Fob’s Portrait. 15

animal, and watch these strangers, wondering much that they
cared to gather the wild flowers and mosses which he never
noticed. What fun it would be if a bear should come up the
path, only all the bears were gone. There was not even a
rabbit to be seen. If a pedler should pass, Job would invite
him to stay and rest. <A pedler’s pack was to Job what a
dry-goods store is to a city boy.

He went into the house, bolted the door, and crept into bed,
where he soon fell fast asleep, with the Angora cat curled up
comfortably beside him.

Now we must paint our hero’s portrait, because we can feel
but little interest in the hero, if, in these days of photography,
we do not know exactly how he looked. Job was a strong,
active boy, and his face was as brown, his cheeks as red, as the
sun and the wind could make them. He wore a battered hat,
when he remembered to put it on, and a jacket made of Grand-
father’s old plum-colored coat, with the tails cut off: Grand-
father being a tailor after his own fashion. When spring came
he tossed his heavy shoes into a cupboard, and ran about bare-
footed, until the frost compelled him to seek them once more.

He had been sent to the little red school-house three miles
away, where he learned to read and write. Nobody knows
what strange fancies came into his head about the clouds and
the moon, living up there alone with Grandfather. This may
seem rather a sad, dreary life to the little men who were born
in merry, crowded nurseries, yet it is astonishing how much
Job found to amuse him. Indeed, he seldom played with other
children, and did not miss them.

There ‘was the early breakfast to get, and the dishes to clear