tossed the kite up just as little John ran off. It rose with all
the dignity of a balloon, and promised a lofty flight; but John,
delighted to find it pulling so hard at the string, stopped short
to look upward and admire. The string slackened, the kite
wavered, and, the wind not being very strong, down came the kite
to the grass. "O John, you should not have stopped," said I.
"However, try again."

"I won't try any more," replied he, rather sullenly. "It is of no
use, you see. The kite won't fly, and I don't want to be plagued
with it any longer."

"Oh, fie, my little man! would you give up the sport, after all
the pains we have taken both to make and to fly the kite? A few
disappointments ought not to discourage us. Come, I have wound up
your string, and now try again."

And he did try, and succeeded, for the kite was carried upward on
the breeze as lightly as a feather; and when the string was all
out, John stood in great delight, holding fast the stick and
gazing on the kite, which now seemed like a little white speck in
the blue sky. "Look, look, aunt, how high it flies! and it pulls
like a team of horses, so that I can hardly hold it. I wish I had
a mile of string: I am sure it would go to the end of it."

After enjoying the sight as long as he wished, little John
proceeded to roll up the string slowly; and when the kite fell,
he took it up with great glee, saying that it was not at all
hurt, and that it had behaved very well. "Shall we come out
to-morrow, aunt, and try again?"