t and
temper. "Why, watch me," he cried, and he danced to his own music so
charmingly that the class clapped their hands and said they would do
their best to copy him. By and by they did better, and before he left
them, they quite satisfied him. And what was fortunate for him, they had
paid him two thousand dollars. With this and Lucy's earnings, he went
to England and had the famous drawings published. When they were done,
he exhibited them at the Royal Institute, charging admission, and earned
many pounds more.

Audubon was a lovable, courteous man, never too poor to help others,
very modest and gracious. He adored his wife, and as his books (he wrote
many volumes of his travels, which I hope you will read some day)
brought in quite a fortune, the two, with their sons, and their
grandchildren, spent their last days in great comfort, on a fine estate
on the Hudson River.

ROBERT FULTON

When Robert Fulton was a little boy in Pennsylvania, he never minded
being called to his lessons with his mother, for she was a famous Irish
beauty, and Robert loved to look at her. She was good-natured too and
told him far more interesting stories than he found in the lesson books.
It was quite a different matter when Robert was sent, at the age of
eight, to a school kept by Caleb Johnson, a Quaker gentleman.

With Mr. Johnson, Robert found lessons rather stupid affairs. He missed
the stories his mother always wove in with the books they read together.
Besides, Robert had taken some toys and old clocks to pieces, and he was
busy planning how he could make some himself, if he but had the tools.
Sometimes Caleb Johnson spoke to him two or three times before Robert
heard him. The old Quaker thought the boy was wasting precious time, so
he feruled him every day.

This was way back, just before the Revolutionary War, and in those days
every school-teacher kept a stout stick on his desk, called a ferule,
with which to slap the naughty pupils' hands. The ferule always made the
hand burn and sting, and if the teacher were harsh, he sometimes
blistered a boy's hand. One time, after the Quaker had used the ferule
on Robert until his own arm ached, he cried: "There, that will make you
do something, I guess."

"But," answered Robert, "I came here, Sir, to have something beaten into
my head, not into my knuckles."

Robert was keener on making things than on learning lessons. One morning
he did not get to the schoolhouse until nearl