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For seven long years he, hacked and whacked With all his might and main Until the Brit-ish sailed away And did not come again. In old times there lived in Penn-syl-va-ni-a a little fellow whose name was Ben-ja-min West. He lived in a long stone house. He had never seen a picture. The country was new, and there were not many pictures in it. Benny's father was a Friend or Quaker.
"Ben-ja-min!" said his father, stooping over the bed. There was no answer. "Ben-ja-min!" repeated his father, giving him a shake, "what does all this mean?" "What?" inquired Ben, opening his eyes, and looking very innocent. "Where have you been, to-night?" "You sent me to bed," said Ben, "and I came." But the 'Squire was not to be deceived.
"That could easily be remedied by ablution." "There ain't any ablution in the house," said the mystified Hannah. "I mean," Squire Newcome condescended to explain, "the application of water in short, washing." "Shure," said Hannah, as light broke in upon her mind, "I never knew that was what they called it before." "Is Ben-ja-min at home?" "Yes, sir. He was out playin' in the yard a minute ago.
"Ben-ja-min," said the Squire, sternly, "What have you been a-doing?" Ben looked sheepish, but said nothing. "I repeat, Benjamin, what have you been a-doing?" "I didn't mean to," said Ben. "That does not answer my interrogatory. What have you been a-doing?" "I was chasing the cat," said Ben, "and she got under the table. I went after her, and somehow it upset.
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