Benjamin told him honestly how many coppers he had, which was more than the actual price of the whistles. The merchant replied: "Yes, you may have a whistle for that. Take your pick." Never was a child more delighted than he when the bargain was closed. He tried every whistle, that he might select the loudest one of all, and when his choice was settled, he exchanged his entire wealth for the prize. He was as well satisfied as the merchant when he left the store. "Ignorance is bliss," it is said, and it was to Benjamin for a brief space. He began his concert as soon as he left the store. He wanted nothing more. He had seen all he wanted to see. He had bought all he wanted to buy. The whole holiday was crowded into that whistle. To him, that was all there was of it. Sweetmeats and knick-knacks had no attractions for him. Military parade had no charm for him, for he could parade himself now. A band of music had lost its charm, now that he had turned himself into a band. At once he started for home, instead of looking after other sights and scenes. He had been absent scarcely half an hour when he reappeared, blowing his whistle lustily as he entered the house, as if he expected to astonish the whole race of Franklins by the shrillness, if not by the sweetness, of his music. "Back so quick!" exclaimed his mother. "Yes! seen all I want to see." That was a truth well spoken, for the whistle just commanded his whole being, and there was room for nothing more. A whistle was all the holiday he wanted. "What have you there, Ben?" continued his mother; "Something to make us crazy?" "A whistle, mother," stopping its noise just long enough for a decent reply, and then continuing the concert as before. "How much did you give for the whistle?" asked his older brother, John. "All the money I had." Benjamin was too much elated with his bargain to conceal any thing. "What!" exclaimed John with surprise, "did you give all your money for that little concern?" "Yes, every cent of it." "You are not half so bright as I thought you were. It is four times as much as the whistle is worth." "Did you ask the price of it?" inquired his mother. "No, I told the man I would give him all the money I had for one, and he took it." "Of course he did," interjected John, "and if you had had four times as much he would have taken it for the whistle. You are a poor trader, Ben." "You should have asked the price of it in the first place," remarked his mother to him, "and then, if there was not enough, you could have offered all the money you had for the whistle. That would have been proper." "If you had paid a reasonable price for it," continued John, "you might had enough money left to have bought a pocket full of good things." "Yes, peppermints, candy, cakes, nuts, and perhaps more," added a cousin who was present, desiring most of all to hear what the bright boy would say for himself.