L. Frank Baum by American Fairy Tales Page A

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.

The Wonderful Pump
*
    Not many years ago there lived on a stony, barren New England farm a
man and his wife. They were sober, honest people, working hard from
early morning until dark to enable them to secure a scanty living
from their poor land.
    Their house, a small, one-storied building, stood upon the side of a
steep hill, and the stones lay so thickly about it that scarce
anything green could grow from the ground. At the foot of the hill,
a quarter of a mile from the house by the winding path, was a small
brook, and the woman was obliged to go there for water and to carry
it up the hill to the house. This was a tedious task, and with the
other hard work that fell to her share had made her gaunt and bent
and lean.
    Yet she never complained, but meekly and faithfully performed her
duties, doing the housework, carrying the water and helping her
husband hoe the scanty crop that grew upon the best part of their
land.
    One day, as she walked down the path to the brook, her big shoes
scattering the pebbles right and left, she noticed a large beetle
lying upon its back and struggling hard with its little legs to turn
over, that its feet might again touch the ground. But this it could
not accomplish; so the woman, who had a kind heart, reached down and
gently turned the beetle with her finger. At once it scampered from
the path and she went on to the brook.
    The next day, as she