out all that, and I don't believe they have! I'll bet they made it all up!"

"I have a fine prism at home: we'll go up in the sky-room this afternoon, and I will separate some light into its different colors. But look here, Felix! see! When I throw this ball against the floor in a slanting direction, notice how it bounds back the other way in just such a slant line as I threw it in from this way. Light does just like that, and heat too: if a ray of light strikes a plane surface at a slant, it is reflected the other way in exactly the same slant. And it's something so when light passes through any transparent substance: it comes out the other side just as it went in. That is, if it goes in at a slant, it comes out at the same slant it went in at, making an angle; but if it passes in at a right angle, as I throw this ball against the floor, it comes out and goes on the other side, in the same straight line."

"I should think it would make your head ache to try to study about such things," said Felix, with a yawn; "it makes mine ache just to hear about it; it's all so queer and unlikely and mixed up. I think it's ever so much pleasanter to just take things as they are, without trying to make out what makes them so and so. I'm glad the grass is green, and the sky blue, and that there are other pretty colors in the world; but I don't care a cent what makes them so. Though I don't believe the color is just in the sun or our eyes."

"I like to know why things are so and so; in order to see how wise and beautiful the laws of Nature are, and what wisdom and beauty there must be in all the rest of the universe."

"What do I care about the rest of the universe? all I care about is the part of it which I am in."

"But when we see how wonderful this little part of it is, we can get a pleasant idea of what another world might be which we shall go into when we leave this: and that is ever so much pleasanter than having such a common idea about it as some folks have, as a place paved with gold, and built of stones; or to have no idea of it at all, or only to think of just being dead and buried. When we learn how every thing is made for some purpose, and nothing ever really dies, and then remember that our minds and feelings are the very highest part of all creation, and the most delicate and complicated, we feel very certain that there is some great future before us that we can't tell any thing about."

"If you can't tell any thing about it, what's the use of trying?"

"Why, it's enough for us to see that it must be something grand; that's all we want to know now: we've got plenty to enjoy and take up our minds here; all we want to know is, that we shall keep on having enough to busy us, and make us happy always; and Nature tries to tell us that in every way she can, or as much about it as she thinks it best for us to be told of. I am sure I am happier for knowing what little I have learned; and it makes me happy, too, to keep on learning curious things about Nature."

"I'd rather ride 'round on a bicycle, and see what's going on, any time, than study about such things," replied Felix, with another and longer yawn. "I know I feel well enough to ride home now. I'm going to get my bicycle."

Felix immediately rose, and walked around the house to the place where Johnny had placed the bicycles. But Johnny went into the office, and told the doctor Felix was determined to go, and asked him if he would try his pulse. The doctor, who had been sitting near a window of his office, not far from where the boys were conversing, had heard the whole of their conversation. But as the blinds were closed, the boys had not noticed this, and were rather surprised when, after feeling Felix's pulse, and saying it was safe for him to go, he remarked,--

"Well, my boy, you have had two lessons from Nature this morning: she taught you herself that you will get punished if you trifle with her laws,--viz., in this case, if you try to get along without using the eyes she has given you,--and she has taught you, second or third hand, through Johnny, something of the way in which she produces her beautiful and useful effects. So, although this is vacation time, you see a great many things can be learned outside of a schoolroom. Life is a great school, and you have just begun your course in it. Make the most of your advantages; for some folks go through life without learning much of any thing, just as some boys go through school and college, yet come out ignoramuses at last."

The doctor then told the boys he should like to have them stop any time they came that road, and that, if they would come in apple-time, they might take their choice of fruit from the trees in the orchard.

After, they were on their way, Felix asked,--

"What is an ignoramus?"

"It's Latin for an ignorant person," replied Johnny.

Felix looked thoughtful a moment, and then he began to whistle: he was thinking how little he had learned at school, and wondering if he was in danger of going through life, and turning out an ignoramus at last. He wondered, too, if he was so much duller than Johnny, or what the reason was that Johnny knew so much and he so little. As he did not like to take any blame himself, he concluded it was because his father and mother did not try to teach him any thing, and did not seem to know any thing themselves of these things which Johnny had learned about, and part of which he said his father and mother had told him.

When they came to the hill, Johnny got off of his bicycle, and walked down. At first, Felix was inclined to laugh at him; but when he reflected how much smarter Johnny was than himself in some ways, he refrained for once to boast of his superior acquirements.

When they reached home, they found the family at the dinner-table; and at one end of the table, by the side of Sue, sat a young man with auburn hair, which, being closely cut, stood up smartly all about his head. His eyes were hazel, his complexion ruddy, and he had a very bright and good-natured expression of countenance.

"How d'y' do, Pierre?" exclaimed Johnny, apparently very much pleased at seeing the young man. "Have you come to stay?"

"I believe so," replied Pierre, smiling.

Johnny had sat directly down at the table, since he knew his parents did not like to have him late; but Felix remained in the sitting-room with his hat on, looking curiously through the door at Pierre.

"Come, Felix, don't be any later than necessary," called out his uncle. "I do not think Johnny timed himself very well, or you would have been home earlier."

Johnny said nothing in self-defence; but Felix replied promptly,--

"We were late because I had a header, and that's the reason I don't like to come to the table: I've got a lot of court-plaster on my head."

Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras immediately rose from the table, and went into the sitting-room to examine into the extent of Felix's injuries; but when he told them he felt pretty well, and had no objection to eating dinner except concern for his personal appearance, their minds were much relieved. His aunt bound a handkerchief over the wound; and his uncle led him out, and seated him in his usual place, beside Johnny.

"Johnny must entertain us with an account of your adventures," said Mr. Le Bras; "but you had better keep pretty still yourself, this afternoon, Felix."

Felix kept quiet while Johnny was telling the story, but more because Pierre was present, and he was quite busy observing this new member of the family, than from any disinclination to talk. He was a little afraid, too, that his uncle might be displeased with his trying to cheat Johnny about the blindfolding. Johnny did not refer to that deception, however. But when Mr. Le Bras said, "How could you do such a foolish thing, as to attempt riding with a bandage over your eyes?" Felix stated exactly how it was, rather than have it supposed he was so very foolish as appeared.

"Very well: I will not say any thing about the deceptive part of the performance," said Mr. Le Bras; "when one has had the kind of lesson you have, words don't add much to it. But it seems a very astonishing good fortune that there were no bones broken, and no worse bruises or wounds."

"I think that was on account of the bushes," replied Johnny; "he fell right into a whole lot of stout bushes: but there happened to be quite a high stone, and so his head hit against it."

"I hadn't but just got over my lame ankle," said Felix, "and now I was awfully afraid I should be laid up again. But I don't feel badly at all: I guess I'll go up to the carpet-mill with you this afternoon, Johnny."

"No, young man," replied his uncle: "no more bicycling for you to-day. Amuse yourself around home this afternoon, and we will see how you feel to-morrow. In fact, I shall veto more than half a day's riding at a time, either on your part or Johnny's; that is enough for any boy; and always take the cool of the morning for it too."

Felix would have liked to remonstrate, but there was a decision about his uncle's manner which prevented his objecting at that time.

*CHAPTER VII.*

*PIERRE'S STORY.*

The evening reading had continued as usual: it was a practice that had been instituted when Johnny was a little boy, and was never omitted unless Mr. and Mrs. Le Bras had company or were away from home at that hour in the evening. Felix had so much trouble in reading distinctly, and pronouncing words, that he had finally declined taking part altogether: he saw that even Sue could read far better than he could, and he began to be ashamed of his own deficiency in this line. But he had become quite interested in hearing the others, and was glad when the reading-hour came.

Mr. Le Bras had insisted upon Felix's going to bed early the evening after the header, and he had obeyed quite willingly: indeed, he owned that his head did not feel quite right. When the time for reading came, Mr. Le Bras said,--

"I feel badly about Felix's poor scholarship. It would be a great thing for him if he could learn to read while he is here. I wonder how my brother could allow him to grow up so deficient as this!"

"He says he never read much in any books except the readers at school, either aloud or to himself," remarked Johnny, "and that no one ever read to him, except his nurse when he was a little boy, and she always read fairy-stories: I suppose that is the reason he says he don't like to read any thing but fairy-stories. He thinks he could get through a fairy-story now, better than any other. I guess that is because the fairy-story books are generally written for young children, and so have easy words in them."

"Very likely," replied Mr. Le Bras. "Pierre, do you think you could contrive any way to get Felix to read to you, and so teach him how to enunciate and pronounce a great deal better than he does?"

"Possibly," replied Pierre; "but I may need a little help to begin with. Suppose you offer him something you think he would like very much, if he will learn to read one story well, I being the teacher, and you the judge, who are to hear the final reading after I pronounce him ready for the test?"

"That is a good idea. Do you know of any thing in particular that Felix would like, Johnny?"

"He has money to buy about every thing he wants; but I did hear him say once he would like to visit Boston, now he is so near, because he never was in Boston."

"That will answer nicely. I am going to Boston on business before we start for the seaside; and if Felix will learn to read the story well, I will take him and you with me."

The next morning, Mr. Le Bras took Felix aside, and told him he was very anxious he should learn to read, as that was the first step toward a good education, and a very essential one, as well as something which could be learned out of school, and could be made a recreation instead of a task; also that by devoting a little time each day to reading aloud from some interesting book, to a person competent to give advice and corrections, the deficiency could be soon remedied. He then made the proposal that Felix should at once make a beginning, by learning to read some short story well, and said Pierre would teach him, and that he himself would offer the trip to Boston as an inducement.

Felix was quite well pleased with the plan: he thought it would be rather fine to have a young man like Pierre to teach him, and he was exceedingly pleased with the idea of going to Boston. He had secretly been wishing he could read as well as Johnny, or at least as well as Sue; but he did not own this.

After the bargain was made, Mr. Le Bras took Felix by the hand, and led him up to Pierre, who was sitting in the piazza, reading the morning paper.

"Here is a scholar for you, Pierre," said he: "you can look him up a story to learn as soon as you please; and the sooner he reads it correctly, the sooner we will visit the famous city of Boston."

Mr. Le Bras then left Felix and Pierre alone together.

"What kind of a story shall we select?" inquired Pierre.

"I don't want any thing very hard. I think fairy-stories are always the easiest to read. I've never read aloud except at school: and the teacher don't say any thing to you, if you only get through a paragraph somehow; at least, she never says any thing to me. My mother told her she didn't want me pushed; she was afraid it would make me sick: and my father said he didn't care how long I was getting my education."

"But you might be so long getting it, that it would be very unpleasant for you: I think it is generally unpleasant for a boy to be in school with children a good deal younger than himself. And then, you won't want to be so long getting an education that you will be a man before you have learned all that is necessary; for a man don't want to keep on going to school, even if he has ever so much money."

"No," said Felix: "you won't catch me going to school when I'm a man."

"So I am to find you a fairy-story?" continued Pierre. "Well, I will be looking up one that I think will suit you. It may take me several days; but, after I've found it, we'll make up for lost time by beginning to learn to read it nicely as soon as possible, in order that your Boston trip may not be unnecessarily delayed."

Since Pierre was helping Mr. Le Bras at his office at present, Felix saw him only at meal-times, and had almost forgotten about the fairy-story, except when the reading-hour came at night, at which time Pierre was usually out calling on some of his friends, until one afternoon several days afterwards, when Pierre came home with a book in his hand.

"Is my story in that book?" inquired Felix.

"No," replied Pierre; "but I think I can have the story ready for you by to-morrow. And now the question is, what time of day will you give to it, and how long will you read each day?"

"I couldn't read more than a half an hour at a time, possibly; and I think I'll have it over right after breakfast before I go off on my bicycle; then it will be off my mind for the rest of the day."

"That is a good plan, and the time will suit me very well. So we will say to-morrow morning, and so on, until you have earned your trip. Should you like to hear the story first to see if you like it?"

"No: I don't believe I care any thing about hearing it."

"Oh, yes!" said Sue. "Do let's hear it. Read it to us all, this evening, Pierre; 'cause we got through with our other story last night, and I do like fairy-tales so much!"

"I don't," said Johnny, "because there isn't ever hardly any kind of truth in them at all."

"Then, the one I have is an exception," remarked Pierre. "I flatter myself that there is considerable truth in the fairy-story I have found."

"I am sure, since Pierre has been so long finding it, it must be an unusually good fairy-tale," remarked Mr. Le Bras, smiling: "I should like to hear it myself very much, and so, I am sure, would Mrs. Le Bras."

"Certainly," replied Mrs. Le Bras: "I want to hear it very much indeed, Pierre. Do read it to us to-night, if you have no engagement out at that hour."

"Very well, then, since you all insist, and I shall be in early this evening, I will read the story to you; but you must not expect any thing wonderful, for you know Felix wanted an easy story to begin with. This is a regular paper-covered one-story book, in large print."

"I am glad it is large print," said Felix: "I can always read that sort of books better."

Pierre came home early, as he had promised; and when the family were all ready for the reading,--even Kate having come in to hear the fairy-story,--Pierre took out of his pocket a large, thin book, in a plain green paper cover, and seated himself in the arm-chair which Johnny had placed near the drop-light on the table. Johnny, upon glancing over Pierre's shoulder, was astonished to see that the story had been printed upon a typewriter, and was about to make some remark regarding that circumstance when his father caught his eye, and shook his head at him. Johnny knew by this, that there was some secret about it, which was not to be divulged, at present at least. Felix also glanced over Pierre's shoulder; but as he had never seen a typewriter, not having yet visited his uncle's office, he supposed the story was printed like any ordinary book. As for Sue, she was sitting by her mother, waiting impatiently for Pierre to begin, which he did, after Mr. Le Bras had said,--

"We are all ready now, Pierre. Go ahead."

RICK AND THE FAIRY.

Rick Lordelle was the only child of a rich man. In the winter he lived in a great city; but in the summer he lived in a famous old castle upon the bank of a river which wound between grand, picturesque mountains.

But although Rick was the son of a rich man, he was in great danger of growing up a dunce: worse than that, he was in danger of growing up regardless of any law except his own will.

His father was so busy, and so much from home, that he saw little of him; and he was so fond of the boy, and so proud of his beauty and high spirits, that he only laughed at his pertness and independence. To be sure, he was very sorry that Rick did not take to his books; but he had not sufficient firmness to insist upon his going to school, or having a tutor at home. Rick boldly declared that he would not go to school; and as for having a tutor, he had had several already, neither of whom he liked, or would obey, or treat with respect. His father kept saying,--

"We will wait a while, and see if some way cannot be found to coax him to be a scholar. Before he is much older, I may come across a tutor who will suit him, and make it pleasant for him to learn."

Rick's mother was so fond of him, that she would not have him crossed in any thing, if she could help it. She, too, wanted him to learn something, and often tried to persuade him to say his lessons to her or Nanette; but his attention could seldom be gained for fifteen minutes at a time. As for persuading him to go to school, it would have been as well for her to try to persuade a young lion to go there.