“Are there?” he asked, and immediately turned the page to discover more and more treasures—Esquimaux and white bears of the Arctic circle; elk, moose, and reindeer, and red Indians of the northern lakes and forests; seals, beavers, Canadians, New England farms, churches, school-houses, New York seaports, shipping, and warehouses; Western prairies, forests and rivers; Southern bays, isles, and cotton plantations. “Oh! oh! oh!” What a treasury of happiness to the poor boy, hungering and thirsting for knowledge, who had scarcely ever seen three books or a dozen pictures in his life before, and who had scarcely any conception of any world beyond the horizon of his natural vision! And as yet he had seen only a few index pictures of North America. South America and all the Western Hemisphere was to follow in that delightful book. “Oh, you never can know how much I thank you for this beautiful book!” he exclaimed, with enthusiasm. “Why, don’t I tell you I am ever so much obliged to you for liking it so well!” said Gloria, her own blue eyes dancing with the delight of delighting. Over and over he turned the bewitching pages, finding more and more pleasure as he went on even to the end of the book—the picture of the Cape of Good Hope, with Cape Colony. He had taken some time to look through the volume, pausing long over each picture. So when he closed it, he arose and said: “I could sit all day and night and look at this book, and forget to eat or sleep, I do believe; but I reckon it is time for us to go now.” “No, sit down again. I have got something else to show you,” she answered. He obediently reseated himself, and she put in his hand “The First Book of History,” profusely illustrated with pictures of battles and conventions and portraits of military heroes and statesmen. “Oh-h-h!” again exclaimed the boy, as he opened at a portrait of George Washington on one side, and the signing of the Declaration of Independence on the other. He turned over page after page, finding fresh food for intellect and imagination in every one, while the little girl watched him with her blue eyes sparkling in sympathetic pleasure. “Oh, how rich I shall feel, with these two books to read every night! I shall never go to bed at dusk when granny does because I am lonesome. I shall never be lonesome now,” he said. “I am so glad, and so very much obliged to you for being so happy over them, David Lindsay,” she repeated, with more emphasis. There is no knowing how long the two children might have lingered, sitting side by side on the old boat—he poring with rapture over the book, she watching his enjoyment with ecstasy; but the hour of noon came and passed, and the healthy young appetite of the boy would not allow him to “forget to eat.” “Oh, how late it is!” he exclaimed, reluctantly closing the book just at the picture of General Washington receiving the sword of Lord Cornwallis after the battle of Yorktown. “Come, we had better go now.”