take　any　interest　in　any　kind　of　rational　amusement。　　So　the　other　boys
  used　to　try　to　reason　it　out　and　come　to　an　understanding　of　him；　but
  they　couldn't　arrive　at　any　satisfactory　conclusion。　　As　I　said　before；
  they　could　only　figure　out　a　sort　of　vague　idea　that　he　was　〃afflicted；〃
  and　so　they　took　him　under　their　protection；　and　never　allowed　any　harm
  to　come　to　him。
  This　good　little　boy　read　all　the　Sunday…school　books；　they　were　his
  greatest　delight。　　This　was　the　whole　secret　of　it。　　He　believed　in　the
  gold　little　boys　they　put　in　the　Sunday…school　book；　he　had　every
  confidence　in　them。　　He　longed　to　come　across　one　of　them　alive　once；
  but　he　never　did。　　They　all　died　before　his　time；　maybe。　　Whenever　he
  read　about　a　particularly　good　one　he　turned　over　quickly　to　the　end　to
  see　what　became　of　him；　because　he　wanted　to　travel　thousands　of　miles
  and　gaze　on　him；　but　it　wasn't　any　use；　that　good　little　boy　always　died
  in　the　last　chapter；　and　there　was　a　picture　of　the　funeral；　with　all　his
  relations　and　the　Sunday…school　children　standing　around　the　grave　in
  pantaloons　that　were　too　short；　and　bonnets　that　were　too　large；　and
  everybody　crying　into　handkerchiefs　that　had　as　much　as　a　yard　and　a　half
  of　stuff　in　them。　　He　was　always　headed　off　in　this　way。　　He　never　could
  see　one　of　those　good　little　boys　on　account　of　his　always　dying　in　the
  last　chapter。
  Jacob　had　a　noble　ambition　to　be　put　in　a　Sunday　school　book。　　He　wanted
  to　be　put　in；　with　pictures　representing　him　gloriously　declining　to　lie
  to　his　mother；　and　her　weeping　for　joy　about　it；　and　pictures
  representing　him　standing　on　the　doorstep　giving　a　penny　to　a　poor
  beggar…woman　with　six　children；　and　telling　her　to　spend　it　freely；　but
  not　to　be　extravagant；　because　extravagance　is　a　sin；　and　pictures　of　him
  magnanimously　refusing　to　tell　on　the　bad　boy　who　always　lay　in　wait　for
  him　around　the　corner　as　he　came　from　school；　and　welted　him　so　over　the
  head　with　a　lath；　and　then　chased　him　home；　saying；　〃Hi！　hi！〃　as　he
  proceeded。　　That　was　the　ambition　of　young　Jacob　Blivens。　　He　wished　to
  be　put　in　a　Sunday…school　book。　　It　made　him　feel　a　lithe　uncomfortable
  sometimes　when　he　reflected　that　the　good　little　boys　always　died。　　He
  loved　to　live；　you　know；　and　this　was　the　most　unpleasant　feature　about
  being　a　Sunday…school…boo　boy。　　He　knew　it　was　not　healthy　to　be　good。
  He　knew　it　was　more　fatal　than　consumption　to　be　so　supernaturally　good
  as　the　boys　in　the　books　were　he　knew　that　none　of　them　had　ever　been
  able　to　stand　it　long；　and　it　pained　him　to　think　that　if　they　put　him　in
  a　book　he　wouldn't　ever　see　it；　or　even　if　they　did　get　the　book　out
  before　he　died　it　wouldn't　be　popular　without　any　picture　of　his　funeral
  in　the　back　part　of　it。　　It　couldn't　be　much　of　a　Sunday…school　book　that
  couldn't　tell　about　the　advice　he　gave　to　the　community　when　he　was
  dying。　　So　at　last；　of　course；　he　had　to　make　up　his　mind　to　do　the　best
  he　could　under　the　circumstancesto　live　right；　and　hang　on　as　long　as
  he　could　and　have　his　dying　speech　all　ready　when　his　time　came。
  But　somehow　nothing　ever　went　right　with　the　good　little　boy；　nothing
  ever　turned　out　with　him　the　way　it　turned　out　with　the　good　little　boys
  in　the　books。　　They　always　had　a　good　time；　and　the　bad　boys　had　the
  broken　legs；　but　in　his　case　there　was　a　screw　loose　somewhere；　and　it
  all　happened　just　the　other　way。　　When　he　found　Jim　Blake　stealing
  apples；　and　went　under　the　tree　to　read　to　him　about　the　bad　little　boy
  who　fell　out　of　a　neighbor's　apple　tree　and　broke　his　arm；　Jim　fell　out
  of　the　tree；　too；　but　he　fell　on　him　and　broke　his　arm；　and　Jim　wasn't
  hurt　at　all。　　Jacob　couldn't　understand　that。　　There　wasn't　anything　in
  the　books　like　it。
  And　once；　when　some　bad　boys　pushed　a　blind　man　over　in　the　mud；　and
  Jacob　ran　to　help　him　up　and　receive　his　blessing；　the　blind　man　did　not
  give　him　any　blessing　at　all；　but　whacked　him　over　the　head　with　his
  stick　and　said　he　would　like　to　catch　him　shoving　him　again；　and　then
  pretending　to　help　him　up。　　This　was　not　in　accordance　with　any　of　the
  books。　　Jacob　looked　them　all　over　to　see。
  One　thing　that　Jacob　wanted　to　do　was　to　find　a　lame　dog　that　hadn't　any
  place　to　stay；　and　was　hungry　and　persecuted；　and　bring　him　home　and　pet
  him　and　have　that　dog's　imperishable　gratitude。　　And　at　last　he　found　one
  and　was　happy；　and　he　brought　him　home　and　fed　him；　but　when　he　was　going
  to　pet　him　the　dog　flew　at　him　and　tore　all　the　clothes　off　him　except
  those　that　were　in　front；　and　made　a　spectacle　of　him　that　was
  astonishing。　　He　examined　authorities；　but　he　could　not　understand　the
  matter。　　It　was　of　the　same　breed　of　dogs　that　was　in　the　books；　but　it
  acted　very　differently。　　Whatever　this　boy　did　he　got　into　trouble。　　The
  very　things　the　boys　in　the　books　got　rewarded　for　turned　out　to　be　about
  the　most　unprofitable　things　he　could　invest　in。
  Once；　when　he　was　on　his　way　to　Sunday…school；　he　saw　some　bad　boys
  starting　off　pleasuring　in　a　sailboat。　　He　was　filled　with　consternation；
  because　he　knew　from　his　reading　that　boys　who　went　sailing　on　Sunday
  invariably　got　drowned。　　So　he　ran　out　on　a　raft　to　warn　them；　but　a　log
  turned　with　him　and　slid　him　into　the　river。　　A　man　got　him　out　pretty
  soon；　and　the　doctor　pumped　the　water　out　of　him；　and　gave　him　a　fresh
  start　with　his　bellows；　but　he　caught　cold　and　lay　sick　abed　nine　weeks。
  But　the　most　unaccountable　thing　about　it　was　that　the　bad　boys　in　the
  boat　had　a　good　time　all　day；　and　then　reached　home　alive　and　well　in　the
  most　surprising　manner。　　Jacob　Blivens　said　there　was　nothing　like　these
  things　in　the　books。　　He　was　perfectly　dumfounded。
  When　he　got　well　he　was　a　little　discouraged；　but　he　resolved　to　keep　on
  trying　anyhow。　　He　knew　that　so　far　his　experiences　wouldn't　do　to　go　in
  a　book；　but　he　hadn't　yet　reached　the　allotted　term　of　life　for　good
  little　boys；　and　he　hoped　to　be　able　to　make　a　record　yet　if　he　could
  hold　on　till　his　time　was　fully　up。　　If　everything　else　failed　he　had　his
  dying　speech　to　fall　back　on。
  He　examined　his　authorities；　and　found　that　it　was　now　time　for　him　to　go
  to　sea　as　a　cabin…boy。　　He　called　on　a　ship…captain　and　made　his
  application；　and　when　the　captain　asked　for　his　recommendations　he
  proudly　drew　out　a　tract　and　pointed　to　the　word；　〃To　Jacob　Blivens；　from
  his　affectionate　teacher。〃　　But　the　captain　was　a　coarse；　vulgar　man；　and
  he　said；　〃Oh；　that　be　blowed！　that　wasn't　any　proof　that　he　knew　how　to
  wash　dishes　or　handle　a　slush…bucket；　and　he　guessed　he　didn't　want　him。〃
  This　was　altogether　the　most　extraordinary　thing　that　ever　happened　to
  Jacob　in　all　his　life。　　A　compliment　from　a　teacher；　on　a　tract；　had
  never　failed　to　move　the　tenderest　emotions　of　ship…captains；　and　open
  the　way　to　all　offices　of　honor　and　profit　in　their　gift　it　never　had　in
  any　book　that　ever　he　had　read。　　He　could　hardly　believe　his　senses。
  This　boy　always　had　a　hard　time　of　it。　　Nothing　ever　came　out　according
  to　the　authorities　with　him。　　At　last；　one　day；　when　he　was　around
  hunting　up　bad　little　boys　to　admonish；　he　found　a　lot　of　them　in　the　old
  iron…foundry　fixing　up　a　little　joke　on　fourteen　or　fifteen　dogs；　which
  they　had　tied　together　in　long　procession；　and　were　going　to　ornament
  with　empty　nitroglycerin　cans　made　fast　to　their　tails。　　Jacob's　heart
  was　touched。　　He　sat　down　on　one　of　those　cans　（for　he　never　minded
  grease　when　duty　was　before　him）；　and　he　took　hold　of　the　foremost　dog　by
  the　collar；　and　turned　his　reproving　eye　upon　wicked　Tom　Jones。　　But　just
  at　that　moment　Alderman　McWelter；　full　of　wrath；　stepped　in。　　All　the　bad
  boys　ran　away；　but　Jacob　Blivens　rose　in　conscious　innocence　and　began
  one　of　those　stately　little　Sunday…school…book　speeches　which　always
  commence　with　〃Oh；　sir！〃　in　dead　opposition　to　the　fact　that　no　boy；　good
  or　bad；　ever　starts　a　remark　with　〃Oh；　sir。〃　　But　the　alderman　never
  waited　to　hear　the　rest。　　He　took　Jacob　Blivens　by　the　ear　and　turned　him
  around；　and　hit　him　a　whack　in　the　rear　with　the　flat　of　his　hand；　and　in
  an　instant　that　good　little　boy　shot　out　through　the　roof　and　soared　away
  toward　the　sun　with　the　fragments　of　those　fifteen　dogs　stringing　after
  him　like　the　tail　of　a　kite。　　And　there　wasn't　a　sign　of　that　alderman　or
  that　old　iron…foundry　left　on　the　face　of　the　earth；　and；　as　for　young
  Jacob　Blivens；　he　never　got　a　chance　to　make　his　last　dying　speech　after
  all　his　trouble　fixing　it　up；　unless　he　made　it　to　the　birds；　because；
  although　the　bulk　of　him　came　down　all　right　in　a　tree…top　in　an
  adjoining　county；　the　rest　of　him　was　apportioned　around　among　four
  townships；　and　so　they　had　to　hold　five　inquests　on　him　to　find　out
  whether　he　was　dead　or　not；　and　how　it　occurred。　　You　never　saw　a　boy
  scattered　so。＇This　glycerin　catastrophe　is　borrowed　from　a　floating
  newspaper　item；　whose　author's　name　I　would　give　if　I　knew　it。M。　T。＇
  Thus　perished　the　good　little　boy　who　did　the　best　he　could；　but　didn't
  come　out　according　to　the　books。　　Every　boy　who　ever　did　as　he　did
  prospered　except　him。　　His　case　is　truly　remarkable。　　It　will　probably
  never　be　accounted　for。
  A　COUPLE　OF　P