href="@public@vhost@g@gutenberg@html@files@48313@[email protected]#illus10" class="pginternal" tag="{http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml}a">The Meddlesome Poet

The Frame of a Comet

"A Comet, Gentlemen—A Blazing Comet!"

"It Rose Like a Fountain"

A Broken Poem

"Jimmy Looked so Pale and Thin"

"Ned Looked Up into the Face of a Policeman"

Phaeton is Taken for a Burglar

"Jump Her, Boys! Jump Her!"

"This Must Be Put in a Safe Place"

Phaeton's Fire-Extinguisher

The Kite on the Steeple

Discharging the Arrow

Riding Home in the Barouche

How the Chair was Mended

Taking Home the Chairs

The Boys Run the Red Rover

Bridal Favors

PHAETON ROGERS.

CHAPTER I.

Nothing is more entertaining than a morning canter in midsummer, while the dew is sparkling on the grass, and the robins are singing their joyful songs, and the east is reddening with the sunrise, and the world is waking up to enjoy these beautiful things a little, before the labors of the day begin.

And here is one of the many advantages of being a boy. When ladies and gentlemen ride horseback, it is considered necessary to have as many horses as riders; but an indefinite number of boys may enjoy a ride on one horse, all at the same time; and often the twenty riders who walk get a great deal more fun out of it than the one rider who rides. I think the best number of riders is three—one to be on the horse, and one to walk along on each side and keep off the crowd. For there is something so noble in the sight of a boy on a horse—especially when he is on for the first time—that, before he has galloped many miles, he is pretty certain to become the centre of an admiring throng, all eyes being turned upon the boy, and all legs keeping pace with the horse.

It falls to the lot of few boys to take such a ride more than once in a lifetime. Some, poor fellows! never experience it at all. But whatever could happen to any boy, in the way of adventure, was pretty sure to happen to Phaeton Rogers, who was one of those lucky fellows that are always in the middle of everything, and generally play the principal part. And yet it was not so much luck or accident as his own genius; for he had hardly come into the world when he began to try experiments with it, to see if he couldn't set some of the wheels of the universe turning in new directions. The name his parents gave him was Fayette; but the boys turned it into Phaeton, for a reason which will be explained in the course of the story.

It was my good fortune to live next door to the Rogers family, to know all of Phaeton's adventures, and have a part in some of them. One of the earliest was a morning canter in the country.

Phaeton was a little older than I; his brother Ned was just my age.

One day, their Uncle Jacob came to visit at their house, riding all the way from Illinois on his own horse. This horse, when he set out, was a dark bay, fourteen hands high, with one white foot, and a star on his forehead. At the first town where he staid overnight, it became an iron-gray, with a bob tail and a cast in its eye. At the next halt, the iron-gray changed into a chestnut, with two white feet and a bushy tail. A day or two afterward, he stopped at a camp-meeting, and when he left it the horse was a large roan, with just the hint of a springhalt in its gait. Then he came to a place where a county fair was being held, and here the roan became piebald. How many more changes that horse went through, I do not know; but, when it got to us, it was about eleven hands high (convenient size for boys), nearly white, with a few black spots,—so it could be seen for a long distance,—with nice thick legs, and long hair on them to keep them warm.

For these particulars, I am indebted to Ned, who overheard the conversation between his father and his uncle, and repeated it a few times to the boys.

Now, Mr. Rogers had no barn, and his brother Jacob, who arrived in the evening, had to tie his horse in the wood-shed for the night. He might have taken it to the "Cataract House, by James Tone," which was only a short distance away, and had a first-rate stable; but it was not the custom, in that part of the country, ever to patronize a hotel if you could by any possibility quarter yourself and your horse on a friend.

Just before bedtime, Ned came over to tell me that Phaeton was to take the horse to pasture in the morning, that he was going with him, and they would like my company also, adding:

"Uncle Jacob says that a brisk morning canter will do us good, and give us an appetite for breakfast."

"Yes," said I, "of course it will; and besides that, we can view the scenery as we ride by."

"We can, unless we ride too fast," said Ned.

"Does your uncle's horse go very fast?" said I, with some little apprehension, for I had never been on a horse.

"I don't exactly know," said Ned. "Probably not."

"Has Phaeton ever been on a horse?" said I.

"No," said Ned; "but he is reading a book about it, that tells you just what to do."

"And how far is the pasture?"

"Four miles,—Kidd's pasture,—straight down Jay street, past the stone brewery. Kidd lives in a yellow house on the right side of the road; and