got into the carriage pulled by the fat, black horse and
driven by a young man so tall that he couldn't sit up straight in the
seat or his head would have hit the roof of the carriage.

"Is Central Park bigger than Brookside?" Sunny Boy asked, as they
drove over a well-kept road past the greenest of green lawns and
bright flower beds. Brookside was the name of Grandpa Horton's farm.

"How big is Brookside?" asked the driver, slapping the reins to make
his horse go faster.

"Oh, ever so big," Sunny Boy assured him. "Seventy-nine acres, Daddy
said."

"Well, you could put Brookside right down in Central Park and never
see it," announced the driver complacently. "This park has eight
hundred and seventy-nine acres."

"Gee!" murmured Sunny Boy.

He was silent for a few moments, trying to imagine how large the park
must be.

"What a funny way to hay," he remarked, as they came up to a horse
tramping steadily over the grass pulling a machine that looked
something like a mower. "Grandpa didn't do it that way."

"They're cutting the grass," explained the driver of the carriage.
"Guess you haven't seen one of those machines. If they had only a lawn
mower like the one your father uses on your lawn at home, you know,
the grass would never get cut in one summer."

"Can't we get out?" Mrs. Horton asked next. "I'd like to go up and see
the reservoirs."

"Sure you can," was the quick response. "I'll wait right here for you.
Suppose you'll want to go in the snake house, too, and see the
menagerie and the monkeys."

"Frank said to see the monkeys, didn't he, Mother?" said Sunny Boy.
"But he didn't say anything about snakes."

They were out of the carriage now and walking toward the reservoirs.

"No, and I don't believe we want to see the snakes," returned Mrs.
Horton. "I don't like them very much, and if you don't care I'd much
rather see the monkeys. They can do so many funny tricks."

Sunny Boy didn't care about snakes, and he forgot them right away when
he saw the gallons of water, spread out like a smooth lake.

"Is it all to drink?" he wanted to know. "Can't they go swimming in
it, Mother? Where does it come from?"

"I'm afraid I don't know where the water comes from," admitted Mrs.
Horton, "but we know it must be piped from miles and miles away. Think
of all the thirsty people in New York who are glad to get a cool,
clean drink this warm day."

"Wouldn't they like to swim in it?" insisted Sunny Boy.

"My, no,