“See!” cried the jockeys. “The shavings are all turned into gold. Now we will see what we can do for you.” And they took the Sky-born Snorter and put him in the fire, and he turned into gold too, and was all burned up. And the blind jockey drove the white buffalo all the rest of his life, and never knew the difference. Moral: Don’t be ambitious! “OH, DEAR!” CHIMBORAZO was a very unhappy boy. He pouted, and he sulked, and he said, “Oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear! oh, dear!” He said it till everybody was tired of hearing it. “Chimborazo,” his mother would say, “please don’t say, ‘Oh, dear!’ any more. It is very annoying. Say something else.” “Oh, dear!” the boy would answer, “I can’t! I don’t know anything else to say. Oh, dear! Oh, _dear_!! oh, DEAR!!!” One day his mother could not bear it any longer, and she sent for his fairy godmother, and told her all about it. “Humph!” said the fairy godmother. “I will see to it. Send the boy to me!” So Chimborazo was sent for, and came, hanging his head as usual. When he saw his fairy godmother, he said, “Oh, dear!” for he was rather afraid of her. “‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the godmother sharply; and she put on her spectacles and looked at him. “Do you know what a bell-punch is?” “Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo. “No, ma’am, I don’t!” “Well,” said the godmother, “I am going to give you one.” “Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I don’t want one.” “Probably not,” replied she, “but that doesn’t make much difference. You have it now, in your jacket pocket.” Chimborazo felt in his pocket, and took out a queer-looking instrument of shining metal. “Oh, dear!” he said. “‘Oh, dear!’ it is!” said the fairy godmother. “Now,” she continued, “listen to me, Chimborazo! I am going to put you on an allowance of ‘Oh, dears.’ This is a self-acting bell-punch, and it will ring whenever you say ‘Oh, dear!’ How many times do you generally say it in the course of the day?” “Oh, dear!” said Chimborazo, “I don’t know. Oh, _dear_!” “_Ting! ting!_” the bell-punch rang twice sharply; and looking at it in dismay, he saw two little round holes punched in a long slip of pasteboard which was fastened to the instrument. “Exactly!” said the fairy. “That is the way it works, and a very pretty way, too. Now, my boy, I am going to make you a very liberal allowance. You may say ‘Oh, dear!’ forty-five times a day. There’s liberality for you!” “Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo, “I—” “_Ting!_” said the bell-punch. “You see!” observed the fairy. “Nothing could be prettier. You have now had three of this day’s allowance. It is still some hours before noon, so I advise you to be careful. If you exceed the allowance—” Here she paused, and glowered through her spectacles in a very dreadful manner. “Oh, dear!” cried Chimborazo. “What will happen then?” “You will see!” said the fairy godmother, with a nod. “_Something_ will happen, you may be very sure of that. Good-by. Remember, only forty-five!” And away she flew out of the window.