"We shall have you falling into the river," said Harriet, rather
fretfully.

"No, indeed! If you fall in, I will pull you out. Young maids should
not run about the country without a gentleman to take care of them.
Should they, sister?" cried the doughty seven years' old champion.

"Who taught you that, sir?" asked Betty, trying to keep her countenance.

"I heard Mrs. Churchill say so to my papa," returned the boy. "So now,
there's a good sister. Do pray let me go!"

"If you say your tasks well, and will promise to be obedient to Harriet
and to keep away from the river, and not touch the basket of eggs."

Eugene was ready for any number of promises; and Harriet, seeing there
was no escape for her, went off with Aurelia to put on their little
three-cornered muslin handkerchiefs and broad-brimmed straw hats,
while Eugene repeated his tasks, namely, a fragment of the catechism,
half a column of spelling from the _Universal Spelling-Book_, and
(Betty's special pride) his portion of the _Orbis Sensualium Pictus_
of Johannes Amos Comenius, the wonderful vocabulary, with still more
wonderful "cuts," that was then the small boys path to Latinity.

The Eagle, _Aquila_, the King of Birds, _Rex Avium_, looketh at the
Sun, _intuetur Solem_, as indeed he could hardly avoid doing, since
in the "cut" the sun was within a hairsbreath of his beak, while his
claws were almost touching a crow (_Corvus_) perched on a dead horse,
to exemplify how _Aves Raptores_ fed on carrion.