The Man Who Couldn't Stay Still

Farmer Jones was a good man who lived just outside a small seaport village in New England. Like all New England farmers, he was honest and hard working. Of course, everyone knows New England farmers are the best of all farmers.

But Farmer Jones just couldn't stay still.

Like other farmers, he rose early, plowed his fields, and planted his vegetables. When the harvest season arrived, he and his family picked the vegetables for market. The other farmers were very tired after working that hard, but not Farmer Jones. He was always doing something because he couldn't stay still.

Mrs. Jones was happy her husband worked so hard. He finished all his farm work faster than other farmers. But when he was done, he would not rest. He was always moving, always fidgeting.

At night he fidgeted so much that poor Mrs. Jones could not get any sleep. Farmer Jones tossed and turned and fussed and bothered and rolled and bounced all night. Mrs. Jones became so tired, she finally asked Dr. Mandroot to stop by the farm and check Farmer Jones to see why he couldn't stay still.

When Doctor Mandroot arrived, Farmer Jones was washing his cows. When he finished washing his cows, Farmer Jones waxed them. When the cows were nice and shiny, he made wooden signs with the name of each cow on it and hung them around each cow's neck. Then Farmer Jones looked for something else to do.

Dr. Mandroot sat Farmer Jones down long enough to examine him. After the examination, he spoke to poor, tired Mrs. Jones.

"I have seen this before, in animals, Mrs. Jones," the doctor said, putting his instruments into his black bag, "but never in a human. He has unendious fussyitous, an inability to stay still. I've only seen it cured once, and that was on a horse, not a man. In order to cure Farmer Jones we will have to stop all of his fidgeting. The only way that can be done is to sit on him until he is very still."

So the doctor and Mrs. Jones placed Farmer Jones on a small bed of hay and sat on him. Farmer Jones' feet kept moving, so Mrs. Jones had her son and daughter sit on his legs. When his feet, hands, and head continued to move, Mrs. Jones asked a farmhand to go into the village and ask for help.

Soon after, like all good New Englanders, the people of the village left their work to climb the steep road to Farmer Jones' farm to help their neighbor. Each villager climbed over the next and sat on the shoulders of one another until a great pyramid of fine

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