by Phonny and Madeline
for a drive. When Phonny and Madeline found themselves riding quietly
along in the wagon in Beechnut's company, the first thought which
occurred to them, after the interest and excitement awakened by the
setting out had passed in some measure away, was that they would ask
him to tell them a story. This was a request which they almost always
made in similar circumstances. In all their rides and rambles
Beechnut's stories were an unfailing resource, furnishing them with an
inexhaustible fund of amusement sometimes, and sometimes of
instruction.

"Well," said Beechnut, in answer to their request, "I will tell you
now about my voyage across the Atlantic Ocean."

"Yes," exclaimed Madeline, "I should like to hear about that very much
indeed."

"Shall I tell the story to you just as it was," asked Beechnut, "as a
sober matter of fact, or shall I embellish it a little?"

"I don't know what you mean by embellishing it," said Madeline.

"Why, not telling exactly what is true," said Beechnut, "but inventing
something to add to it, to make it interesting."

"I want to have it true," said Madeline, "and interesting, too."

"But sometimes," replied Beechnut, "interesting things don't happen,
and in such cases, if we should only relate what actually does happen,
the story would be likely to be dull."

"I think you had better embellish the story a little," said
Phonny--"just a _little_, you know."

"I don't think I can do that very well," replied Beechnut. "If I
attempt to relate the actual acts, I depend simply on my memory, and I
can confine myself to what my memory teaches; but if I undertake to
follow my invention, I must go wherever it leads me."

"Well," said Phonny, "I think you had better embellish the story, at
any rate, for I want it to be interesting."

"So do I," said Madeline.

"Then," said Beechnut, "I will give you an embellished account of my
voyage across the Atlantic. But, in the first place, I must tell you
how it happened that my father decided to leave Paris and come to
America. It was mainly on my account. My father was well enough
contented with his situation so far as he himself was concerned, and
he was able to save a large part of his salary, so as to lay up a
considerable sum of money every year; but he was anxious about me.

"There seemed to be nothing," continued Beechnut, "for me to do, and
nothing desirable for me to look forward to, when I should become a
man. My f