A New World 



in Scotland. One morning, when he was ready 

 to start for another load, his ox-whip was not 

 to be found. He asked me if I knew anything 

 about it. I told him I did n't know where it 

 was, but Scotch conscience compelled me to 

 confess that when I was playing with it I had 

 tied it to Watch's tail, and that he ran away, 

 dragging it through the grass, and came back 

 without it. " It must have slipped off his tail," 

 I said, and so I did n't know where it was. 

 This honest, straightforward little story made 

 father so angry that he exclaimed with heavy, 

 foreboding emphasis: "The very deevil's in 

 that boy!" David, who had been playing 

 with me and was perhaps about as respon- 

 sible for the loss of the whip as I was, said 

 never a word, for he was always prudent 

 enough to hold his tongue when the parental 

 weather was stormy, and so escaped nearly 

 all punishment. And, strange to say, this time 

 I also escaped, all except a terrible scolding, 

 though the thrashing weather seemed darker 

 than ever. As if unwilling to let the sun see the 

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