NIMBLE JIM AND THE MAGIC MELON

BY J. A. JUDSON.


Once upon a time, in a snug little cottage by a brook under a hill,
lived an old widow and her only child. She was a tidy, pleasant-faced
dame, was "Old Mother Growser;" and as to her boy, there wasn't a
brighter lad of his age in all the village. His real name was James,
but he had always been so spry and handy that when he was a little
bit of a chap the neighbors called him "Nimble Jim." At work in the
cottage garden, or at play on the village green, even at his books
and slate, he was ever the same industrious, active "Nimble Jim," and
always a comfort to his mother.

His father had been the village cobbler, and when he died the folks
said: "Who'll mend our shoes now, and auld Jamie gone?"

Then up sprang the boy, saying: "I'll mend them, now father's dead."

The simple folks laughed at him. "Hoot! toot! lad," said they; "ye
canna mend shoes!"

But he answered bravely: "Am I not fifteen years old, and e'en a'most
a mon? Haven't I all father's tools? Haven't I seen him do it day
after day ever since I was a wee boy? It's time I was doing something
besides jobbin' and runnin' and pretendin' to work! I may take to th'
auld bench, and e'en get my father's place among ye in time, so I be
good enough. Mother canna allus be a-spinnin', spinnin', spinnin'. The
poor old eyes are growing dim a'ready,"--and Jim gently stroked her