es of
that description to games of toil and labor, but as he concluded, little
Thanny, who was sitting on the porch step with his book, suddenly read
aloud, in a staccato measure.

"I-be-lieve-you-my-boy,-re-plied-the-man-heart-i-ly."

"Read to yourself, Thanny," said his father kindly, "and do not speak
your syllables in that jerky manner."

Thanny subsided into silence, after making two or three strange gurgling
noises in his throat, which Rollo, after several efforts, succeeded in
imitating quite well. Being older than Thanny, Rollo, of course, could
not invent so many new noises every day as his little brother. But he
could take Thanny's noises, they being unprotected by copyright, and not
only reproduce them, but even improve upon them.

This shows the advantage of the higher education. "A little learning is
a dangerous thing." It is well for every boy to learn that dynamite is
an explosive of great power, after which it is still better for him to
learn of how great power. Then he will not hit a cartridge with a hammer
in order to find out, and when he dines in good society he can still
lift his pie gracefully in his hand, and will not be compelled to
harpoon it with an iron hook at the end of his fore-arm.

Rollo's father looked at the two boys attentively as they swallowed
their noises, and then said:

"Now, Rollo, there is no sense in learning to play a man's game with a
toy outfit. Here are the implements of a game which is called base-ball,
and which I am going to teach you to play."

So saying he opened the package and handed Rollo a bat, a wagon tongue
terror that would knock the leather off a planet, and Rollo's eyes
danced as he balanced it and pronounced it a "la-la."

"It is a bat," his father said sternly, "a base-ball bat."

"Is that a base-ball bat?" exclaimed Rollo, innocently.

"Yes, my son," replied his father, "and here is a protector for the
hand."

Rollo took the large leather pillow and said:

"That's an infielder."

"It is a mitt," his father said, "and here is the ball."

As Rollo took the ball in his hands he danced with glee.

"That's a peach," he cried.

"It is a base-ball," his father said, "that is what you play base-ball
with."

"Is it?" exclaimed Rollo, inquiringly.

"Now," said Mr. Holliday, as they went into the back yard, followed by
Thanny, "I will go to bat first, and I will let you pitch, so that I may
teach you how. I will stand here at the end of the barn