“And they dipped the coat in the blood; an’ made it all bluggy,” reiterated Toddie.

“Uncle Harry,” said Budge, “what do you think my papa would do if he thought I was all ate up by a lion?  I guess he’d cry awful, don’t you?  Now tell us another story—­oh, I’ll tell you—­read us ’bout—­”

“’Bout Bliaff,” interrupted Toddie.

“You tell me about him, Toddie,” said I.

“Why,” said Toddie, “Bliaff was a brate bid man, an’ Dave was brate little man, an’ Bliaff said, ‘Come over here’n an’ I’ll eat you up,’ an’ Dave said, ‘I ain’t fyaid of you.’  So Dave put five little stones in a sling an’ asked de Lord to help him, an’ let ze sling go bang into bequeen Bliaff’s eyes an’ knocked him down dead, an’ Dave took Bliaff’s sword an’ sworded Bliaff’s head off, an’ made it all bluggy, an’ Bliaff runned away.”  This short narration was accompanied by more spirited and unexpected gestures than Mr. Gough ever puts into a long lecture.

“I don’t like ’bout Goliath at all,” remarked Budge.  “I’d like to hear ’bout Ferus.”

“Who?”

“Ferus; don’t you know?”

“Never heard of him, Budge.”

“Why—­y—­y—!” exclaimed Budge; “didn’t you have no papa when you was a little boy?”

“Yes, but he never told me about any one named Ferus; there’s no such person named in Anthon’s Classical Dictionary, either.  What sort of a man was he?”

“Why, once there was a man, an’ his name was Ferus—­Offerus, an’ he went about fightin’ for kings, but when any king got afraid of anybody, he wouldn’t fight for him no more.  An’ one day he couldn’t find no kings that wasn’t afraid of nobody.  An’ the people told him the Lord was the biggest king in the world, an’ he wasn’t afraid of nobody or nothing.  An’ he asked ’em where he could find the Lord, and they said he was way up in heaven so nobody couldn’t see him but the angels, but he liked folks to work for him instead of fight.  So Ferus wanted to know what kind of work he could do, an’ the people said there was a river not far off, where there wasn’t no ferry-boats, cos the water run so fast, an’ they guessed if he’d carry folks across, the Lord would like it.  So Ferus went there, and he cut him a good, strong cane, an’ whenever anybody wanted to go across the river he’d carry ’em on his back.

“One night he was sittin’ in his little house by the fire, and smokin’ his pipe an’ readin’ the paper, an’ ‘twas rainin’ an’ blowin’ an’ hailin’ an’ stormin’, an’ he was so glad there wasn’t anybody wantin’ to go ’cross the river, when he heard somebody call out ‘Ferus!’ An’ he looked out the window, but he couldn’t see nobody, so he sat down again.  Then somebody called ‘Ferus!’ again, and he opened the door again, an’ there was a little bit of a boy, ‘bout as big as Toddie.  An’ Ferus said, ’Hullo, young fellow, does your mother know you’re out?’ An’ the little