reatest and last."

"I'll tell you," said Horace: "they think that Christ and Moses was good
enough prophets, but Mohammed was a heap better."

"Why, Horace, it doesn't say any such think in the book! It begins,
'_They consider_.'"

"I don't care," said the boy, "Miss Jordan tells us to get the sense of
it. Ma, musn't I get the sense of it?" he added, as Mrs. Clifford
entered the kitchen.

"But, mamma," broke in Grace, eagerly, "our teacher wants us to commit
the verses: she says a great deal about committing the verses."

"If you would give me time to answer," said Mrs. Clifford, smiling, "I
should say both your teachers are quite right. You should 'get the sense
of it,' as Horace says, and after that commit the verses."

"But, ma, do you think Horace should say 'heap,' and 'no account,' and
such words?"

"It would certainly please me," said Mrs. Clifford, "if he would try to
speak more correctly. My little boy knows how much I dislike some of his
expressions."

"There, Horace," cried Grace, triumphantly, "I always said you talked
just like the Dutch boys; and it's very, very improper!"

But just then it became evident that the molasses was boiled enough, for
Barbara poured it into a large buttered platter, and set it out of doors
to cool. After this, the children could do nothing but watch the candy
till it was ready to pull.

Then there was quite a bustle to find an apron for Horace, and to make
sure that his little stained hands were "spandy clean," and "fluffed"
all over with flour, from his wrists to the tips of his fingers. Grace
said she wished it wasn't so much trouble to attend to boys; and, after
all, Horace only pulled a small piece of the candy, and dropped half of
that on the nice white floor.

Barbara did the most of the pulling. She was quite a sculptor when she
had plastic candy in her hands. Some of it she cut into sticks, and some
she twisted into curious images, supposed to be boys and girls, horses
and sheep.

After Grace and Horace had eaten several of the "boys and girls," to say
nothing of "handled baskets," and "gentlemen's slippers," Barbara
thought it high time they were "sound abed and asleep."

So now, as they go up stairs, we will wish them a good night and
pleasant dreams.

CHAPTER II.

CAMPING OUT.

"What is the matter with my little son?" said Mr. Clifford, one morning
at breakfast; for Horace sat up very stiffly in his chair, and refused
both eggs and muffi