“What about it?” asked Father Time.

“Perhaps if I let you go you’ll swing it at me the first thing, to be revenged,” replied the boy.

Father Time gave him a severe look, but said: 

“I’ve known boys for thousands of years, and of course I know they’re mischievous and reckless.  But I like boys, because they grow up to be men and people my world.  Now, if a man had caught me by accident, as you did, I could have scared him into letting me go instantly; but boys are harder to scare.  I don’t know as I blame you.  I was a boy myself, long ago, when the world was new.  But surely you’ve had enough fun with me by this time, and now I hope you’ll show the respect that is due to old age.  Let me go, and in return I will promise to forget all about my capture.  The incident won’t do much harm, anyway, for no one will ever know that Time has halted the last three hours or so.”

“All right,” said Jim, cheerfully, “since you’ve promised not to mow me down, I’ll let you go.”  But he had a notion some people in the town would suspect Time had stopped when they returned to life.

He carefully unwound the rope from the old man, who, when he was free, at once shouldered his scythe, rearranged his white robe and nodded farewell.

The next moment he had disappeared, and with a rustle and rumble and roar of activity the world came to life again and jogged along as it always had before.

Jim wound up his lasso, mounted the butcher’s horse and rode slowly down the street.

Loud screams came from the corner, where a great crowd of people quickly assembled.  From his seat on the horse Jim saw Miss Scrapple, attired in the policeman’s uniform, angrily shaking her fists in Mulligan’s face, while the officer was furiously stamping upon the lady’s hat, which he had torn from his own head amidst the jeers of the crowd.

As he rode past the schoolhouse he heard a tremendous chorus of yells, and knew Prof.  Sharpe was having a hard time to quell the riot caused by the sign on the blackboard.

Through the window of the barber shop he saw the “mean man” frantically belaboring the barber with a hair brush, while his hair stood up stiff as bayonets in all directions.  And the grocer ran out of his door and yelled “Fire!” while his shoes left a track of molasses wherever he stepped.

Jim’s heart was filled with joy.  He was fairly reveling in the excitement he had caused when some one caught his leg and pulled him from the horse.

“What’re ye doin’ hear, ye rascal?” cried the butcher, angrily; “didn’t ye promise to put that beast inter Plympton’s pasture?  An’ now I find ye ridin’ the poor nag around like a gentleman o’ leisure!”

“That’s a fact,” said Jim, with surprise; “I clean forgot about the horse!”

* * * * *

This story should teach us the supreme importance of Time and the folly of trying to stop it.  For should you succeed, as Jim did, in bringing Time to a standstill, the world would soon become a dreary place and life decidedly unpleasant.