eems to me that the slug
or the worm is just as likely to enjoy its life as the greedy blackbird,
whom people protect because he has an orange bill and sings sweetly in
the spring."

"Ye-es," said my uncle, looking all the while as if he were terribly
puzzled, while I sat drinking in every word our visitor said, feeling
that I had never before heard any one talk like that.

"For my part," continued our visitor, "I never destroy life wantonly;
and as for you, young man, you may take this for a piece of good
advice--never kill for the sake of killing. Let it be a work of
necessity--for food, for a specimen, for your own protection, but never
for sport. I don't like the word, Nat; there is too much cruelty in
what is called sport."

"But wouldn't you kill lions and tigers, sir?" I said.

"Most decidedly, my boy. That is the struggle for life. I'd sooner
kill a thousand tigers, Nat, than one should kill me," he said laughing;
"and for my part--"

"Joseph, I'm ashamed of you. Nathaniel, this is your doing, you naughty
boy," cried my aunt, appearing at the door. "It is really disgraceful,
Joseph, that you will come here to sit and smoke; and as for you,
Nathaniel, what do you mean, sir, by dragging your un--, I mean a
visitor, down into this nasty, untidy place, and pestering him with your
rubbish?"

"Oh, it was not Nathaniel's doing, Sophy," said our visitor smiling, as
he rose and drew aunt's arm through his, "but mine; I've been making the
boy show me his treasures. There, come along and you and I will have a
good long chat now. Nat, my boy, I sha'n't forget what we said."

CHAPTER NINE.

UNCLE DICK'S BOXES.

"I'm afraid we've made your aunt very cross, Nat, my boy," said Uncle
Joe, rubbing his hands softly, and looking perplexed and troubled. "Do
you think, Nat, that I have been leading you wrong?"

"I hope not, uncle," I said, "and I don't think so, for it has been very
nice out here in the toolshed, and we have enjoyed ourselves so."

"Yes, my boy, we have, very much, indeed, but I'm afraid your aunt never
forgave us for not putting Humpty Dumpty together again."

"But, uncle," I said, "isn't it unreasonable of Aunt Sophia to expect us
to do what all the king's horses and all the king's men could not do?"

He looked at me for a few minutes without speaking, and then he began to
smile very slightly, then a little more and a little more, till, instead
of looking dreadfully serious, his face w