The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

The naval battle between the Serapis and the Poor Richard.

GRADED LITERATURE READERS

EDITED BY
HARRY PRATT JUDSON, LL.D.,
PRESIDENT OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO
AND
IDA C. BENDER
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

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.

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 chȧnçe´: misfortune; ill luck. Ĭm pĕt´ū̍ oŭs: 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.

Sĕdġ´ĕs̝: coarse grasses which grow in marshy places. Fläunt: wave; spread out. No͝ok: corner. Tō´kens̝: 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

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´eĭgn: belonging to other countries. Prō̍ fes´sion: employment; the business which one follows. Cȧ no̤e´: a small, light boat. Ĕm´ĭ grants: emigrants are people who have left one country to settle in another. Quĕst: search. Yạcht: a light sea-going vessel used for parties of pleasure, racing, etc. Ä´pï ä. Sä mō´ä. Vaī lï´ma.

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 negro 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.

Crṳ´sōes̝: 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. Bȧzäar´: 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´gles̝: 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. Swēep: a boy who cleans chimneys by sweeping them. Căr´ȧ văn: a company of travelers through a desert. Fĕs´tĭ vals̝: feasts.

"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. Glŏss´y̆: smooth and shining. Rē̍ quīred´: 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.

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.

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.

Leaf-cutting ants

Hĭl´lȯck: 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?

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.

Glēe: joy; mirth. Flēe: run away. Ĭn´vȧ lĭd: one who is weak from illness. Rōamed: wandered; went from place to place. Drēar´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.

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

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!

Sprāy: water falling in very small drops. Blīt̶he´sȯme: gay; cheerful. Ȧ wēa´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 tāin´ment: amusement. Ro̤u tïne´: 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.

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 prōach´fụl ly̆: chidingly. Dē̍ mūre´ly̆: soberly. Mĭs´chiē̍ voŭs: 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

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.

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 ve̱yed´: carried. Sylph: a fairy. Păr´ȧ çhṳte: a sort of umbrella by means of which descent is made from a balloon. Cȯn´jŭr ẽr: magician. Fēats: 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.

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.

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-colored 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!"

"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.

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 nĕss: redness. Phiz: face. Săl´lĭed: ran out. Ē̍ mẽrġed´: came out.

II. Wrôught: worked. Ûr´chĭn: a little boy. Dē̍ lĭb´ẽr ā̍te: slow and careful. Ăc´cū̍ rȧ çy̆: correctness. Ĭm ăġ´ĭ nȧ tĭve: full of fancies.

III. Ĭn hĕr´ĭt ançe: possession. At´mos phere: air. T̶hĭth´ẽr: to this place. Ăs´pĕct: appearance; look. Cŏm pĕlled´: 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 lençe: 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.

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.

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.

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 pīed´: saw. Kīne: cows. Tĕt̶h´ẽred: fastened by a rope for feeding within certain limits. "If nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring": if she could write verse. Pēers̝: equals. Cȯv´ẽrt: shelter. "The dam that did thee yean": The mother that reared thee. Bē̍ līke´: 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.

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.

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.

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. Lōath: unwilling. Prowl´ĭng: going stealthily or slyly.

IV. Wĭg´wạms̱: Indian houses made of poles covered with mats or bark. Squa̤ws̱: Indian women. Mŏc´cȧ sĭn: an Indian shoe made of deerskin, the sole and the upper part being in one piece. Căp´tĭve: 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.

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 nŭmbed´: 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

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.

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.

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.

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. Spīked: made the guns useless by stopping the vent or touchhole with a nail or spike.

II. Sē̍ rā´ pĭs. Bōard: to go on deck of. Knīght: 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.

"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.

His thoughts as paddles served him.

Chēema̤un´: a birch canoe. Sŏl´ĭ tā̍ ry̆: lonely. Tȧ qua mē´na̤w: a river of northern Michigan which flows into Lake Superior. Moon of Leaves: May. Gēe´zĭs: the sun. Shēer: straight up and down. Ȧ sŭn´dẽr: apart; in two. Plī´ant: bending easily without breaking. Strāight´ wāy: at once. Tăm´ȧ răck: the American larch. Fī´broŭs: composed of fibers or threads; tough. Bälm, ba̤l´sam, rĕs̝´ĭn: gummy substances which flow from the fir tree. Sŏm´bẽr: dark; gloomy. Fis´sure: a narrow opening. Kägh: the hedgehog. Drow´s̝y̆: sleepy. Rē̍ splĕn´dent: very bright; shining. My̆s´tẽr y̆: something kept secret. Sŭp´ple: easily bent. Vēered: 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.

"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.

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."

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´ūçe: 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 māze´ment: surprise. Fēe: 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´lō̍ws̝: great waves of the sea. Sŭlk´ĭ ly̆: peevishly; angrily. Bē̍ sēech´: beg; ask earnestly. Brīn´y̆: salty. Frŏth´y̆: full of bubbles. Dĭs̝´mal: sad. Sy̆m´pȧ thīze: 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.

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.

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.

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.

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. Ho̤us´sā̍in. Äh´mĕd. No̤u rŏn´ĭ här. Dĭs guīs̝ed´: dressed for the purpose of concealment. Bĭs nȧ gär´. Trăns pōrt´ĕd: carried. Säm ar känd´. Çĕr´ē̍ mō̍ nĭes̝: forms of politeness. Cŏm mĕnd´ĕd: praised.

II. Hẽr´mĭt: a man who lives apart from other people. Rē̍ nounçe´: give up. Lēagues̝: a league is a measure of distance of from two to four miles. Pōrt: manner of carrying oneself. Ġē´nĭes̝: spirits; powerful fairies. Pĕ rï bä´no̤u. Ĭn´fĭ nĭte ly̆: beyond measure; greatly. Cŏn jĕc´tū̍re: guess.

III. Ē̍ quĭpped´: dressed; fitted out. Pĕn´ē̍ trāte: 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 beâr´: keep from. Sȯv´ẽr eĭgn: effectual.

V. Cŏn jūre´: beg earnestly. No̤ur´gĭ hän. Ĭn crē̍ dū´lĭ ty̆: unbelief. Qua̤r´tẽr stȧff: a long, stout staff used as a weapon.

VI. Mo̤us tȧçh´ĭ ō̍s̝: mustache. Dĭ vẽrt´: turn aside. Ĭn tẽr çēde´: speak in his behalf. Ĭn sta̤lled´: placed in office.

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.

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."

"Who planted this old apple tree?"

Clēave: cut; part. Grēen´swa̤rd: turf green with grass. Lēa: meadow; field. Çĭn´trȧ: a town in Portugal. The line: the Equator. Sō´joûrn ẽrs̝: those who dwell for a time. Rō´s̝ē̍ ā̍te: rosy. Māze: a tangle; a network. Vẽr´dū̍r oŭs: green. Low´ẽr: seem dark and gloomy. Fra̤ud: deceit; cheat. Quāint: 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.

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.