It was Ar-bor Day in the Mos-sy Hill School, Johnny Little-john had to speak a piece that had some-thing to do with trees.  He thought it would be a good plan to say some-thing about the little cherry tree that Washington spoiled with his hatch-et, when he was a little boy.  This is what he said: 

[Illustration]

He had a hatch-et—­little George—­
  A hatch-et bright and new,
And sharp enough to cut a stick—­
  A little stick—­in two.

He hacked and whacked and whacked and hacked,
  This sturd-y little man;
He hacked a log and hacked a fence,
  As round about he ran.

He hacked his father’s cher-ry tree
  And made an ug-ly spot;
The bark was soft, the hatch-et sharp,
  And little George forgot.

You know the rest.  The father frowned
  And asked the rea-son why;
You know the good old story runs
  He could not tell a lie.

The boy that chopped that cher-ry tree
  Soon grew to be a youth;
At work and books he hacked away,
  And still he told the truth: 

The youth became a fa-mous man,
  Above six feet in height,
And when he had good work to do
  He hacked with all his might.

He fought the ar-mies that the king
  Had sent across the sea;
He bat-tled up and down the land
  To set his country free.

For seven long years he, hacked and whacked
  With all his might and main
Until the Brit-ish sailed away
  And did not come again.

[Illustration]

HOW BENNY WEST LEARNED TO BE A PAINTER.

In old times there lived in Penn-syl-va-ni-a a little fellow whose name was Ben-ja-min West.  He lived in a long stone house.

[Illustration:  Painting Baby’s Portrait]

He had never seen a picture.  The country was new, and there were not many pictures in it.  Benny’s father was a Friend or Quaker.  The Friends of that day did not think that pictures were useful things to make or to have.  Before he was seven years old, this little boy began to draw pictures.  One day he was watching the cradle of his sister’s child.  The baby smiled.  Benny was so pleased with her beauty, that he made a picture of her in red and black ink.  The picture of the baby pleased his mother when she saw it.  That was very pleasant to the boy.

He made other pictures.  At school he used to draw with a pen before he could write.  He made pictures of birds and of animals.  Sometimes he would draw flowers.

[Illustration:  Flower and Fruit of the Poke-Berry.]

He liked to draw so well, that sometimes he forgot to do his work.  His father sent him to work in the field one day.  The father went out to see how well he was doing his work.  Benny was no-where to be found.  At last his father saw him sitting under a large poke-weed.  He was making pictures.  He had squeezed the juice out of some poke-berries.  The juice of poke-berries is deep red.  With this the boy had made his pictures.  When the father looked at them, he was surprised.  There were portraits of every member of the family.  His father knew every picture.