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[Illustration: The naval battle between the Serapis and the Poor
Richard.]

[Illustration:




                       GRADED LITERATURE READERS


                               EDITED BY
                      HARRY PRATT JUDSON, LL.D.,
                PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
                                  AND
                             IDA C. <DW12>
  SUPERVISOR OF PRIMARY GRADES IN THE PUBLIC SCHOOLS OF BUFFALO, NEW
                                 YORK

                              FOURTH BOOK

                  CHARLES E. MERRILL CO., PUBLISHERS]

                          COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY
                        MAYNARD, MERRILL, & CO.
                                 [24]




PREFACE


It is believed that the Graded Literature Readers will commend
themselves to thoughtful teachers by their careful grading, their sound
methods, and the variety and literary character of their subject-matter.

They have been made not only in recognition of the growing discontent
with the selections in the older readers, but also with an appreciation
of the value of the educational features which many of those readers
contained. Their chief points of divergence from other new books,
therefore, are their choice of subject-matter and their conservatism in
method.

A great consideration governing the choice of all the selections has
been that they shall interest children. The difficulty of learning to
read is minimized when the interest is aroused.

School readers, which supply almost the only reading of many children,
should stimulate a taste for good literature and awaken interest in a
wide range of subjects.

In the Graded Literature Readers good literature has been presented as
early as possible, and the classic tales and fables, to which constant
allusion is made in literature and daily life, are largely used.

Nature study has received due attention. The lessons on scientific
subjects, though necessarily simple at first, preserve always a strict
accuracy.

The careful drawings of plants and animals, and the illustrations in
color--many of them photographs from nature--will be attractive to the
pupil and helpful in connection with nature study.

No expense has been spared to maintain a high standard in the
illustrations, and excellent engravings of masterpieces are given
throughout the series with a view to quickening appreciation of the
best in art.

These books have been prepared with the hearty sympathy and very
practical assistance of many distinguished educators in different parts
of the country, including some of the most successful teachers of
reading in primary, intermediate, and advanced grades.

Thanks are due to Messrs. G. P. Putnam's Sons and to President
Roosevelt for their courtesy in permitting the use of the selection
from "Hunting Trips of a Ranchman."




INTRODUCTION


In the Fourth and Fifth Readers the selections are longer, the language
more advanced, and the literature of a more mature and less imaginative
character than in the earlier books.

The teacher should now place increased emphasis on the literary
side of the reading, pointing out beauties of language and thought,
and endeavoring to create an interest in the books from which the
selections are taken. Pupils will be glad to know something about the
lives of the authors whose works they are reading, and will welcome the
biographical notes given at the head of the selections, and the longer
biographical sketches throughout the book. These can be made the basis
of further biographical study at the discretion of the teacher.

Exercises and word lists at the end of the selections contain all
necessary explanations of the text, and also furnish suggestive
material for language work. For convenience, the more difficult words,
with definitions and complete diacritical markings, are grouped
together in the vocabulary at the end of the book.

A basal series of readers can do little more than broadly outline a
course in reading, relying on the teacher to carry it forward. If a
public library is within reach, the children should be encouraged to
use it; if not, the school should exert every effort to accumulate a
library of standard works to which the pupils may have ready access.

The primary purpose of a reading book is to give pupils the mastery of
the printed page, but through oral reading it also becomes a source of
valuable training of the vocal organs. Almost every one finds pleasure
in listening to good reading. Many feel that the power to give this
pleasure comes only as a natural gift, but an analysis of the art shows
that with practice any normal child may acquire it. The qualities
which are essential to good oral reading may be considered in three
groups:

First--An agreeable voice and clear articulation, which, although
possessed by many children naturally, may also be cultivated.

Second--Correct inflection and emphasis, with that due regard for
rhetorical pauses which will appear whenever a child fully understands
what he is reading and is sufficiently interested in it to lose his
self-consciousness.

Third--Proper pronunciation, which can be acquired only by association
or by direct teaching.

Clear articulation implies accurate utterance of each syllable and a
distinct termination of one syllable before another is begun.

Frequent drill on pronunciation and articulation before or after
the reading lesson will be found profitable in teaching the proper
pronunciation of new words and in overcoming faulty habits of speech.

Attention should be called to the omission of unaccented syllables in
such words as _history_ (not _histry_), _valuable_ (not _valuble_),
and to the substitution of _unt_ for _ent_, _id_ for _ed_, _iss_ for
_ess_, _unce_ for _ence_, _in_ for _ing_, in such words as _moment_,
_delighted_, _goodness_, _sentence_, _walking_. Pupils should also
learn to make such distinctions as appear between _u_ long, as in
_duty_, and _u_ after _r_, as in _rude_; between _a_ as in _hat_, _a_
as in _far_, and _a_ as in _ask_.

The above hints are suggestive only. The experienced teacher will
devise for herself exercises fitting special cases which arise in her
own work. It will be found that the best results are secured when the
interest of the class is sustained and when the pupil who is reading
aloud is made to feel that it is his personal duty and privilege to
arouse and hold this interest by conveying to his fellow pupils, in an
acceptable manner, the thought presented on the printed page.




CONTENTS


                                                                PAGE

  THE STRAW, THE COAL, AND THE BEAN  The Brothers Grimm            9

  SEPTEMBER                          Helen Hunt Jackson           12

  ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON                                          13

  TRAVEL                             Robert Louis Stevenson       16

  TRAVELERS' WONDERS                 Dr. John Aikin               19

  ANTS                                                            24

  THE FOUR SUNBEAMS                                               28

  SIFTING BOYS                                                    30

  THE FOUNTAIN                       James Russell Lowell         34

  LEWIS CARROLL                                                   36

  WHAT ALICE SAID TO THE KITTEN      Lewis Carroll                38

  THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES  William Wordsworth           43

  THE SNOW IMAGE                     Nathaniel Hawthorne          45

  LITTLE BY LITTLE                                                63

  THE HOUSE I LIVE IN                                             63

  JEFFERSON'S TEN RULES                                           70

  THE PET LAMB                       William Wordsworth           71

  THE STORY OF FLORINDA              Abby Morton Diaz             75

  THE EAGLE                          Alfred, Lord Tennyson        90

  PSALM XXIII                                                     91

  TILLY'S CHRISTMAS                  Louisa May Alcott            92

  UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE           William Shakspere           101

  OUR FIRST NAVAL HERO                                           102

  HIAWATHA'S SAILING                 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow  108

  SHUN DELAY                                                     114

  THE WALRUS AND THE CARPENTER       Lewis Carroll               119

  PRINCE AHMED                       "The Arabian Nights"        124

  THE PLANTING OF THE APPLE TREE     William Cullen Bryant       149

  NESTS                              John Ruskin                 153

  SIR ISAAC NEWTON                   Nathaniel Hawthorne         153

  LUCY                               William Wordsworth          165

  TO A SKYLARK                       William Wordsworth          167

  TOM GOES DOWN TO THE SEA           Charles Kingsley            167

  PSALM XXIV                                                     181

  A GOOD SAMARITAN                   George Macdonald            183

  THE SPARTAN THREE HUNDRED                                      184

  THE FAIRY LIFE                     William Shakspere           191

  CHARLES DICKENS                                                192

  LITTLE CHARLEY                     Charles Dickens             196

  TRAY                               Robert Browning             207

  THE GOLDEN FLEECE                  Nathaniel Hawthorne         209

  THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER           Francis Scott Key           237

  MY NATIVE LAND                     Sir Walter Scott            241

  HUNTING THE GRIZZLY                Theodore Roosevelt          242




CLASSIFIED CONTENTS


  =Stories=:
    Travelers' Wonders
    Sifting Boys
    What Alice Said to the Kitten
    The Story of Florinda
    Tilly's Christmas
    Shun Delay
    Little Charley

  =Classic and Fairy Tales=:
    The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean
    The Snow Image
    Prince Ahmed
    Tom Goes down to the Sea
    The Golden Fleece

  =Literary Biography=:
    Robert Louis Stevenson
    Lewis Carroll
    Charles Dickens

  =History, Biography, and Adventure=:
    Our First Naval Hero
    Sir Isaac Newton
    The Spartan Three Hundred
    Hunting the Grizzly

  =Nature Study=:
    Ants
    The House I Live In

  =Poems=:
    September
    Travel
    The Four Sunbeams
    The Fountain
    The Kitten and the Falling Leaves
    Little by Little
    The Pet Lamb
    The Eagle
    Under the Greenwood Tree
    Hiawatha's Sailing
    The Walrus and the Carpenter
    The Planting of the Apple Tree
    Lucy
    To a Skylark
    A Good Samaritan
    The Fairy Life
    Tray
    The Star-Spangled Banner
    My Native Land

  =Miscellaneous=:
    Jefferson's Ten Rules
    Psalm xxiii
    Psalm xxiv

                             FOURTH READER




The Straw, the Coal, and the Bean

BY THE BROTHERS GRIMM

  Jakob Grimm (1785-1863) and Wilhelm Grimm (1786-1859): German
  authors. The Brothers Grimm, as they are familiarly called, wrote
  many learned scientific books, but they are best known to children
  by their collection of German fairy and folk stories.


1. In a village lived a poor old woman, who had gathered some beans
and wanted to cook them. So she made a fire on her hearth, and that it
might burn more quickly, she lighted it with a handful of straw.

2. When she was emptying the beans into the pan, one dropped without
her observing it and lay on the ground beside a straw. Soon afterwards
a burning coal from the fire leaped down to the two.

3. Then the straw said: "Dear friends, whence do you come here?"

The coal replied: "I fortunately sprang out of the fire. If I had not
escaped by main force my death would have been certain. I should have
been burned to ashes."

4. The bean said: "I, too, have escaped with a whole skin. But if the
old woman had got me into the pan, I, like my comrades, should have
been made into broth without any mercy."

"And would a better fate have fallen to my lot?" said the straw. "The
old woman has destroyed all my brethren in fire and smoke; she seized
sixty of them at once and took their lives. I luckily slipped through
her fingers."

5. "But what are we to do now?" asked the coal.

"I think," answered the bean, "that as we have so fortunately escaped
death, we should keep together like good companions. Lest a new
mischance should overtake us here, let us go away to a foreign country."

6. This plan pleased the two others, and they set out on their way
together. Soon, however, they came to a little brook, and, as there was
no bridge, they did not know how they were to get over.

At last the straw said: "I will lay myself across, and then you can
walk over on me as on a bridge."

7. The straw, therefore, stretched herself from one bank to the other,
and the coal, who was of an impetuous nature, tripped forward quite
boldly on the newly built bridge. But when she reached the middle and
heard the water rushing beneath her, she was, after all, frightened,
and stood still.

8. The straw then began to burn, broke in two pieces, and fell into
the stream. The coal slipped after her, hissed when she sank into the
water, and breathed her last.

[Illustration]

The bean, who had prudently stayed behind on the shore, could not help
laughing at these events, and laughed so heartily that she burst.

9. It would have been all over with her also, if, by good fortune, a
tailor who was traveling in search of work had not sat down to rest by
the brook. Pitying the poor bean, he pulled out his needle and thread
and sewed her together. She thanked him prettily, but, as the tailor
used black thread, beans since then have a black seam.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Ŏb s̝ẽrv´ĭng=: seeing; noticing. =Brĕth´rĕn=: brothers.
  =Mĭs chȧnç_e_´=: misfortune; ill luck. =Ĭm pĕt´ū̍ _o_ŭs=: hasty.




September

BY HELEN HUNT JACKSON

  Helen Fiske Hunt Jackson (1831-1885): An American poet and prose
  author of much merit, whose writings appeared under the pen name
  of "H. H." Among her books are "Bits of Travel," "A Century of
  Dishonor," and "Ramona."


    1.  The golden-rod is yellow;
          The corn is turning brown;
        The trees in apple orchards
          With fruit are bending down.

    2.  The gentian's bluest fringes
          Are curling in the sun;
        In dusky pods the milkweed
          Its hidden silk has spun.

    3.  The sedges flaunt their harvest
          In every meadow-nook;
        And asters by the brookside
          Make asters in the brook.

    4.  From dewy lanes at morning
          The grapes' sweet odors rise;
        At noon the roads all flutter
          With yellow butterflies.

    5.  By all these lovely tokens
          September days are here,
        With summer's best of weather,
          And autumn's best of cheer.

                _Copyright, 1886, by Roberts Brothers._

       *       *       *       *       *


  =Sĕ_d_ġ´ĕs̝=: coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
  =Flä_u_nt=: wave; spread out. =No͝ok=: corner. =Tō´k_e_ns̝=: signs.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Which of the flowers named in this poem have you seen?

  At your home do these flowers bloom in September, or earlier, or
  later?

  Can you name any other tokens of the coming of September?




Robert Louis Stevenson


[Illustration: Robert Louis Stevenson]

1. The famous Scotch author, Robert Louis Stevenson, was born in
Edinburgh, November 13, 1850. He was a delicate child with a sweet
temper and a happy, unselfish disposition, who bore the burden of
ill health bravely in childhood as in later life. In "The Land of
Counterpane," a poem which you may remember, he tells some of the ways
in which he amused himself during the idle days in bed.

2. When he was well enough to be up, he invented games for himself and
took keen delight in the world of outdoor life.

3. His education was carried on in a somewhat irregular fashion. He
attended schools in Edinburgh, and studied with private tutors at
places to which his parents had gone for the benefit of his health or
of their own. He thus became an excellent linguist, and gained wide
knowledge of foreign life and manners. He early showed a taste for
literature, beginning as a boy the careful choice of language which
made him a master of English prose.

4. Stevenson's father had planned to have him follow the family
profession of engineering. With this in view he was sent to Edinburgh
University in the autumn of 1868. Later he gave up engineering and
attended law classes; but law, like engineering, was put aside to
enable him to fulfil his strong desire for a literary life.

5. His first stories and essays, published in various magazines, met
with favorable notice. In 1878 he published his first book, "An Inland
Voyage," the account of a canoe trip with a friend.

6. The mists and east winds of his native Scotland proved too harsh
for his delicate lungs, and year after year he found it necessary to
spend more and more time away from his Edinburgh home. On one of these
journeys in quest of health, he came to America, and in "Across the
Plains" he describes his journey in an emigrant train from New York to
San Francisco. It was on this visit to California that he met Mrs.
Osbourne, who became his wife in 1880.

7. "Treasure Island," a stirring tale of adventure, was published in
1883. It was followed by two other boys' stories, "The Black Arrow" and
"Kidnapped."

8. In 1887 Stevenson and his wife again visited America. They hired a
yacht and spent two years sailing among the islands of the South Seas,
finally visiting Apia in Samoa. Samoa pleased Stevenson, and as the
climate suited him, he decided to make his home there. At Vailima, his
Samoan home, he spent four happy years with his wife and his mother.
Then his health failed, and he died suddenly, December 3, 1894. He was
buried, as he had desired, on the summit of a mountain near his home.

9. Besides many novels and volumes of essays, Stevenson was the author
of four volumes of poetry. The best known of these is "A Child's Garden
of Verses," a book of delightful child poems from which the poem
"Travel" is taken.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Lĭṉ´guĭst=: a person skilled in languages. =Fŏr´_e_ĭ_g_n=:
  belonging to other countries. =Prō̍ fes´sion=: employment; the
  business which one follows. =Cȧ no̤_e_´=: a small, light boat.
  =Ĕm´ĭ grants=: emigrants are people who have left one country to
  settle in another. =Quĕst=: search. =Yạ_ch_t=: a light sea-going
  vessel used for parties of pleasure, racing, etc. =Ä´pï ä.=
  =Sä mō´ä.= =V_a_ī lï´ma.=

[Illustration]




Travel

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON


    I should like to rise and go
    Where the golden apples grow;--
    Where below another sky
    Parrot islands anchored lie,
    And, watched by cockatoos and goats,
    Lonely Crusoes building boats;--
    Where in sunshine reaching out
    Eastern cities, miles about,
    Are with mosque and minaret
    Among sandy gardens set,
    And the rich goods from near and far
    Hang for sale in the bazaar;--
    Where the Great Wall round China goes,
    And on one side the desert blows,
    And with bell and voice and drum,
    Cities on the other hum;--
    Where are forests hot as fire,
    Wide as England, tall as a spire,
    Full of apes and cocoanuts
    And the <DW64> hunters' huts;--
    Where the knotty crocodile
    Lies and blinks in the Nile,
    And the red flamingo flies
    Hunting fish before his eyes;---
    Where in jungles near and far,
    Man-devouring tigers are,
    Lying close and giving ear
    Lest the hunt be drawing near,
    Or a comer-by be seen
    Swinging in a palanquin;--
    Where among the desert sands
    Some deserted city stands,
    All its children, sweep and prince,
    Grown to manhood ages since,
    Not a foot in street or house,
    Not a stir of child or mouse,
    And when kindly falls the night,
    In all the town no spark of light.
    There I'll come when I'm a man,
    With a camel caravan;
    Light a fire in the gloom
    Of some dusty dining-room;
    See the pictures on the walls,
    Heroes, fights, and festivals;
    And in a corner find the toys
    Of the old Egyptian boys.

[Illustration]

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Crṳ´sō_e_s̝=: men like Robinson Crusoe, the hero of the story of
  that name. He was a shipwrecked sailor who lived many years on an
  uninhabited island. =Mosque=: a church in some Eastern countries.
  =Mĭn´ȧrĕt=: the tall, slender tower of a mosque. =Bȧzä_a_r´=: in
  the East a shop where goods are kept for sale. =The Great Wall=: a
  wall fourteen hundred miles long, built many hundreds of years ago
  for the defence of the Chinese Empire. =Jŭṉ´gl_e_s̝=: thickets of
  trees and vines found in hot countries. =Giving ear=: listening.
  =Pal an quin´=: an enclosed carriage, used in China and India,
  which is borne on the shoulders of men by means of two poles.
  =Swē_e_p=: a boy who cleans chimneys by sweeping them. =Căr´ȧ văn=:
  a company of travelers through a desert. =Fĕs´tĭ vals̝=: feasts.

[Illustration: "Ah, ah, papa!" cried Elizabeth, "I have found you out."]




Travelers' Wonders

BY DR. JOHN AIKIN

  Dr. John Aikin (1747-1822): The author of many scientific and
  literary works. This selection is from "Evenings at Home," a volume
  of stories for children written by Dr. Aikin and his sister,
  Mrs. Barbauld. A hundred years ago, there were few books written
  especially for young people, except grammars, histories, and other
  text-books, and this volume of instructive stories was very popular.


1. One winter evening Captain Compass was sitting by the fireside with
his children around him.

"Oh, papa," said little Jack, "do tell a story about what you have
seen in your voyages. We have been reading some wonderful tales of
adventure. As you have sailed round and round the world, you must have
seen many strange things."

2. "That I have, my son," said Captain Compass, "and, if it will
interest you, I will tell you some of the curious things I have seen.

3. "Once about this time of the year I was in a country where it was
very cold. To keep warm, the people had garments made from an animal's
outer covering which they stripped off his back while he was yet alive.
They also wore skins of beasts, these skins being made smooth and soft
in some way.

4. "Their homes were made of stones, of earth hardened in the fire, or
of the stalks of a large plant which grew in that country. In the walls
were holes to let in the light; but to keep out the rain and the cold
air these holes were covered with a sort of transparent stone, made of
melted sand.

5. "They kept their homes warm by means of a queer kind of rock which
they had discovered in the earth. This rock, when broken, burned and
gave out great heat."

6. "Dear me!" said Jack, "what wonderful rock! I suppose it was
somewhat like flints that give out sparks when we knock them together."

"I don't think the flints would burn," said the Captain; "besides, this
was of a darker color.

7. "The food, too, of these people was strange. They ate the flesh of
certain animals, roots of plants, and cakes made of powdered seeds.
They often put on these cakes a greasy matter which was the product of
a large animal.

"They ate, also, the leaves and other parts of a number of plants, some
quite raw, others prepared in different ways by the aid of fire.

8. "For drink they liked water in which certain dry leaves had been
steeped. I was told that these leaves came from a great distance.

"What astonished me most was the use of a drink so hot that it seemed
like liquid fire. I once got a mouthful of it by mistake, taking it
for water, and it almost took away my breath. Indeed, people are often
killed by it; yet many of them are so foolish that they will give for
it anything they have.

9. "In warmer weather these people wore cloth made from a sort of
vegetable wool growing in pods upon bushes. Sometimes they covered
themselves with a fine glossy stuff, which I was told was made out of
the webs of worms. Think of the great number of worms required to make
so large a quantity of stuff as I saw used!

"The women especially wore very queer things. Like most Indian nations,
they wore feathers in their headdress.

10. "I was also much surprised to see that they brought up in their
houses an animal of the tiger kind, with sharp teeth and claws. In
spite of its natural fierceness this animal was played with and
caressed by timid women and children."

11. "I am sure I would not play with it," said Jack.

"Why, you might get an ugly scratch if you did," said the Captain. "The
speech of these people seems very harsh to a stranger, yet they talk to
one another with great ease and quickness.

12. "One of their oddest customs is the way that the men have of
greeting the women. Let the weather be what it will, they uncover their
heads. If they wish to seem very respectful, they stay uncovered for
some time."

13. "Why, that is like pulling off our hats," said Jack.

"Ah, ah, papa!" cried Elizabeth, "I have found you out. All this while
you have been telling us about our own country and what is done at
home."

14. "But," said Jack, "we don't burn rock, nor eat grease and powdered
seeds, nor wear skins and worms' webs, nor play with tigers."

15. "What is coal but rock?" asked the Captain, "and is not butter
grease; and corn, seeds; and leather, skins; and silk, the web of a
kind of worm? And may we not as well call a cat an animal of the tiger
kind, as a tiger an animal of the cat kind?

16. "If you remember what I have said, you will find with your sister's
help that all the other wonderful things I have told you about are ones
we know quite well.

"I meant to show you that to a stranger our common things might seem
very wonderful. I also wanted to show you that every day we call a
great many things by their names without ever thinking about their
nature; so it is really only their names and not the things themselves
that we know."

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Trăns pâr´ent=: that can be seen through. =Glŏs_s_´y̆=: smooth and
  shining. =Rē̍ quīr_e_d´=: needed.

       *       *       *       *       *

  We wear clothes made from sheep's ----.

  Our shoes are made of the skin of beasts, made smooth and soft:
  this is called ----.

  Some houses are built of ----, which are made of earth hardened in
  the fire.

  ---- are holes to let in light and air.

  In these holes is put ----, which is made of melted sand.

  ---- is a rock which burns.

  We eat ----, ---- and ----, which are the flesh of animals.

  We eat cakes made of the powdered seeds of ---- and ----.

  We also use for food ----, ----, and ----, which are the roots of
  plants.

  The leaves of ---- are cooked and eaten.

  ---- grows in pods upon bushes, and is used for making clothes.

  ---- is a glossy fabric made out of the webs of worms.




Ants


1. How often you have seen ants running about the lawn, but have you
ever stopped to watch them and to study their habits? Let me tell you
some facts which have been learned about them. I am sure they will give
you a new interest in these wise little creatures.

2. It may seem to you that ants run to and fro in an aimless way; but
this is not the case, for they have work to do, and they are doing it
with all their might. They cannot see far before them, and it is by
means of their feelers, or perhaps by scent, that they find their way.

3. You must remember that small weeds are to them like huge trees, so
we must look upon them as travelers following a track through great
forests. You will see, too, that ants stop from time to time to rest
and to clean off the particles of earth which cling to them.

4. Ants, like bees, do not enjoy living alone. In their homes, which
we call ant-hills, many thousands of them live together. These homes
are like great cities; indeed, such places as London and New York are
the only human cities which compare with them in size. There is never
any disorder in these great homes, although each ant is free to build,
fight, hunt, or go where it pleases.

5. If the top of an ant-hill be taken off, there will be found
nurseries, chambers, halls, and kitchens--all snug and waterproof.

6. In some countries ants build their houses above ground and tunnel
out great cellars under them. But most of the ants we know make their
homes in the earth, where they can keep warmer than in nests above
ground.

7. Some ants tunnel out a home in the ground and make a little hillock
of earth around the top. At night they close the entrances with leaves,
bits of straw, and tiny twigs. If you watch their nests in the morning
you see the busy little ants open their doors and hurry out.

[Illustration: An ant and its cow]

8. Some hunt insects for food; some gather honey from flowers; others
milk their cows. These cows are plant lice, which yield a sweet juice
of which ants are very fond. So ants keep herds of these little
insects. They keep also beetles and other insects as pets, or for use.

9. While some of the ants are getting food, those at home are busy
clearing out the galleries and doing other work. The well-fed ants
return to the nests and share their food with the workers. One of the
ant laws is that each must help others for the good of all.

10. Deep down in the bottom of the nest lives the queen ant, the mother
of the family, who is very much larger than the others. She does not
take care of her little ones. This is done by ant nurses, who pick up
the tiny eggs and care for them. In the morning the eggs are carried
up to the higher chambers, which are warmed by the sun. In the evening
they are taken back to the lower rooms away from the chill air.

[Illustration: An ant's nest]

11. The eggs hatch into grubs, which look like little grains of rice.
These are the ant-babies. The careful nurses feed them, keep them warm
and clean, and carry them from one room to another, for babies, you
know, must be kept comfortable. Think how busy the nurses must be with
hundreds and thousands of babies to care for!

12. Some ants keep slaves. Regular bands of soldiers go out and bring
home the grubs of another kind of ant. When these grow up they help
their masters work. Sometimes the masters depend so much on their
slaves that they will not build nests, care for their young, nor even
feed themselves. They become so helpless that they die if their slaves
are taken from them.

13. Sometimes two ants will fight together until both are killed.
Sometimes armies of ants fight together fiercely until one or the other
party comes off victor.

14. In cold countries ants sleep through the winter deep down in their
lower rooms. In warmer countries they lay up stores in summer for the
chilly days when it would be hard for them to find food in the meadows
and fields.

15. In Texas there are ants which clear spaces ten or twelve feet
around their nests, only leaving the needle grass or "ant rice," which
they use for food.

16. Among other interesting species of ants are the leaf-cutting ant,
found in Central America, and the honey ant of Mexico.

[Illustration: Leaf-cutting ants]

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Hĭl´lȯ_c_k=: a small mound. =Spe´cies=: kinds.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Write sentences telling five things you have learned about ants
  from this story.

  Can you tell anything not mentioned above which you have learned in
  observing ants?

[Illustration]




The Four Sunbeams


    1. Four little sunbeams came earthward one day,
    All shining and dancing along on their way,
      Resolved that their course should be blest.
    "Let us try," they all whispered, "some kindness to do,
    Not seek our own happiness all the day through,
      Then meet in the eve at the west."

    2. One sunbeam ran in at a low cottage door,
    And played "hide and seek" with a child on the floor,
      Till baby laughed loud in his glee,
    And chased in delight his strange playmate so bright,
    The little hands grasping in vain for the light
      That ever before them would flee.

    3. One crept to the couch where an invalid lay,
    And brought him a dream of the sweet summer day,
      Its bird-song and beauty and bloom;
    Till pain was forgotten and weary unrest,
    And in fancy he roamed through the scenes he loved best,
      Far away from the dim, darkened room.

    4. One stole to the heart of a flower that was sad
    And loved and caressed her until she was glad,
      And lifted her white face again;
    For love brings content to the lowliest lot,
    And finds something sweet in the dreariest spot,
      And lightens all labor and pain.

    5. And one, where a little blind girl sat alone,
    Not sharing the mirth of her playfellows, shone
      On hands that were folded and pale,
    And kissed the poor eyes that had never known sight,
    That never would gaze on the beautiful light,
      Till angels had lifted the veil.

    6. At last, when the shadows of evening were falling,
    And the sun, their great father, his children was calling,
      Four sunbeams passed into the west.
    All said: "We have found that, in seeking the pleasure
    Of others, we fill to the full our own measure."
      Then softly they sank to their rest.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Glē_e_=: joy; mirth. =Flē_e_=: run away. =Ĭn´vȧ lĭd=: one who is
  weak from illness. =Rō_a_med=: wandered; went from place to place.
  =Drē_a_r´ĭ ĕst=: most comfortless and sorrowful.

       *       *       *       *       *

Kind words cost nothing, but are worth much.




Sifting Boys


1. Not long ago I was looking over one of the great saw-mills on the
Mississippi River, in company with the manager of the mill. As we came
to one room, he said: "I want you to notice the boys in this room, and
I will tell you about them afterwards."

2. There were some half-dozen boys at work on saws, with different
machines--some broadening the points of the teeth, some sharpening
them, some deepening the notches between them. There was one lad who
stood leaning up against a bench, not trying to do anything.

3. After we had passed out of the room, the manager said: "That room
is my sieve. The fine boys go through that sieve to higher places and
higher pay. The coarse boys remain in the sieve and are thrown out as
of no use for this mill."

4. Then he explained what he meant. "If a boy wants to work in the
mill, I give him the job of keeping the men in all parts of the mill
supplied with drinking-water. That is the lowest position and draws
the lowest pay. I say to that boy: 'When you have nothing else to do,
go into this room, and then I shall know where to find you when I want
you.'

5. "But there is a much more important reason why I send him into this
room. In a business like this our men are constantly changing. A good
deal of the work, as you will see by watching the machines and those
who manage them, requires much attention and skill. I must, therefore,
look out for the best men to put into the highest positions.

6. "Now, I put the water-boy into this room, where there are several
kinds of work being done. There are pieces of broken saws lying about,
and some of the tools that are used in sharpening and mending them.

7. "I watch that boy. If he begins handling the broken saws, looking
them over, trying them, practicing on them with the tools there,
watching the other boys at their machines, asking questions about how
the work is done, and always making use of his spare time in one way
or another, why, that boy is very soon promoted.

[Illustration: Boys in the sieve]

8. "He is first put to work on some of the machines in this room, and
afterwards on those that require greater skill, and is pushed ahead
as rapidly as there are openings for him. He soon goes to a better
position and better pay, and I get a new water-boy. He has gone through
the sieve.

9. "But there is another kind of boy. When he has time to spare, he
spends it in doing nothing. He leans up against the benches, crosses
one leg over the other, whistles, stares out of the window, no doubt
wishing he was outside, and watches the clock to see how soon he can
get away. If he talks with the other boys, it is not to ask questions
about their work, but to waste their time with some nonsense or other.

10. "I often do all I can to help such a boy. I push the tools under
his very nose. I ask him questions about them. I talk with him about
his plans for the future. I do all that I can to awaken some kind of
life in him. If the boy has any energy in him, well and good; if he has
not, he is simply useless. I don't want such a boy in this mill even as
a water-boy."

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Prō̍ mōt´ĕd=: advanced; raised in rank. =Ĕn´ẽr ġy̆=: force and
  resolution; power for work.

       *       *       *       *       *

There is no one else who has the power to be so much your friend or so
much your enemy as yourself.


Duty

    So nigh is grandeur to our dust,
      So near is God to man,
    When Duty whispers low, "Thou must,"
      The youth replies, "I can."

                                                                 EMERSON




The Fountain

BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

[Illustration: James Russell Lowell]

  James Russell Lowell (1819-1891): An American author. Among his
  best known poems are "The Vision of Sir Launfal," "A Fable for
  Critics," and "The Biglow Papers." "My Study Windows" and "Among
  My Books" are the best of his prose works. He was Minister to
  Spain and afterwards to Great Britain, and the volume "Democracy"
  contains some of his most brilliant addresses.


    1. Into the sunshine,
      Full of the light,
    Leaping and flashing
      From morn till night;

    2. Into the moonlight,
      Whiter than snow,
    Waving so flower-like
      When the winds blow;

    3. Into the starlight,
      Rushing in spray,
    Happy at midnight,
      Happy by day;

    4. Ever in motion,
      Blithesome and cheery,
    Still climbing heavenward,
      Never aweary;

    5. Glad of all weathers,
      Still seeming best,
    Upward or downward
      Motion thy rest;

    6. Full of a nature
      Nothing can tame,
    Changed every moment,
      Ever the same;

    7. Ceaseless aspiring,
      Ceaseless content,
    Darkness or sunshine
      Thy element;

    8. Glorious fountain!
      Let my heart be
    Fresh, changeful, constant,
      Upward, like thee!

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Sprā=_y_: water falling in very small drops. =Blīt̶h_e´_sȯm_e_=:
  gay; cheerful. =Ȧ wē_a´_ry̆=: tired. =Ăs pīr´ĭng=: rising upward.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Select ten words which tell what the fountain does.




Lewis Carroll


1. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, an English author, better known by his
pen name, Lewis Carroll, was born January 27, 1832. His father was a
clergyman, and the home of Charles's boyhood was in the country, some
distance from the little village of Daresbury. The neighborhood was so
secluded that even the passing of a cart was an interesting event, but
we may fancy that the home itself was not a quiet one, since there were
in it eleven boys and girls.

2. Charles was a bright, merry boy who invented games for the
entertainment of his brothers and sisters, and made pets of snails,
toads, and other queer animals. As a boy he seems to have lived in the
"Wonderland" which later he described for other children. He enjoyed
climbing trees, also, and other boyish sports.

3. When Charles was eleven years old the family moved to a Yorkshire
village, and a year later he was sent from home to school. Fond as he
was of play, he was fond of study, too, and his schoolmaster found
him a "gentle, intelligent, well-conducted boy." After three years at
Rugby, the most famous of the English preparatory schools, Charles
Dodgson went to Oxford University. At Christ Church, Oxford, as
student, tutor, and lecturer, the remainder of his life was spent. The
routine of his days was very simple and regular. He spent the mornings
in his lecture room, the afternoons in the country or on the river, and
the evenings with his books, either reading or preparing for the next
day's work.

4. He was very fond of children and was a great favorite with them,
inventing puzzles, games, and stories for their amusement. One July
afternoon in 1862, he took three little girls on a boating excursion,
and on the way he entertained them with a wonderful story about the
adventures of a little girl named Alice. At the entreaty of his child
friends, Mr. Dodgson afterwards wrote out this story. It was published
with the title "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," under the pen name
of Lewis Carroll. It became at once a child-classic, being widely read
in England and America, and translated into French, German, Italian,
and other languages.

5. Mr. Dodgson wrote several other popular books for children, the
best known of which are "Through the Looking-glass," a continuation
of Alice's adventures; "Sylvie and Bruno;" and "The Hunting of the
Snark." Besides these stories, he wrote several learned works on
mathematics. It was hard for people to realize that Charles Dodgson,
the mathematician, and Lewis Carroll, the author of the charming fairy
tales, were one and the same person.

6. After a short illness, Mr. Dodgson died January 14, 1898. "The
world will think of Lewis Carroll as one who opened out a new vein in
literature--a new and delightful vein--which added at once mirth and
refinement to life."

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Sē̍ clūd´ĕd=: apart from others; lonely. =Ĕn tẽr tā_i_n´ment=:
  amusement. =Ro̤_u_ tïn_e_´=: regular course of action.




What Alice Said to the Kitten

BY LEWIS CARROLL


I

1. One thing was certain, that the _white_ kitten had had nothing to do
with it; it was the black kitten's fault entirely. For the white kitten
had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of
an hour, and bearing it pretty well, considering; so you see that it
_couldn't_ have had any hand in the mischief.

2. The way Dinah washed her children's faces was this: First, she held
the poor thing down by its ear with one paw, and then with the other
paw she rubbed its face all over the wrong way, beginning at the nose.
Just now, as I said, she was hard at work on the white kitten, which
was lying quite still and trying to pur--no doubt feeling that it was
all meant for its good.

[Illustration: From the painting by Angelica Kaufmann

Friends now, Pussy]

3. But the black kitten had been finished with earlier in the
afternoon, and so, while Alice was sitting curled up in a corner of the
great armchair, half talking to herself and half asleep, the kitten had
been having a grand game of romps with the ball of worsted Alice had
been trying to wind up, and had been rolling it up and down till it had
all come undone again. There it was, spread over the hearthrug, all
knots and tangles, with the kitten running after its own tail in the
middle.

4. "Oh, you wicked, wicked little thing!" cried Alice, catching up the
kitten and giving it a little kiss to make it understand that it was in
disgrace. "Really, Dinah ought to have taught you better manners! You
_ought_, Dinah; you know you ought!" she added, looking reproachfully
at the old cat and speaking in as cross a voice as she could manage.
Then she scrambled back into the armchair, taking the kitten and the
worsted with her, and began winding up the ball again.

5. But she didn't get on very fast, as she was talking all the time,
sometimes to the kitten, and sometimes to herself. Kitty sat very
demurely on her knee, pretending to watch the progress of the winding,
and now and then putting out one paw and gently touching the ball, as
if it would be glad to help if it might.

6. "Do you know what to-morrow is, Kitty?" Alice began. "You'd have
guessed if you'd been up in the window with me--only Dinah was making
you tidy, so you couldn't. I was watching the boys getting in sticks
for the bonfire--and it wants plenty of sticks, Kitty! Only it got so
cold and it snowed so they had to leave off. Never mind, Kitty; we'll
go and see the bonfire to-morrow."

7. Here Alice wound two or three turns of the worsted round the
kitten's neck, just to see how it would look. This led to a scramble,
in which the ball rolled down upon the floor and yards and yards of it
got unwound again.


II

8. "Do you know, I was so angry, Kitty," Alice went on as soon as they
were comfortably settled again, "when I saw all the mischief you had
been doing, I was very near opening the window and putting you out into
the snow! And you'd have deserved it, you little mischievous darling!
What have you got to say for yourself?

9. "Now, don't interrupt me!" she went on, holding up one finger; "I'm
going to tell you all your faults. Number one: You squeaked twice while
Dinah was washing your face this morning. Now, you can't deny it,
Kitty; I heard you! What's that you say?"--pretending that the kitten
was speaking--"Her paw went into your eye? Well, that's _your_ fault
for keeping your eyes open. If you'd shut them tight up it wouldn't
have happened.

10. "Now, don't make any more excuses, but listen. Number two: You
pulled Snowdrop away by the tail just as I had put down the saucer of
milk before her! What! you were thirsty, were you? How do you know she
wasn't thirsty, too? Now for number three: You unwound every bit of the
worsted while I wasn't looking.

11. "That's three faults, Kitty, and you've not been punished for any
of them yet. You know I am saving up all your punishments for Wednesday
week. Suppose they had saved up all _my_ punishments," she went on,
talking more to herself than to the kitten, "what _would_ they do at
the end of a year? I should be sent to prison, I suppose, when the day
came.

12. "Or--let me see--suppose each punishment was to be going without a
dinner? Then, when the miserable day came, I should have to go without
fifty dinners at once. Well, I shouldn't mind _that_ much. I'd far
rather go without them than eat them.

13. "Do you hear the snow against the window panes, Kitty? How nice and
soft it sounds! Just as if some one was kissing the window all over
outside. I wonder if the snow _loves_ the trees and fields that it
kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with
a white quilt; and perhaps it says, 'Go to sleep, darlings, till the
summer comes again.'

14. "And when they wake up in the summer, Kitty, they dress themselves
all in green and dance about whenever the wind blows--oh, that's very
pretty!" cried Alice, dropping the ball of worsted to clap her hands:
"And I do so _wish_ it were true."

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Rē̍ prō_a_ch´fụl ly̆=: chidingly. =Dē̍ mūr=_e_´=ly̆=: soberly.
  =Mĭs´ch_i_ē̍ v_o_ŭs=: doing harm in play.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Round, square, broad, yellow, silver, sweet, gold, narrow, sour,
  brown, crooked, stony.

  Place together the words which show (1) form; (2) taste; (3) color;
  (4) material.

  Use each of the words in a sentence telling something which always
  has the quality named: as, a ball is round.




The Kitten and the Falling Leaves

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH


[Illustration: William Wordsworth]

  William Wordsworth (1770-1850): An English poet. He found poetry
  in the simplest scenes and incidents of everyday life, and helped
  others to see the beauty of nature, to reverence God, and to
  sympathize with even the lowliest of their fellowmen. "Intimations
  of Immortality," "Laodamia," "The Excursion," and "The Prelude" are
  among the best of his longer poems.

[Illustration: Sporting with the leaves that fall]


    That way look, my infant, lo!
    What a pretty baby show!
    See the kitten on the wall,
    Sporting with the leaves that fall,
    Withered leaves--one, two, and three--
    From the lofty elder tree!
    Through the calm and frosty air
    Of this morning bright and fair,
    Eddying round and round they sink
    Softly, slowly: one might think,
    From the motions that are made,
    Every little leaf conveyed
    Sylph or fairy hither tending,
    To this lower world descending,
    Each invisible and mute,
    In his wavering parachute.
    But the kitten, how she starts,
    Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
    First at one, and then its fellow,
    Just as light and just as yellow;
    There are many now--now one--
    Now they stop and there are none:
    What intenseness of desire
    In her upward eye of fire!
    With a tiger-leap, half-way
    Now she meets the coming prey,
    Lets it go as fast, and then
    Has it in her power again:
    Now she works with three or four,
    Like an Indian conjurer;
    Quick as he in feats of art,
    Far beyond in joy of heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Ĕd´dy̆ ĭng=: moving in a circle. =Cŏn ve̱_ye_d´=: carried.
  =Sylph=: a fairy. =Păr´ȧ çhṳt_e_=: a sort of umbrella by means
  of which descent is made from a balloon. =Cȯn´jŭr ẽr=: magician.
  =Fē_a_ts=: tricks.




The Snow-Image

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

  Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864): An American novelist. His best
  works are "The Scarlet Letter," "The House of the Seven Gables,"
  and "The Marble Faun." Hawthorne wrote also several delightful
  books for children; among these are "Grandfather's Chair," a
  collection of stories from New England history, "Biographical
  Stories," "The Wonder Book," and "Tanglewood Tales"--the two latter
  being volumes of stories from Greek mythology.


I

1. One afternoon of a cold winter's day, when the sun shone forth with
chilly brightness, after a long storm, two children asked leave of
their mother to run out and play in the new-fallen snow.

[Illustration: Forth sallied the two children.]

2. The elder child was a little girl, whom, because she was of a
tender and modest disposition, and was thought to be very beautiful,
her parents and other people, who were familiar with her, used to call
Violet.

3. But her brother was known by the title of Peony, on account of the
ruddiness of his broad and round little phiz, which made everybody
think of sunshine and great scarlet flowers.

"Yes, Violet--yes, my little Peony," said their kind mother; "you may
go out and play in the new snow."

4. Forth sallied the two children, with a hop-skip-and-jump that
carried them at once into the very heart of a huge snowdrift, whence
Violet emerged like a snow bunting, while little Peony floundered out
with his round face in full bloom.

5. Then what a merry time had they! To look at them frolicking in the
wintry garden, you would have thought that the dark and pitiless storm
had been sent for no other purpose but to provide a new plaything for
Violet and Peony; and that they themselves had been created, as the
snowbirds were, to take delight only in the tempest and in the white
mantle which it spread over the earth.

6. At last, when they had frosted one another all over with handfuls
of snow, Violet, after laughing heartily at little Peony's figure, was
struck with a new idea.

"You look exactly like a snow-image, Peony," said she, "if your cheeks
were not so red. And that puts me in mind! Let us make an image out of
snow--an image of a little girl--and it shall be our sister and shall
run about and play with us all winter long. Won't it be nice?"

7. "Oh, yes!" cried Peony, as plainly as he could speak, for he was but
a little boy. "That will be nice! And mamma shall see it!"

"Yes," answered Violet; "mamma shall see the new little girl. But she
must not make her come into the warm parlor, for, you know, our little
snow-sister will not love the warmth."

8. And forthwith the children began this great business of making a
snow-image that should run about; while their mother, who was sitting
at the window and overheard some of their talk, could not help smiling
at the gravity with which they set about it. They really seemed to
imagine that there would be no difficulty whatever in creating a live
little girl out of the snow.

9. Indeed, it was an exceedingly pleasant sight--those bright little
souls at their tasks! Moreover, it was really wonderful to observe how
knowingly and skillfully they managed the matter. Violet assumed the
chief direction and told Peony what to do, while, with her own delicate
fingers, she shaped out all the nicer parts of the snow-figure.

10. It seemed, in fact, not so much to be made by the children, as
to grow up under their hands, while they were playing and prattling
about it. Their mother was quite surprised at this; and the longer she
looked, the more and more surprised she grew.


II

11. Now, for a few moments, there was a busy and earnest but indistinct
hum of the two children's voices, as Violet and Peony wrought together
with one happy consent. Violet still seemed to be the guiding spirit;
while Peony acted rather as a laborer and brought her the snow from
far and near. And yet the little urchin evidently had a proper
understanding of the matter.

[Illustration: Violet and Peony wrought together.]

12. "Peony, Peony!" cried Violet; for her brother was at the other
side of the garden. "Bring me those light wreaths of snow that have
rested on the lower branches of the pear tree. You can clamber on the
snowdrift, Peony, and reach them easily. I must have them to make some
ringlets for our snow-sister's head!"

13. "Here they are, Violet!" answered the little boy. "Take care you do
not break them. Well done! Well done! How pretty!"

"Does she not look sweet?" said Violet, with a very satisfied tone;
"and now we must have some little shining bits of ice to make the
brightness of her eyes. She is not finished yet. Mamma will see how
very beautiful she is; but papa will say, 'Tush! nonsense!--come in out
of the cold!'"

14. "Let us call mamma to look out," said Peony; and then he shouted,
"Mamma! mamma!! mamma!!! Look out and see what a nice 'ittle girl we
are making!"

15. "What a nice playmate she will be for us all winter long!" said
Violet. "I hope papa will not be afraid of her giving us a cold! Shan't
you love her dearly, Peony?"

"Oh, yes!" cried Peony. "And I will hug her and she shall sit down
close by me and drink some of my warm milk."

16. "Oh! no, Peony!" answered Violet, with grave wisdom. "That will not
do at all. Warm milk will not be wholesome for our little snow-sister.
Little snow-people, like her, eat nothing but icicles. No, no, Peony;
we must not give her anything warm to drink!"

17. There was a minute or two of silence; for Peony, whose short legs
were never weary, had gone again to the other side of the garden. All
of a sudden, Violet cried out; loudly and joyfully:

18. "Look here, Peony! Come quickly! A light has been shining on her
cheek out of that rose- cloud! And the color does not go away!
Is not that beautiful?"

"Yes, it is beau-ti-ful," answered Peony, pronouncing the three
syllables with deliberate accuracy. "O Violet, only look at her hair!
It is all like gold!"

19. "Oh, certainly," said Violet, as if it were very much a matter of
course. "That color, you know, comes from the golden clouds that we
see up there in the sky. She is almost finished now. But her lips must
be made very red--redder than her cheeks. Perhaps, Peony, it will make
them red if we both kiss them!"

[Illustration: "Kiss me!" cried Peony.]

20. Accordingly, the mother heard two smart little smacks, as if both
her children were kissing the snow-image on its frozen mouth. But
as this did not seem to make the lips quite red enough, Violet next
proposed that the snow-child should be invited to kiss Peony's scarlet
cheek.

21. "Come, 'ittle snow-sister, kiss me!" cried Peony.

"There! she has kissed you," added Violet, "and now her lips are very
red. And she blushed a little, too!"

"Oh, what a cold kiss!" cried Peony.

22. Just then there came a breeze of the pure west wind sweeping
through the garden and rattling the parlor windows. It sounded so
wintry cold that the mother was about to tap on the window pane with
her thimbled finger to summon the two children in, when they both
cried out to her with one voice:

23. "Mamma! mamma! We have finished our little snow-sister, and she is
running about the garden with us!"

24. "What imaginative little beings my children are!" thought the
mother, putting the last few stitches into Peony's frock. "And it
is strange, too, that they make me almost as much a child as they
themselves are! I can hardly help believing now that the snow-image has
really come to life!"

"Dear mamma!" cried Violet, "pray look out and see what a sweet
playmate we have!"


III

25. The mother, being thus entreated, could no longer delay to look
forth from the window. The sun was now gone out of the sky, leaving,
however, a rich inheritance of his brightness among those purple and
golden clouds which make the sunsets of winter so magnificent.

26. But there was not the slightest gleam or dazzle, either on the
window or on the snow; so that the good lady could look all over
the garden and see everything and everybody in it. And what do you
think she saw there? Violet and Peony, of course, her own two darling
children.

27. Ah, but whom or what did she see besides? Why, if you will believe
me, there was a small figure of a girl, dressed all in white, with
rose-tinged cheeks and ringlets of golden hue, playing about the garden
with the two children!

28. A stranger though she was, the child seemed to be on as familiar
terms with Violet and Peony, and they with her, as if all the three
had been playmates during the whole of their little lives. The mother
thought to herself that it must certainly be the daughter of one of the
neighbors, and that, seeing Violet and Peony in the garden, the child
had run across the street to play with them.

29. So this kind lady went to the door, intending to invite the little
runaway into her comfortable parlor; for, now that the sunshine was
withdrawn, the atmosphere out of doors was already growing very cold.

30. But, after opening the house door, she stood an instant on the
threshold, hesitating whether she ought to ask the child to come in,
or whether she should even speak to her. Indeed, she almost doubted
whether it were a real child after all, or only a light wreath of the
new-fallen snow, blown hither and thither about the garden by the
intensely cold west wind.

31. There was certainly something very singular in the aspect of
the little stranger. Among all the children of the neighborhood the
lady could remember no such face, with its pure white and delicate
rose-color, and the golden ringlets tossing about the forehead and
cheeks.

32. And as for her dress, which was entirely of white, and fluttering
in the breeze, it was such as no reasonable woman would put upon a
little girl when sending her out to play in the depth of winter. It
made this kind and careful mother shiver only to look at those small
feet, with nothing in the world on them except a very thin pair of
white slippers.

33. Nevertheless, airily as she was clad, the child seemed to feel not
the slightest inconvenience from the cold, but danced so lightly over
the snow that the tips of her toes left hardly a print in its surface;
while Violet could but just keep pace with her, and Peony's short legs
compelled him to lag behind.

34. All this while, the mother stood on the threshold, wondering how
a little girl could look so much like a flying snowdrift, or how a
snowdrift could look so very like a little girl.

She called Violet and whispered to her.

"Violet, my darling, what is this child's name?" asked she. "Does she
live near us?"

35. "Why, dearest mamma," answered Violet, laughing to think that her
mother did not comprehend so very plain an affair, "this is our little
snow-sister whom we have just been making!"

"Yes, dear mamma," cried Peony, running to his mother and looking up
simply into her face. "This is our snow-image! Is it not a nice 'ittle
child?"

36. "Violet," said her mother, greatly perplexed, "tell me the truth
without any jest. Who is this little girl?"

"My darling mamma," answered Violet, looking seriously into her
mother's face," surprised that she should need any further explanation,
"I have told you truly who she is. It is our little snow-image which
Peony and I have been making. Peony will tell you so, as well as I."

37. "Yes, mamma," asseverated Peony, with much gravity in his crimson
little phiz; "this is 'ittle snow-child. Is not she a nice one? But,
mamma, her hand is, oh, so very cold!"


IV

38. While mamma still hesitated what to think and what to do, the
street gate was thrown open and the father of Violet and Peony
appeared, wrapped in a pilot-cloth sack, with a fur cap drawn down over
his ears, and the thickest of gloves upon his hands.

39. Mr. Lindsey was a middle-aged man, with a weary and yet a happy
look in his wind-flushed and frost-pinched face, as if he had been busy
all the day long and was glad to get back to his quiet home. His eyes
brightened at the sight of his wife and children, although he could not
help uttering a word or two of surprise at finding the whole family in
the open air on so bleak a day, and after sunset, too.

40. He soon perceived the little white stranger, sporting to and fro
in the garden like a dancing snow-wreath, and the flock of snowbirds
fluttering about her head.

"Pray, what little girl may that be?" inquired this very sensible man.
"Surely her mother must be crazy to let her go out in such bitter
weather as it has been to-day, with only that flimsy white gown and
those thin slippers!"

41. "My dear husband," said his wife, "I know no more about the little
thing than you do. Some neighbor's child, I suppose. Our Violet and
Peony," she added, laughing at herself for repeating so absurd a story,
"insist that she is nothing but a snow-image which they have been busy
about in the garden almost all the afternoon."

42. As she said this, the mother glanced her eyes toward the spot where
the children's snow-image had been made. What was her surprise on
perceiving that there was not the slightest trace of so much labor!--no
image at all!--no piled-up heap of snow!--nothing whatever save the
prints of little footsteps around a vacant space!

43. "This is very strange!" said she.

"What is strange, dear mother?" asked Violet. "Dear father, do not you
see how it is? This is our snow-image, which Peony and I have made
because we wanted another playmate. Did not we, Peony?"

"Yes, papa," said crimson Peony. "This be our 'ittle snow-sister. Is
she not beau-ti-ful? But she gave me such a cold kiss!"

44. "Poh, nonsense, children!" cried their good, honest father, who had
an exceedingly common-sensible way of looking at matters. "Do not tell
me of making live figures out of snow. Come, wife; this little stranger
must not stay out in the bleak air a moment longer. We will bring her
into the parlor; and you shall give her a supper of warm bread and
milk, and make her as comfortable as you can."

45. So saying, this honest and very kindhearted man was going toward
the little white damsel, with the best intentions in the world. But
Violet and Peony, each seizing their father by the hand, earnestly
besought him not to make her come in.

46. "Nonsense, children, nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father,
half-vexed, half-laughing. "Run into the house, this moment! It is
too late to play any longer now. I must take care of this little girl
immediately, or she will catch her death-a-cold!"

And so, with a most benevolent smile, this very well-meaning gentleman
took the snow-child by the hand and led her toward the house.

[Illustration: He took the snow-child by the hand.]

47. She followed him, droopingly and reluctant, for all the glow and
sparkle were gone out of her figure; and whereas just before she had
resembled a bright, frosty, star-gemmed evening, with a crimson gleam
on the cold horizon, she now looked as dull and languid as a thaw.

48. As kind Mr. Lindsey led her up the steps of the door, Violet and
Peony looked into his face, their eyes full of tears, which froze
before they could run down their cheeks, and entreated him not to bring
their snow-image into the house.

49. "Not bring her in!" exclaimed the kindhearted man. "Why, you are
crazy, my little Violet--quite crazy, my small Peony! She is so cold
already that her hand has almost frozen mine, in spite of my thick
gloves. Would you have her freeze to death?"


V

50. His wife, as he came up the steps, had been taking another long,
earnest gaze at the little white stranger. She hardly knew whether
it was a dream or no; but she could not help fancying that she saw
the delicate print of Violet's fingers on the child's neck. It looked
just as if, while Violet was shaping out the image, she had given it a
gentle pat with her hand, and had neglected to smooth the impression
quite away.

51. "After all, husband," said the mother, "after all, she does look
strangely like a snow-image! I do believe she is made of snow!"

A puff of the west wind blew against the snow-child, and again she
sparkled like a star.

52. "Snow!" repeated good Mr. Lindsey, drawing the reluctant guest
over his hospitable threshold. "No wonder she looks like snow. She is
half frozen, poor little thing! But a good fire will put everything to
rights."

53. The common-sensible man placed the snow-child on the hearthrug,
right in front of the hissing and fuming stove.

"Now she will be comfortable!" cried Mr. Lindsey, rubbing his hands
and looking about him, with the pleasantest smile you ever saw. "Make
yourself at home, my child."

54. Sad, sad and drooping looked the little white maiden as she stood
on the hearthrug, with the hot blast of the stove striking through her
like a pestilence. Once she threw a glance toward the window, and
caught a glimpse, through its red curtains, of the snow-covered roofs
and the stars glimmering frostily and all the delicious intensity of
the cold night. The bleak wind rattled the window panes as if it were
summoning her to come forth. But there stood the snow-child, drooping,
before the hot stove!

55. But the common-sensible man saw nothing amiss.

"Come, wife," said he, "let her have a pair of thick stockings and a
woolen shawl or blanket directly; and tell Dora to give her some warm
supper as soon as the milk boils. You, Violet and Peony, amuse your
little friend. She is out of spirits, you see, at finding herself in a
strange place. For my part, I will go around among the neighbors and
find out where she belongs."

56. The mother, meanwhile, had gone in search of the shawl and
stockings. Without heeding the remonstrances of his two children, who
still kept murmuring that their little snow-sister did not love the
warmth, good Mr. Lindsey took his departure, shutting the parlor door
carefully behind him.

57. Turning up the collar of his sack over his ears, he emerged from
the house, and had barely reached the street-gate when he was recalled
by the screams of Violet and Peony and the rapping of a thimbled finger
against the parlor window.

58. "Husband! husband!" cried his wife, showing her horror-stricken
face through the window panes. "There is no need of going for the
child's parents!"

"We told you so, father!" screamed Violet and Peony, as he
reëntered the parlor. "You would bring her in; and now our
poor--dear--beau-ti-ful little snow-sister is thawed!"

59. And their own sweet little faces were already dissolved in tears;
so that their father, seeing what strange things occasionally happen
in this everyday world, felt not a little anxious lest his children
might be going to thaw, too. In the utmost perplexity, he demanded an
explanation of his wife.

60. She could only reply that, being summoned to the parlor by the
cries of Violet and Peony, she found no trace of the little white
maiden, unless it were the remains of a heap of snow which, while she
was gazing at it, melted quite away upon the hearthrug.

"And there you see all that is left of it!" added she, pointing to a
pool of water in front of the stove.

61. "Yes, father," said Violet, looking reproachfully at him through
her tears, "there is all that is left of our dear little snow-sister!"

"Naughty father!" cried Peony, stamping his foot, and--I shudder to
say--shaking his little fist at the common-sensible man. "We told you
how it would be. What for did you bring her in?"

62. And the stove, through the isinglass of its door, seemed to glare
at good Mr. Lindsey, like a red-eyed demon triumphing in the mischief
which it had done!

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Rŭd´dĭ nĕs=_s_: redness. =Phiz=: face. =Săl´lĭ_e_d=: ran out.
  =Ē̍ mẽrġ_e_d´=: came out.

  II. _W_=rô_ugh_t=: worked. =Ûr´chĭn=: a little boy.
  =Dē̍ lĭb´ẽr ā̍t_e_=: slow and careful. =Ăc´cū̍ rȧ çy̆=:
  correctness. =Ĭm ăġ´ĭ nȧ tĭv_e_=: full of fancies.

  III. =Ĭn hĕr´ĭt anç_e_=: possession. =At´mos phere=:
  air. =T̶hĭth´ẽr=: to this place. =Ăs´pĕct=: appearance;
  look. =Cŏm pĕl_l_ed´=: forced; obliged. =Lăg=: go slowly.
  =Cŏm prē̍ hĕnd´=: understand. =Ăs sĕv´ẽr āt ĕd=: said earnestly.

  IV. =Pilot-cloth sack=: a coat made of coarse dark blue cloth,
  such as pilots wear. =Flĭm´s̝y=: thin. =Bē̍ nĕv´ō̍ lent=: kind.
  =Rē̍ lŭc´tant=: unwilling.

  V. =Pĕs´tĭ lenç_e_=: the plague; a deadly disease.
  =Rē̍  mŏn´stranç ĕs̝=: objections. =Glâre=: stare; look fiercely.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Little, happy, rich, kind, strange, diligent, polite, strong,
  lifeless, lazy.

  Name words having similar meaning: as, little, small.

  Name words having opposite meaning: as, little, large.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Speak clearly if you speak at all;
    Carve every word before you let it fall.

                                                                  HOLMES




Little by Little


    1. Low on the ground an acorn lies--
    Little by little it mounts to the skies,
    Shadow and shelter for wandering herds,
    Home for a hundred singing birds.
    Little by little the great rocks grew,
    Long, long ago, when the world was new;
    Slowly and silently, stately and free,
    Cities of coral under the sea
    Little by little are builded, while so
    The new years come and the old years go.

    2. Little by little all tasks are done;
    So are the crowns of the faithful won,
    So is heaven in our hearts begun.
    With work and with weeping, with laughter and play,
    Little by little the longest day
    And the longest life are passing away--
    Passing without return, while so
    The new years come and the old years go.




The House I Live In


I

1. This wonderful body of mine is the house in which I live. This house
has five gates, through which messages from the outside world can get
to me. There is Eye Gate, Ear Gate, Nose Gate, Taste Gate, and Touch
Gate. All my knowledge of the things around me comes in through these
five gates.

2. This house of mine has, in its lower story, a kitchen called the
stomach. Here the food is cooked, or "digested," as we say, and
prepared for being mixed with the blood. In the story above there is a
great pump, the heart, which sends the blood through the house to keep
it warm and in good repair.

Then, in the top story, or the head, is the room where the master or
mistress of the house lives.

3. We should learn all we can about this house and what to do to keep
it in good order. We should find out what is bad for it and what is
good, that we may avoid the one and seek the other. Thus we may hope to
grow up strong and healthy men and women. Good health will cheer us and
make all our work easy and pleasant.

[Illustration: A section of skin]

4. The first lesson on health that I have to learn is this: _I must
keep my body clean_. Much of the dirt that gathers on the body comes,
not from the outside, but from the inside of the body. The skin is full
of little pores. These pores are the mouths of tiny pipes, or tubes,
millions of which are found in the skin.

5. You can see them in this picture, which shows a little bit of the
skin, cut through from the inside to the outside and very much enlarged.

It is through these tubes that the body rids itself of many waste
substances which would prove very harmful if retained. When their
outlets become choked up with dirt, nothing can pass through them. You
see, therefore, how necessary it is to keep the skin clean if we wish
to have good health.

6. Once upon a time a great man was coming to visit a certain town. The
people went out to meet him, clad in gay and curious dresses so as to
do honor to their noble visitor. One little boy was covered all over
with thin leaves of gold, so that he might look like a golden boy.

7. No doubt he looked very pretty, but he became ill and died before
the gilding could be removed All the pores of his skin were closed up
by the gold; and it soon caused his death.

8. In Holland there is a village which is said to be the cleanest in
the world. The houses, inside and outside, the streets, and everything
about the place, are kept neat as a pin. Women wearing clumsy wooden
shoes may be seen scrubbing the houses and pavements.

9. We should be like these Dutch people and keep our wonderful house,
the body, clean. It is only by frequently washing the whole body that
we can keep in good health.

[Illustration: The cleanest village in the world]

Water and soap are all that are needed to keep the skin clean and ready
for its work, and every one can get these.


II

10. The second health lesson I have to learn is this: _I must breathe
fresh air_. If a man cannot get air to breathe, he will die. But that
is not all: impure air is bad for him.

11. Why do we need to breathe at all?

Because the air contains a gas called oxygen, and a constant supply of
this gas must be taken into the blood, or else we cannot remain in good
health. When we breathe, the air passes down into the lungs and there
meets with the blood.

12. And as the oxygen gas passes inwards, another gas, which has to be
got rid of, passes outwards and is breathed out into the air. Thus the
air we breathe out is different from the air we breathe in. It has lost
the gas which is necessary for our life and health, and it contains a
gas which is hurtful to us.

13. If I live in a room that does not get fresh air, the air in it will
soon become close and bad, because every time I breathe I take some of
the oxygen out of it and put injurious gas in its place.

14. If a small animal, such as a bird or a rabbit, is put under a glass
bell so that no air can get in, it uses up all the oxygen. In a few
minutes it becomes faint; it is unable to stand up, and unless it gets
fresh air it will soon die.

15. You may have heard the story of the Black Hole of Calcutta. One
hundred and forty-six English prisoners were shut up in a small cell.
They could not get enough fresh air to breathe, and in the morning one
hundred and twenty-three of them were found dead.


III

16. The third health lesson I have to learn is this: _I must take
plenty of exercise_. To make the body strong we must use it. The parts
that are most used become the strongest, and those used least will be
the weakest.

17. The arms of the blacksmith are very strong because he uses them
so much. The boy who works and plays in the open air grows strong
and healthy, but the boy who sits indoors and does not take exercise
often grows up to be a weak and unhealthy man. It is best to take our
exercise in the open air and the sunlight.

[Illustration: The king and the dervish]

18. Games like baseball are good for boys. There are also plenty of
pleasant outdoor games for girls. When no game can be played, a brisk
walk in the open air is quite as good. Brisk walking is one of the
easiest and best of exercises for both boys and girls.

19. But there are some things we should avoid when taking exercise. We
should not work or play too long without resting. We should not try to
do things that are beyond our strength. When exercise is too violent,
it does harm rather than good.

20. An eastern king, who had become pale and ill, asked a wise dervish
what medicine he should take.

The dervish, knowing that it was exercise alone which the idle king
needed, said: "I will bring you to-morrow a remedy which will cure your
disease."

21. The next day the dervish appeared before the king.

"Here," said he, "is a ball which holds the medicine that will cure
you. Take it into your garden every day and knock it about till you
perspire freely. This will make the medicine take effect."

The king did as the dervish told him, and the exercise in the fresh air
soon made him well.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Ball, door, sun, cold, church, odor, milk, bitterness, bell, town,
  nose, honesty, rose, industry, gold, red, heat, leather, mud, joy.

  Tell which of these words name things that you can (1) see, (2)
  hear, (3) touch, (4) taste, (5) smell. Which name things of which
  you can only think?

       *       *       *       *       *

    Ill habits gather by unseen degrees,
    As brooks make rivers, rivers run to seas.

                                                                  DRYDEN




Jefferson's Ten Rules

  Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826): An American statesman. He wrote the
  Declaration of Independence and was one of the able men at the
  head of the government of the United States in its early days.
  Jefferson was the originator of what is called the Democratic idea
  of government.


Never put off until to-morrow what you can do to-day.

Never trouble another for what you can do yourself.

Never spend your money before you have earned it.

Never buy what you don't want because it is cheap.

Pride costs more than hunger, thirst, and cold.

We seldom repent of having eaten too little.

Nothing is troublesome that we do willingly.

How much pain the evils have cost us that have never happened.

Take things always by the smooth handle.

When angry, count ten before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred.

       *       *       *       *       *

Recollect that trifles make perfection, and that perfection is no
trifle.




The Pet Lamb

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH


    1. The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
    I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
    And looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied
    A snow-white mountain lamb, with a maiden at its side.

    2. Nor sheep nor kine were near; the lamb was all alone,
    And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
    With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,
    While to that mountain lamb she gave its evening meal.

    3. The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,
    Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure
        shook:
    "Drink, pretty creature, drink!" she said in such a tone
    That I almost received her heart into my own.

    4. 'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!
    I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.
    Now with her empty can the maiden turned away;
    But ere ten yards were gone, her footsteps did she stay.

    5. Right towards the lamb she looked; and from that shady place
    I unobserved could see the workings of her face;
    If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,
    Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little maid might sing:

    6. "What ails thee, young one? what? Why pull so at thy cord?
    Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?
    Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be;
    Rest, little young one, rest; what is't that aileth thee?

    7. "What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?
    Thy limbs are they not strong? and beautiful thou art!
    This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;
    And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears.

    8. "If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woolen chain;
    This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;
    For rain and mountain storms!--the like thou need'st not fear,
    The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.

    9. "Rest, little young one, rest; thou hast forgot the day
    When my father found thee first in places far away;
    Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,
    And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.

    10. "He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:
    A blesséd day for thee!--then whither wouldst thou roam?
    A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean
    Upon the mountain-tops, no kinder could have been.

    11. "Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can
    Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;
    And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,
    I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.

    12. "Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now,
    Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plow.
    My playmate thou shalt be and when the wind is cold
    Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.

    13. "It will not, will not rest!--Poor creature, can it be
    That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee?
    Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,
    And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.

    14. "Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair!
    I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there;
    The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play,
    When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.

    15. "Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;
    Night and day thou art safe,--our cottage is hard by.
    Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain?
    Sleep--and at break of day I will come to thee again!"

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Ĕs pī_e_d´=: saw. =Kīn_e_=: cows. =Tĕt̶h´ẽr_e_d=: fastened by
  a rope for feeding within certain limits. "=If nature to her
  tongue could measured numbers bring=": if she could write verse.
  =Pē_e_rs̝=: equals. =Cȯv´ẽrt=: shelter. "=The dam that did thee
  yean=": The mother that reared thee. =Bē̍ līk_e_´=: perhaps.




The Story of Florinda

BY ABBY MORTON DIAZ

  Mrs. Abby Morton Diaz (1821--): An American author who married a
  Cuban gentleman. She has written many popular books for the young:
  among these are "The William Henry Letters," "William Henry and his
  Friends," "Polly Cologne," and "The Cat's Arabian Nights."


I

1. Nathaniel Bowen came over from England with his family in the bark
"Jasper" more than two hundred years ago. The country was covered with
woods then. Indians, buffaloes, deer, wolves, and foxes had it pretty
much to themselves.

2. Mr. Bowen built a one-roomed hut in a clearing in the woods. Its
walls and ceiling were made of logs; there were square holes for
windows, with wooden shutters inside. One of the windows had four small
panes of glass brought from England; the others were covered with oiled
paper. At one end of the room was a large stone chimney; at the other a
ladder ran up into the loft above. The hut was furnished with a bed, a
great chest, a spinning wheel, a bench or two, and a few chairs.

3. There was one house besides Mr. Bowen's in the valley, and only one,
and that belonged to a man named Moore. It stood nearly an eighth of a
mile off.

Four miles off, at the Point, there were some dozen or twenty houses,
a store, and a mill. There was no road to the Point; there was only
a blind pathway through the woods. Those woods reached hundreds and
hundreds of miles.

4. When Mr. Bowen had lived in this country a little more than a year,
his wife died, leaving three children--Philip, not quite eleven years
old; Nathaniel, six; and Polly, three. To take care of these children
and to keep his house, he hired a young girl named Florinda Le Shore,
who had come over from England as a servant in some family. This
Florinda was born in France, but she had spent the greater part of her
life in England. She was only fifteen years old--rather young to take
the care of a family.

5. Florinda went to Mr. Bowen's house some time in November. On the
29th of December, as Mr. Bowen and Mr. Moore were saddling their horses
to go to the store for provisions, word came that they must set out
immediately for a place about fifteen miles off, called Dermott's
Crossing, to consult with other settlers as to what should be done to
defend themselves against the Indians; for there were reports that in
some neighborhoods the Indians were doing mischief.

6. So the two men turned their horses' heads in the direction of
Dermott's Crossing. It was woods most of the way, but they knew the
general direction of the bridle path and thought they should make good
time and be back by noon of the next day.

7. Florinda baked corn meal into thin cakes, and put the cakes and some
slices of bacon into the saddlebags along with corn for the horse. The
men were to return by way of the store and bring provisions.

8. Two days and two nights passed, and they had neither come nor sent
any message. By that time there was not much left to eat in either
house.

Florinda and the children slept both nights at Mrs. Moore's. Mr. Bowen
had said it would be better for them to sleep there.

9. He did not fear any actual danger (the Indians in this neighborhood
had never been troublesome at all); still, in case anything should
happen, Mrs. Moore's house was much the safer of the two. It was built
of heavy timbers, and its doors were of oak, studded with spikes.

10. The Indians never attacked a strong house like that, especially if
it were guarded by a white man with firearms.

Mrs. Moore's brother was living with her--a young man named David
Palmer, who could not walk then on account of having frozen his feet.


II

11. On the second morning Philip begged Florinda to let him take his
hand sled and go to the store and get some meal and some bacon for
themselves and Mrs. Moore. Florinda felt loāth to let him go. It was a
long distance; there was snow in the woods and no track.

12. But Philip said that he wasn't afraid: the oldest boy ought to take
care of the family.

And at last Florinda said he might go. Indeed, there seemed no other
way; for, unless he did, they might all starve, especially if there
should come on a heavy snowstorm.

13. Mrs. Moore had him start from her house, because she wanted to be
sure he was well wrapped up. He left home in good spirits about nine
o'clock in the morning on the thirty-first day of December, promising
to be back before evening.

14. Florinda spent the day in spinning and in other work for the
family. As soon as it began to grow dark, she barred the door and shut
all the window shutters but one. She left that open so that Philip
might see the firelight shining through.

[Illustration: She set him letters to copy.]

The children began to cry because Philip was out all alone in the dark
woods, and Florinda did everything she could to occupy their minds.

15. Nathaniel told afterward of her rolling up the cradle quilt into a
baby for little Polly and pinning an apron on it; and of her setting
him letters to copy on the bellows with chalk. He said she tied a strip
of cloth round his head to keep the hair out of his eyes when he bent
over to make the letters. He remembered her stopping her wheel very
often to listen for Philip.

16. At last little Polly fell asleep and was placed on the bed.
Nathaniel laid his head on Florinda's lap and dropped asleep there, and
slept till she got up to put more wood on. It was then nearly twelve
o'clock. He woke in a fright, and crying. He had been dreaming about
wolves.

17. After a while Nathaniel climbed up and looked through a knot-hole
in the door and told Florinda he saw a fire in the woods.

Florinda said she thought not, that maybe it was the moon rising; and
kept on with her spinning.

18. By and by he looked again, and said he did see a fire and some
Indians sitting down by it.

Florinda left her wheel then and looked through, and said yes, it was
so.

19. She kept watch afterward and saw them put out the fire and go away
into the woods toward the Point. She told Nathaniel of this, and then
held him in her arms and sang songs, low, in a language he could not
understand. By this time the night was far spent.

20. At the side of the hut, near the fireplace, there had been in the
summer a hole or tunnel dug through to the outside under the logs.
It was begun by a tame rabbit that belonged to Nathaniel. The rabbit
burrowed out and got away.

21. The children at play dug the hole deeper and wider, and it came
quite handy in getting in fire-wood. This passage was about four feet
deep. They called it the _back doorway_. When winter came on, it was
filled up with sand and moss.

22. Florinda thought it well to be prepared for anything which might
happen; and, therefore, she spent the latter part of that night in
taking the filling from the _back doorway_. The outer part was frozen
hard and had to be thawed with hot water.

When this was done, she took the workbag out of her clothes box and put
into it Mr. Bowen's papers and the teaspoons.

23. She said a great deal to Nathaniel about taking care of little
Polly; told him that if any bad Indians came to the door, he must catch
hold of her hand and run just as quickly as he could through the _back
doorway_ to Mrs. Moore's.

24. While she was talking to Nathaniel in the way I have said, they
heard a step outside. It was then a little after daybreak.

Some one tapped at the door, and a strange voice said: "A friend; open,
quick!"

25. She opened the door and found a white man standing there. This
white man told her that unfriendly Indians were prowling about to rob,
to kill, and to burn dwelling houses, and that several were known to be
in that very neighborhood. The man was a messenger sent to warn people.
He could not stop a moment.


III

26. As soon as the man had gone, Florinda double-barred the door, raked
ashes over the fire, put on her things and the children's things, and
got ready to go with them over to Mrs. Moore's. She made up several
bundles, gave one to each of the children, and took one herself.

27. But, before starting, she opened the shutter a crack and looked
out; and there she saw two Indians coming toward the door. She flung
down her bundle, snatched the children's away from them, hung the
workbag round Nathaniel's neck, whispering to him: "Run, run! you'll
have time; I'll keep them out till you get away!" all the while pulling
at the clothes chest.

28. He heard the Indians yell, and saw Florinda brace herself against
the door with her feet on the chest.

"Run, run!" she kept saying. "Take care of little Polly! don't let go
of little Polly!"

29. Nathaniel ran with little Polly; and on the way they met the young
man, David Palmer, creeping along with his gun. He had got the news and
had come to tell Florinda to hurry away. Just at that moment he heard
the yells of the Indians and the sound of their clubs beating in the
door.

30. He threw the gun down and went on just as fast as a man could in
such a condition, and presently saw two Indians start from the house
and run into the woods. He listened a moment and heard dogs barking;
then crept round the corner of the house. The door had been cut away.

31. Florinda lay across the chest, dead, as he thought; and, indeed,
she was almost gone. They had beaten her on the head with a hatchet or
a club. One blow more and Florinda would never have breathed again.

David Palmer did everything he could do to make her show some signs
of life; and was so intent upon this that he paid no attention to the
barking of the dogs, and did not notice that it was growing louder and
coming nearer every moment.

32. Happening to glance toward the door, he saw a man on horseback,
riding very slowly toward the house, leading another horse with his
right hand, and with his left drawing something heavy on a sled. The
man on horseback was Mr. Moore. He was leading Mr. Bowen's horse
with his right hand, and with the other he was dragging Mr. Bowen on
Philip's hand sled.

33. Coming home from Dermott's Crossing, Mr. Bowen was taken sick and
had to travel at a very slow pace. When they had almost reached home,
they found Philip's sled among the bushes.

34. Philip himself had left the sled there. The day that he went to the
Point, he had to wait for corn to be ground, which made him late in
starting home. He heard a good many reports concerning the Indians, and
thought that, instead of keeping in his own tracks, it would be safer
to take a roundabout course back.

35. By doing this, he lost his way and wandered in the woods till
almost twelve o'clock at night, when he came out upon a cleared place
where there were several log huts. The people in one of these let him
come in and sleep on the floor, and they gave him a good meal of meat
and potatoes. He set out again between four and five in the morning,
guided by a row of stars that those people pointed out to him.

36. A little after daybreak, being then about a quarter of a mile from
home, in a hilly place, he thought he would leave his sled, as the
load was so hard to draw, and run ahead and tell the folks about the
Indians. So he pushed it under some bushes; and then, to mark the spot,
he took one of his shoe strings and tied one of his mittens high up on
the limb of a tree.

37. Just as he came to the brook, he heard some strange sounds, and
climbed up into a hemlock tree, which overhung the brook, to hide and
to look about. He lay along a branch listening, and presently saw
Nathaniel, with the workbag around his neck, hurrying toward the brook,
leading little Polly.

38. Philip was just going to call out, when he caught sight of three
Indians standing behind some trees on the other side watching the two
children. Little Polly was afraid to step on the ice. Philip moved a
little to see better, and by doing this lost sight of them a moment;
and, when he looked again, they were both gone.

[Illustration: Indians watching the two children.]

39. He heard a crackling in the bushes and caught sight of little
Polly's blanket flying through the woods, and knew then that those
Indians had carried off Nathaniel and little Polly. Without stopping
to consider, he jumped down and followed on, thinking, as he afterward
said, to find out where they went and tell his father.


IV

40. Philip, by one way or another, kept on the trail of those Indians
the whole day. Once it was by finding the stick that little Polly
dropped; once it was by coming across a butcher knife the Indians had
stolen from some house: and he had wit enough to break a limb or gash
a tree now and then, so as to find his way back; also to take the
bearings of the hills. When the Indians halted to rest, he had a chance
to rest, too.

41. At last they stopped for the night in a sheltered valley where
there were two or three wigwams. He watched them go into one of these,
and then he could not think what to do next. The night was setting
in bitter cold. The shoe he took the string from had come off in his
running, and that foot was nearly frozen, and would have been quite
if he had not tied some moss to the bottom of it with his pocket
handkerchief. The hand that had no mitten was frozen. He had eaten
nothing but a few boxberry plums and boxberry leaves.

42. It was too late to think of finding his way home that night. He lay
down on the snow; and, as the Indians lifted the mats to pass in and
out, he could see fires burning and smell meats cooking.

43. Then he began to feel sleepy, and after that knew nothing more till
he woke inside a wigwam, and found two Indian women rubbing him with
snow. They afterward gave him plenty to eat.

He did not see Nathaniel and little Polly; they were in another wigwam.

44. There were two Indians squatting on the floor, one of them quite
old. Pretty soon another came in; and Philip knew he was one of those
that carried off the children, because he had Florinda's workbag
hanging around his neck. He thought, no doubt, from seeing it on
Nathaniel's neck, that there was the place to wear it.

45. Philip suffered dreadful pain in his foot and hand, but shut his
mouth tight for fear he might groan. He said afterward, when questioned
about this part of his story, that he was not going to let them hear a
white boy groan.

46. Now, the older one of those two squaws in the wigwam felt inclined
to save Philip. So next morning, before light, when the Indians all
had gone off hunting, she sent the other squaw out on some errand, and
then told Philip, in broken English and by signs, that he must run away
that very morning. She bound up his foot; she gave him a moccasin to
wear on it; she gave him a bag of pounded corn and a few strips of meat.

[Illustration: She gave him a bag of corn.]

47. Philip had found out that the Indians supposed him to be a captive
escaped from another party; and he thought it would be better not to
mention Nathaniel and little Polly, but to get home as quickly as he
could and tell people where they were.

48. When the young squaw came in, the old one set her at work parching
corn, with her back to the door; then made signs to Philip, and he
crept out and ran. After running a few rods, he came unexpectedly upon
a wigwam. There was a noise of some one pounding corn inside; and when
that stopped he stopped, and when that went on he went on, and so crept
by.

49. As soon as it began to grow light, he kept along without much
trouble, partly by means of the signs on the trees. As he got farther
on, there being fewer of these signs (because they had come so swiftly
that part of the way), he took the wrong course--very luckily, as it
proved; for by doing so he fell in with two men on horseback, and one
of these carried him home.

50. Philip described the place where the children were, and that very
night a party was sent out which captured the Indians and brought back
Nathaniel and little Polly.

       *       *       *       *       *

  II. =Lō_a_th=: unwilling. =Prowl´ĭng=: going stealthily or slyly.

  IV. =Wĭg´wạms̱=: Indian houses made of poles covered with mats or
  bark. =Squa̤_w_s̱=: Indian women. =Mŏc´cȧ sĭn=: an Indian shoe
  made of deerskin, the sole and the upper part being in one piece.
  =Căp´tĭv_e_=: a prisoner taken in war.




The Eagle

BY ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892): An English poet. "The Brook,"
  "Locksley Hall," and "The Charge of the Light Brigade" are,
  perhaps, the most popular of his short poems, and "In Memoriam,"
  "The Idylls of the King," and "The Princess" are the best of his
  long poems.


    1. He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
    Close to the sun in lonely lands,
    Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

    2. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
    He watches from his mountain walls;
    And like a thunderbolt he falls.

[Illustration: Like a thunderbolt he falls.]




Psalm XXIII


The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: He leadeth me beside the
still waters.

He restoreth my soul: He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for
His name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort
me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou
anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and
I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.




Tilly's Christmas

BY LOUISA M. ALCOTT


  Louisa May Alcott (1832-1888): One of the most popular of American
  writers of juvenile literature. She was the author of twenty-eight
  volumes, including, among others, "Little Women," "Little Men,"
  "The Old-Fashioned Girl," and "Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag," from which the
  present story is taken.


I

1. "I'm so glad to-morrow is Christmas, because I'm going to have lots
of presents."

"So am I glad, though I don't expect any presents but a pair of
mittens."

"And so am I; but I shan't have any presents at all."

2. As the three little girls trudged home from school they said these
things, and as Tilly spoke both the others looked at her with pity and
some surprise, for she spoke cheerfully, and they wondered how she
could be happy when she was so poor.

3. "Don't you wish you could find a purse full of money right here
in the path?" said Kate, the child who was going to have "lots of
presents."

"Oh, don't I, if I could keep it honestly!" and Tilly's eyes shone at
the very thought.

4. "What would you buy?" asked Bessy, rubbing her cold hands, and
longing for her mittens.

"I'd buy a pair of large, warm blankets, a load of wood, a shawl for
mother, and a pair of shoes for me, and, if there were enough left,
I'd give Bessy a new hat, and then she needn't wear Ben's old felt
one," answered Tilly.

5. The girls laughed at that; but Bessy pulled the funny hat over her
ears, and said she was much obliged, but she'd rather have candy.

6. "Let's look, and maybe we can find a purse. People are always going
about with money at Christmas time, and some one may lose it here,"
said Kate.

So, as they went along the snowy road, they looked about them, half in
earnest, half in fun. Suddenly Tilly sprang forward, exclaiming--

"I see it! I've found it!"

7. The others followed, but all stopped disappointed, for it wasn't a
purse; it was only a little bird. It lay upon the snow with its wings
spread and feebly fluttering, as if too weak to fly. Its little feet
were benumbed with cold; its once bright eyes were dull with pain, and
instead of a blithe song, it could only utter a faint chirp now and
then, as if crying for help.

8. "Nothing but a stupid old robin; how provoking!" cried Kate, sitting
down to rest.

"I shan't touch it. I found one once, and took care of it, and the
ungrateful thing flew away the minute it was well," said Bessy,
creeping under Kate's shawl and putting her hands under her chin to
warm them.

9. "Poor little birdie! How pitiful he looks, and how glad he must be
to see some one coming to help him! I'll take him up gently and carry
him home to mother. Don't be frightened, dear, I'm your friend;" and
Tilly knelt down in the snow, stretching her hand to the bird with the
tenderest pity in her face.

10. Kate and Bessy laughed.

"Don't stop for that thing; it's getting late and cold; let's go on and
look for the purse," they said, moving away.

"You wouldn't leave it to die," cried Tilly. "I'd rather have the bird
than the money, so I shan't look any more. The purse wouldn't be mine,
and I should only be tempted to keep it; but this poor thing will thank
and love me, and I'm so glad I came in time."

11. Gently lifting the bird, Tilly felt its tiny, cold claws cling
to her hand, and saw its dim eyes brighten as it nestled down with a
grateful chirp.

"Now I have a Christmas present, after all," she said, smiling, as they
walked on. "I always wanted a bird, and this one will be such a pretty
pet for me."

12. "He'll fly away the first chance he gets, and die anyhow; so you'd
better not waste your time over him," said Bessy.

"He can't pay you for taking care of him, and my mother says it isn't
worth while to help folks that can't help us," added Kate.

13. "My mother says, 'Do as you'd be done by;' and I'm sure I'd
like any one to help me if I was dying of cold and hunger. 'Love
your neighbor as yourself,' is another of her sayings. This bird is
my little neighbor, and I'll love him and care for him, as I often
wish our rich neighbor would love and care for us," answered Tilly,
breathing her warm breath over the benumbed bird, who looked up at her
with confiding eyes, quick to feel and know a friend.

14. "What a funny girl you are," said Kate; "caring for that silly
bird, and talking about loving your neighbor in that sober way. Mr.
King doesn't care a bit for you, and never will, though he knows how
poor you are; so I don't think your plan amounts to much."

15. "I believe it, though; and shall do my part, anyway. Good night.
I hope you'll have a merry Christmas, and lots of pretty things,"
answered Tilly, as they parted.


II

16. Her eyes were full, and she felt so poor as she went on alone
toward the little, old house where she lived. It would have been so
pleasant to know that she was going to have some of the pretty things
all children love to find in their full stockings on Christmas
morning. And pleasanter still to have been able to give her mother
something nice. So many comforts were needed, and there was no hope of
getting them; for they could barely get food and fire.

17. "Never mind, birdie; we'll make the best of what we have and be
merry in spite of everything. You shall have a happy Christmas, anyway;
and I know God won't forget us, if every one else does."

She stopped a minute to wipe her eyes and lean her cheek against the
bird's soft breast, finding great comfort in the little creature,
though it could only love her, nothing more.

18. "See, mother, what a nice present I've found," she cried, going in
with a cheery face that was like sunshine in a dark room.

"I'm glad of that, dearie; for I haven't been able to get my little
girl anything but a rosy apple. Poor bird! Give it some of your warm
bread and milk."

19. "Why, mother, what a big bowlful! I'm afraid you gave me all the
milk," said Tilly, smiling over the nice, steaming supper that stood
ready for her.

"I've had plenty, dear. Sit down and dry your wet feet, and put the
bird in my basket on this warm flannel."

20. Tilly peeped into the closet and saw nothing there but dry bread.

"Mother's given me all the milk, and is going without her tea 'cause
she knows I'm hungry. Now I'll surprise her, and she shall have a good
supper, too. She is going to split wood, and I'll fix it while she's
gone."

21. So Tilly put down the old teapot, carefully poured out a part of
the milk, and from her pocket produced a great, plummy bun that one of
the school children had given her and she had saved for her mother. A
slice of the dry bread was nicely toasted, and the bit of butter set
by for her put on it. When her mother came in, there was the table
drawn up in a warm place, a hot cup of tea ready, and Tilly and birdie
waiting for her.

22. Such a poor little supper, and yet such a happy one; for love,
charity, and contentment were guests there, and that Christmas eve was
a blither one than that up at the great house, where lights shone,
fires blazed, a great tree glittered, and music sounded, as the
children danced and played.

23. "We must go to bed early, for we've only wood enough to last over
to-morrow. I shall be paid for my work the day after, and then we can
get some," said Tilly's mother, as they sat by the fire.

24. "If my bird was only a fairy bird, and would give us three wishes,
how nice it would be! Poor dear, he can't give me anything; but it's no
matter," answered Tilly, looking at the robin, which lay in the basket
with his head under his wing, a mere little feathery bunch.

25. "He can give you one thing, Tilly--the pleasure of doing good. That
is one of the sweetest things in life; and the poor can enjoy it as
well as the rich."

26. As her mother spoke, with her tired hand softly stroking her little
daughter's hair, Tilly suddenly started and pointed to the window,
saying in a frightened whisper:

"I saw a face--a man's face, looking in! It's gone now; but I truly saw
it."

27. "Some traveler attracted by the light, perhaps. I'll go and see."
And Tilly's mother went to the door.

No one was there. The wind blew cold, the stars shone, the snow lay
white on field and wood, and the Christmas moon was glittering in the
sky.

28. "What sort of face was it?" asked Tilly's mother, coming back.

"A pleasant sort of face, I think; but I was so startled I don't quite
know what it was like. I wish we had a curtain there," said Tilly.

29. "I like to have our light shine out in the evening, for the road
is dark and lonely just here, and the twinkle of our lamp is pleasant
to people's eyes as they go by. We can do so little for our neighbors,
I am glad to cheer the way for them. Now put these poor old shoes to
dry, and go to bed, dearie; I'll come soon."

30. Tilly went, taking her bird with her to sleep in his basket near
by, lest he should be lonely in the night.

Soon the little house was dark and still, and no one saw the Christmas
spirits at their work that night.

31. When Tilly opened the door next morning, she gave a loud cry,
clapped her hands, and then stood still, quite speechless with wonder
and delight. There, before the door, lay a great pile of wood all ready
to burn, a big bundle, and a basket, with a lovely nosegay of winter
roses, holly, and evergreen tied to the handle.

32. "Oh, mother! did the fairies do it?" cried Tilly, pale with her
happiness, as she seized the basket, while her mother took in the
bundle.

33. "Yes, dear, the best and dearest fairy in the world, called
'Charity.' She walks abroad at Christmas time, does beautiful deeds
like this, and does not stay to be thanked," answered her mother with
full eyes, as she undid the parcel.

34. There they were--the warm, thick blankets, the comfortable shawl,
the new shoes, and, best of all, a pretty winter hat for Bessy. The
basket was full of good things to eat, and on the flowers lay a paper
saying:

"For the little girl who loves her neighbor as herself."

35. "Mother, I really think my bird is a fairy bird, and all these
splendid things come from him," said Tilly, laughing and crying with
joy.

36. It really did seem so, for, as she spoke, the robin flew to the
table, hopped to the nosegay, and, perching among the roses, began to
chirp with all his little might. The sun streamed in on flowers, bird,
and happy child, and no one saw a shadow glide away from the window;
no one ever knew that Mr. King had seen and heard the little girls the
night before, or dreamed that the rich neighbor had learned a lesson
from the poor neighbor.

37. And Tilly's bird was a fairy bird; for by her love and tenderness
to the helpless thing she brought good gifts to herself, happiness to
the unknown giver of them, and a faithful little friend who did not fly
away, but stayed with her till the snow was gone, making summer for her
in the winter time.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Bē̍ nŭm_be_d´=: deprived of feeling, as by cold.
  =Cŏn fīd´ĭng=: trusting.

  II. =Plŭm´my̆=: full of plums. =Chăr´ĭ ty̆=: kindness to the poor.

       *       *       *       *       *

    Honor and shame from no condition rise.
    Act well your part; there all the honor lies.

                                                                    POPE

[Illustration]




Under the Greenwood Tree

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE

  William Shakspere (1564-1616): An English dramatic poet. His name
  is the greatest in English literature, and one of the greatest in
  the world's literature. The plays usually considered his best are
  "Hamlet," "King Lear," "Othello," "Macbeth," "Julius Cæsar," "The
  Merchant of Venice," and "The Tempest." "Under the Greenwood Tree"
  is the song of the banished lords in "As You Like It."


    1.  Under the greenwood tree,
        Who loves to lie with me,
        And turn his merry note
        Unto the sweet bird's throat,
    Come hither, come hither, come hither!
            Here shall he see
            No enemy
    But winter and rough weather.

    2.  Who doth ambition shun,
        And loves to live i' the sun,
        Seeking the food he eats,
        And pleased with what he gets,
    Come hither, come hither, come hither!
            Here shall he see
            No enemy
    But winter and rough weather.




Our First Naval Hero


1. Much has been said about the gallant deeds of the brave sailors who
won the victories of Manila and Santiago in the war with Spain.

The great steel war ships of to-day are very different from the small
wooden vessels with which the naval battles of the Revolution were
fought.

2. But we had brave sailors in those early days, also, as you can learn
from the following stories of our first great naval hero. This hero's
name was John Paul Jones.

3. At the beginning of the Revolution, Jones offered his services to
Congress, and was given a position in the navy. He showed such skill
and courage that he was soon put in command of a ship.

When a ship was being fitted out for him, he asked for a good one.
"For," said he, "I intend to go in harm's way."

4. Paul Jones was the first to raise the stars and stripes on the seas,
and he soon made his flag feared by the enemies of his country.

[Illustration: Jones rowed to his own vessel.]

5. Not long after he raised his flag, he went to Whitehaven, on the
coast of England. There hundreds of English vessels lay at anchor.
At midnight, Jones, with two small boats, rowed noiselessly into
the harbor. Leaving the others to set fire to the English ships, he
hastened forward, with only one man, to take the fort which defended
the harbor.

6. He spiked every gun and then hurried back to his men. What was his
rage to find that they had not set fire to the ships as he had ordered.

7. By this time day was beginning to break, and the people of the town
were gathering at the water-side. But Paul Jones was unwilling to see
his plan fail entirely. All alone he entered a large ship, and set fire
to it with his own hands.

8. As the flames rose high, the people rushed forward to put them out.
But Paul Jones, pistol in hand, threatened to shoot down the first man
who should approach. When the ship was fairly on fire, he rowed to his
own vessel and sailed out of the harbor.

9. Through the help of Franklin, Jones obtained command of a vessel
which he called the "Poor Richard." As it and three other small
American ships were sailing along the English coast, they saw a fleet
of merchant vessels accompanied by two large war ships.

10. Jones at once gave chase. The merchant vessels scattered like wild
pigeons, and ran for shore, but the two war ships advanced to fight.

Paul Jones, in his old, half worn-out ship, fearlessly approached the
Serapis, a new vessel with an excellent crew. Both vessels opened fire,
and two of Jones's guns burst at once.

11. Soon the vessels drew close together, and Jones gave orders to
board the Serapis. His men were driven back, and Captain Pearson of the
Serapis called to know, if he had yielded.

"I have not yet begun to fight," replied Jones.

12. The ships parted, and the size and strength of the enemy told
against the Poor Richard, so Jones determined to try again to board the
Serapis. As the two vessels came close to each other, Jones ordered
them to be fastened together.

13. Captain Pearson did not like this close fighting, for it took away
all the advantage his better ship and heavier guns had given him. Paul
Jones's guns now touched those of the Serapis. As the gunners loaded,
they had to thrust their ramrods into the enemy's ports. Never before
had an English commander met such a foe or fought such a battle.

[Illustration: Jones himself helped work the guns.]

14. With his heaviest guns useless, and part of his deck blown up,
Jones still kept up the unequal fight. He himself helped work the
guns. In this hour of need one of the American vessels, the Alliance,
commanded by a Frenchman, came up, and instead of attacking the
Serapis, fired on the Poor Richard.

15. Just then the gunners and carpenter ran up, saying that the ship
was sinking. Captain Pearson called again to know if the ship had
yielded. Paul Jones replied that if he could do no better he would go
down with his colors flying.

16. In the confusion the English prisoners had been set free. One of
them, who passed through the fire to his own ship, told Captain Pearson
that the Poor Richard was sinking; if he could hold out but a few
minutes longer she must go down.

17. Imagine the condition of Paul Jones at this moment! Every gun
was silenced, except the one at which he himself stood; his ship was
gradually settling beneath him, a hundred prisoners swarmed on his
decks, and the Alliance was firing on his ship. Still he would not
yield. He ordered the prisoners to the pumps, declaring that if they
would not work they should sink with him.

18. The condition of the Serapis was little better than that of the
Poor Richard. Both vessels looked like wrecks, and both were on fire.
The Serapis was at last forced to surrender. Nothing but Paul Jones's
courage and his resolve never to give up had saved him from defeat.

19. The captain of the Alliance had intended to destroy Jones's ship,
and then take the English vessel and claim the honor of the victory. He
was disgraced for his conduct, and Jones was honored, as he deserved to
be.

[Illustration:

  From the painting by J. M. W. Turner

The Fighting Téméraire Tugged to her Last Berth

A warship of a hundred years ago]

20. Captain Pearson was made a knight for the courage with which he
defended his ship.

When Jones heard this, he said: "Well, he deserved it; and if I have
the good fortune to fall in with him again, I will make him a lord."

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Găl´lant=: brave. =Spīk_e_d=: made the guns useless by stopping
  the vent or touchhole with a nail or spike.

  II. =Sē̍ rā´ pĭs.= =Bō_a_rd=: to go on deck of. _K_=nī_gh_t=: a
  man who receives a rank which entitles him to be called Sir, as
  "Sir Walter Scott."

       *       *       *       *       *

    In the lexicon of youth, which fate reserves
    For a bright manhood, there's no such word as fail.

                                                                  BULWER




Hiawatha's Sailing

BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

  Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882): One of the most popular
  of American poets. "Evangeline" and "Hiawatha" are the best known
  of his longer poems. Among his shorter poems are many household
  favorites, such as "The Village Blacksmith," "Excelsior," and
  "The Psalm of Life." Longfellow was also the author of two prose
  volumes, "Outre Mer" and "Hyperion," descriptive of his European
  travels.

[Illustration]


      "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
    Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
    Growing by the rushing river,
    Tall and stately in the valley!
    I a light canoe will build me,
    Build a swift Cheemaun for sailing,
    That shall float upon the river,
    Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
    Like a yellow water lily!"
      "Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!
    Lay aside your white skin wrapper,
    For the summer time is coming,
    And the sun is warm in heaven,
    And you need no white skin wrapper!"
      Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
    In the solitary forest,
    By the rushing Taquamenaw,
    When the birds were singing gaily,
    In the Moon of Leaves were singing,
    And the Sun, from sleep awaking,
    Started up and said, "Behold me!
    Geezis, the great Sun, behold me!"
      And the tree with all its branches
    Rustled in the breeze of morning,
    Saying, with a sigh of patience,
    "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
      With his knife the tree he girdled;
    Just beneath its lowest branches,
    Just above the roots, he cut it,
    Till the sap came oozing outward;
    Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
    Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
    With a wooden wedge he raised it,
    Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
      "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
    Of your strong and pliant branches,
    My canoe to make more steady,
    Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
      Through the summit of the Cedar
    Went a sound, a cry of horror,
    Went a murmur of resistance;
    But it whimpered, bending downward,
    "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
      Down he hewed boughs of cedar,
    Shaped them straightway to a framework,
    Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
    Like two bended bows together.
      "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
    Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
    My canoe to bind together,
    So to bind the ends together
    That the water may not enter,
    That the river may not wet me!"
      And the Larch with all its fibers,
    Shivered in the air of morning,
    Touched his forehead with its tassels,
    Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
    "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
      From the earth he tore the fibers,
    Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree,
    Closely sewed the bark together,
    Bound it closely to the framework.
      "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
    Of your balsam and your resin,
    So to close the seams together
    That the water may not enter,
    That the river may not wet me!"
      And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
    Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
    Battled like a shore with pebbles,
    Answered wailing, answered weeping,
    "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
      And he took the tears of balsam,
    Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
    Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,
    Made each crevice safe from water.
      "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
    All your quills, O Kagh, the Hedgehog!
    I will make a necklace of them,
    Make a girdle for my beauty,
    And two stars to deck her bosom!"
      From a hollow tree the Hedgehog
    With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
    Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
    Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
    Through the tangle of his whiskers,
    "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
      From the ground the quills he gathered,
    All the little shining arrows,
    Stained them red and blue and yellow,
    With the juice of roots and berries;
    Into his canoe he wrought them,
    Round its waist a shining girdle,
    Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
    On its breast two stars resplendent.
      Thus the Birch Canoe was builded,
    In the valley, by the river,
    In the bosom of the forest;
    And the forest's life was in it,
    All its mystery and its magic,
    All the lightness of the birch tree,
    All the toughness of the cedar,
    All the larch's supple sinews;
    And it floated on the river
    Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
    Like a yellow water lily.
      Paddles none had Hiawatha,
    Paddles none he had or needed,
    For his thoughts as paddles served him,
    And his wishes served to guide him;
    Swift or slow at will he glided,
    Veered to right or left at pleasure.

[Illustration: His thoughts as paddles served him.]

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Chēema̤_u_n´=: a birch canoe. =Sŏl´ĭ tā̍ ry̆=: lonely.
  =Tȧ qua mē´na̤=_w_: a river of northern Michigan which flows
  into Lake Superior. =Moon of Leaves=: May. =Gē_e´_zĭs=: the sun.
  =Shē_e_r=: straight up and down. =Ȧ sŭn´dẽr=: apart; in two.
  =Plī´ant=: bending easily without breaking. =Strā_igh_t´ wā_y_=: at
  once. =Tăm´ȧ ră_c_k=: the American larch. =Fī´br_o_ŭs=: composed of
  fibers or threads; tough. =Bä_l_m=, =ba̤l´sam=, =rĕs̝´ĭn=: gummy
  substances which flow from the fir tree. =Sŏm´bẽr=: dark; gloomy.
  =Fis´sure=: a narrow opening. =Kä=_gh_: the hedgehog. =Drow´s̝y̆=:
  sleepy. =Rē̍ splĕn´dent=: very bright; shining. =My̆s´tẽr y̆=:
  something kept secret. =Sŭp´pl_e_=: easily bent. =Vē_e_r_e_d=:
  turned; changed direction.




Shun Delay


I

1. One day an old farmer went into the nearest market town with some of
the produce of his farm. When he had attended to all his business, he
stabled his horse at the inn and went to see the great lawyer who lived
in one of the grandest houses in the town.

[Illustration: "What is the matter?"]

2. He rang the bell and sent in word that he wished to see the lawyer
on important business.

On being shown into the room, he said: "Now, sir, I have come to get
your advice."

"Yes," answered the lawyer; "what is the matter?"

"That is for you to find out," said the old man. "I have come to you to
get advice, not to give it."

3. The lawyer had never before met so queer a client. No one was in the
habit of speaking so bluntly to him. He was rather amused than angry,
and made up his mind to find out what the old man really wanted with
him.

So he asked: "Have you a complaint to make against any one?"

"No," said the farmer; "I live at peace with all my neighbors."

4. "Perhaps you wish to recover a debt?"

"No!" shouted the old man; "I owe no man; and, if any one owes me
anything, he gets time to pay it. There are honest people in the part I
come from."

5. The lawyer asked several other questions, but without being able to
discover why his strange client had called upon him. At length he said
that he was unable to give him any advice, as he did not seem to be in
any difficulty or trouble.

6. "Difficulty or trouble!" said the old man; "that's exactly what I
am in. I come to ask you for advice--you, the greatest lawyer in the
country--and you can do nothing to help me. That's difficulty and
trouble enough, I think.

7. "Many of my friends and neighbors have been to see lawyers from time
to time, and taken their advice about the conduct of their affairs.
They say they have done well ever since. So when I came to market
to-day, I made up my mind to come to you and get advice; but, as you
have none to give me, I must go to some other man who understands my
case."

8. "You need not do that," said the lawyer. "Now that you have
explained, I understand your case thoroughly. Your neighbors have been
receiving legal advice, and you do not wish to be considered less
important than they."

9. "That's it," shouted the man, delighted that he was understood at
last.

The lawyer gravely took a sheet of paper and a pen. Then he asked the
man his name.

10. "John Brown," was the answer.

"Occupation?"

"What's that?" he asked, in amazement.

"What do you do for a living?"

"Oh! is that what occupation means?" he said. "I'm a farmer."

11. The great lawyer wrote it all down, and added something which the
farmer could not make out. Then, folding the paper, he gave it to the
old man, who paid his fee, and went out delighted that he was now every
bit as clever as his neighbors.


II

12. When he arrived home, he found a number of his work people at his
door, talking to his wife.

"Ah, here comes John," she cried; "he will tell us what to do."

13. Then she explained to her husband that the hay was all cut and
ready for carrying in, and the men wanted to know whether they should
stop for the night, or work till the fields were clear. The weather had
been fine for many days, and the sky had a settled appearance, so that
there seemed no need of haste for fear of rain.

[Illustration: He found a number of his work people.]

14. The farmer thought a moment without coming to any decision.
Suddenly he remembered the lawyer's advice which he had in his pocket.

"This will decide it in a minute," he cried, as he unfolded the paper.
"I have here an opinion from one of our famous lawyers, and we will
follow whatever advice he gives. Read it," he said to his wife. "You
are a better scholar than I."

15. His wife took the paper and read aloud: "John Brown, farmer. Do not
put off till to-morrow what you can do to-day."

"A famous opinion," cried the farmer with delight. "Away to the fields,
lads, and get the hay in."

[Illustration: His wife read aloud.]

16. The men went back and worked with a will. In the moonlight they
kept busy loading the carts, till, at length, all the fields were
cleared. As the last load was driven in, a few drops of rain began to
fall, but there was no sign of a storm.

17. During the night, however, a tempest of wind and rain burst over
the valley, and when the farmer got up in the morning, several of his
fields were flooded. We can well imagine how thankful he was that he
had not put off his work till to-morrow. Had he done so, he would have
found, as so many have found, that to-morrow is too late.

18. "A famous piece of advice that was," he remarked, as he walked
back to the house. "'Do not put off till to-morrow what you can do
to-day.' If everybody acted on that plan, what a world of misery and
disappointment would be saved. I will always do so for the future."

19. The farmer kept his word, and he found, as you wall also find if
you try it, that his work was lighter, and that the world went more
smoothly than it had ever done before.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Prŏd´ūç_e_=: that which is brought forth from the ground.
  =Clī´ent=: One who asks advice of a lawyer. =Lē´gal=: relating
  to law; governed by the rules of law. =Ȧ māz_e_´ment=: surprise.
  =Fē_e_=: charge.

  II. =De cis´ion=: fixed purpose.

  Select from this story five words which express action.

  Write all the forms of these words: as see, saw, seen.

       *       *       *       *       *

One of the illusions is that the present hour is not the decisive hour.
Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.

                                                                 EMERSON




The Walrus and the Carpenter

BY LEWIS CARROLL


    1.  The sun was shining on the sea,
           Shining with all his might;
        He did his very best to make
          The billows smooth and bright--
        And this was odd, because it was
          The middle of the night.

    2.  The moon was shining sulkily,
          Because she thought the sun
        Had got no business to be there
          After the day was done:
        "It's very rude of him," she said,
          "To come and spoil the fun!"

    3.  The sea was wet as wet could be,
          The sands were dry as dry.
        You could not see a cloud, because
          No cloud was in the sky:
        No birds were flying overhead--
          There were no birds to fly.

    4.  The Walrus and the Carpenter
          Were walking close at hand;
        They wept like anything to see
          Such quantities of sand:
        "If this were only cleared away,"
          They said, "it would be grand!"

    5.  "If seven maids with seven mops
          Swept it for half a year,
        Do you suppose," the Walrus said,
          "That they could get it clear?"
        "I doubt it," said the Carpenter,
          And shed a bitter tear.

    6.  "O Oysters, come and walk with us!"
          The Walrus did beseech.
        "A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
          Along the briny beach:
        We can not do with more than four,
          To give a hand to each."

    7.  The eldest Oyster looked at him,
          But never a word he said:
        The eldest Oyster winked his eye,
          And shook his heavy head,--
        Meaning to say he did not choose
          To leave the Oyster-bed.

    8.  But four young Oysters hurried up,
          All eager for the treat:
        Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
          Their shoes were clean and neat--
        And this was odd, because, you know,
          They hadn't any feet.

    9.  Four other Oysters followed them,
          And yet another four;
        And thick and fast they came at last,
          And more, and more, and more,--
        All hopping through the frothy waves,
          And scrambling to the shore.

    10. The Walrus and the Carpenter
          Walked on a mile or so,
        And then they rested on a rock
          Conveniently low:
        And all the little Oysters stood
          And waited in a row.

    11. "The time has come," the Walrus said,
          "To talk of many things:
        Of shoes--and ships--and sealing wax--
          Of cabbages--and kings--
        And why the sea is boiling hot--
          And whether pigs have wings."

    12. "But wait a bit," the Oysters cried,
          "Before we have our chat;
        For some of us are out of breath,
          And all of us are fat!"
        "No hurry!" said the Carpenter.
          They thanked him much for that.

    13. "A loaf of bread," the Walrus said,
          "Is what we chiefly need:
        Pepper and vinegar besides
          Are very good indeed:
        Now if you're ready, Oysters dear,
          We can begin to feed."

    14. "But not on us!" the Oysters cried,
          Turning a little blue.
        "After such kindness that would be
          A dismal thing to do!"
        "The night is fine," the Walrus said;
          "Do you admire the view?

    15. "It was so kind of you to come!
          And you are very nice!"
        The Carpenter said nothing but,
          "Cut us another slice:
        I wish you were not quite so deaf--
          I've had to ask you twice!"

    16. "It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
          "To play them such a trick,
        After we've brought them out so far,
          And made them trot so quick!"
        The Carpenter said nothing but,
          "The butter's spread too thick!"

    17. "I weep for you," the Walrus said:
          "I deeply sympathize."
        With sobs and tears he sorted out
          Those of the largest size,
        Holding his pocket handkerchief
          Before his streaming eyes.

    18. "O Oysters," said the Carpenter,
          "You've had a pleasant run!
        Shall we be trotting home again?"
          But answer came there none--
        And this was scarcely odd, because
          They'd eaten every one.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Bĭl´lō̍_w_s̝=: great waves of the sea. =Sŭlk´ĭ ly̆=: peevishly;
  angrily. =Bē̍ sē_e_ch´=: beg; ask earnestly. =Brīn´y̆=: salty.
  =Frŏth´y̆=: full of bubbles. =Dĭs̝´mal=: sad. =Sy̆m´pȧ thīz_e_=:
  pity.




The Story of Prince Ahmed and the Fairy Peribanou

FROM "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS"

  The exact origin of these famous Eastern tales is uncertain. They
  were first made known to English readers about two hundred years
  ago, and they have ever since maintained a foremost place in the
  affections of children.


I

1. There was a sultan who had three sons and a niece. The eldest of the
princes was called Houssain; and the second, Ali; and the youngest,
Ahmed; and the princess, his niece, Nouronnihar.

2. The Princess Nouronnihar was the orphan daughter of the sultan's
younger brother. The sultan brought his niece up in his palace with the
three princes, proposing to marry her, when she arrived at a proper
age, to some neighboring prince. But when he perceived that the three
princes, his sons, all loved her, he was very much concerned. As he was
not able to decide among them, he sent all three to travel in distant
countries, promising his niece in marriage to the one who should bring
him as a gift the greatest curiosity.

3. The princes accordingly set out disguised as merchants. They went
the first day's journey together, and, as they parted, they agreed to
travel for a year and to meet again at a certain inn. The first that
came should wait for the rest; so that, as they had all three taken
leave together of the sultan, they might all return together. By break
of day they mounted their horses and set forth.

[Illustration: They mounted their horses and set forth.]

4. Prince Houssain, the eldest brother, went to the kingdom of
Bisnagar. Here, by good fortune, he found a wonderful carpet. It was
ordinary in appearance, but had this singular property: whoever seated
himself on it was at once transported to any place he might wish.

5. Prince Ali, the second brother, joined a caravan and journeyed to
the capital of the kingdom of Persia. There he procured from a merchant
an ivory tube which would reveal to any one looking through it whatever
he wished to see.

6. Prince Ahmed took the road to Samarkand. He also bought what he
considered the greatest possible curiosity. This was an artificial
apple, the smell of which would cure a person of the most deadly
disease.

7. At the appointed time the princes met at the inn. They showed one
another their treasures, and immediately saw through the tube that the
princess was dying. They then sat down on the carpet, wished themselves
with her, and were there in a moment.

8. As soon as Prince Ahmed was in Nouronnihar's chamber, he rose from
the carpet, and going to the bedside put the apple under her nose. The
princess immediately opened her eyes, and turned her head from one side
to another, looking at the persons who stood about her; then she rose
up in bed and asked to be dressed, just as if she had waked out of a
sound sleep.

9. The princes then went to throw themselves at the feet of the sultan,
their father, and to pay their respects to him. But when they came
before him, they found he had been informed of their arrival and by
what means the princess had been cured. The sultan received them with
the greatest joy.

10. After the usual ceremonies and compliments, the princes presented
their curiosities: Prince Houssain his carpet, Prince Ali his ivory
tube, and Prince Ahmed his artificial apple; and after each had
commended his present, they begged the sultan to declare to which of
them he would give the Princess Nouronnihar for a wife, according to
his promise.

11. The sultan, having heard all that the princes could say about their
gifts, remained some time silent. At last he said: "I would declare for
one of you, my children, with a great deal of pleasure if I could do
it with justice. But the gift of no one of you alone would have been
sufficient to cure the princess; Ahmed's apple would have been of no
use if Ali's tube had not first revealed her illness, and Houssain's
carpet transported you to her side. Therefore, as neither carpet, tube,
nor apple can be preferred one before the other, I cannot grant the
princess to any one of you.

12. "I must use other means to make my choice. Get each of you a bow
and arrow, and go to the great plain where they exercise the horses. I
will give the princess to him who shoots the farthest."

13. The three princes had nothing to say against the decision of the
sultan. Each provided himself with a bow and arrow, and went to the
plain, followed by a great crowd of people.

14. Prince Houssain, as the eldest, took his bow and arrow, and shot
first; Prince Ali shot next, and much beyond him; and Prince Ahmed last
of all, but nobody could see where his arrow fell; and, in spite of
all the care that was used by himself and everybody else in searching,
it was not to be found far or near.

[Illustration: Prince Ahmed shot last of all.]

15. Though it was believed that Prince Ahmed shot the farthest, and
that he, therefore, deserved the Princess Nouronnihar, it was necessary
that his arrow should be found, to make the matter certain. So the
sultan judged in favor of Prince Ali, and the wedding took place soon
after.


II

16. Prince Houssain would not honor the feast with his presence. In
short, such was his grief that he left the court and became a hermit.

17. Prince Ahmed, too, did not go to the wedding; but he did not
renounce the world, as Houssain had done. As he could not imagine what
had become of his arrow, he stole away from his attendants to search
for it. He went to the place where the other arrows had been found,
going straight forward from there and looking carefully on both sides
of him.

18. He went on till he came to some steep, craggy rocks, which were
situated in a barren country about four leagues distant from where
he set out. When Prince Ahmed came near these rocks, he perceived an
arrow, which he picked up, and was much astonished to find that it was
his.

19. "Certainly," said he to himself, "neither I nor any man living
could shoot an arrow so far!" and finding it laid flat, not sticking
into the ground, he judged that it had rebounded against the rock.

20. As these rocks were full of caves, the prince entered one, and,
looking about, saw an iron door which seemed to have no lock. Thrusting
against it, it opened, and revealed an easy descent, down which he
walked. At first he thought he was going into a dark, gloomy place, but
presently light succeeded; and, entering into a large, open place, he
perceived a magnificent palace about fifty or sixty paces distant.

21. At the same time a lady of majestic port and air advanced as far as
the porch, attended by a large troop of finely dressed and beautiful
ladies.

The lady addressed him and said: "Come nearer, Prince Ahmed; you are
welcome."

22. It was no small surprise to the prince to hear himself named in a
place of which he had never heard, though it was so near his father's
capital; and he could not understand how he should be known to a lady
who was a stranger to him.

23. He returned the lady's compliment by throwing himself at her feet,
saying: "Madam, I return you a thousand thanks for your welcome. But
may I dare ask how you know me? And how you, who live so near me,
should be so great a stranger to me?"

"Prince," said the lady, "let us go into the hall; there I will gratify
your request."

24. The lady led Prince Ahmed into the hall, and, when they were seated
on a sofa, she said: "You are surprised, you say, that I should know
you and not be known to you; but you will be no longer surprised when
I inform you who I am. I am the daughter of one of the most powerful
genies, and my name is Peribanou. I was present when you drew your
arrow, and it was I who made it strike against the rocks near which
you found it. It lies in your power to make use of the favorable
opportunity which presents itself to make you happy."

25. As the fairy Peribanou looked tenderly upon Prince Ahmed, with a
modest blush on her cheeks, it was no hard matter for the prince to
understand what happiness she meant. He considered that the Princess
Nouronnihar could never be his, and that the fairy Peribanou excelled
her infinitely in beauty, agreeableness, wit, and, as much as he could
conjecture by the magnificence of the palace, in immense riches.

26. He blessed the moment that he thought of seeking after his arrow
a second time, and replied: "Madam, should I all my life have the
happiness of being your slave, I should think myself the most fortunate
of men. Don't refuse to admit into your court a prince who is entirely
devoted to you."

27. "Prince," answered the fairy, "will you not pledge your faith to
me, as I give mine to you?"

"Yes, madam," replied the prince, in great joy; "I give you my heart
without the least reserve."

"Then," answered the fairy, "you are my husband and I am your wife.
Come, now, and I will show you my palace."

28. The fairy Peribanou then carried him through all the apartments,
where he saw diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and all sorts of fine jewels.
The prince owned that he could not have imagined that there was in the
world anything that could equal it.

The wedding feast was held the next day; or, rather, the days following
were a continual feast.


III

29. At the end of six months Prince Ahmed, who always loved and honored
his father, the sultan, longed to know how he was. He told the fairy of
this desire, and asked if it were her pleasure that he should go to see
his father.

30. "Prince," said she, "go when you please. But first let me give you
some advice: I think it will be best for you not to tell the sultan,
your father, about me nor about our marriage. Beg him to be satisfied
in knowing that you are happy, and inform him that the only end of your
visit is to let him know that you are well and happy."

31. She appointed twenty gentlemen, well mounted and equipped, to
attend him. When all was ready, Prince Ahmed took his leave of the
fairy, embraced her, and renewed his promise to return soon.

32. As it was not a great way to his father's capital, Prince Ahmed
soon arrived there. The people, glad to see him again, received him
with shouts of joy.

The prince told the story of his adventures, but without speaking of
the fairy, and ended: "The only favor I ask of your majesty is to give
me leave to come often and pay you my respects."

33. "Son," answered the sultan, "I cannot refuse your request; but I
should much rather you would resolve to stay with me. At least tell
me where I may send to you if you should fail to come, or if I should
think your presence necessary."

"Sir," replied Prince Ahmed, "what your majesty asks of me is part
of a mystery. I beg of you to give me leave to remain silent on this
subject."

34. The sultan pressed Prince Ahmed no more, but said to him: "Son, I
penetrate no farther into your secrets, but can tell you that whenever
you come you will always be welcome."

Prince Ahmed stayed but three days at his father's court, and on the
fourth day returned to the fairy Peribanou, who did not expect him so
soon.

35. A month after Prince Ahmed's return from paying a visit to his
father, he went again, with the same attendance as before, but
much finer, and was received by the sultan with the same joy and
satisfaction. For several months he continued his visits, and each time
with a richer and finer attendance than before.

36. At last some viziers, the sultan's favorites, who judged of Prince
Ahmed's wealth and power by his magnificent appearance, said that it
was to be feared Prince Ahmed might try to win the people's favor and
to dethrone his father.

The sultan was far from thinking that Prince Ahmed could be capable of
such a design, and said: "You are mistaken; my son loves me, and I am
certain of his tenderness and fidelity."

37. But the favorites went on abusing Prince Ahmed, till the sultan
said: "I cannot believe my son Ahmed is so wicked as you would persuade
me he is; however, I am obliged to you for your good advice."

38. The talk of his favorites had so alarmed the sultan that he
resolved to have Prince Ahmed watched, unknown to his grand vizier. So
he sent for a female magician and said: "Go immediately and follow my
son; watch him so as to find out where he retires, and bring me word."

39. The magician left the sultan, and, knowing the place where Prince
Ahmed found his arrow, went immediately thither and hid herself near
the rocks so that nobody could see her.

The next morning Prince Ahmed set out by daybreak, according to his
custom. The magician, seeing him coming, followed him with her eyes
till suddenly she lost sight of him and his attendants.

40. As the rocks were very steep and craggy, the magician judged that
the prince had gone either into some cave or into an abode of genies
or fairies. Thereupon she came out of the place where she was hid and
looked carefully about on all sides, but could perceive no opening. The
iron gate which Prince Ahmed had discovered was to be seen and opened
only by those whom the fairy Peribanou favored.

[Illustration: Prince Ahmed went out with his attendants.]

41. As Prince Ahmed never failed to visit the sultan's court once a
month, the magician, about the time of his next visit, went to the foot
of the rock where she had lost sight of the prince and his attendants,
and waited there.


IV

42. The next morning Prince Ahmed went out, as usual, at the iron
gate, with his attendants, and passed by the magician, whom he did
not know to be such. Seeing her lying with her head against the rock
and complaining as if she were in great pain, he pitied her, and his
attendants carried her back through the iron gate into the court of the
fairy's palace.

43. The fairy Peribanou came at once to see why the prince had returned
so soon. Not giving her time to ask him the reason, the prince said:
"Princess, I desire you to care for this poor woman."

44. The fairy Peribanou ordered two of her attendants to carry the
woman into the palace.

While they obeyed the fairy's commands, she went to Prince Ahmed and
whispered: "Prince, this woman is not so sick as she pretends to be;
and I am very much mistaken if she is not an impostor, who will be the
cause of great trouble to you. But be persuaded that I will deliver
you out of all the snares that may be laid for you. Go and pursue your
journey."

45. These words of the fairy's did not in the least frighten Prince
Ahmed. "My princess," said he, "as I do not remember ever to have
done or intended anybody an injury, I cannot believe anybody can have
a thought of doing me one; but, if any one has, I shall not for that
reason forbear doing good whenever I have an opportunity." Then he went
on to his father's palace.

46. In the meantime the two women carried the magician into a very fine
apartment, richly furnished. They made a bed for her, the sheets of
which were of the finest linen, and the coverlet cloth-of-gold.

47. When they had put her into bed--for she pretended that her fever
was so violent that she could not help herself in the least--one of the
women went out and brought a dish full of a certain liquor, which she
presented to the magician.

"Drink this liquor," said she; "it is the water of the Fountain of
Lions, and a sovereign cure for all fevers. You will feel the effect of
it in less than an hour's time."

48. The two women came in an hour later and found the magician up and
dressed. "O admirable medicine!" she said. "It has cured me even
sooner than you told me it would, and I shall be able to continue my
journey."

According to the fairy's orders, the two women then conducted the
magician through several magnificent apartments into a large hall most
richly furnished.

49. Peribanou sat in this hall on a throne of gold enriched with
diamonds, rubies, and pearls of an extraordinary size, and attended on
each hand by a great number of beautiful fairies, all richly clothed.

50. At the sight of so much splendor, the magician was so amazed that
she could not speak.

However, Peribanou said to her: "Good woman, I am glad to see that you
are able to pursue your journey. I will not detain you."

51. The magician went back and related to the sultan all that had
happened, and how Prince Ahmed since his marriage with the fairy was
richer than all the kings in the world, and how there was danger that
he would come and take the throne from his father.

52. Now the favorites advised that the prince should be killed, but the
magician advised differently: "Make him give you all kinds of wonderful
things, by the fairy's help, till she tires of him and sends him away.
As, for example, might you not ask him to procure a tent which can be
carried in a man's hand, and which will be so large as to shelter your
whole army against bad weather?"

53. When the magician had finished her speech, the sultan asked his
favorites if they had anything better to propose; and finding them all
silent, he determined to follow the magician's advice.


V

54. Next day the sultan did as the magician had advised him, and asked
for the great tent.

Prince Ahmed replied: "Though it is with the greatest reluctance, I
will not fail to ask of my wife the favor your majesty desires, but I
will not promise you to obtain it; and, if I should not have the honor
to come again to pay you my respects, that will be the sign that I have
not had success. But, beforehand, I desire you to forgive me and to
consider that you yourself have reduced me to this extremity."

55. "Son," replied the sultan of the Indies, "I should be very sorry
if what I ask of you should deprive me of the pleasure of seeing you
again. Your wife would show that her love for you was very slight if
she, with the power of a fairy, should refuse so small a request as
this."

The prince went back, and was very sad for fear of offending the fairy.
She kept pressing him to tell her what was the matter.

56. At last he said: "Madam, you may have observed that hitherto I
have been content with your love and have never asked you any other
favor. Consider, then, I conjure you, that it is not I, but the sultan,
my father, who begs of you a tent which is large enough to shelter him,
his court, and his army from the violence of the weather, and which a
man may carry in his hand. But remember it is the sultan, my father,
who asks this favor."

57. "Prince," replied the fairy, smiling, "I am sorry that so small a
matter should disturb you."

Then the fairy sent for her treasurer, to whom she said: "Nourgihan,
bring me the largest tent in my treasury."

58. Nourgihan returned presently with the tent--which she could not
only hold in her hand, but in the palm of her hand when she shut her
fingers--and presented it to her mistress, who gave it to Prince Ahmed.

59. When Prince Ahmed saw the tent which the fairy called the largest
in her treasury, he thought that she jested with him. Peribanou,
perceiving this, said: "Nourgihan, go and set the tent up so that the
prince may judge whether it be large enough for the sultan, his father."

60. The treasurer immediately carried it a great way off; and when she
had set it up, one end reached to the palace, and the prince found it
large enough to shelter two greater armies than that of the sultan.

He said to Peribanou: "I ask my princess a thousand pardons for my
incredulity. After what I have seen, I believe there is nothing
impossible to you."

61. The treasurer took down the tent and brought it to the prince,
who took it, and the next day mounted his horse and went with his
attendants to his father's court.

The sultan, who was persuaded that there could not be such a tent as he
had asked for, was greatly surprised when he saw it.

62. But he was not yet satisfied, and he requested his son to bring him
some water from the Fountain of Lions, which was a sovereign remedy for
all sorts of fevers. By the aid of the fairy Peribanou, Prince Ahmed
found this fountain, passed safely through all the perils of the way,
and returned to the sultan with the water he had required.

63. The sultan showed outwardly all the signs of great joy, but
secretly became more jealous, and by the advice of the magician he said
to Prince Ahmed: "Son, I have one thing more to ask of you, after which
I shall expect nothing more from your obedience nor from your interest
with your wife. This request is to bring me a man not above a foot
and a half high, whose beard is thirty feet long, who carries upon
his shoulders a bar of iron of five hundredweight, which he uses as a
quarterstaff."

64. Prince Ahmed, who did not believe that there was such a man in the
world as his father described, would gladly have excused himself; but
the sultan persisted in his demand, and told him the fairy could do
more incredible things.


VI

65. The next day the prince returned to his dear Peribanou, to whom he
told his father's new demand, which, he said, he looked upon to be a
thing more impossible than the other two. "For," added he, "I cannot
imagine there can be such a man in the world. How can my father suppose
that I should be able to find a man so small and at the same time so
well armed? What arms can I make use of to reduce him to my will?"

66. "Don't be frightened, prince," replied the fairy; "you ran a risk
in getting the water of the Fountain of Lions for your father, but
there is no danger in finding this man, who is my brother Schaibar.
Far from being like me, he is of so violent a nature that nothing can
prevent his resenting a slight offence; yet, on the other hand, he is
so good as to oblige any one in whatever is desired. He is exactly as
the sultan, your father, has described him.

[Illustration: There arose a thick cloud of smoke.]

67. "I'll send for him, and you shall judge of the truth of what I tell
you; but prepare yourself not to be frightened at his extraordinary
appearance."

"What! my queen," replied Prince Ahmed; "do you say Schaibar is your
brother? Let him be never so ugly and deformed, I shall be so far from
being frightened at the sight of him that, as our brother, I shall
honor and love him."

68. The fairy ordered a gold chafing dish to be set with a fire in it
in the porch of her palace, and taking a perfume, she threw it into the
fire, out of which there arose a thick cloud of smoke.

69. Some moments after, the fairy said to Prince Ahmed: "See, here
comes my brother." The prince immediately perceived Schaibar coming
gravely, with his heavy bar on his shoulder; his long beard, which he
held up before him; and a pair of thick moustachios, which he tucked
behind his ears and which almost covered his face. His eyes were very
small and deep-set in his head, and he wore a high cap; besides all
this, he was very much humpbacked.

70. Schaibar, as he came forward, looked at the prince earnestly enough
to chill the blood in his veins, and asked Peribanou who he was. To
which she replied: "He is my husband, brother. His name is Ahmed;
he is the son of the sultan of the Indies. The reason why I did not
invite you to my wedding was that I was unwilling to divert you from
an expedition in which you were engaged, and from which I heard with
pleasure that you returned victorious, and so I took the liberty to
call for you."

71. At these words, Schaibar, looking on Prince Ahmed favorably, said:
"Is there anything, sister, wherein I can serve him? That he is your
husband is enough to engage me to do for him whatever he desires."

"The sultan, his father," replied Peribanou, "has a curiosity to see
you, and I desire that the prince may be your guide to the sultan's
court."

72. Schaibar and Prince Ahmed set out for the sultan's court. When they
arrived at the gates of the capital, the people no sooner saw Schaibar
than they ran and hid themselves; so that Schaibar and Prince Ahmed, as
they went along, found the streets all deserted till they came to the
palace. There the porters, instead of keeping the gates, ran away, too,
so that the prince and Schaibar advanced to the council hall, where the
sultan was seated on his throne, giving audience.

73. Schaibar went boldly up to the throne, without waiting to be
presented by Prince Ahmed, and addressed the sultan in these words:
"Thou hast asked for me; see, here I am. What wouldst thou have with
me?"

74. The sultan, instead of answering him, clapped his hands before
his eyes to avoid the sight of so terrible an object; at which rude
reception Schaibar was so much provoked, after he had taken the trouble
to come so far, that he instantly lifted up his iron bar and killed the
sultan before Prince Ahmed could intercede.

75. All that the prince could do was to prevent his killing the grand
vizier by saying that this officer had always given the sultan good
advice.

After this Schaibar said: "This is not yet enough; I will treat all the
people in the same way if they do not immediately acknowledge Prince
Ahmed, my brother-in-law, for their sultan and the sultan of the
Indies."

76. Then all that were there present made the air echo again with the
repeated shouts of "Long life to Sultan Ahmed!" and immediately he was
proclaimed through the whole town. Schaibar had him installed on the
throne, and after he had caused all to swear fidelity to Ahmed, he
brought Peribanou with all the pomp and grandeur imaginable, and had
her crowned sultaness of the Indies.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Sŭl´tan=: an Eastern king. =Ho̤_u_s´sā̍_i_n=. =Ä_h´_mĕd=.
  =No̤=_u_ =rŏn´ĭ här=. =Dĭs g_u_īs̝_e_d´=: dressed for the
  purpose of concealment. =Bĭs nȧ gär´.= =Trăns pōrt´ĕd=: carried.
  =Säm ar känd´.= =Çĕr´ē̍ mō̍ nĭ_e_s̝=: forms of politeness.
  =Cŏm mĕnd´ĕd=: praised.

  II. =Hẽr´mĭt=: a man who lives apart from other people.
  =Rē̍ nounç=_e´_: give up. =Lē_a_g_ue_s̝=: a league is a
  measure of distance of from two to four miles. =Pōrt=: manner
  of carrying oneself. =Ġē´nĭ_e_s̝=: spirits; powerful fairies.
  =Pĕ rï bä´no̤_u_.= =Ĭn´fĭ nĭt=_e_ =ly̆=: beyond measure; greatly.
  =Cŏn jĕc´tū̍r_e_=: guess.

  III. =Ē̍ quĭp_pe_d´=: dressed; fitted out. =Pĕn´ē̍ trāt_e_=:
  pierce into. =Viz´iers=: in Eastern countries, officers of high
  rank. =Fĭ dĕl´ĭ ty̆=: faithfulness.

  IV. =Ĭm pŏs´tor=: a cheat; one who imposes upon others.
  =Fŏr b_e_âr´=: keep from. =Sȯv´ẽr= _e_=ĭ_g_n=: effectual.

  V. =Cŏn jūr=_e´_: beg earnestly. =No̤_u_r´gĭ hän=.
  =Ĭn crē̍ dū´lĭ ty̆=: unbelief. =Qua̤r´tẽr stȧf=_f_: a long, stout
  staff used as a weapon.

  VI. =Mo̤_u_s tȧçh´ĭ ō̍s̝=: mustache. =Dĭ vẽrt´=: turn aside.
  =Ĭn tẽr çēd_e´_=: speak in his behalf. =Ĭn sta̤l_le_d´=: placed
  in office.

[Illustration: William Cullen Bryant]




The Planting of the Apple Tree

BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

  William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878): An American poet and journalist.
  His most famous poem is "Thanatopsis," written when he was only
  eighteen. Among his other poems are "To a Waterfowl," "The Death of
  the Flowers," and "To a Fringed Gentian."


    1. Come, let us plant the apple tree.
       Cleave the tough greensward with the spade;
       Wide let its hollow bed be made;
       There gently lay the roots, and there
       Sift the dark mold with kindly care,
         And press it o'er them tenderly,
       As round the sleeping infant's feet
       We softly fold the cradle sheet;
         So plant we the apple tree.

    [Illustration]

    2. What plant we in this apple tree?
       Buds which the breath of summer days
       Shall lengthen into leafy sprays;
       Boughs where the thrush, with crimson breast,
       Shall haunt and sing, and hide her nest;
         We plant, upon the sunny lea,
       A shadow for the noontide hour,
       A shelter from the summer shower,
         When we plant the apple tree.

    3. What plant we in this apple tree?
       Sweets for a hundred flowery springs
       To load the May wind's restless wings,
       When, from the orchard row he pours
       Its fragrance through our open doors;
         A world of blossoms for the bee,
       Flowers for the sick girl's silent room,
       For the glad infant sprigs of bloom
         We plant with the apple tree.

    4. What plant we in this apple tree?
       Fruits that shall swell in sunny June,
       And redden in the August noon,
       And drop, when gentle airs come by
       That fan the blue September sky;
         While children come, with cries of glee,
       And seek them where the fragrant grass
       Betrays their bed to those who pass,
         At the foot of the apple tree.

    5. And when, above this apple tree,
       The winter stars are quivering bright,
       And winds go howling through the night,
       Girls, whose young eyes o'erflow with mirth,
       Shall peel its fruit by cottage hearth,
         And guests in prouder homes shall see,
       Heaped with the grape of Cintra's vine,
       And golden orange of the line,
         The fruit of the apple tree.

    6. The fruitage of this apple tree
       Winds and our flag of stripe and star
       Shall bear to coasts that lie afar,
       Where men shall wonder at the view,
       And ask in what fair groves they grew;
         And sojourners beyond the sea
       Shall think of childhood's careless day,
       And long, long hours of summer play
         In the shade of the apple tree.

    7. Each year shall give this apple tree
       A broader flush of roseate bloom,
       A deeper maze of verdurous gloom,
       And loosen, when the frost clouds lower,
       The crisp brown leaves in thicker shower.
         The years shall come and pass, but we
       Shall hear no longer, where we lie,
       The summer's songs, the autumn's sigh,
         In the boughs of the apple tree.

    8. And time shall waste this apple tree.
       Oh, when its aged branches throw
       Thin shadows on the ground below,
       Shall fraud and force and iron will
       Oppress the weak and helpless still?
         What shall the tasks of mercy be,
       Amid the toils, the strifes, the tears
       Of those who live when length of years
         Is wasting this little apple tree?

    9. "Who planted this old apple tree?"
       The children of that distant day
       Thus to some aged man shall say;
       And, gazing on its mossy stem,
       The gray-haired man shall answer them:
         "A poet of the land was he,
       Born in the rude but good old times;
       'Tis said he made some quaint old rhymes
         On planting the apple tree."

[Illustration: "Who planted this old apple tree?"]

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Clē_a_v_e_=: cut; part. =Grē_e_n´swa̤rd=: turf green with grass.
  =Lē=_a_: meadow; field. =Çĭn´trȧ=: a town in Portugal. =The
  line=: the Equator. =Sō´j_o_ûrn ẽrs̝=: those who dwell for a
  time. =Rō´s̝ē̍ ā̍t_e_=: rosy. =Māz_e_=: a tangle; a network.
  =Vẽr´dū̍r= _o_=ŭs=: green. =Low´ẽr=: seem dark and gloomy.
  =Fra̤_u_d=: deceit; cheat. =Quā_i_nt=: odd; curious.




Nests


Make yourselves nests of pleasant thoughts! None of us yet know, for
none of us have been taught in early youth, what fairy palaces we
may build of beautiful thoughts, proof against all adversity; bright
fancies, satisfied memories, noble histories, faithful sayings,
treasure-houses of precious and restful thoughts, which care cannot
disturb, nor pain make gloomy, nor poverty take away from us; houses
built without hands, for our souls to live in.

                                                                  RUSKIN




Sir Isaac Newton

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE


I

1. On Christmas Day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton was born at the
small village of Woolsthorpe, in England. Little did his mother think,,
when she beheld her new-born babe, that he was to explain many matters
which had been a mystery ever since the creation of the world.

[Illustration: Sir Isaac Newton]

2. Isaac's father being dead, Mrs. Newton was married again to a
clergyman and went to live at North Witham. Her son was left to the
care of his good old grandmother, who was very kind to him and sent him
to school.

3. In his early years Isaac did not appear to be a very bright scholar,
but was chiefly remarkable for his ingenuity. He had a set of little
tools and saws of various sizes, manufactured by himself. With the aid
of these Isaac made many curious articles, at which he worked with so
much skill that he seemed to have been born with a saw or chisel in
hand.

4. The neighbors looked with admiration at the things which Isaac
manufactured. And his old grandmother, I suppose, was never weary of
talking about him.

"He'll make a capital workman one of these days," she would probably
say. "No fear but what Isaac will do well in the world and be a rich
man before he dies."

5. It is amusing to conjecture what were the expectations of his
grandmother and the neighbors about Isaac's future life. Some of
them, perhaps, fancied that he would make beautiful furniture. Others
probably thought that little Isaac would be an architect, and would
build splendid houses, and churches with the tallest steeples that had
ever been seen in England.

6. Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's grandmother to
apprentice him to a clock-maker; for, besides his mechanical skill, the
boy seemed to have a taste for mathematics, which would be very useful
to him in that profession.

7. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up for himself, and would
manufacture curious clocks like those that contain sets of dancing
figures which come from the dial-plate when the hour is struck; or
like those where a ship sails across the face of the clock and is seen
tossing up and down on the waves as often as the pendulum vibrates.

8. Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that Isaac would devote
himself to the manufacture of clocks, since he had already made one of
a kind which nobody had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, not
by wheels and weights like other clocks, but by the dropping of water.

9. This was an object of great wonderment to all the people round
about; and it must be confessed that there are few boys, or men either,
who could contrive to tell what o'clock it is by means of a bowl of
water.

10. Besides the water clock, Isaac made a sundial. Thus his grandmother
was never at a loss to know the hour; for the water clock would tell it
in the shade and the dial in the sunshine. The sundial is said to be
still at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house where Isaac dwelt.

11. If so, it must have marked the passage of every sunny hour that has
passed since Isaac Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous moments
of his life; it marked the hour of his death; and still the sunshine
creeps slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac first set it up.

12. Yet we must not say that the sundial has lasted longer than its
maker; for Isaac Newton will exist long after the dial--yes, and long
after the sun itself--shall have crumbled to decay.


II

13. Isaac possessed a wonderful power of gaining knowledge by the
simplest means. For instance, what method do you suppose he took to
find out the strength of the wind? You will never guess how the boy
could compel that unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, the
wind, to tell him the measure of its strength.

14. Yet nothing can be more simple. He jumped against the wind; and
by the length of his jump he could calculate the force of a gentle
breeze or a tempest. Thus, even in his boyish sports he was continually
searching out the secrets of philosophy.

15. Not far from his grandmother's house there was a windmill which
worked on a new plan. Isaac was in the habit of going thither
frequently, and would spend whole hours in examining its various
parts. While the mill was at rest he pried into its machinery.

[Illustration: The windmill]

16. When its broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched the
process by which the millstones were made to turn and crush the grain
that was put into the hopper. After gaining a thorough knowledge of its
construction, he was observed to be unusually busy with his tools.

17. It was not long before his grandmother and all the neighborhood
knew what Isaac had been about. He had constructed a model of the
windmill. Though not so large, I suppose, as one of the box traps
which boys set to catch squirrels, yet every part of the mill and its
machinery was complete.

18. Its little sails were neatly made of linen, and whirled round very
swiftly when the mill was placed in a draught of air. Even a puff of
wind from Isaac's mouth or from a pair of bellows was sufficient to set
the sails in motion. And, what was most curious, if a handful of grains
of wheat was put into the little hopper, they would soon be converted
into snow-white flour.

19. Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new windmill. They
thought that nothing so pretty and so wonderful had ever been seen in
the whole world.

"But, Isaac," said one of them, "you have forgotten one thing that
belongs to a mill."

20. "What is that?" asked Isaac; for he supposed that, from the roof of
the mill to its foundation, he had forgotten nothing.

"Why, where is the miller?" said his friend.

"That is true; I must look out for one," said Isaac; and he set himself
to consider how the deficiency should be supplied.

21. He might easily have made a little figure like a man; but then
it would not have been able to move about and perform the duties of
a miller. It so happened, however, that a mouse had just been caught
in the trap; and, as no other miller could be found, Mr. Mouse was
appointed to that important office.

22. The new miller made a very respectable appearance in his dark gray
coat. To be sure, he had not a very good character for honesty, and
was suspected of sometimes stealing a portion of the grain which was
given him to grind. But perhaps some two-legged millers are quite as
dishonest as this small quadruped.

23. As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more important
matters in his mind than the manufacture of toys like the little
windmill. All day long, if left to himself, he was either absorbed in
thought or engaged in some book of mathematics or natural philosophy.

24. At night, I think it probable, he looked up with reverential
curiosity to the stars and wondered whether they were worlds like our
own, and how great was their distance from the earth, and what was the
power that kept them in their courses. Perhaps, even so early in life,
Isaac Newton felt that he should be able some day to answer all these
questions.

25. When Isaac was fourteen years old, his mother's second husband
being now dead, she wished her son to leave school and assist her
in managing the farm at Woolsthorpe. For a year or two, therefore,
he tried to turn his attention to farming. But his mind was so bent
on becoming a scholar that his mother sent him back to school, and
afterwards to the University of Cambridge.


III

26. I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton's boyhood.
My story would be far too long were I to mention all the splendid
discoveries which he made after he came to be a man.

He was the first that found out the nature of light; for, before his
day, nobody could tell what the sunshine was composed of.

27. You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple's falling on his
head and thus leading him to discover the force of gravitation, which
keeps the heavenly bodies in their courses. When he had once got hold
of this idea, he never permitted his mind to rest until he had searched
out all the laws by which the planets are guided through the sky.

28. This he did as thoroughly as if he had gone up among the stars and
tracked them in their orbits. The boy had found out the mechanism of
a windmill; the man explained to his fellow men the mechanism of the
universe.

29. While making these researches he was accustomed to spend night
after night in a lofty tower, gazing at the heavenly bodies through
a telescope. His mind was lifted far above the things of this world.
He may be said, indeed, to have spent the greater part of his life in
worlds that lie thousands and millions of miles away; for where the
thoughts and the heart are, there is our true life.

[Illustration: There stood little Diamond, the author of all the
mischief.]

30. Did you never hear the story of Newton and his little dog, Diamond?
One day, when he was fifty years old, and had been hard at work more
than twenty years studying the theory of light, he went out of his
chamber, leaving his little dog asleep before the fire.

31. On the table lay a heap of manuscript papers containing all the
discoveries which Newton had made during those twenty years. When his
master was gone, up rose little Diamond, jumped upon the table, and
overthrew the lighted candle. The papers immediately caught fire.

32. Just as the destruction was completed, Newton opened the chamber
door and perceived that the labors of twenty years were reduced
to a heap of ashes. There stood little Diamond, the author of all
the mischief. Almost any other man would have sentenced the dog to
immediate death. But Newton patted him on the head, with his usual
kindness, although grief was at his heart.

33. "O Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, "thou little knowest the
mischief thou hast done!"

This incident affected his health and spirits for some time afterwards;
but, from his conduct towards the little dog, you may judge what was
the sweetness of his temper.

34. Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great fame. He was
made a member of Parliament and was knighted by the king. But he cared
little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride in the vastness
of his knowledge. All that he had learned only made him feel how little
he knew in comparison to what remained to be known.

35. "I seem to myself like a child," he observed, "playing on the
sea-shore and picking up here and there a curious shell or a pretty
pebble, while the boundless ocean of truth lies undiscovered before
me."

36. At last, in 1727, when he was fourscore and five years old, Sir
Isaac Newton died--or, rather, he ceased to live on earth. We may be
permitted to believe that he is still searching out the infinite wisdom
and goodness of the Creator as earnestly, and with even more success,
than while his spirit animated a mortal body.

He has left a fame behind him which will be as lasting as if his name
were written in letters of light formed by the stars upon the midnight
sky.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Ĭn ġē̍ nū´ĭ ty̆=: skill; inventiveness.
  =Măn ū̍ făc´tū̍r_e_d=: made. =Är´c̵hĭ tĕct=: a person skilled
  in the art of building. =Mē̍ c̵hăn´ĭ cal=: relating to tools and
  machinery. =Vī´brāt_e_s=: moves to and fro.

  II. =Phi los´o phy=: the science or knowledge of things, their
  causes and effects. =Prī_e_d=: looked closely. =Hŏp´pẽr=: a box
  through which grain passes into a mill. =Con struc´tion=: manner
  of building; arrangement. =Cŏn vẽrt´ĕd=: changed. =De fi´cien cy=:
  want. =Quạd´rụ pĕd=: an animal having four feet. =Rev er en´tial=:
  respectful; humble.

  III. =Grav i ta´tion=: the law of nature by which all bodies
  are drawn towards one another. =Ôr´bĭts=: paths round the sun.
  =Mĕc̵h´an ĭs̝m=: Arrangement of the parts of anything. =Fō_u_r
  scōr_e_=: eighty.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Who is here?

  It is I. It is he. It is she. It is we. It is they.

  Who was here?

  It was I. It was he. It was she. It was we. It was they.

  Answer the following questions, using the right words:

  Who is there? Who is coming? Who is reading the book? Who brought
  the flowers?

       *       *       *       *       *

It is not what we earn, but what we save, that makes us rich. It is not
what we eat, but what we digest, that makes us strong. It is not what
we read, but what we understand, that makes us wise. It is not what we
intend, but what we do, that makes us useful.




Lucy

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH


    1. She dwelt among the untrodden ways
         Beside the springs of Dove,
       A maid whom there were none to praise,
         And very few to love;

    2. A violet by a mossy stone,
         Half hidden from the eye;
       Fair as a star, when only one
         Is shining in the sky!

    3. She lived unknown, and few could know
         When Lucy ceased to be;
       But she is in her grave, and, oh,
         The difference to me!

[Illustration:

  From the painting by Jules Breton

The Song of the Lark]




To a Skylark

BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH


    Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
    Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
    Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
    Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
    Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will,
    Those quivering wings composed, that music still!

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Ē̍ thē´rē̍al=: heavenly. =Mĭn´strĕl=: poet; singer.




Tom Goes down to the Sea

BY CHARLES KINGSLEY

  Charles Kingsley (1819-1875): An English clergyman, who was the
  author of several popular novels. He wrote two books for children
  which have become child classics--"The Heroes," a collection of
  Greek fairy tales, and "The Water-Babies."

  This selection is from "The Water-Babies," which is a story about
  the strange and beautiful changes which go on in the water. Tom was
  a little chimney sweep whom the fairies changed into a water-baby.
  He had been a poor, neglected little boy, who was mischievous and
  unkind because he knew no better. At first he was a mischievous,
  unkind water-baby, and the water-creatures found no pleasure in
  playing with him, so that for a while he was very lonely. But, as
  he learned to be more kind and loving, he won friends. Here is the
  story of his journey in search of other water-babies, whom at last
  he found in the great sea.


I

1. And then, on the evening of a very hot day, Tom, the water-baby, saw
a sight.

He had been very stupid all day, and so had the trout, for they would
not move an inch to take a fly, though there were thousands on the
water, but lay dozing at the bottom, under the shade of the stones; and
Tom lay dozing, too, and was glad to cuddle their smooth, cool sides,
for the water was quite warm and unpleasant.

2. But toward evening it grew suddenly dark, and Tom looked up and saw
a blanket of black clouds lying right across the valley above his head,
resting on the crags right and left. He felt not quite frightened, but
very still, for everything was still. There was not a whisper of wind
nor a chirp of a bird to be heard; and next a few great drops of rain
fell plop into the water, and one hit Tom on the nose and made him pop
his head down quickly enough.

3. And then the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed, and leaped
across Vendale and back again, from cloud to cloud and cliff to cliff,
till the very rocks in the stream seemed to shake; and Tom looked up at
it through the water and thought it the finest thing he ever saw in his
life.

4. But out of the water he dared not put his head; for the rain came
down by bucketfuls, and the hail hammered like shot on the stream and
churned it into foam; and soon the stream rose, and rushed down, higher
and higher, and fouler and fouler, full of beetles and sticks and
straws and worms and this, that, and the other.

Tom could hardly stand against the stream, and hid behind a rock. But
the trout did not; for out they rushed from among the stones, and began
gobbling the beetles and leeches in the most greedy and quarrelsome way.

6. And now, by the flashes of lightning, Tom saw a new sight--all the
bottom of the stream alive with great eels, turning and twisting along,
all down stream and away. They had been hiding for weeks past in the
cracks of the rocks and in burrows in the mud, and Tom had hardly ever
seen them, except now and then at night; but now they were all out,
and went hurrying past him so fiercely and wildly that he was quite
frightened.

7. And, as they hurried past, he could hear them say to each other: "We
must run, we must run. What a jolly thunder storm! Down to the sea,
down to the sea!"

And then the otter came by with all her brood, saying: "Come along,
children; we will breakfast on salmon to-morrow. Down to the sea, down
to the sea!"

8. "Down to the sea?" said Tom. "Everything is going to the sea, and
I will go, too. Good-bye, trout." But the trout were so busy gobbling
worms that they never turned to answer him; so that Tom was spared the
pain of bidding them farewell.

9. And now, down the rushing stream, guided by the bright flashes of
the storm; past tall birch-fringed rocks, which shone out one moment as
clear as day, and the next were dark as night; past dark hovers under
swirling banks; on through narrow strids and roaring cataracts, where
Tom was deafened and blinded for a moment by the rushing waters; along
deep reaches, where the white water lilies tossed and flapped beneath
the wind and hail; past sleeping villages; under dark bridge arches,
and away and away to the sea.

10. And Tom could not stop and did not care to stop; he would see the
great world below, and the salmon, and the breakers, and the wide, wide
sea.


II

11. And when the day came, Tom found himself out in the salmon river.
And after a while he came to a place where the river spread out into
broad, still, shallow reaches so wide that little Tom, as he put his
head out of the water, could hardly see across.

12. And there he stopped. He got a little frightened. "This must be
the sea," he thought. "What a wide place it is! If I go on into it,
I shall surely lose my way or some strange thing will bite me. I will
stop here and look out for the otter or the eels, or some one to tell
me where I shall go."

13. So he went back a little way and crept into a crack of the rock,
just where the river opened out into the wide shallows, and watched for
some one to tell him his way; but the otter and the eels were gone on
miles and miles down the stream.

14. There he waited, and slept, too, for he was quite tired with
his night's journey; and when he woke, the stream was clearing to a
beautiful amber hue, though it was still very high.

15. Tom went on down, and, as he went, all the vale looked sad. The red
and yellow leaves showered down into the river; the flies and beetles
were all dead and gone; the chill autumn fog lay low upon the hills,
and sometimes spread itself so thickly on the river that he could not
see his way.

16. But he felt his way instead, following the flow of the stream day
after day, past great bridges, past boats and barges, past the great
town with its wharves and mills and tall smoking chimneys, and ships
which rode at anchor in the stream; and now and then he ran against
their hawsers and wondered what they were, and peeped out and saw the
sailors lounging on board, and ducked under again, for he was terribly
afraid of being caught by man and turned into a chimney sweep once
more.

[Illustration: Past the ships which rode at anchor in the stream]

17. Poor little fellow! It was a dreary journey for him; and more than
once he longed to be back in Vendale, playing with the trout in the
bright summer sun. But it could not be. What has been once can never
come over again. And people can be little babies, even water-babies,
only once in their lives.

18. Besides, people who make up their minds to go and see the world, as
Tom did, must needs find it a weary journey. Lucky for them if they do
not lose heart and stop half way, instead of going on bravely to the
end, as Tom did.

19. But Tom was always a brave, determined little English bulldog, who
never knew when he was beaten; and on and on he held, till he saw a
long way off the red buoy through the fog. And then he found, to his
surprise, the stream turned round and running up inland.

20. It was the tide, of course; but Tom knew nothing of the tide. He
only knew that in a minute more the water, which had been fresh, turned
salt all around him. And then there came a change over him. He felt
strong and light and fresh, and gave, he did not know why, three skips
out of the water, a yard high, and head over heels, just as the salmon
do when they first touch the noble, rich salt water, which, as some
wise men tell us, is the mother of all living things.

21. He did not care now for the tide being against him. The red buoy
was in sight, dancing in the open sea; and to the buoy he would go, and
to it he went. He passed great shoals of bass and mullet, leaping and
rushing in after the shrimps, but he never heeded them nor they him;
and once he passed a great, black, shining seal who was coming in after
the mullet.

22. The seal put his head and shoulders out of water and stared at him.
And Tom, instead of being frightened, said: "How d'ye do, sir? What a
beautiful place the sea is!"

23. And the old seal, instead of trying to bite him, looked at him with
his soft, sleepy, winking eyes and said: "Good tide to you, my little
man; are you looking for your brothers and sisters? I passed them all
at play outside."

24. "Oh, then," said Tom, "I shall have playfellows at last!" And
he swam on to the buoy and got upon it--for he was quite out of
breath--and sat there and looked round for water-babies; but there were
none to be seen.


III

25. The sea breeze came in freshly with the tide and blew the fog away,
and the little waves danced for joy around the buoy, and the old
buoy danced with them. The shadows of the clouds ran races over the
bright, blue bay, and yet never caught each other up; and the breakers
plunged merrily upon the wide white sands and jumped up over the rocks
to see what the green fields inside were like, and tumbled down and
broke themselves all to pieces and never minded it a bit, but mended
themselves and jumped up again.

26. And the terns hovered over Tom like huge, white dragon-flies
with black heads; and the gulls laughed like girls at play; and the
sea-pies, with their red bills and legs, flew to and fro from shore
to shore and whistled sweet and wild. And Tom looked and looked and
listened; and he would have been very happy if he could only have seen
the water-babies.

27. Then, when the tide turned, he left the buoy and swam round and
round in search of them; but in vain. Sometimes he thought he heard
them laughing; but it was only the laughter of the ripples. And
sometimes he thought he saw them at the bottom; but it was only white
and pink shells.

28. And once he was sure he had found one, for he saw two bright eyes
peeping out of the sand. So he dived down and began scraping the sand
away, and cried: "Don't hide; I do want some one to play with so much!"

And out jumped a great turbot, with his ugly eyes and mouth all awry,
and flopped away along the bottom, knocking poor Tom over. And he
sat down at the bottom of the sea and cried salt tears from sheer
disappointment.

29. To have come all this way and faced so many dangers, and yet to
find no water-babies! How hard! Well, it did seem hard; but people,
even little babies, cannot have all they want without waiting for it,
and working for it, too, my little man, as you will find out some day.


IV

30. And Tom sat upon the buoy long days, long weeks, looking out to the
sea and wondering when the water-babies would come back; and yet they
never came.

31. Then he began to ask all the strange things which came in and out
of the sea if they had seen any; and some said "Yes," and some said
nothing at all. He asked the bass and the pollock; but they were so
greedy after the shrimps that they did not care to answer him a word.

32. Then there came in a whole fleet of purple sea snails, floating
along, each on a sponge full of foam, and Tom said: "Where do you come
from, you pretty creatures? and have you seen the water-babies?"

33. And the sea snails answered: "Whence we come, we know not; and
whither we are going, who can tell? We float out our life in the
mid-ocean, with the warm sunshine above our heads and the warm Gulf
Stream below; and that is enough for us. Yes, perhaps we have seen the
water-babies. We have seen many strange things as we sailed along."

And they floated away, the happy, stupid things, and all went ashore
upon the sands.

34. Then there came in a great, lazy sunfish, as big as a fat pig cut
in half; and he seemed to have been cut in half, too, and squeezed in
a clothes-press till he was flat; but to all his big body and big fins
he had only a little rabbit's mouth, no bigger than Tom's; and when Tom
questioned him he answered him in a little, squeaky, feeble voice:

35. "I'm sure I don't know; I've lost my way. I meant to go to the
Chesapeake, and I'm afraid I've got wrong somehow. Dear me! it was all
by following that pleasant warm water. I'm sure I've lost my way."

And when Tom asked him again, he could only answer: "I've lost my way.
Don't talk to me; I want to think."

36. Then there came up a shoal of porpoises, rolling as they
went--papas and mammas and little children--and all quite smooth and
shiny, because the fairies French polish them every morning; and they
sighed so softly as they came by that Tom took courage to speak to
them; but all they answered was, "Hush, hush, hush!" for that was all
they had learned to say.

[Illustration: Tom and the lobster]

37. And then Tom left the buoy and used to go along the sands and
round the rocks, and come out in the night and cry and call for the
water-babies; but he never heard a voice call in return. And at last,
with his fretting and crying, he grew lean and thin.

38. But one day among the rocks he found a playfellow. It was not
a water-baby, alas! but it was a lobster; and a very distinguished
lobster he was, for he had live barnacles on his claws, which is a
great mark of distinction in lobsterdom.

39. Tom had never seen a lobster before, and he was mightily taken with
this one, for he thought him the most curious, odd, ridiculous creature
he had ever seen; and there he was not far wrong, for all the ingenious
men and all the scientific men and all the fanciful men in the world
could never invent, if all their wits were boiled into one, anything so
curious and so ridiculous as a lobster.

40. He had one claw knobbed and the other jagged; and Tom delighted in
watching him hold on to the seaweed with his knobbed claw while he cut
up salads with his jagged one, and then put them into his mouth after
smelling at them like a monkey.

41. Tom asked him about water-babies. Yes, he said, he had seen
them often. But he did not think much of them. They were meddlesome
little creatures that went about helping fish and shells which got
into scrapes. Well, for his part, he would be ashamed to be helped by
little, soft creatures that had not even a shell on their backs. He had
lived quite long enough in the world to take care of himself.

42. He was a conceited fellow, the old lobster, and not very civil to
Tom. But he was so funny and Tom so lonely that he could not quarrel
with him; and they used to sit in holes in the rocks and chat for
hours.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Bŭr´rō̍_w_s̝=: holes in the ground made for homes by certain
  animals. =Hȯv´ẽrs̝=: covers; shelters. =Swĩrl´ĭng=: whirling.
  =Strĭds=: passages between steep rocks or banks, so narrow that
  they look as if they might be crossed at a stride. =Căt´ȧ răcts=:
  great falls of water over steep places.

  II. =Bärġ´ĕs̝=: roomy boats to carry goods or passengers,
  =Ha̤_w_s̝´ẽrs̝=: large ropes. =Buoy=: a floating object chained in
  place to mark a channel or to show the position of something under
  the water, as a rock. =Bȧs=_s_, =Mŭl´lĕt=: kinds of fish.

  III. =Tẽrns̝=, =Gŭl_l_s̝=: long-winged seabirds. =Sē_a_-pī_e_s̝=:
  shore birds, sometimes called oyster catchers. =Ȧ _w_rȳ´=: twisted
  toward one side.

  IV. =Pŏl´lȯ_c_k=: a sea-fish something like the cod. =Pleasant warm
  water=: the Gulf Stream. What can you tell about it? =Shō_a_l=: a
  great number; a crowd--said especially of fish. =Pôr´pȯ_i_s ĕs̝=:
  sea animals. =Bär´nȧ cl_e_s̝=:small shell fish which fasten
  themselves on rocks, timbers, other animals, etc.

       *       *       *       *       *

  We trout lead a happy life. We swim about in the brooks. We shine
  like silver as we dart to and fro in the clear, cool water. We play
  in the shallow water; we hide in the deep pools. On warm days we
  lie in the shadow of the rocks.

  Change the sentences so that only one trout shall speak: as, I lead
  a happy life.

       *       *       *       *       *

Do not think of your faults, still less of others' faults; in every
person who comes near you, look for what is good and strong; honor
that; rejoice in it; and, as you can, try to imitate it; and your
faults will drop off like dead leaves when their time comes.

                                                                  RUSKIN




Psalm XXIV


The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof; the world, and they
that dwell therein.

For He hath founded it upon the seas, and established it upon the
floods.

Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in His
holy place?

He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his
soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.

He shall receive the blessing from the Lord, and righteousness from the
God of his salvation.

This is the generation of them that seek Him, that seek Thy face, O
Jacob. Selah.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; and be ye lifted up, ye everlasting
doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The Lord strong and mighty, the Lord mighty
in battle.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates; even lift them up, ye everlasting
doors; and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is this King of glory? The Lord of hosts, He is the King of glory.
Selah.

[Illustration:

  From the painting by Rosa Bonheur

Brittany Sheep]




A Good Samaritan

BY GEORGE MACDONALD

  George Macdonald (1824 ----): A Scottish poet and novelist. Among
  his novels are "Robert Falconer," "Malcolm," "David Elginbrod," and
  "Annals of a Quiet Neighborhood." Macdonald wrote several books for
  children, of which the best known are "At the Back of the North
  Wind" and "The Princess and the Goblin."


    1. The thousand streets of London gray
         Repel all country sights;
       But bar not winds upon their way,
       Nor quench the scent of new-mown hay
         In depth of summer nights.

    2. And here and there an open spot,
         Still bare to light and dark,
       With grass receives the wanderer hot;
       There trees are growing, houses not--
         They call the place a park.

    3. Soft creatures with ungentle guides,
         God's sheep from hill and plain,
       Flow thitherward in fitful tides,
       There weary lie on woolly sides,
         Or crop the grass amain.

    4. In Regent's Park one cloudless day
         An over-driven sheep,
       Arrived from long and dusty way,
       Throbbing with thirst and hotness lay,
         A panting woolly heap.

    5. But help is nearer than we know
         For ills of every name:
       Ragged enough to scare the crow,
       But with a heart to pity woe,
         A quick-eyed urchin came.

    6. Little he knew of field or fold,
         Yet knew what ailed; his cap
       Was ready cup for water cold;
       Though rumpled, stained, and very old,
         Its rents were small--good-hap!

    7. Shaping the rim and crown he went
         Till crown from rim was deep.
       The water gushed from pore and rent;
       Before he came one-half was spent--
         The other saved the sheep.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Rē̍ pĕl´=: drive away. =Ŭn ġĕn´tl_e_=: not gentle; rough.
  =Fĭt´fụl=: changeable. =Ȧ mā_i_n´=: busily.




The Spartan Three Hundred


I

1. About five hundred years before the birth of Christ, almost all the
nations of Asia were under the rule of Xerxes, the king of Persia, whom
the Greeks called the Great King. Xerxes had conquered tribe after
tribe and nation after nation, until the greater part of the known
world acknowledged his rule.

2. But the little free states along the eastern Mediterranean still
remained unconquered, and against these states of Greece Xerxes was
leading all the power of his mighty empire.

Ten years before, at the battle of Marathon, a small Greek army had
defeated the Persian hosts, and Xerxes was resolved to avenge this
humiliation.

3. At the battle of which I am going to tell you, the overwhelming
numbers of the Persians did indeed win the victory, but the honor and
glory of the day rest with the little band of Greek heroes who fought
to the death for the freedom of their country.

4. The Persian army in advancing on Greece were obliged to march
through a narrow pass, with the sea on one side and a steep precipice
on the other. This pass was called Thermopylæ, and it was here that
the Greeks resolved to make a stand. They did not know till they had
marched to Thermopylæ that behind the pass there was a mountain path by
which soldiers might climb round and over the mountain and fall upon
their rear.

5. The Greek army encamped in the pass, between the narrow, northern
gateway by which the enemy must enter, and a gateway to the south. They
were protected in front by an old wall which they repaired.

[Illustration: This man rode up close to the Greek camp.]

6. The Greek general was Leonidas, a Spartan king. He had with
him three hundred Spartans and a few thousand soldiers from other
cities of Greece. The Persians outnumbered them a hundred to one.
This small force was only the advance guard of the Greek army. But
Leonidas thought that with it he could at least hold the pass till his
countrymen could join him.

7. When Xerxes came near Thermopylæ, he sent a horseman forward to spy
out the position of the Greeks who dared oppose him. This man rode
up close to the Greek camp and saw the Spartans amusing themselves,
running and wrestling, and combing out their long hair.

8. They took no notice of him, and he rode back to tell the king how
few they were and how unconcerned. Xerxes sent for a Greek who was in
his camp and asked what these things meant.

9. The Greek replied: "O king, I have told you before of these men,
and you have laughed at me. They have come to fight with you for this
pass. It is the Spartan custom to dress the hair with great care before
a battle. Be assured that if you conquer the Spartans no other nation
in the world will dare stand against you, O king. For you are now to
engage with the noblest city and kingdom of all among the Greeks, and
the most valiant men."

10. Xerxes did not believe what the Greek said. He waited four days
to give the little band time to retreat. Then, as it still held its
ground, in a rage he bade his warriors take the Greeks alive and bring
them into his presence. Accordingly, the attack was made, but the
Persians could not break a way into the Spartan ranks. Fighting in
the narrow space at the mouth of the pass, they were unable to avail
themselves of their numbers.

[Illustration: "They have come to fight with you for this pass."]

11. In wave after wave all day long they dashed themselves against the
Greeks, and left their dead lying at the mouth of the pass. Thereby it
was made clear to everyone, and not least to the great king himself,
that men were many, but heroes few.


II

12. The next day the king ordered his own bodyguard, called the Ten
Thousand Immortals, to attack the holders of the pass. The Immortals
were the picked soldiers of the whole army, but they fared no better
than the others. Three times the king sprang from his throne in dismay
as he saw his soldiers driven back with great loss. And on the third
day the Persians fought with no better success.

13. While the king was in doubt what to do, a treacherous Greek came
and told him about the path over the mountains. Xerxes at once sent
soldiers along that path to attack the Greeks from the rear.

14. When the guards who had been stationed on the mountain brought news
of the coming of the Persians, the Greeks were not agreed as to what
they should do. Some wanted to retreat and abandon a position which it
was now impossible to hold.

15. Leonidas bade them depart; but for him and his countrymen it was
not honorable to turn their backs on any foe. For the manner of the
Spartans was this: to die rather than yield. However sorely beset
or overwhelmed by numbers, they never left the ground alive and
unvictorious.

16. Leonidas had two kinsmen in the camp whom he tried to save by
giving them messages and letters to Sparta. But one answered that he
had come to fight, not to carry letters; and the other said that his
deeds would tell all that Sparta wished to know. Another Spartan,
when told that the enemy's archers were so numerous that their arrows
darkened the sun, replied: "So much the better; we shall fight in the
shade."

[Illustration: A Spartan soldier]

17. Some of the Greeks retired, but a few resolved to stay with the
brave Spartans. And now the Greeks under Leonidas did not wait to be
attacked in front and rear, but marched out into the wide part of
the pass and assailed the Persians. The Persian officers drove their
soldiers forward with whips. The poor wretches were pierced with the
Greek spears, hurled into the sea, or trampled under foot.

18. The Spartans, knowing that death awaited them, were desperate, and
displayed the utmost possible valor. When their spears were broken,
they assailed the Persians with their swords. And when the swords gave
out, they fought with their daggers, and even with their hands and
teeth, till not one living man remained among them.

19. When the sun went down, there was only a mound of slain, bristling
with spears and arrows.

The heroic Spartans were buried on the spot where they fell, and over
them was raised a column with the inscription: "Strangers, go tell at
Sparta that we lie here obedient to its laws."

20. The column and its inscription have long since perished, but the
glory of the Three Hundred will endure forever.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Xerx´es.= =Hu mil´i a´tion=: shame; disgrace. =Ther mop´y læ.=
  =Lē ŏn´ĭ das.= =As sured´=: sure; certain. =Val´iant=: brave.

  II. =Ȧ băn´dȯn=: give up. =Băd_e_=: ordered. =Sōr_e´_ly̆=: greatly.
  =Rē̍ tīr_e_d´=: went away. =Ăs sā_i_l_e_d´=: attacked. =Văl´or=:
  courage. =In scrip´tion=: that which is inscribed or written,
  especially on a building or monument.




The Fairy Life

BY WILLIAM SHAKSPERE


    Come unto these yellow sands,
    And then take hands:
    Courtesied when you have and kissed
    The wild waves whist,
    Foot it featly here and there;
    And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.
            Hark, hark!
                "Bow-wow,"
            The watch-dog's bark:
                "Bow-wow."
    Hark, hark! I hear
    The strain of strutting chanticleer
    Cry, "Cock-a-diddle-dow!"

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Whĭst=: still; quiet. =Fē_a_t´ly̆=: nimbly. =Sprīt_e_s=: spirits;
  fairies. =Bûr´d_e_n=: the chorus of a song.




Charles Dickens


1. Charles Dickens, one of the most popular of English novelists, was
born in 1812 at Portsmouth, where his father was a government clerk.
When he was two years old, the family moved to London, and thence to
Chatham dockyard.

2. Charles Dickens's father was poor; but, fortunately for the
book-loving boy, among the few family possessions was a small library
of good books, and he spent many hours poring over "The Vicar of
Wakefield," "Robinson Crusoe," and the essays in "The Tatler," "The
Spectator," and "The Idler." He and a boy cousin amused themselves
during their holidays by getting up private theatricals, for which
Charles wrote a play, "The Sultan of India," which was greatly admired
by his boy friends.

3. These were happy, care-free days, but they soon came to an end.
The family went back to London. The father first lost his government
position, and then was sent to prison for debt, according to the law
at that time. The mother went to live with the father in prison, and
Charles had to earn his living by pasting labels on blacking-pots.
His wages were only six shillings a week, and with this sum he had to
support himself. The home was entirely broken up; even the precious
books were sold; and these were sad, lonely days for the ten-year-old
boy.

4. Things brightened a little when he took lodgings near the prison,
where he could see his father and mother every day. As it was a family
trait to look upon the bright side of things, even the prison life was
not intolerable. By and by better days came, and Charles had two years
of school life.

5. Then he became office boy in a lawyer's office. In his seventeenth
year he became a reporter, having learned shorthand in the reading-room
of the British Museum.

6. His career as a writer began a few years later, when he sent some
sketches of street life to a magazine. These sketches were signed
"Boz." They were so good that a year later he was employed to write
similar articles for a newspaper, and they appeared in book form under
the title, "Sketches by Boz."

7. This led to an offer by a publishing firm for a series of articles
to appear with a set of comic drawings. Dickens wrote for them in 1836
the famous "Pickwick Papers." This consisted of sketches relating the
adventures of an imaginary club of Londoners during their visits to the
country. It made Dickens famous at once. The next year he published his
first novel, "Oliver Twist." This struck a new note in fiction, and
gave pitch to the life work of the author; for from this time he never
wavered in his purpose, which was the portrayal of the life of the
lower classes and the righting of social wrongs.

[Illustration: Charles Dickens]

8. One of the most popular of Dickens's books is "David Copperfield,"
which is supposed to contain many reminiscences of the author's own
early days. In this book occur some of the most famous of Dickens's
characters.

9. Among his other works Dickens produced a series of tales called "The
Christmas Stories." The first of these, "A Christmas Carol," appeared
in 1843, and for a number of years he published a story of this kind
every year. The most celebrated of these stories are "A Christmas
Carol," "The Cricket on the Hearth," and "The Chimes." In these stories
Dickens did more than give to the world pleasant and interesting tales
of domestic life; he portrayed the true spirit of Christmastide, with
its lessons of peace and good will.

10. Dickens also wrote "A Tale of Two Cities," "Nicholas Nickleby," and
"A Child's History of England," which is a great favorite with young
people. He died suddenly in 1870 and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

This selection is from "Bleak House," one of the best of Dickens's
novels.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Shĭll´ĭngs̝=: the shilling is a silver coin of Great Britain,
  equal in value to about twenty-four cents of our money.
  =Ĭn tŏl´ẽr ȧ bl_e_=: not to be borne. =Pōr trā_y´_al=:
  description. =Rĕm ĭ nĭs´çĕnç ĕs̝=: recollections.
  =Çĕl´ē̍ brā tĕd=: famous; well known.




Little Charley

BY CHARLES DICKENS


I

1. We found the house to which we had been directed by a friend of my
guardian, and we went up to the top room. I tapped at the door, and a
little shrill voice inside said: "We are locked in; Mrs. Blinder's got
the key."

[Illustration: The boy walked up and down.]

2. We had been prepared for this by Mrs. Blinder, the shopkeeper below,
who had given us the key of the room.

3. I applied the key on hearing this, and opened the door. In a poor
room, with a sloping ceiling, and containing very little furniture,
was a mite of a boy, some five or six years old, nursing and hushing a
heavy child of eighteen months. There was no fire, though the weather
was cold; both children were wrapped in some poor shawls and tippets as
a substitute. Their clothing was not so warm, however, but that their
noses looked red and pinched and their small figures shrunken, as the
boy walked up and down, nursing and hushing the child, with its head on
his shoulder.

4. "Who has locked you up here alone?" we naturally asked.

"Charley," said the boy, standing still to gaze at us.

"Is Charley your brother?"

"No. She's my sister Charlotte. Father called her Charley."

5. "Where is Charley now?"

"Out a-washing," said the boy, beginning to walk up and down again, and
taking the baby's nankeen bonnet much too near the bedstead by trying
to gaze at us at the same time.

6. We were looking at one another and at these two children, when
there came into the room a very little girl, childish in figure, but
shrewd and older looking in the face--pretty faced, too--wearing a
womanly sort of bonnet much too large for her and drying her bare arms
on a womanly sort of apron. Her fingers were white and wrinkled with
washing, and the soapsuds were yet smoking which she wiped off her
arms. But for this she might have been a child playing at washing and
imitating a poor workingwoman with a quick observation of the truth.

7. She had come running from some place in the neighborhood, and had
made all the haste she could. Consequently, though she was very light,
she was out of breath and could not speak at first, as she stood
panting, and wiping her arms, and looking quietly at us.

8. "Oh, here's Charley!" said the boy.

The child he was nursing stretched forth its arms and cried out to be
taken by Charley. The little girl took it in a womanly sort of manner
belonging to the apron and the bonnet, and stood looking at us over the
burden that clung to her most affectionately.

9. "Is it possible," whispered my guardian, as we put a chair for the
little creature and got her to sit down with her load--the boy keeping
close to her, holding to her apron--"that this child works for the
rest! Look at this! Look at this!"

10. It was a thing to look at. The three children close together, and
two of them relying solely on the third, and the third so young and yet
with an air of age and steadiness that sat so strangely on the childish
figure.


II

11. "Charley, Charley," said my guardian, "how old are you?"

"Over thirteen, sir," replied the child.

12. "Oh, what a great age!" said my guardian. "What a great age,
Charley!"

I cannot describe the tenderness with which he spoke to her, half
playfully, yet all the more compassionately and mournfully.

13. "And do you live alone here with these babies, Charley?" said my
guardian.

[Illustration: Little Charley came in.]

"Yes, sir," returned the child, looking up into his face with perfect
confidence, "since father died."

14. "And how do you live, Charley? O Charley," said my guardian,
turning his face away for a moment, "how do you live?"

"Since father died, sir, I've gone out to work. I'm out washing to-day."

15. "God help you, Charley!" said my guardian. "You're not tall enough
to reach the tub."

"In pattens, I am, sir," she said quickly. "I've got a high pair that
belonged to mother."

"And when did mother die? Poor mother!"

16. "Mother died just after Emma was born," said the child, glancing at
the face upon her bosom. "Then father said I was to be as good a mother
to her as I could. And so I tried. And so I worked at home, and did
cleaning and nursing and washing for a long time before I began to go
out. And that's how I know how; don't you see, sir?"

17. "And do you often go out?"

"As often as I can," said Charley, opening her eyes and smiling,
"because of earning sixpences and shillings."

18. "And do you always lock the babies up when you go out?"

"To keep 'em safe, sir, don't you see?" said Charley. "Mrs. Blinder
comes up now and then, and Mr. Gridley comes up sometimes, and perhaps
I can run in sometimes; and they can play, you know, and Tom isn't
afraid of being locked up. Are you, Tom?"

"No--o!" said Tom, stoutly.

19. "When it comes on dark, the lamps are lighted down in the court,
and they show up here quite bright--almost quite bright. Don't they,
Tom?"

"Yes, Charley," said Tom; "almost quite bright."

20. "Then, he's as good as gold," said the little creature--oh! in such
a motherly, womanly way. "And when Emma's tired, he puts her to bed.
And when he's tired, he goes to bed himself. And when I come home and
light the candle and have a bit of supper, he sits up again and has it
with me. Don't you, Tom?"

21. "Oh, yes, Charley," said Tom. "That I do!" And either in this
glimpse of the great pleasure of his life, or in gratitude and love for
Charley, who was all in all to him, he laid his face among the scanty
folds of her frock and passed from laughing into crying.

22. It was the first time since our entry that a tear had been shed
among these children. The little orphan girl had spoken of their father
and their mother as if all that sorrow were subdued by the necessity of
taking courage, and by her childish importance in being able to work,
and by her bustling, busy way. But now, when Tom cried--although she
sat quite tranquil, looking quietly at us, and did not by any movement
disturb a hair of the head of either of her little charges--I saw two
silent tears fall down her face.

[Illustration: Mrs. Blinder]

23. I stood at the window with Ada, pretending to look at the
housetops, and the blackened stack of chimneys, and the poor plants,
and the birds, in little cages, belonging to the neighbors, when I
found that Mrs. Blinder, from the shop below, had come in--perhaps it
had taken her all this time to get upstairs--and was talking to my
guardian.

"It's not much to forgive 'em the rent, sir," she said. "Who could take
it from them!"

24. "Well, well!" said my guardian to us two. "It is enough that the
time will come when this good woman will find that it was much, and
that forasmuch as she did it unto the least of these--This child," he
added, after a few moments, "could she possibly continue this?"

25. "Really, sir, I think she might," said Mrs. Blinder, getting her
heavy breath by painful degrees. "She's as handy as it's possible to
be. Bless you, sir, the way she tended the two children after the
mother died was the talk of the yard. And it was a wonder to see her
with him after he was ill, it really was. 'Mrs. Blinder,' he said to
me, the very last he spoke--he was lying there--'Mrs. Blinder, I saw an
angel sitting in this room last night along with my child, and I trust
her to our Father.'"

26. We kissed Charley, and took her down-stairs with us, and stopped
outside the house to see her run away to her work. I don't know where
she was going, but we saw her run--such a little, little creature, in
her womanly bonnet and apron--through a covered way at the bottom of
the court, and melt into the city's strife and sound like a dewdrop in
an ocean.


III

27. One night, after I had gone to my room, I heard a soft tap at my
door. So I said, "Come in," and there came in a pretty little girl,
neatly dressed in mourning, who dropped a courtesy.

28. "If you please, miss," said the little girl, in a soft voice, "I am
Charley."

"Why, so you are!" said I, stooping down in astonishment, and giving
her a kiss. "How glad I am to see you, Charley!"

29. "If you please, miss," pursued Charley, in the same soft voice,
"I'm your maid."

"Charley?"

[Illustration: "Don't cry, if you please, miss."]

"If you please, miss, I'm a present to you, with Mr. Jarndyce's love."

30. I sat down with my hand on Charley's neck, and looked at Charley.

"And oh, miss," says Charley, clapping her hands, with the tears
starting down her dimpled cheeks, "Tom's at school, if you please; and
little Emma, she's with Mrs. Blinder, miss. And Tom, he would have been
at school; and Emma, she would have been left with Mrs. Blinder; and
I should have been here, all a deal sooner, miss; only Mr. Jarndyce
thought that Tom and Emma and I had better get a little used to parting
first, we were so small. Don't cry, if you please, miss."

31. "I can't help it, Charley."

"No, miss, I can't help it," says Charley. "And, if you please, miss,
Mr. Jarndyce's love, and he thinks you'll like to teach me now and
then. And, if you please, Tom and Emma and I are to see each other once
a month. And I'm so happy and so thankful, miss," cried Charley, with a
heaving heart, "and I'll try to be such a good maid!"

32. Charley dried her eyes, and entered on her functions, going in her
matronly little way about and about the room, and folding up everything
she could lay her hands upon.

33. Presently, Charley came creeping back to my side, and said: "Oh,
don't cry, if you please, miss."

And I said again: "I can't help it, Charley."

And Charley said again: "No, miss; I can't help it." And so, after all,
I did cry for joy, indeed, and so did she.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =G_u_ärd´ĭ an=: one to whose care a person or thing is
  committed. =Sŭb´stĭ tū̍t_e_=: a person or thing put in place
  of another. =Năn kē_e_n´=: a kind of yellow cotton cloth.
  =Cŏn´sē̍ quĕnt ly̆=: accordingly; as a result.

  II. =Com pas´sion ate ly=: pityingly. =Păt´tĕns̝=: wooden soles
  made to raise the feet above mud. =Grăt´ĭ tū̍d_e_=: thankfulness.
  =Bŭs´_t_lĭng=: noisy; active. =Trăṉ´quĭl=: quiet; calm.

  III. =Func´tions=: actions suitable to a business or profession.
  =Mā´trȯn ly̆=: womanly; motherly.




Tray

BY ROBERT BROWNING

  Robert Browning (1812-1889): An English poet. His poems are
  frequently difficult and obscure, but they are full of courage,
  manliness, and hopefulness, which appeal to young readers as well
  as to older ones. "The Pied Piper of Hamelin," "Hervé Riel," and
  "How They Carried the Good News from Ghent to Aix" are among the
  poems best liked by young people.


    1. A beggar-child ...
    Sat on a quay's edge: like a bird
    Sang to herself at careless play,
    And fell into the stream. "Dismay!
    Help, you standers-by!" None stirred.

    2. Bystanders reason, think of wives
    And children ere they risk their lives.
    Over the balustrade has bounced
    A mere instinctive dog, and pounced
    Plumb on the prize. "How well he dives!

    3. "Up he comes with the child, see, tight
    In mouth, alive, too, clutched from quite
    A depth of ten feet--twelve, I bet!
    Good dog! What, off again? There's yet
    Another child to save? All right!

    4. "How strange we saw no other fall!
    It's instinct in the animal.
    Good dog! But he's a long while under:
    If he got drowned I should not wonder--
    Strong current, that against the wall!

    5. "Here he comes, holds in mouth this time
    --What may the thing be? Well, that's prime!
    Now, did you ever? Reason reigns
    In man alone, since all Tray's pains
    Have fished--the child's doll from the slime!"

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Băl´ŭs trā̍d_e_=: a railing along the edge of a bridge or
  staircase. =Ĭn stĭnc´tĭv_e_=: acting according to his nature.




The Golden Fleece

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE


I

1. When Jason, the son of the dethroned king of Iolchos, was a little
boy, he was sent away from his parents and placed under the queerest
schoolmaster that ever you heard of. This learned person was one of the
people or quadrupeds called Centaurs. He lived in a cavern, and had the
body and legs of a white horse, with the head and shoulders of a man.
His name was Chiron; and, in spite of his odd appearance, he was a very
excellent teacher.

2. The good Chiron taught his pupils how to play upon the harp, and how
to cure diseases, and how to use the sword and shield, together with
various other branches of education in which the lads of those days
used to be instructed, instead of writing and arithmetic.

3. So Jason dwelt in the cave, with his four-footed Chiron, from the
time that he was an infant only a few months old until he had grown to
the full height of a man.

4. At length, being now a tall and athletic youth, Jason resolved to
seek his fortune in the world. He had heard that he himself was a
prince royal, and that his father, King Æson, had been deprived of
the kingdom of Iolchos by a certain Pelias, who would also have killed
Jason had he not been hidden in the Centaur's cave. And being come to
the strength of a man, Jason determined to set all this business to
rights, and to punish the wicked Pelias for wronging his dear father,
and to cast him down from the throne and seat himself there instead.

5. With this intention he took a spear in each hand, and threw a
leopard's skin over his shoulders to keep off the rain, and set forth
on his travels, with his long, yellow ringlets waving in the wind. The
part of his dress on which he most prided himself was a pair of sandals
that had been his father's. They were handsomely embroidered, and were
tied upon his feet with strings of gold.

6. I know not how far Jason had traveled when he came to a turbulent
river, which rushed right across his pathway, with specks of white foam
among its black eddies, hurrying onward, and roaring angrily as it
went. He stepped boldly into the raging and foamy current and began to
stagger away from the shore.

7. Jason's two spears, one in each hand, kept him from stumbling and
enabled him to feel his way among the hidden rocks. When he was half
way across, his foot was caught in a crevice between two rocks, and
stuck there so fast that, in the effort to get free, he lost one of his
golden-stringed sandals.

8. After traveling a pretty long distance, he came to a town situated
at the foot of a mountain, and not a great way from the shore of the
sea. On the outside of the town there was an immense crowd of people.
Jason inquired of one of the multitude why so many persons were here
assembled.

9. "This is the kingdom of Iolchos," answered the man, "and we are the
subjects of King Pelias. Our monarch has summoned us together that we
may see him sacrifice a black bull to Neptune. Yonder is the king,
where you see the smoke going up from the altar."

10. While the man spoke, he eyed Jason with great curiosity, for his
garb was quite unlike that of the Iolchians, and it looked very odd
to see a youth with a leopard's skin over his shoulders and each
hand grasping a spear. Jason perceived, too, that the man stared
particularly at his feet, one of which, you remember, was bare, while
the other was decorated with his father's golden-stringed sandal.

11. "Look at him! only look at him!" said the man to his next neighbor.
"Do you see? He wears but one sandal."

Upon this, first one person and then another began to stare at Jason,
and everybody seemed to be greatly struck with something in his aspect;
though they turned their eyes much oftener towards his feet than to
any other part of his figure. Besides, he could hear them whispering to
one another.

12. Poor Jason was greatly abashed, and made up his mind that the
people of Iolchos were exceedingly ill bred to take such public notice
of an accidental deficiency in his dress. Meanwhile, whether it was
that they hustled him forward, or that Jason of his own accord thrust
a passage through the crowd, it so happened that he soon found himself
close to the smoking altar where King Pelias was sacrificing the black
bull.


II

13. The murmur and hum of the multitude, in their surprise at the
spectacle of Jason with his one bare foot, grew so loud that it
disturbed the ceremonies; and the king, holding the great knife with
which he was just going to cut the bull's throat, turned angrily about
and fixed his eyes on Jason.

"Ha!" muttered he, "here is the one-sandaled fellow, sure enough. What
can I do with him?"

14. And he clutched more closely the great knife in his hand, as if he
were half a mind to slay Jason instead of the black bull. The people
round about caught up the king's words, indistinctly as they were
uttered; and first there was a murmur among them, and then a loud
shout.

"The one-sandaled man has come! The prophecy must be fulfilled!"

15. For you are to know that, many years before, King Pelias had been
told that a man with one sandal should cast him down from his throne.
On this account he had given strict orders that nobody should ever come
into his presence unless both sandals were securely tied upon his feet.

16. In the whole course of the king's reign, he had never been thrown
into such a fright as by the spectacle of poor Jason's bare foot. But,
as he was naturally a bold and hard-hearted man, he soon took courage
and began to consider in what way he might rid himself of this terrible
one-sandaled stranger.

17. "My good young man," said King Pelias, taking the softest tone
imaginable in order to throw Jason off his guard, "you are very welcome
to my kingdom. Judging by your dress, you must have traveled a long
distance; for it is not the fashion to wear leopard skins in this
part of the world. Pray, what may I call your name? and where did you
receive your education?"

18. "My name is Jason," answered the young stranger. "Ever since my
infancy I have dwelt in the cave of Chiron the Centaur. He was my
instructor and taught me music and horsemanship, and how to cure
wounds, and likewise how to inflict wounds with my weapons."

[Illustration: "My name is Jason."]

19. "I have heard of Chiron the schoolmaster," replied King Pelias. "It
gives me great delight to see one of his scholars at my court. But, to
test how much you have profited under so excellent a teacher, will you
allow me to ask you a single question?"

"I do not pretend to be very wise," said Jason. "But ask me what you
please, and I will answer to the best of my ability."

20. Now King Pelias meant cunningly to entrap the young man and to make
him say something that should be the cause of mischief and destruction
to himself. So, with an evil smile upon his face, he spoke as follows:

"What would you do, brave Jason," asked he, "if there were a man in
the world by whom, as you had reason to believe, you were doomed to be
ruined and slain--what would you do, I say,, if that man stood before
you and in your power?"

21. When Jason saw the malice and wickedness which King Pelias could
not prevent from gleaming out of his eyes, he probably guessed that the
king had discovered what he came for, and that he intended to turn his
own words against himself.

22. Still he scorned to tell a falsehood. Like an upright and honorable
prince, as he was, he determined to speak out the real truth. Since the
king had chosen to ask him the question, and since Jason had promised
him an answer, there was no right way save to tell him precisely what
would be the most prudent thing to do if he had his worst enemy in his
power.

23. Therefore, after a moment's consideration, he spoke up with a firm
and manly voice.

"I would send such a man," said he, "in quest of the Golden Fleece."

24. This enterprise, you will understand, was of all others the most
difficult and dangerous in the world. In the first place, it would be
necessary to make a long voyage through unknown seas. There was hardly
a hope or a possibility that any young man who should undertake this
voyage would either succeed in obtaining the Golden Fleece or would
survive to return home and tell of the perils he had run. The eyes of
King Pelias sparkled with joy, therefore, when he heard Jason's reply.

25. "Well said, wise man with the one sandal!" cried he. "Go, then, and
at the peril of your life bring me back the Golden Fleece."

"I go," answered Jason. "If I fail, you need not fear that I will ever
come back to trouble you again. But if I return to Iolchos with the
prize, then, King Pelias, you must hasten down from your throne and
give me your crown and scepter."

"That I will," said the king, with a sneer. "Meantime, I will keep them
very safely for you."


III

26. The first thing that Jason thought of doing after he left the
king's presence was to go to Dodona and inquire of the Talking Oak what
course it was best to pursue. This wonderful tree stood in the center
of an ancient wood. Its stately trunk rose up a hundred feet into the
air and threw a broad and dense shadow over more than an acre of ground.

27. Standing beneath it, Jason looked up among the knotted branches
and green leaves and into the mysterious heart of the old tree, and
spoke aloud, as if he were addressing some person who was hidden in the
depths of the foliage.

"What shall I do," said he, "in order to win the Golden Fleece?"

28. At first there was a deep silence, not only within the shadow of
the Talking Oak, but all through the solitary wood. In a moment or two,
however, the leaves of the oak began to stir and rustle as if a gentle
breeze were wandering amongst them, although the other trees of the
wood were perfectly still. The sound grew louder and became like the
roar of a high wind.

29. By and by Jason imagined that he could distinguish words, but very
confusedly, because each separate leaf of the tree seemed to be a
tongue, and the whole myriad of tongues were babbling at once. But the
noise waxed broader and deeper, until it resembled a tornado sweeping
through the oak and making one great utterance out of the thousand and
thousand of little murmurs which each leafy tongue had caused by its
rustling. And now, though it still had the tone of mighty wind roaring
among the branches, it was also like a deep bass voice speakings as
distinctly as a tree could be expected to speak, the following words:

"Go to Argus the shipbuilder, and bid him build a galley with fifty
oars."

30. Then the voice melted again into the indistinct murmur of the
rustling leaves and died gradually away.

On inquiry among the people of Iolchos, he found that there was really
a man in the city, by the name of Argus, who was a very skillful
builder of vessels. At Jason's request, Argus readily consented to
build him a galley so big that it should require fifty strong men to
row it; although no vessel of such a size and burden had heretofore
been seen in the world.

The new ship, which was called the Argo, was soon made quite ready for
sea. Jason visited the Talking Oak again, and, standing beside its
huge, rough trunk, inquired what he should do next.

31. This time there was no such quivering of the leaves throughout the
whole tree as there had been before. But after a while Jason observed
that the foliage of a great branch which stretched above his head had
begun to rustle, as if the wind were stirring that old bough, while all
the other boughs of the oak were at rest.

"Cut me off," said the branch, as soon as it could speak distinctly;
"cut me off, cut me off, and carve me into a figure-head for your
galley."

32. Accordingly, Jason took the branch at its word, and lopped it off
the tree. A carver in the neighborhood engaged to make the figure-head.
When the work was finished, it turned out to be the figure of a
beautiful woman with a helmet on her head, from beneath which the long
ringlets fell down upon her shoulders. On the left arm was a shield,
and the right arm was extended as if pointing onward.

33. Jason was delighted with the oaken image, and gave the carver no
rest until it was completed and set up where a figure-head has always
stood from that time to this, in the vessel's prow.

"And now," cried he, as he stood gazing at the calm, majestic face of
the statue, "I must go to the Talking Oak and inquire what next to do."

34. "There is no need of that, Jason," said a voice which, though it
was far lower, reminded him of the mighty tones of the great oak. "When
you desire good advice, you can seek it of me."

Jason had been looking straight into the face of the image when these
words were spoken. But he could hardly believe either his ears or his
eyes. The truth was, however, that the oaken lips had moved, and, to
all appearance, the voice had proceeded from the statue's mouth.

35. Recovering a little from his surprise, Jason bethought himself that
the image had been carved out of the wood of the Talking Oak, and that,
therefore, it was really no great wonder, but, on the contrary, the
most natural thing in the world that it should possess the faculty of
speech.

36. "Tell me, wondrous image," exclaimed Jason--"since you inherit the
wisdom of the Speaking Oak of Dodona, whose daughter you are--tell me
where shall I find fifty bold youths who will take each of them an oar
of my galley? They must have sturdy arms to row, and brave hearts to
encounter perils, or we shall never win the Golden Fleece."

"Go," replied the oaken image, "go, summon all the heroes of Greece."

37. And, in fact, considering what a great deed was to be done,
could any advice be wiser than this which Jason received from the
figure-head of his vessel? He lost no time in sending messengers to all
the cities and making known to the whole people of Greece that Prince
Jason, the son of King Æson, was going in quest of the Fleece of Gold,
and that he desired the help of forty-nine of the bravest and strongest
young men alive to row his vessel and share his dangers. And Jason
himself would be the fiftieth.

38. At this news the adventurous youths all over the country began to
bestir themselves. They came thronging to Iolchos and clambered on
board the new galley. Shaking hands with Jason, they assured him that
they did not care a pin for their lives, but would help row the vessel
to the remotest edge of the world, and as much farther as they might
think it best to go.


IV

39. If I were to tell you all the adventures of the Argonauts, it would
take me till nightfall, and perhaps a great deal longer. There was
no lack of wonderful events, any one of which would make a story by
itself. After many adventures, they at last reached Colchis.

40. When the king of the country, whose name was Æetes, heard of their
arrival, he instantly summoned Jason to court. The king was stern and
cruel looking; and, though he put on as polite and hospitable an
expression as he could, Jason did not like his face a whit better than
that of the wicked King Pelias, who dethroned his father.

41. "You are welcome, brave Jason," said King Æetes. "Pray, are you
on a pleasure voyage?--or do you meditate the discovery of unknown
islands?--or what other cause has procured me the happiness of seeing
you at my court?"

42. "Great sir," replied Jason, "I have come hither with a purpose
which I now beg your majesty's permission to execute. King Pelias, who
sits on my father's throne (to which he has no more right than to the
one on which your excellent majesty is now seated), has engaged to come
down from it and to give me his crown and scepter provided I bring him
the Golden Fleece. This, as your majesty is aware, is now hanging on a
tree here at Colchis, and I humbly solicit your gracious leave to take
it away."

43. In spite of himself, the king's face twisted itself into an angry
frown; for, above all things else in the world, he prized the Golden
Fleece, and was even suspected of having done a very wicked act in
order to get it into his own possession. It put him into the worst
possible humor, therefore, to hear that the gallant Prince Jason and
forty-nine of the bravest young warriors of Greece had come to Colchis
with the sole purpose of taking away his chief treasure.

44. "Do you know," asked King Æetes, eying Jason very sternly, "what
are the conditions which you must fulfill before getting possession of
the Golden Fleece?"

"I have heard," rejoined the youth, "that a dragon lies beneath the
tree on which the prize hangs, and that whoever approaches him runs the
risk of being devoured at a mouthful."

45. "True," said the king, with a smile that did not look particularly
good-natured. "Very true, young man; but there are other things as
hard, or perhaps a little harder, to be done before you can even have
the privilege of being devoured by the dragon. For example, you must
first tame my two brazen-footed and brazen-lunged bulls which Vulcan,
the wonderful blacksmith, made for me.

46. "There is a furnace in each of their stomachs, and they breathe
such hot fire out of their mouths and nostrils that nobody has hitherto
gone nigh them without being instantly burned to a small, black cinder.
What do you think of this, my brave Jason?"

"I must encounter the peril," answered Jason, "since it stands in the
way of my purpose."

47. "After taming the fiery bulls," continued King Æetes, who was
determined to scare Jason if possible, "you must yoke them to a plow,
and must plow the sacred earth in the Grove of Mars, and sow some of
the dragon's teeth from which Cadmus raised a crop of armed men. You
and your nine and forty Argonauts, my bold Jason, are hardly strong
enough to fight with such a host as will spring up."

48. "My master, Chiron," replied Jason, "taught me long ago the story
of Cadmus. Perhaps I can manage the quarrelsome sons of the dragon's
teeth as well as Cadmus did."

"I wish the dragon had him," muttered King Æetes to himself. "We'll
see what my fire-breathing bulls will do for him. Well, Prince Jason,"
he continued aloud and as complaisantly as he could, "make yourself
comfortable for to-day, and to-morrow morning, since you insist upon
it, you shall try your skill at the plow."

49. While the king talked with Jason a beautiful young woman was
standing behind the throne. She fixed her eyes earnestly upon the
youthful stranger, and listened attentively to every word that was
spoken; and when Jason withdrew from the king's presence, this young
woman followed him out of the room.

50. "I am the king's daughter," she said to him, "and my name is Medea.
I know a great deal of which other young princesses are ignorant, and
can do many things which they would be afraid so much as to dream of.
If you will trust to me, I can instruct you how to tame the fiery
bulls, and sow the dragon's teeth, and get the Golden Fleece."

51. "Indeed, beautiful princess," answered Jason, "if you will do me
this service, I promise to be grateful to you my whole life long. But
how can you help me to do the things of which you speak I Are you an
enchantress?"

52. "Yes, Prince Jason," answered Medea, with a smile, "you have hit
upon the truth. I am an enchantress. Circe, my father's sister, taught
me to be one. It is well for you that I am favorably inclined; for,
otherwise, you would hardly escape being snapped up by the dragon."

"I should not so much care for the dragon," replied Jason, "if I only
knew how to manage the brazen-footed and fiery-lunged bulls."

53. "If you are as brave as I think you, and as you have need to be,"
said Medea, "your own bold heart will teach you that there is but one
way of dealing with a mad bull. What it is I leave you to find out in
the moment of peril. As for the fiery breath of these animals, I have a
charmed ointment here which will prevent you from being burned up, and
cure you if you chance to be a little scorched."

54. So she put a golden box into his hand and directed him how to apply
the ointment which it contained, and where to meet her at midnight.

"Only be brave," added she, "and before daybreak the brazen bulls shall
be tamed."

55. The young man assured her that his heart would not fail him. He
then rejoined his comrades, and told them what had passed between the
princess and himself, and warned them to be in readiness in case there
might be need of their help.


V

56. At the appointed hour he met the beautiful Medea on the marble
steps of the king's palace. She gave him a basket in which were the
dragon's teeth, just as they had been pulled out of the monster's jaws
by Cadmus long ago. Medea then led Jason down the palace steps, and
through the silent streets of the city, and into the royal pasture
ground, where the two brazen-footed bulls were kept. It was a starry
night, with a bright gleam along the eastern edge of the sky, where the
moon was soon going to show herself.

57. At some distance before him he perceived four streams of fiery
vapor, regularly appearing and again vanishing, after dimly lighting up
the surrounding obscurity. These, you will understand, were caused by
the breath of the brazen bulls, which was quietly stealing out of their
four nostrils as they lay chewing their cuds.

58. At the first two or three steps which Jason made, the four fiery
streams appeared to gush out somewhat more plentifully; for the two
brazen bulls had heard his foot tramp and were lifting up their hot
noses to snuff the air. He went a little farther, and by the way in
which the red vapor now spouted forth he judged that the creatures had
got upon their feet. Now he could see glowing sparks and vivid jets of
flame.

59. Suddenly as a streak of lightning, on came the fiery animals,
roaring like thunder and sending out sheets of white flame. Most
distinctly Jason saw the two horrible creatures galloping right down
upon him, their brazen hoofs rattling and ringing over the ground, and
their tails sticking up stiffly into the air, as has always been the
fashion with angry bulls.

60. Their breath scorched the herbage before them. But as for Jason
himself, thanks to Medea's enchanted ointment, the white flame curled
around his body without injuring him a jot.

61. Greatly encouraged at finding himself not yet turned into a cinder,
the young man awaited the attack of the bulls. Just as the brazen
brutes fancied themselves sure of tossing him into the air, he caught
one of them by the horn and the other by his screwed-up tail, and held
them in a grip like that of an iron vise, one with his right hand, and
the other with his left. Well, he must have been wonderfully strong in
his arms, to be sure.

[Illustration:

  From the painting by George Varian          Engraved by E. Heinemann

Jason and the Brazen Bulls]

62. But the secret of the matter was that the brazen bulls were
enchanted creatures, and that Jason had broken the spell of their fiery
fierceness by his bold way of handling them.

63. It was now easy to yoke the bulls and to harness them to the plow,
and by the time that the moon was a quarter of her journey up the sky
the plowed field lay before him, a large tract of black earth, ready to
be sown with the dragon's teeth. So Jason scattered them broadcast.

The moon was now high aloft in the heavens and threw its bright beams
over the plowed field, where as yet there was nothing to be seen.

64. But by and by all over the field there was something that glistened
in the moonbeams like sparkling drops of dew. These bright objects
sprouted higher, and proved to be the steel heads of spears. Then there
was a dazzling gleam from a vast number of polished brass helmets,
beneath which, as they grew farther out of the soil, appeared the dark
and bearded visages of warriors struggling to free themselves from the
imprisoning earth.

65. The first look that they gave at the upper world was a glare of
wrath and defiance. Next were seen their bright breastplates; in every
right hand there was a sword or a spear, and on each left arm a shield;
and when this strange crop of warriors had but half grown out of the
earth, they struggled--such was their impatience of restraint--and, as
it were, tore themselves up by the roots.

66. Wherever a dragon's tooth had fallen, there stood a man armed
for battle. They made a clangor with their swords against their
shields, and eyed one another fiercely; for they had come into this
beautiful world, and into the peaceful moonlight, full of rage and
stormy passions, and ready to take the life of every human brother, in
recompense of the boon of their own existence.

67. For a while the warriors stood flourishing their weapons, clashing
their swords against their shields, and boiling over with the red-hot
thirst for battle. At last the front rank caught sight of Jason, who,
beholding the flash of so many weapons in the moonlight, had thought it
best to draw his sword.

68. In a moment all the sons of the dragon's teeth appeared to take
Jason for an enemy; and crying with one voice, "Guard the Golden
Fleece!" they ran at him with uplifted swords and protruded spears.
Jason knew that it would be impossible to withstand this bloodthirsty
battalion with his single arm, but determined, since there was nothing
better to be done, to die as valiantly as if he himself had sprung from
a dragon's tooth.

69. Medea, however, bade him snatch up a stone from the ground.

"Throw it among them quickly!" cried she. "It is the only way to save
yourself."

The armed men were now so nigh that Jason could discern the fire
flashing out of their enraged eyes, when he let fly the stone, and saw
it strike the helmet of a tall warrior who was rushing upon him with
his blade aloft.

70. The stone glanced from this man's helmet to the shield of his
nearest comrade, and thence flew right into the angry face of another,
hitting him smartly between the eyes.

Each of the three who had been struck by the stone took it for granted
that his next neighbor had given him a blow; and instead of running any
farther towards Jason, they began a fight among themselves.

71. The confusion spread through the host, so that it seemed scarcely
a moment before they were all hacking, hewing, and stabbing at one
another.

In an incredibly short space of time--almost as short, indeed, as it
had taken them to grow up--all of the heroes of the dragon's teeth were
stretched lifeless on the field.

And there was the end of the army that had sprouted from the dragon's
teeth. That fierce and feverish fight was the only enjoyment which they
had tasted on this beautiful earth.


VI

72. Agreeably to Medea's advice, Jason went in the morning to the
palace of King Æetes. Entering the presence chamber, he stood at the
foot of the throne and made a low obeisance.

"Your eyes look heavy, Prince Jason," observed the king; "you appear
to have spent a sleepless night. I hope you have been considering the
matter a little more wisely, and have concluded not to get yourself
scorched to a cinder in attempting to tame my brazen-lunged bulls."

73. "That is already accomplished, may it please your majesty," replied
Jason. "The bulls have been tamed and yoked; the field has been plowed;
the dragon's teeth have been sown broadcast and harrowed into the soil;
the crop of armed warriors have sprung up, and they have slain one
another to the last man. And now I solicit your majesty's permission to
encounter the dragon, that I may take down the Golden Fleece from the
tree and depart with my nine and forty comrades."

74. King Æetes scowled and looked very angry and greatly disturbed; for
he knew that, in accordance with his kingly promise, he ought now to
permit Jason to win the Fleece if his courage and skill should enable
him to do so.

75. "You never would have succeeded in this business, young man,"
said he, "if my undutiful daughter Medea had not helped you with her
enchantments. Had you acted fairly, you would have been at this instant
a black cinder or a handful of white ashes. I forbid you, on pain of
death, to make any more attempts to get the Golden Fleece. To speak
my mind plainly, you shall never set eyes on so much as one of its
glistening locks."

76. Jason left the king's presence in great sorrow and anger. But, as
he was hastening down the palace steps, the Princess Medea called after
him and beckoned him to return.

"What says King Æetes, my royal and upright father?" inquired Medea,
slightly smiling. "Will he give you the Golden Fleece without any
further risk or trouble?"

77. "On the contrary," answered Jason, "he is very angry with me for
taming the brazen bulls and sowing the dragon's teeth. And he forbids
me to make any more attempts, and positively refuses to give up the
Golden Fleece whether I slay the dragon or no."

78. "Yes, Jason," said the princess, "and I can tell you more. Unless
you set sail from Colchis before to-morrow's sunrise, the king means to
burn your fifty-oared galley and put yourself and your forty-nine brave
comrades to the sword. But be of good courage. The Golden Fleece you
shall have, if it lies within the power of my enchantments to get it
for you. Wait for me here an hour before midnight."

79. At the appointed hour you might again have seen Prince Jason and
the Princess Medea, side by side, stealing through the streets of
Colchis, on their way to the sacred grove, in the center of which the
Golden Fleece was suspended to a tree.

80. Jason followed Medea's guidance into the Grove of Mars, where the
great oak trees that had been growing for centuries threw so thick a
shade that the moonbeams struggled vainly to find their way through it.
Only here and there a glimmer fell upon the leaf-strewn earth, or now
and then a breeze stirred the boughs aside and gave Jason a glimpse of
the sky, lest, in that deep obscurity, he might forget that there was
one overhead.

81. At length, when they had gone farther and farther into the heart of
the duskiness, Medea squeezed Jason's hand.

"Look yonder," she whispered. "Do you see it?"

Gleaming among the venerable oaks there was a radiance, not like the
moonbeams, but rather resembling the golden glory of the setting sun.
It proceeded from an object which appeared to be suspended at about a
man's height from the ground, a little farther within the wood.

82. "What is it?" asked Jason.

"Have you come so far to seek it," exclaimed Medea, "and do you not
recognize the meed of all your toils and perils when it glitters before
your eyes? It is the Golden Fleece."

83. Jason went onward a few steps farther, and then stopped to gaze.
Oh, how beautiful it looked, shining with a marvelous light of its own,
that prize which so many heroes had longed to behold, but had perished
in the quest of it either by the perils of their voyage or by the fiery
breath of the brazen-lunged bulls!

84. "How gloriously it shines!" cried Jason, in a rapture. "It has
surely been dipped in the richest gold of sunset. Let me hasten onward
and take it to my bosom."

"Stay," said Medea, holding him back. "Have you forgotten what guards
it?"

85. To say the truth, in the joy of beholding the object of his
desires, the terrible dragon had quite slipped out of Jason's memory.
Soon, however, something came to pass that reminded him what perils
were still to be encountered.

86. An antelope, that probably mistook the yellow radiance for sunrise,
came bounding fleetly through the grove. He was rushing straight
towards the Golden Fleece, when suddenly there was a frightful hiss,
and the immense head and half the scaly body of the dragon were thrust
forth--for he was twisted round the trunk of the tree on which the
Fleece hung--and seizing the poor antelope, swallowed him with one snap
of his jaws.

87. The dragon had probably heard the voices; for, swift as lightning,
his black head and forked tongue came hissing among the trees again,
darting full forty feet at a stretch. As it approached, Medea tossed a
magic potion right down the monster's wide-open throat. Immediately,
with an outrageous hiss and a tremendous wriggle, flinging his tail up
to the tiptop of the tallest tree and shattering all its branches as
it crashed heavily down again, the dragon fell at full length upon the
ground and lay quite motionless.

88. "It is only a sleeping potion," said the enchantress to Prince
Jason. "Quick! Snatch the prize and let us begone. You have won the
Golden Fleece."

Jason caught the Fleece from the tree and hurried through the grove,
the deep shadows of which were illuminated, as he passed, by the golden
glory of the precious object that he bore along.

89. Jason found the heroes seated on the benches of the galley, with
their oars held perpendicularly, ready to let fall into the water.

As he drew near, he heard the Talking Image calling to him with more
than ordinary eagerness in its grave, sweet voice:

"Make haste, Prince Jason! For your life, make haste!"

[Illustration: The galley flew over the water.]

90. With one bound, he leaped aboard. At sight of the glorious
radiance of the Golden Fleece, the nine and forty heroes gave a mighty
shout, and Orpheus, striking his harp, sang a song of triumph, to the
cadence of which the galley flew over the water, homeward bound, as if
careering along with wings.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Jā´sȯn.= =Ĭ ŏl´c̵hŏs.= =Çĕn´ta̤_u_rs̝=. =C̵hī´rŏn.= =Ǣ´sȯn.=
  =Pē´lĭ ăs.= =Săn´dals̝=: shoes consisting of soles strapped to
  the feet. =Tûr´bū̍ lent=: disturbed; roused to great commotion.
  =Nĕp´tū̍n=_e_. =Gärb=: dress.

  II. =Măl´ĭç_e_=: ill will. =Quĕst=: search. =S_c_ĕp´tẽr=: a staff
  carried by a king as a sign of his authority.

  III. =Dō dō´nȧ.= =Är´gus.= =Găl´l_e_y̆=: a vessel with oars, used
  by ancient people. =Prow=: the forepart of a vessel. =Stûr´dy̆=:
  strong. =Ĕn coun´tẽr=: meet.

  IV. =Cŏl´c̶hĭs.= =Ǣ ē´tēs̝.= =Mĕd´ĭ tāt_e_=: intend; think
  seriously. =Sō̍ lĭ´çĭt=: ask earnestly. =Vŭl´can.= =Căd´mus.=
  =Är´gō̍ na̤_u_ts=. =Cŏm´plā̍=_i_ =sănt ly̆=: politely. =Mē dē´ȧ.=

  V. =Ŏb scū´rĭ ty̆=: darkness. =Clăṉ´gor=: a sharp, harsh, ringing
  sound. =Prō̍ trūd´ĕd=: thrust out. =Bat tal´ion=: body of troops.

  VI. =Ō̍ bē_i_´sanç_e_=: bow. =Sŭs pĕnd´ĕd=: hung. =Mē_e_d=:
  reward. =Po´tion=: drink; dose; usually of liquid medicine.
  =Ĭl lū´mĭ nāt ĕd=: lighted up; brightened. =Or´pheus.=
  =Cā´denç_e_=: the close or fall of a strain of music.

[Illustration: Key composing "The Star-Spangled Banner"]




The Star-Spangled Banner

BY FRANCIS SCOTT KEY

  Francis Scott Key (1780-1843): An American lawyer, who will be
  remembered as the author of "The Star-Spangled Banner."

  During the second war with England, in 1814, the British made an
  attack upon the city of Baltimore. The British war ships moved up
  near Fort McHenry and opened a heavy fire of cannon balls, bomb
  shells, and rockets. These latter were made like our well-known sky
  rockets, and could be thrown at the enemy.

  During the battle some Americans, one of whom was Francis Scott
  Key, carried a flag of truce out to the British fleet to secure
  the release of an American citizen who had been taken prisoner. The
  Americans were detained over night on a ship far to the rear of the
  attack. During the night they listened anxiously to the sound of
  the guns, and watched the red rockets and the bursting bombs, being
  sure that, as long as the firing continued, the fort still held
  out; but late in the night the guns became silent. Did it mean that
  the attack had been repulsed? Or had the fort surrendered? Only
  daylight would tell.

  Before dawn the anxious Americans were watching. The first faint
  light of day showed them the stars and stripes still floating over
  the fort; then they knew that the attack had failed and that the
  Americans were victorious.

  While on the deck of the British war ship, Mr. Key composed the
  poem which has become our national anthem.


    1. Oh, say! can you see, by the dawn's early light,
         What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming--
       Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the clouds of the
           fight,
         O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?
       And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
       Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.
       Oh, say! does that star-spangled banner yet wave
       O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

    2. On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
         Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
       What is that which the breeze o'er the towering steep,
         As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses?
       Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam;
       In full glory reflected now shines on the stream;
       'Tis the star-spangled banner; oh! long may it wave
       O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

    3. And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
         That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
       A home and a country should leave us no more?
         Their blood has washed out their foul foot-steps' pollution;
       No refuge could save the hireling and slave
       From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave;
       And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
       O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

    4. Oh! thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
         Between their loved homes and war's desolation!
       Blessed with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land
         Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
       Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
       And this be our motto, "In God is our trust;"
       And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
       O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Răm´pärts=: walls surrounding a place for its defence.
  =Tow´ẽr ĭng=: very high. =Vä_u_nt´ĭng ly̆=: boastingly; braggingly.
  =Hăv´ŏc=: destruction; ruin. =Pol lu´tion=: uncleanness.
  =Hīr=_e_´=lĭng=: one who serves for gain only.

       *       *       *       *       *

Young men, you are the architects of your own fortunes. Rely on your
own strength of body and soul. Take for your star self-reliance.
Energy, invincible determination, with a right motive, are the levers
that move the world. Love your God and your fellowmen. Love truth and
virtue. Love your country and obey its laws.

                                                                  PORTER




My Native Land

BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

  Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832): A Scotch poet and novelist.
  "Marmion," "The Lady of the Lake," and "The Lay of the Last
  Minstrel" are considered the best of his poems; and of his many
  novels probably "Ivanhoe" and "Kenilworth" are most read. Children
  enjoy "The Tales of a Grandfather," stories from Scottish history
  written for his own little grandson.

  This selection is from "The Lay of the Last Minstrel."


    1. Breathes there the man with soul so dead,
       Who never to himself hath said,
         "This is my own, my native land!"
       Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned,
       As home his footsteps he hath turned
         From wandering on a foreign strand?

    2. If such there breathe, go, mark him well!
       For him no minstrel raptures swell.
       High though his titles, proud his name,
       Boundless his wealth as wish can claim--
       Despite those titles, power, and pelf,
       The wretch, concentered all in self,
       Living shall forfeit fair renown,
       And, doubly dying, shall go down
       To the vile dust from whence he sprung,
       Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.

       *       *       *       *       *

  =Strănd=: shore. =Pĕlf=: money; riches. =Cŏn çĕn´tẽr_e_d=:
  concentrated; fixed.




Hunting the Grizzly[1]

BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

  Theodore Roosevelt (1858 ----): The twenty-sixth President of the
  United States. He was made Assistant Secretary of the Navy in
  1897, and the next year resigned to organize with Dr. Leonard Wood
  the First U. S. Cavalry Volunteers, popularly called Roosevelt's
  Rough Riders. The regiment distinguished itself in action in Cuba,
  and Roosevelt was made colonel for gallantry in the battle of La
  Quasina. In 1898 he was elected Governor of New York, and in 1900
  Vice-President. On the death of President McKinley, September 14,
  1901, he became President. He has done much big game shooting in
  the West, and is the author of a number of books, among which are
  "The Winning of the West" and "The Life of Gouverneur Morris."

[1] From "Hunting Trips of a Ranchman," published by Messrs. G. P.
Putnam's Sons.


I

1. That evening we almost had a visit from one of the animals we were
after. Several times we had heard at night the musical calling of the
bull elk--a sound to which no writer has as yet done justice.

[Illustration: A grizzly bear]

2. This particular night, when we were in bed and the fire was
smoldering, we were roused by a ruder noise--a kind of grunting or
roaring whine, answered by the frightened snorts of the ponies. It was
a bear which had evidently not seen the fire, as it came from behind
the bank, and had probably been attracted by the smell of the horses.

3. After it made out what we were, it stayed round a short while,
again uttered its peculiar roaring grunt and went off. We had seized
our rifles and had run out into the woods, but in the darkness could
see nothing; indeed, it was rather lucky we did not stumble across the
bear, as he could have made short work of us when we were at such a
disadvantage.

4. Next day we went off on a long tramp through the woods and along
the sides of the canyons. There were plenty of berry bushes growing in
clusters, and all around these there were fresh tracks of bear. But the
grizzly is also a flesh-eater, and has a great liking for carrion.

5. On visiting the place where Merrifield had killed the black bear,
we found that the grizzlies had been there before us, and had utterly
devoured the carcass, with cannibal relish. Hardly a scrap was left,
and we turned our steps toward where lay the bull elk I had killed.

6. It was quite late in the afternoon when we reached the place. A
grizzly had evidently been at the carcass during the preceding night,
for his great footprints were in the ground all around it, and the
carcass itself was gnawed and torn and partially covered with earth and
leaves; for the grizzly has a curious habit of burying all of his prey
that he does not at the moment need.

[Illustration: We sat still to wait.]

7. A great many ravens had been feeding on the body, and they wheeled
about over the tree tops above us, uttering their barking croaks.

8. The forest was composed mainly of what are called ridge-pole pines,
which grow close together, and do not branch out until the stems are
thirty or forty feet from the ground. Beneath these trees we walked
over a carpet of pine needles, upon which our moccasined feet made no
sound. The woods seemed vast and lonely, and their silence was broken
now and then by the strange noises always to be heard in the great
forests, and which seem to mark the sad and everlasting unrest of the
wilderness.

9. We climbed up along the trunk of a dead tree which had toppled over
until its upper branches stuck in the limb crotch of another, that thus
supported it at an angle half-way in its fall. When above the ground
far enough to prevent the bear's smelling us, we sat still to wait for
his approach until, in the gathering gloom, we could no longer see the
sights of our rifles, and could but dimly make out the carcass of the
great elk.

10. It was useless to wait longer, and we clambered down, and stole out
to the edge of the woods. The forest here covered one side of a steep,
almost canyon-like ravine, whose other side was bare, except of rock
and sage brush. Once out from under the trees there was still plenty
of light, although the sun had set, and we crossed over some fifty
yards to the opposite hillside and crouched down under a bush to see if
perchance some animal might not also leave the cover.

11. To our right the ravine sloped downward toward the valley of the
Bighorn River, and far on its other side we could catch a glimpse of
the great main chain of the Rockies, their snow peaks glinting crimson
in the light of the set sun.

12. Again we waited quietly in the growing dusk, until the pine trees
in our front blended into one dark, frowning mass. We saw nothing; but
the wild creatures of the forest had begun to stir abroad. The owls
hooted dismally from the tops of the tall trees, and two or three times
a harsh, wailing cry, probably the voice of some lynx or wolverine,
arose from the depths of the woods.

13. At last, as we were rising to leave, we heard the sound of the
breaking of a dead stick from the spot where we knew the carcass lay.
It was a sharp, sudden noise, perfectly distinct from the natural
creaking and snapping of the branches; just such a sound as would be
made by the tread of some heavy creature. "Old Ephraim" had come back
to the carcass.

14. A minute afterward, listening with strained ears, we heard him
brush by some dry twigs. It was entirely too dark to go in after him;
but we made up our minds that on the morrow he should be ours.


II

15. Early the next morning we were over at the elk carcass, and, as
we expected, found that the bear had eaten his fill at it during the
night. His tracks showed him to be an immense fellow, and were so fresh
that we doubted if he had left long before we arrived; and we made up
our minds to follow him up and try to find his lair.

16. My companion was a skillful tracker, and we took up the trail at
once. For some distance it led over the soft, yielding carpet of moss
and pine needles, and the footprints were quite easily made out,
although we could follow them but slowly; for we had, of course, to
keep a sharp lookout ahead and around us as we walked noiselessly on in
the somber half light always prevailing under the great pine trees.

17. We made no sound ourselves, and every little sudden noise sent a
thrill through me as I peered about, with each sense on the alert.
Two or three of the ravens that we had scared from the carcass flew
overhead, croaking hoarsely; and the pine tops moaned and sighed in the
slight breeze--for pine trees seem to be ever in motion, no matter how
light the wind.

18. After going a few hundred yards the tracks turned off on a
well-beaten path made by the elk; the woods were in many places cut up
by these game trails, which had often become as distinct as ordinary
footpaths. The beast's footprints were perfectly plain in the dust,
and he had lumbered along up the path until near the middle of the
hillside, where the ground broke away and there were hollows and
bowlders.

19. Here there had been a windfall, and the dead trees lay among the
living, piled across one another in all directions; while between and
around them sprouted up a thick growth of young spruces and other
evergreens. The trail turned off into the tangled thicket, within
which it was almost certain we would find our quarry.

20. We could still follow the tracks, by the slight scrapes of the
claws on the bark, or by the bent and broken twigs; and we advanced
with noiseless caution, slowly climbing over the dead tree trunks
and upturned stumps, and not letting a branch rustle or catch on our
clothes. When in the middle of the thicket, we crossed what was almost
a breastwork of fallen logs, and Merrifield, who was leading, passed by
the upright stem of a great pine.

21. As soon as he was by it he sank suddenly on one knee, turning half
round, his face fairly aflame with excitement; and as I strode past
him, with my rifle at the ready, there, not ten steps off, was the
great bear, slowly rising from his bed among the young spruces. He had
heard us, but apparently hardly knew exactly where or what we were, for
he reared up on his haunches, sideways to us.

22. Then he saw us and dropped down again on all fours, the shaggy hair
on his neck and shoulders seeming to bristle as he turned toward us. As
he sank down on his fore feet I had raised the rifle; his head was bent
slightly down, and when I saw the top of the white bead fairly between
his small, glittering, evil eyes, I pulled the trigger.

23. Half rising up, the huge beast fell over on his side in the death
throes, the ball having gone into his brain, striking as fairly
between the eyes as if the distance had been measured by a carpenter's
rule.

[Illustration: He reared up on his haunches.]

24. The whole thing was over in twenty seconds from the time I caught
sight of the game; indeed, it was over so quickly that the grizzly did
not have time to show fight at all, or come a step toward us. It was
the first I had ever seen, and I felt not a little proud as I stood
over the great brindled bulk which lay stretched out at length in the
cool shade of the evergreens.

25. He was a monstrous fellow, much larger than any I have seen since,
whether alive or brought in dead by the hunters. As near as we could
estimate--for of course we had nothing with which to weigh more than
very small portions--he must have weighed about twelve hundred pounds;
and though this is not so large as some of his kind are said to grow
in California, it is yet a very unusual size for a bear. He was a good
deal heavier than any of our horses; and it was with the greatest
difficulty that we were able to skin him.

26. He must have been very old, his teeth and claws being all worn down
and blunted; but nevertheless he had been living in plenty, for he was
as fat as a prize hog, the layers of his back being a finger's length
in thickness.

27. He was still in the summer coat, his hair being short, and in color
a curious brindled brown, somewhat like that of certain bulldogs;
while all the bears we shot afterward had the long, thick winter fur,
cinnamon or yellowish brown.

28. By the way, the name of this bear has reference to its character
and not to its color, and should, I suppose, be properly spelled
"grisly"--in the sense of horrible, exactly as we speak of a "grisly
specter"--and not "grizzly;" but perhaps the latter way of spelling it
is too well established to be now changed.

       *       *       *       *       *

  I. =Smōl´dẽr ĭng=: burning and smoking without flame. =Căn´yȯns̝=:
  deep gorges or hollows between steep banks, worn by water courses.
  =Căr´rĭ ȯn=: dead bodies of animals, unfit for food. =Căn´nĭ bal=:
  an animal that devours its own kind. =Sāġ=_e_ =brŭsh=: a low shrub
  which grows in great quantities on the plains of the Western United
  States. "=Old Ephraim=": a hunter's name for the grizzly bear.

  II. =Lâ_i_r=: the bed of a wild beast. =On the alert=: on the
  lookout against danger. =Bō_w_l´dẽrs̝=: large stones worn smooth
  by the action of water; rocks, rounded or not, carried by natural
  agencies far from their native bed. =Wĭnd´fa̤l=_l_: portion of a
  forest blown down in a wind storm. =Quạr´ry̆=: the animal hunted
  for. =Spĕc´tẽr=: ghost.

       *       *       *       *       *

  The spring is pleasant. The air is warm. Flowers are in blossom.
  The days and nights are equal.

  Summer also will be pleasant. The air will be hot. Many flowers
  will be in blossom. The days will be long.

  Winter was not so pleasant. The air was cold. The flowers were not
  in blossom. The days were short.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Which sentences tell (1) how things are now; (2) how they were; (3)
  how they will be?

  Write these sentences as if (1) winter were here; (2) as if it were
  still to come.




Words in Fourth Reader


  ȧ băn´dȯn: give up.

  ăc´cū̍ rȧ çy̆: correctness.

  Ǣ´sȯn.

  Ǣ ē´tēs̝.

  Ä_h_´mĕd.

  ȧ mā_i_n´: busily.

  ȧ māz_e_´ment: surprise.

  Ä´pï ä.

  är´c̵hi tĕct: a person skilled in the art of building.

  Är´gō̍ na̤_u_ts.

  Är´gus.

  ăs´pĕct: appearance; look.

  ăs pīr´ĭng: rising upward.

  ăs sā_i_led´: attacked.

  ăs sĕv´ẽr āt ĕd: said earnestly.

  ȧs sured (shṳrd´): sure; certain.

  ȧ sŭn´dẽr: apart; in two.

  ăt´mŏs phere (fēr): air.

  ȧ wē_a_´ry̆: tired.

  ȧ _w_rȳ´: twisted toward one side.


  băd_e_: ordered.

  bä_l_m: a gummy substance which flows from the fir tree.

  ba̤l´sam: a gummy substance which flows from the fir tree.

  băl´ŭs trā̍d_e_: a railing along the edge of a bridge or staircase.

  bärg̣´ĕs̝: roomy boats to carry goods or passengers.

  bär´nȧ cl_e_s̝: small shellfish which fasten themselves on rocks,
    timbers, other animals, etc.

  bȧs_s_: a kind of fish.

  băt tăl´ion (yŭn): body of troops.

  bȧ zä_a_r´: in the East a shop where goods are kept for sale.

  bē̍ līk_e_´: perhaps.

  bē̍ nĕv´ō̍ lent: kind.

  bē̍ nŭm_be_d´: deprived of feeling, as by cold.

  bē̍ sē_e_ch´: beg; ask earnestly.

  bĭl´lō̍_w_s̝: great waves of the sea.

  Bĭs nȧ gär´.

  blīt̵h_e_´sȯm_e_: gay; cheerful.

  bō_a_rd: go on deck of.

  bō_w_ld´dẽrs̝: large stones worn smooth by the action of water;
    rocks, rounded or not, carried by natural agencies far from their
    native bed.

  brĕt̵h´rĕn: brothers.

  brīn´y̆: salty.

  buoy (bwoi): a floating object chained in place to mark a channel
    or to show the position of something under the water, as a rock.

  bûr´d_e_n: the chorus of a song.

  bŭr´rō̍_w_s̝: holes in the ground, made for homes by certain
    animals.

  bŭs'_t_lĭng: noisy; active.


  cā´denç_e_: the close or fall of a strain of music.

  Căd´mus.

  căn´nĭ bal: an animal that devours its own kind.

  cȧ no̤_e_´: a small, light boat.

  căn´yȯns̝: deep gorges or hollows between steep banks, worn by
    water courses.

  căp´tĭv_e_: a prisoner taken in war.

  căr´ȧ văn: a company of travelers through a desert.

  căr´rĭ ȯn: dead bodies of animals, unfit for food.

  căt´ȧ răcts: great falls of water over steep places.

  çĕl´ē̍ brā tĕd: famous, well known.

  Çĕn´ta̤_u_rs̝.

  çĕr´ē̍ mō̍ nĭ_e_s̝: forms of politeness.

  chăr´ĭ ty̆: kindness to the poor.

  Chē_e_ ma̤_u_n´: a birch canoe.

  C̵hī´rŏn.

  Çĭn´trȧ: a town in Portugal.

  clăṉ´gor: a sharp, harsh, ringing sound.

  clē_a_v_e_: cut; part.

  clī´ent: one who asks advice of a lawyer.

  Cŏl´c̵hĭs.

  cŏm mĕnd´ĕd: praised.

  cŏm pass´_i_ȯn ā̍t_e_ ly̆: (păsh) pityingly.

  cŏm pĕl_le_d´: forced, obliged.

  cŏm´plā̍_i_ sănt ly̆: politely.

  cŏm prē̍ hĕnd´: understand.

  cŏn çĕn´tẽr_e_d: concentrated; fixed.

  cŏn fīd´ĭng: trusting.

  cŏn jĕc´tū̍r_e_: guess.

  cŏn jūr_e_´: beg earnestly.

  cȯn´ jŭr ẽr: a magician.

  cŏn´ sē̍ quĕnt ly̆: accordingly; as a result.

  cŏn strŭc´tion (shŭn): manner of building; arrangement.

  cŏn vẽrt´ĕd: changed.

  cŏn ve̱_ye_d´: carried.

  cȯv´ẽrt: shelter.

  Crṳ´sō_e_s̝: men like Robinson Crusoe, the hero of the story of
    that name. He was a shipwrecked sailor who lived many years on an
    uninhabited island.


  dē̍ ci´s_i_ȯn: fixed purpose. (sĭzh)

  deficiency (dē̍ fĭsh´en çy̆): want.

  dē̍ lĭb´ẽr ā̍t_e_: slow and careful.

  dē̍ mūr_e_´ly̆: soberly.

  dĭs g_u_īs̝_e_d´: dressed for the purpose of concealment.

  dĭs̝´mal: sad.

  dĭ vẽrt´: turn aside.

  Dō dō´nȧ.

  drē_a_r´ĭ ĕst: most comfortless and sorrowful.

  drow´s̝y̆: sleepy.


  ĕd´dy̆ ĭng: moving in a circle.

  ē̍ mẽrġ_e_d´: came out.

  ĕm´ĭ grants: emigrants are people who have left one country to
    settle in another.

  ĕn coun´tẽr: meet.

  ĕn´ẽr ġy̆: force and resolution; power for work.

  ĕn tẽr tā_i_n´ment: amusement.

  ē̍ quĭp_pe_d´: dressed; fitted out.

  ĕs pī_e_d´: saw.

  ē̍ thē´rē̍ al: heavenly.


  fē_a_t´ly̆: nimbly.

  fē_a_ts: tricks.

  fē_e_: charge.

  fĕs´tĭ vals̝: feasts.

  fī´br_o_ŭs: composed of fibers or threads; tough.

  fĭ dĕl´ĭ ty̆: faithfulness.

  fis´sṳr_e_: a narrow opening. (fĭsh)

  fit´fụl: changeable.

  flä_u_nt: wave; spread out.

  flē_e_: run away.

  flĭm´s̝y̆ thin.

  fŏr b_e_âr´: keep from.

  fŏr´_e_ĭ_g_n: belonging to other countries.

  fō_u_r scōr_e_: eighty.

  fra̤_u_d: deceit; cheat.

  frŏth´y̆: full of bubbles.

  fŭṉc´tions (shŭns̝): actions suitable to a business or profession.


  găl´lant: brave.

  găl´l_e_y̆: a vessel with oars, used by ancient people.

  gärb: dress.

  Gē_e_´zĭs: the sun.

  ġē´nĭ_e_s̝: spirits; powerful fairies.

  giving ear: listening.

  glâr_e_: stare; look fiercely.

  glē_e_: joy; mirth.

  glŏs_s_´y̆: smooth and shining.

  grăt´ĭ tū̍d_e_: thankfulness.

  grăv ĭ tā´tion (shŭn): the law of nature by which all bodies are
    drawn toward one another.

  Great Wall, the: a wall fourteen hundred miles long, built many
    hundreds of years ago for the defense of the Chinese Empire.

  grē_e_n´swa̤rd: turf green with grass.

  g_u_ärd´ĭ an: one to whose care a person or thing is committed.

  gŭl_l_s̝: long-winged seabirds.


  hăv´ŏc: destruction; ruin.

  ha̤_w_s̝´ẽrs̝: large ropes.

  hẽr´mĭt: a man who lives apart from other people.

  hĭl´lȯ_c_k: a small mound.

  hīr_e_´lĭng: one who serves for gain only.

  hŏp´pẽr: a box through which grain passes into a mill.

  Ho̤_u_s´sā̍_i_n.

  hȯv´ẽrs̝: covers; shelters.

  hū̍ mĭl´ĭ ā´tion (shŭn): shame; disgrace.


  ĭl lū´mĭ nāt ĕd: lighted up; brightened.

  ĭm ăġ´ĭ nȧ tĭv_e_: full of fancies.

  ĭm pĕt´ū̍ _o_ŭs: hasty.

  ĭm pŏs´tor: a cheat; one who imposes upon others.

  ĭn crē̍ dū´lĭ ty̆: unbelief.

  ĭn´fĭ nĭt_e_ ly̆: beyond measure; greatly.

  ĭn ġē̍ nū´ĭ ty̆: skill; inventiveness.

  ĭn hĕr´ĭt anç_e_: possession.

  ĭn scrĭp´tion (shŭn): that which is inscribed or written,
    especially on a building or monument.

  ĭn sta̤l_le_d´: placed in office.

  ĭn stĭnc´tĭv_e_: acting according to one's nature.

  ĭn tẽr çēd_e_´: speak in one's behalf.

  ĭn tŏl´ẽr ȧ bl_e_: not to be borne.

  ĭn´vȧ lĭd: one who is weak from illness.

  Ĭ ŏl´c̵hŏs.


  Jā´sȯn.

  jŭṉ´gl_e_s̝: thickets of trees and vines.


  Kä_gh_: the hedgehog.

  kīn_e_: cows.

  _k_nī_gh_t: a man who receives a rank which entitles him to be
    called Sir; as, Sir Walter Scott.


  lăg: go slowly.

  lâ_i_r: the bed of a wild beast.

  lē_a_: meadow; field.

  lē_a_g_ue_s̝: a league is a measure of distance of from two to four
    miles.

  lė´gal: relating to law; governed by the rules of law.

  Lē ŏn´ĭ das.

  line, the: the Equator.

  lĭṉ´guĭst: a person skilled in languages.

  lō_a_th: unwilling.

  low´ẽr: seem dark and gloomy.


  măl´ĭç_e_: ill will.

  măn ū̍ făc´tū̍r_e_d: made.

  mā´trȯn ly̆: womanly; motherly.

  māz_e_: a tangle; a network.

  mē̍ c̵hăn´ĭ cal: relating to tools and machinery.

  mĕc̵h´an ĭs̝m: arrangement of the parts of anything.

  Mē dē´ȧ.

  mĕd´ĭ tāt_e_: intend; think seriously.

  mē_e_d: reward.

  mĭn´ȧ rĕt: the tall, slender tower of a mosque.

  mĭn´strĕl: poet; singer.

  mĭs chȧnç_e_´: misfortune; ill luck.

  mĭs´ch_i_ē̍ v_o_ŭs: doing harm in play.

  mŏc´cȧ sĭn: an Indian shoe made of deerskin, the sole and the upper
    part being in one piece.

  Moon of Leaves: May.

  mosque (mŏsk): a church in Eastern countries.

  mo̤_u̱_s tȧçh´ĭ ō̍s̝: mustache.

  mŭl´lĕt: a kind of fish.

  my̆s´tẽr y̆: something secret.


  năn kē_e_n´: a kind of yellow cotton cloth.

  Nĕp´tū̍n_e_.

  no͝ok: corner.

  No̤_u_r´gĭ hän.

  No̤_u_ rŏn´nĭ här.


  ō̍ bē_i_´sanç_e_: bow.

  ŏb scū´rĭ ty̆: darkness.

  ŏb s̝ẽrv´ĭng: seeing; noticing.

  ôr´bĭts: paths round the sun.

  Ôr´pheus (fūs).


  palanquin (păl aṉ kēn´): an inclosed carriage, used in China and
    India, which is borne on the shoulders of men by means of two
    poles.

  păr´ȧ çhṳt_e_: a sort of umbrella by means of which descent is made
    from a balloon.

  păt´tĕns̝: wooden soles made to raise the feet above mud.

  pē_e_rs̝: equals.

  pĕlf: money; riches.

  Pē´lĭ ăs.

  pĕn´ē̍ trāt_e_: pierce into.

  Pĕ rï bä´no̤_u_.

  pĕs´tĭ lenç_e_: the plague; a deadly disease.

  philosophy (fĭ lŏs´ō̍ fy̆): the science or knowledge of things,
    their causes and their effects.

  phiz (fĭz): face.

  pilot-cloth sack: a coat made of coarse dark blue cloth such as
    pilots wear.

  plī´ant: bending easily without breaking.

  plŭm´my̆: full of plums.

  pŏl´lȯ_c_k: a sea-fish somewhat like the cod.

  pŏl lū´tion (shŭn): uncleanness.

  pôr´pȯ_i_s ĕs̝: sea animals.

  pōrt: manner of carrying oneself.

  pōr trā_y_´al: description.

  pō´tion (shŭn): drink; dose, usually of liquid medicine.

  prī_e_d: looked closely.

  prŏd´ûç_e_: that which is brought forth from the ground.

  profession (prō̍ fĕsh´ŭn): employment; the business which one
    follows.

  prō̍ mōt´ĕd: advanced; raised in rank.

  prō̍ trūd´ĕd: thrust out.

  prow: the forepart of a vessel.

  prowl´ĭng: going stealthily or slyly.


  quạd´rụ pĕd: an animal having four feet.

  quā_i_nt: odd; curious.

  quạr´ry̆: the animal hunted.

  qua̤r´tẽr stạf_f_: a long, stout staff used as a weapon.

  quĕst: search.


  răm´pärts: walls surrounding a place for its defense.

  rē̍ lŭc´tant: unwilling.

  rĕm ĭ nĭs´çĕnç ĕs̱ recollections.

  rē̍ mŏn´stranç ĕs̝: objections.

  rē̍ nounç_e_´: give up.

  rē̍ pĕl´: drive away.

  rē̍ prō_a_ch´fụl ly̆: chidingly.

  rē̍ quīr_e_d´: needed.

  rĕs̝´ĭn: a gummy substance which flows from the fir tree.

  rē̍ splĕn´dent: very bright; shining.

  rē̍ tīr_e_d´: went away.

  rĕv ẽr ĕn´tial (shal): respectful; humble.

  rō_a_m_e_d: wandered; went from place to place.

  rō´s̝ē̍ ā̍t_e_: rosy.

  ro̤_u_ tïn_e_´: regular course of action.

  rŭd´dĭ nĕss: redness.


  săl´lĭ_e_d: ran out.

  Säm ar känd´.

  Sä mō´ä.

  săn´dals̱: shoes consisting of soles strapped to the feet.

  s_c_ĕp´tẽr: a staff carried by a king as a sign of his authority.

  sē_a_-pī_e_s̱: shore birds, sometimes called oyster catchers.

  sē̍ clūd´ĕd: apart from others; lonely.

  sĕ_d_ġ´ĕs̝: coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.

  Sĕ rā´pĭs.

  shē_e_r: straight up and down.

  shĭl´lĭngs̝: the shilling is a silver coin of Great Britain equal
    in value to about twenty-four cents of our money.

  shō_a_l: a great number, a crowd--said especially of fish.

  smōl´dẽr ĭng: burning and smoking without flame.

  sō´j_o_ûrn ẽrs̝: those who dwell for a time.

  sō̍ lĭç´ĭt: ask earnestly.

  sŏl´ĭ tā̍ ry̆: lonely.

  sŏm´bẽr: dark; gloomy.

  sōr_e_´ly̆: greatly.

  sȯv´ẽr _e_ĭ_g_n: effectual.

  species (spē´shēz): kinds.

  spīk_e_d: made the guns useless by stopping the vent or touchhole
    with a nail or spike.

  sprā_y_: water falling in very small drops.

  sprīt_e_s: spirits; fairies.

  squa̤_w_s̝: Indian women.

  strā_igh_t´wā_y_: at once.

  strănd: shore.

  strĭds̝: passages between steep rocks or banks so narrow that they
    look as if they might be crossed at a stride.

  stûr´dy̆: strong.

  sŭb´stĭ tū̍t_e_: a person or thing put in place of another.

  sŭlk´ĭ ly̆: peevishly; angrily.

  sŭl´tan: an Eastern king.

  sŭp´pl_e_: easily bent.

  sŭs pĕnd´ĕd: hung.

  swē_e_p: a boy who cleans chimneys by sweeping them.

  swĩrl´ĭng: whirling.

  sylph (sĭlf): a fairy.

  sy̆m´pȧ thīz_e_: pity.

  Tăm´ȧ ră_c_k: the American larch.

  Tȧ quȧ mē´na̤_w_: a river of northern Michigan, which flows into
    Lake Superior.

  tẽrns̝: long-winged seabirds.

  tĕt̶h̶´ẽr_e_d: fastened by a rope, for feeding within certain
    limits.

  Thẽr mŏp´y (ē̍) l_a_ē.

  t̶h̶ĭt̶h̶´ẽr: to this place.

  tō´k_e_ns̝: signs.

  tow'ẽr ĭng: very high.

  trăṉ´quĭl: quiet, calm.

  trăns pâr´ent: that can be seen through.

  trăns pōrt´ĕd: carried.

  tûr´bū̍ lent: disturbed; roused to great commotion.


  ŭn ġĕn´tl_e_: not gentle; rough.

  ûr´chĭn: a little boy.


  V_a_ī lï´ma.

  văl´iant (yant): brave.

  văl´or: courage.

  vä_u_nt´ĭng ly̆: boastingly; braggingly.

  vē_e_r_e_d: turned; changed direction.

  vẽr´dū̍r _o_ŭs: green.

  vī´brāt_e_s: moves to and fro.

  vĭz´iers (yẽrs̝): in Eastern countries, officers of high rank.

  Vŭl´can.


  whĭst: still; quiet.

  wĭg'wạms̝: Indian houses made of poles covered with mats or bark.

  wĭnd´fa̤l_l_: portion of a forest blown down in a wind storm.

  _w_rô_ugh_t: worked.


  Xerxes (Zẽrx´ēs̝).


  yạ_ch_t: a light sea-going vessel used for parties of pleasure,
    racing, etc.




Phonic Chart


Vowels

  ā _as in_ hāte
  ā̍ _as in_ senā̍te
  ă _as in_ hăt
  ä _as in_ fär
  a̤ _as in_ a̤ll
  ȧ _as in_ ȧsk
  â _as in_ câre
  ē _as in_ mē
  ē̍ _as in_ bē̍lieve
  ĕ _as in_ mĕt
  ẽ _as in_ hẽr
  ī _as in_ pīne
  ī̍ _as in_ ī̍dea
  ĭ _as in_ pĭn
  ĩ _as in_ sĩr
  ō _as in_ nōte
  ō̍ _as in_ viō̍let
  ŏ _as in_ nŏt
  ū _as in_ tūbe
  ū̍ _as in_ pictū̍re
  ŭ _as in_ tŭb
  ụ _as in_ pụll
  û _as in_ fûr
  ṳ _as in_ rṳde
  oi, oy _as in_ oil, toy
  ou, ow _as in_ out, now
  o͞o _as in_ mo͞on
  o͝o _as in_ fo͝ot


Equivalents

  ạ=ŏ _as in_ whạt
  e̱=ā _as in_ the̱y
  ê=â _as in_ thêre
  ï=ē _as in_ polïce
  ĩ=ẽ _as in_ bĩrd
  o̤=o͞o _as in_ do̤
  ọ=o͝o _or_ ụ _as in_ wọman
  ô=a̤ _as in_ hôrse
  ȯ=ŭ _as in_ sȯn
  ȳ=ī _as in_ flȳ
  y̆=ĭ _as in_ hy̆mn


Consonants

  c _as in_ call
  ç _as in_ çent
  ch _as in_ chase
  c̶h _as in_ c̶horus
  çh _as in_ çhaise
  g _as in_ get
  ġ _as in_ ġem
  s _as in_ same
  s̝ _as in_ has̝
  th _as in_ thin
  t̶h _as in_ t̶his
  ṉ (=ng) _as in_ iṉk
  x (=ks) _as in_ vex
  x̝ (=gs) _as in_ ex̝ist





  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES


  Silently corrected simple spelling, grammar, and typographical
  errors.

  Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed.

  Enclosed italics (but not bold) markup in _underscores_.

  Enclosed bold markup in =equals=.





End of Project Gutenberg's Graded Literature Readers: Fourth Book, by Various

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