othing particular to do," said Major
Graham, "therefore I shall tell you a wonderful story, children, about
liking to be idle or busy, and you must find out the moral for
yourselves."

"A story! a story!" cried Harry and Laura, in an ecstacy of delight, and
as they each had a knee of uncle David's, which belonged to themselves,
they scrambled into their places, exclaiming, "Now let it be all about
very bad boys, and giants, and fairies!"

CHAPTER IX.

UNCLE DAVID'S NONSENSICAL STORY ABOUT
GIANTS AND FAIRIES.

"Pie-crust and pastry-crust, that was the wall;
The windows were made of black-puddings and white,
And slated with pancakes--you ne'er saw the like!"

In the days of yore, children were not all such clever, good sensible
people as they are now! Lessons were then considered rather a plague,
sugar-plums were still in demand--holidays continued yet in fashion--and
toys were not then made to teach mathematics, nor story-books to give
instruction in chemistry and navigation. These were very strange times,
and there existed at that period, a very idle, greedy, naughty boy, such
as we never hear of in the present day. His papa and mama were----no
matter who,----and he lived, no matter where. His name was Master
No-book, and he seemed to think his eyes were made for nothing but to
stare out of the windows, and his mouth for no other purpose but to eat.
This young gentleman hated lessons like mustard, both of which brought
tears into his eyes, and during school-hours, he sat gazing at his
books, pretending to be busy, while his mind wandered away to wish
impatiently for his dinner, and to consider where he could get the
nicest pies, pastry, ices, and jellies, while he smacked his lips at
the very thoughts of them. I think he must have been first cousin to
Peter Grey, but that is not perfectly certain.

Whenever Master No-book spoke, it was always to ask for something, and
you might continually hear him say, in a whining tone of voice, "Papa!
may I take this piece of cake? Aunt Sarah! will you give me an apple?
Mama! do send me the whole of that plum-pudding!" Indeed, very
frequently when he did not get permission to gormandize, this naughty
glutton helped himself without leave. Even his dreams were like his
waking hours, for he had often a horrible night-mare about lessons,
thinking that he was smothered with Greek Lexicons, or pelted out of the
school with a shower of English Grammars, while one night