Once upon a time there was a little boy who went to buy some nails for his father, and while he was waiting for the storekeeper to wrap them up, he saw in the window a little red .  
"If I had a little red hatchet," thought the little boy, "I could pound nails and boards, and perhaps I could build myself a little house," and he asked the storekeeper the price of the hatchet.
 
"Just as many pennies as you have fingers on your hands, or toes on your feet," said the man.
 
"Oh!" said the little boy, and as soon as he went out of the store he counted his fingers. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." He could not count his toes then, for he had on his shoes and stockings, but he remembered to do it when he « 56 »undressed that night; and he had just as many toes as he had fingers. The little red hatchet cost ten pennies. "If I had ten pennies," he said to his mother, "I know what I should do. I should buy me a little red hatchet."
 
"How nice that would be," said his mother; "and where would you get it?"
 
"From the storekeeper," said he; "and I could pound nails and split boards and build houses. I wish I had one."
 
"So do I," said his mother; "but now you must go to sleep, for to-morrow is your birthday, and you will want to be up with the sun."
 
The sun was up before the little boy, though, and so was his mother. She was sitting on the bed when he waked up, and on the table, close by the bed, were—what do you think? Ten pennies, all in a row.
 
"Now you can buy the little red hatchet," said his mother, giving him a birthday kiss.
 
"Yes, now I can buy the little red hatchet," said the little boy; and he could scarcely wait to dress and eat his breakfast before he started out to the store. The ten pennies were in his pocket and they merrily as the little boy ran down the road. "Ten of us are here! Ten of us are here!"—this is what they seemed to say, and the boy laughed to hear them.
 
"Perhaps I'll cut down a tree with my little red hatchet," he thought, as he ran.
 
It was early in the morning when he reached the town, but the stores were open, and the men who sold things on the street were already calling their . One was a ragman. "Rags, rags!" he called. Another was a pieman. He had his good things in a cart that he pushed before him. There were fresh raspberry in his cart that day, and every now and then he called:—
 
"Tarts, tarts, raspberry tarts! A for a penny and a penny for a tart. Tarts, tarts, raspberry tarts! « 58 »A tart for a penny and a penny for a tart!" The little boy stopped to listen. "Tarts, tarts, raspberry tarts!" Oh, how delicious they looked—those penny tarts in the pieman's cart!
 
"Will you have a tart, little master?" asked the pieman.
 
The little boy put his hand in his pocket and drew it out; then he put it back and drew it out again. This time a penny came with it. "Yes, if you please," he said to the pieman. "I want a raspberry tart." A nice, sweet, juicy three-cornered raspberry tart! The little boy had eaten every of it when he came to the store where the l............