that looked as if they could see farther or better than those of Eustace
Bright.

This learned student was slender, and rather pale, as all Yankee
students are; but yet of a healthy aspect, and as light and active as if
he had wings to his shoes. By the by, being much addicted to wading
through streamlets and across meadows, he had put on cowhide boots for
the expedition. He wore a linen blouse, a cloth cap, and a pair of
green spectacles, which he had assumed, probably, less for the
preservation of his eyes, than for the dignity that they imparted to his
countenance. In either case, however, he might as well have let then
alone; for Huckleberry, a mischievous little elf, crept behind Eustace
as he sat on the steps of the porch, snatched the spectacles from his
nose, and clapped them on her own; and as the student forgot to take
them back, they fell off into the grass, and lay there till the next
spring.

Now, Eustace Bright, you must know, had won great fame among the
children, as a narrator of wonderful stories; and though he sometimes
pretended to be annoyed, when they teased him for more, and more, and
always for more, yet I really doubt whether he liked anything quite so
well as to tell them. You might have seen his eyes twinkle, therefore,
when Clover, Sweet Fern, Cowslip, Buttercup, and most of their
playmates, besought him to relate one of his stories, while they were
waiting for the mist to clear up.

"Yes, Cousin Eustace," said Primrose, who was a bright girl of twelve,
with laughing eyes, and a nose that turned up a little, "the morning is
certainly the best time for the stories with which you so often tire out
our patience. We shall be in less danger of hurting your feelings, by