OW much did the pitcher hold?" asked Sweet Fern.
"It did not hold quite a quart," answered the student;
"but you might keep pouring milk out of it, till you
should fill a hogshead, if you pleased. The truth is,
it would run on forever, and not be dry even at
midsummer,—which is more than can be said of yonder
rill, that goes babbling down the hill-side."
"And what has become of the pitcher now?" inquired the
"It was broken, I am sorry to say, about twenty-five
thousand years ago," replied Cousin Eustace. "The
people mended it as well as they could, but, though it
would hold milk pretty well, it was never afterwards
known to fill itself of its own accord. So, you see, it
was no better than any other cracked earthen pitcher."
"What a pity!" cried all the children at once.
The respectable dog Ben had accompanied the party, as
did likewise a half-grown Newfoundland
puppy, who went
by the name of Bruin, because he was just as black as a
bear. Ben, being elderly, and of very circumspect
habits, was respectfully requested, by Cousin Eustace,
to stay behind with the four little children, in order
to keep them out of mischief. As for black Bruin, who
was himself nothing but a child, the student thought it
best to take him along, lest, in his rude play with the
other children, he should trip them up, and send them
rolling and tumbling down the hill. Advising Cowslip,
Sweet Fern, Dandelion, and Squash-Blossom to sit pretty
still, in the spot where he left them, the student,
with Primrose and the elder children, began to ascend,
and were soon out of sight among the trees.