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Title: Story Hour Readings: Seventh Year
Author: Hartwell, E. C. (Ernest Clark), 1883-1964
Language: English
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Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

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STORY HOUR READINGS

SEVENTH YEAR

BY
E. C. HARTWELL, M.A., M.PD.

  SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS
  BUFFALO, NEW YORK

  Illustrations by
  George Varian, F. Murch, Wilfred Jones
  M. M. Jamieson, and others

  [Illustration]

           AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
  NEW YORK      CINCINNATI      CHICAGO
          BOSTON        ATLANTA



  COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY
  AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
  _All rights reserved_

  W. P. II

  MADE IN U. S. A.



PREFACE


This reader undertakes to provide desirable material for work in silent
reading without losing sight of the other elements essential in a good
reader for pupils in the seventh grade or in the first year of the
junior high school.

One task before the teacher of Reading in this year is to foster, by
stimulating material, a taste for good reading which it is to be hoped
has at least been partially formed in the preceding grades. The
selections in this volume are made with the purpose of giving the
seventh-grade pupils such virile and enjoyable literature as will make
them desire more of the same kind. The character and fitness of the
material, not the date of its production, have governed the choice of
the editor.

ARRANGEMENT BY GROUPS. There is an obvious advantage in grouping kindred
reading materials in sections under such captions as "Adventure," "From
Great Books," "Our Country," etc. Besides affording some elements of
continuity, the plan offers opportunity for comparison and contrast of
the treatment of similar themes. It also insures a massing of the effect
of the idea for which the section stands. Secondarily, the section
divisions break up the solid text, and because of this the pupils feel
at frequent intervals that they have completed something definite.

The groupings make no pretense to being mutually exclusive. On occasion
a selection may well be transferred to another section. For example,
the Washington and Lincoln stories should be used in the proper season
in the "Our Country" section although it is obvious that they belong in
"Special Days." Teachers should have no hesitation in breaking across
from one section to another when the occasion or the children's interest
seems to warrant.

MECHANICAL FEATURES. Editor and publisher have spared no pains or
expense to make this book attractive to children. The volume is not
cumbersome or unwieldy in size. The length of line is that of the normal
book with which they regularly will come into contact. The type is
clean-cut and legible. Finally, enough white space has been left in the
pages to give the book an "open," attractive appearance. No single item
has so much to do with children's future attitude toward books as the
appearance of their school Readers.

SOCIALIZED WORK. Opportunity for dramatization, committee work, and
other team activity is presented repeatedly throughout this volume.
Wherever the teacher can profitably get the pupils to work in groups she
should take advantage of the cooperative spirit and do so.

CITIZENSHIP. This means more than the passing phase of so-called
Americanization. It means a genuine love of country, a reverence for our
pioneer fathers, a respect for law, order, and truth. This Reader is
rich in patriotic content. It is hoped that the ethical element in the
selections will be found to be forceful as well as pleasing. The book
emphasizes throughout the importance of the individual and social
virtues. If it can help teachers to make clean, upright, and loyal
citizens of our great Republic it will not have been made in vain.

Mastery of the printed page is not the sole end and aim of Reading. It
is hoped that the devices employed in this Reader, as well as the
direction and suggestions in study materials contained in the volume,
may assist in developing a genuine love of good books.

MANUAL. Valuable assistance in dealing with the material in this book is
supplied by the _Teachers' Manual, Story Hour Readings, Seventh and
Eighth Years_. This Manual consists of three parts:

I. An introductory article on the Teaching of Reading, which discusses
Silent Reading (with detailed directions for speed tests), Oral Reading,
Dramatization, Appreciative Reading, Memorizing, Word Study and Use of
the Dictionary, Reading Outside of School, Use of Illustrative Material,
and Correlation.

II. Detailed lesson plans for each selection in _Story Hour Readings
Seventh Year_.

III. Detailed lesson plans for each selection in _Story Hour Readings
Eighth Year_.



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


In addition to acknowledgments made in connection with material
incorporated in this volume, thanks are due as follows for permissions
to reprint:

To D. Appleton & Company, Publishers, for permission to use "A Battle
with a Whale" from Frank T. Bullen's _The Cruise of the Cachalot_; to
Thomas B. Harned, Literary Executor of Walt Whitman, for permission to
reprint "O Captain! My Captain."

"The Stagecoach," from Mark Twain's _Roughing It_, is used by express
permission of the Estate of Samuel L. Clemens, the Mark Twain Company,
and Harper & Brothers, Publishers.

Selections by Emerson, Hawthorne, Holmes, Longfellow, Amy Lowell, James
Russell Lowell, Sill, Thoreau, and Whittier are used by permission of
and special arrangement with Houghton Mifflin Company, the authorized
publishers of these authors.

Acknowledgment is made to the American Book Company for the use of
selections by James Baldwin, John Esten Cooke, Edward Eggleston, Hélène
Guerber, Joel Chandler Harris, William Dean Howells, James Johonnot,
Orison Swett Marden, W. F. Markwick and W. A. Smith, Frank R. Stockton,
and Maurice Thompson.



CONTENTS


                                                                 PAGE
A SHEAF OF LEGENDS

  Ali Hafed's Quest                        _Orison Swett Marden_   13
  How Kilhugh Rode to Arthur's Hall              _James Baldwin_   18
  The Gift of the White Bear               _George Webbe Dasent_   25
  The Story of Iron                                                31
  The Wonderful Artisan                          _James Baldwin_   39
  Charlemagne and Roland                     _Hélène A. Guerber_   46
  Keeping the Bridge                 _Thomas Babington Macaulay_   50


PIONEER DAYS

  The Story of Molly Pitcher                 _Frank R. Stockton_   57
  King Philip to the White Settlers             _Edward Everett_   60
  Pioneer Life in Ohio                    _William Dean Howells_   62
  Witchcraft                               _Nathaniel Hawthorne_   70
  Tea Parties in Old New York                _Washington Irving_   70
  A School of Long Ago                        _Edward Eggleston_   73
  French Life in the Northwest                   _James Baldwin_   77
  A Bear Story                                _Maurice Thompson_   82
  A Patriot of Georgia                    _Joel Chandler Harris_   85
  Song of the Pioneers                         _W. D. Gallagher_   87


SPECIAL DAYS

  Columbus and the Eclipse                      _James Johonnot_   91
  First Thanksgiving Day Proclamation        _George Washington_   93
  Thanksgiving Day Proclamation, 1905       _Theodore Roosevelt_   93
  Harvest Song                                _James Montgomery_   95
  The Cratchits' Christmas                     _Charles Dickens_   96
  The Holiday Spirit                           _Émile Souvestre_  101
  Christmas in the Pines                    _Meredith Nicholson_  106
  The New Year's Dinner Party                     _Charles Lamb_  108
  Autobiography of Abraham Lincoln                                111
  O Captain! My Captain                           _Walt Whitman_  114
  Washington's Greatest Battle           _Frederick Trever Hill_  116
  John James Audubon            _W. F. Markwick and W. A. Smith_  122
  Memorial Day, 1917                            _Woodrow Wilson_  125


ADVENTURE

  A Grandstand Seat in the Sky                   _Howard Mingos_  129
  Prayer for the Pilot                           _Cecil Roberts_  137
  A Battle with a Whale                        _Frank T. Bullen_  138
  The Glove and the Lions                           _Leigh Hunt_  145
  How Buck Won the Bet                             _Jack London_  147
  The Loss of the Drake                     _Charlotte M. Yonge_  151
  The Walrus Hunt                         _Robert M. Ballantyne_  155
  The Rescue                                                      158
  Descending the Grand Cañon                                      162
  Night Fishing in the South Seas            _Frederick O'Brien_  164
  A Ballad of East and West                    _Rudyard Kipling_  168


UNDER THE OPEN SKY

  A Night among the Pines               _Robert Louis Stevenson_  177
  Autumn on the Farm                   _John Greenleaf Whittier_  183
  Goldenrod                             _Elaine Goodale Eastman_  186
  The Palisades                                 _John Masefield_  188
  On the Grasshopper and Cricket                    _John Keats_  189
  To a Waterfowl                         _William Cullen Bryant_  190
  A Night in the Tropics               _Richard Henry Dana, Jr._  192
  A Winter Ride                                     _Amy Lowell_  193
  The Snowstorm                            _Ralph Waldo Emerson_  194
  Snow-Bound                           _John Greenleaf Whittier_  195
  Tom Pinch's Ride                             _Charles Dickens_  198
  Ode to a Butterfly                _Thomas Wentworth Higginson_  201
  In the Desert                                 _A. W. Kinglake_  203
  May is Building her House               _Richard Le Gallienne_  207
  The Daffodils                             _William Wordsworth_  208
  The Falls of Lodore                           _Robert Southey_  210


STORIES THAT TEACH

  An Adventure in Brotherhood                                     215
  The Prayer Perfect                      _James Whitcomb Riley_  217
  Get Out or Get in Line                        _Elbert Hubbard_  218
  John Marshall of Virginia                   _John Esten Cooke_  224
  Opportunity                              _Edward Rowland Sill_  227
  Boy Wanted                                   _Dr. Frank Crane_  228
  John Littlejohn                              _Charles Mackay_   230
  The Discontented Pendulum                                       232
  Two Sides to Every Question                                     235
  If I were a Boy                           _Washington Gladden_  237
  The Lesson of the Water Mill                   _Sarah Doudney_  239
  A Motto of Oxford                                               241
  Sailing and Failing                        _Hamilton W. Mabie_  242
  Use and Abuse of Time                           _Archer Brown_  243
  Hidden Treasure                                _Charles Reade_  245
  The Solitary Reaper                       _William Wordsworth_  249


IN GOOD HUMOR

  The Stagecoach                                    _Mark Twain_  253
  The Chameleon                                  _James Merrick_  261
  The Pickwick Club on Ice                     _Charles Dickens_  263
  Darius Green and his Flying Machine _John Townsend Trowbridge_  270
  Aunt Doleful's Visit                                            279
  Gradgrind's Idea of Education                _Charles Dickens_  281
  The Deacon's Masterpiece, or The Wonderful "One-Hoss Shay"
                                         _Oliver Wendell Holmes_  286
  The Schoolmaster's Ride                    _Washington Irving_  291
  Signing Petitions                                               296


IN TIME OF WAR

  Great Little Rivers                             _Frazier Hunt_  299
  The Burial of Sir John Moore                   _Charles Wolfe_  302
  Lexington and Concord                        _William Emerson_  304
  Hervé Riel                                   _Robert Browning_  307
  The Song of the Camp                           _Bayard Taylor_  313
  Cabin Boy and Admiral                                           315
  Little Giffen                             _Francis O. Ticknor_  320
  Marco Bozzaris                           _Fitz-Greene Halleck_  322
  San Juan Hill                       _General John J. Pershing_  325
  Burial of a Soldier in France                _Gerald M. Dwyer_  329


OUR COUNTRY

  America for Me                                _Henry van Dyke_  333
  Warren's Address at the Battle of Bunker Hill  _John Pierpont_  335
  What is an American?          _Hector Saint Jean de Crèvecœur_  336
  The Rising of '76                       _Thomas Buchanan Read_  338
  Our Own Country                             _James Montgomery_  342
  Patrick Henry's Speech                                          343
  Abraham Lincoln to Mrs. Bixby                                   347
  The Flower of Liberty                  _Oliver Wendell Holmes_  348
  True Patriotism                            _Benjamin Harrison_  350
  America the Beautiful                    _Katharine Lee Bates_  352
  O Beautiful! My Country!                _James Russell Lowell_  353
  The Problems of the Republic              _Theodore Roosevelt_  354
  The Meaning of Americanism              _Charles Evans Hughes_  356
  What Constitutes a State?                      _William Jones_  359
  A Patriotic Creed                             _Edgar A. Guest_  360


FROM GREAT BOOKS

  The Lists at Ashby                          _Sir Walter Scott_  363
  The Twenty-Third Psalm                             _The Bible_  376
  Doubting Castle                                  _John Bunyan_  377
  Christmas Eve at Fezziwig's                  _Charles Dickens_  384
  Jean Valjean Meets the Bishop                    _Victor Hugo_  387
  A Voyage to Lilliput                          _Jonathan Swift_  394
  The Struggle in the Arena                 _Henryk Sienkiewicz_  405
  Polonius's Advice to his Son             _William Shakespeare_  413
  Mercy                                    _William Shakespeare_  414



_A SHEAF OF LEGENDS_


         _To every important race of people there has come
         down through the ages a fine heritage of story and
         song. Usually these tales are largely fiction and
         partially fact. They may be songs about heroes;
         stories to account for the existence of things;
         moral tales; or tales of pure imagination. Whatever
         they are, they preserve for us from the past the
         thoughts or the deeds of our early ancestors; and
         as tales they excite our interest because of their
         simplicity and straightforwardness._

[Illustration: ALI HAFED'S QUEST

(_See following page_)]



  ALI HAFED'S QUEST

  BY ORISON SWETT MARDEN


  Long, long ago, in the shadowy past, Ali Hafed dwelt
  on the shores of the River Indus, in the ancient land of
  the Hindus. His beautiful cottage, set in the midst of
  fruit and flower gardens, looked from the mountain side
  on which it stood over the broad expanse of the noble river.         5

  Rich meadows, waving fields of grain, and the herds and
  flocks contentedly grazing on the pasture lands testified
  to the thrift and prosperity of Ali Hafed. The love of
  a beautiful wife and a large family of light-hearted boys
  and girls made his home an earthly paradise. Healthy,               10
  wealthy, contented, rich in love and friendship, his cup of
  happiness seemed full to overflowing.

  Happy and contented was the good Ali Hafed, when
  one evening a learned priest of Buddha, journeying along
  the banks of the Indus, stopped for rest and refreshment            15
  at his home, where all wayfarers were hospitably welcomed
  and treated as honored guests.

  After the evening meal, the farmer and his family with
  the priest in their midst gathered around the fireside, the
  chilly mountain air of the late autumn making a fire desirable.     20
  The disciple of Buddha entertained his kind hosts
  with various legends and myths, and last of all with the
  story of the creation.

  He told his wondering listeners how in the beginning
  the solid earth on which they lived was not solid at all,           25
  but a mere bank of fog. "The Great Spirit," said he,
  "thrust his finger into the bank of fog and began slowly
  describing a circle in its midst, increasing the speed gradually
  until the fog went whirling round his finger so rapidly
  that it was transformed into a glowing ball of fire. Then
  the Creative Spirit hurled the fiery ball from his hand, and         5
  it shot through the universe, burning its way through other
  banks of fog and condensing them into rain, which fell
  in great floods, cooling the surface of the immense ball.

  "Flames then bursting from the interior through the
  cooled outer crust, threw up the hills and mountain ranges          10
  and made the beautiful fertile valleys. In the flood of rain
  that followed this fiery upheaval, the substance that
  cooled very quickly formed granite, that which cooled
  less rapidly became copper, the next in degree cooled down
  into silver, and the last became gold. But the most beautiful       15
  substance of all, the diamond, was formed by the first
  beams of sunlight condensed on the earth's surface.

  "A drop of sunlight the size of my thumb," said the
  priest, holding up his hand, "is worth more than mines of
  gold. With one such drop," he continued, turning to Ali             20
  Hafed, "you could buy many farms like yours; with a
  handful you could buy a province; and with a mine of
  diamonds you could purchase a whole kingdom."

  The company parted for the night, and Ali Hafed went
  to bed, but not to sleep. All night long he tossed restlessly       25
  from side to side, thinking, planning, scheming, how he
  could secure some diamonds. The demon of discontent
  had entered his soul, and the blessings and advantages
  which he possessed in such abundance seemed as by some
  malicious magic to have vanished utterly. Although his              30
  wife and children loved him as before--although his
  farm, his orchards, his flocks and herds, were as real and
  prosperous as they had ever been--yet the last words of
  the priest, which kept ringing in his ears, turned his content
  into vague longings and blinded him to all that had hitherto
  made him happy.

  Before dawn next morning the farmer, full of his purpose,            5
  was astir. Rousing the priest, he eagerly inquired
  if he could direct him to a mine of diamonds.

  "A mine of diamonds!" echoed the astonished priest.
  "What do you, who already have so much to be grateful
  for, want with diamonds?"                                           10

  "I wish to be rich and place my children on thrones."

  "All you have to do, then," said the Buddhist, "is to
  go and search until you find them."

  "But where shall I go?" questioned the infatuated man.

  "Go anywhere," was the vague reply; "north, south,                  15
  east, or west--anywhere."

  "But how shall I know the place?" asked the farmer.

  "When you find a river running over white sands between
  high mountain ranges, in these white sands you will find
  diamonds. There are many such rivers and many mines                 20
  of diamonds waiting to be discovered. All you have to do
  is start out and go somewhere--" and he waved his hand--"away,
  away!"

  Ali Hafed's mind was fully made up. "I will no longer,"
  he thought, "remain on a wretched farm, toiling day in and          25
  day out for a mere subsistence, when acres of diamonds--untold
  wealth--may be had by him who is bold enough
  to seek them."

  He sold his farm for less than half its value. Then,
  after putting his young family under the care of a neighbor,        30
  he set out on his quest--a quest that was to cover many
  years and lands.

  With high hopes and the coveted diamond mines beckoning
  in the far distance, Ali Hafed began his wanderings.
  During the first few weeks his spirits did not flag, nor did
  his feet grow weary. On and on he tramped, until he
  came to the Mountains of the Moon, beyond the bounds                 5
  of Arabia. Weeks stretched into months, and the wanderer
  often looked regretfully in the direction of his once-happy
  home. Still no gleam of waters glinting over white
  sands greeted his eyes. But on he went, into Egypt,
  through Palestine and other eastern lands, always looking           10
  for the treasure he still hoped to find.

  At last, after years of fruitless search, during which he
  had wandered north and south, east and west, hope left
  him. All his money was spent. He was starving and
  almost naked, and the diamonds--which had lured him                 15
  away from all that made life dear--where were they?
  Poor Ali Hafed never knew. He died by the wayside,
  never dreaming that the wealth for which he had sacrificed
  happiness and life might have been his had he remained
  at home.                                                            20

       *       *       *       *       *

  "Here is a diamond! here is a diamond! Has Ali Hafed
  returned?" shouted an excited voice.

  The speaker, no other than our old acquaintance, the
  Buddhist priest, was standing in the same room where
  years before he had told poor Ali Hafed how the world was           25
  made and where diamonds were to be found.

  "No, Ali Hafed has not returned," quietly answered his
  successor. "Neither is that which you hold in your hand
  a diamond. It is but a pretty black pebble I picked up
  in my garden."                                                      30

  "I tell you," said the priest excitedly, "this is a genuine
  diamond. I know one when I see it. Tell me how and
  where you found it."

  "One day," replied the farmer slowly, "having led my
  camel into the garden to drink, I noticed, as he put his
  nose into the water, a sparkle of light coming from the              5
  white sand at the bottom of the clear stream. Stooping
  down, I picked up the black pebble you now hold, guided
  to it by that crystal eye in the center, from which the light
  flashes so brilliantly."

  "Why, thou simple one," cried the priest, "this is no               10
  common stone, but a gem of the purest water. Come,
  show me where thou didst find it."

  Together they fled to the spot where the farmer had
  found the "pebble," and turning over the white sands with
  eager fingers, they found, to their great delight, other            15
  stones even more valuable and beautiful than the first.
  Then they extended their search, and, so the Oriental
  story goes, "every shovelful of the old farm, as acre after
  acre was sifted over, revealed gems with which to decorate
  the crowns of emperors and moguls."                                 20

                                         --_Stories from Life._

         1. What is a legend? Distinguish between "legend"
         and "story." In what country is the scene of this
         legend laid?

         2. What is your opinion of Ali Hafed? What happened
         to his family?

         3. Do we have any Ali Hafeds in this country
         to-day? What do we mean by "Get-rich-quick"
         schemes? Illustrate.

         4. If you were writing this story in these days of
         intensive farming, in what form would you have the
         "diamonds" come to the farmer?



  HOW KILHUGH RODE TO ARTHUR'S HALL

  By JAMES BALDWIN


         This is a British legend of the days "when good
         King Arthur ruled the land." In his castle at
         Caerleon, according to legend, Arthur had gathered
         the most famous of his knights about the Round
         Table; and thither every aspiring knight journeyed
         in quest of adventure.


  Prince Kilhugh blushed. The love of Olwen, the
  daughter of Thistlehair, filled his heart, although he
  had not heard her name before. His face flushed with
  happiness, and his eyes shone with joy.

  "What is the matter, my son?" asked his father. "Why                 5
  are you so gay and glad?"

  "Father," answered Kilhugh, "my stepmother says
  that no one but Olwen shall be my wife."

  "Well," quoth the king, "I doubt not there will be
  trouble enough before that saying comes true. But do                10
  not fear, my son. Thou art first cousin to King Arthur.
  Who but he should cut thy hair and be thy lord? Go to
  him, and crave this of him as a boon."

  To Arthur's Hall, therefore, Prince Kilhugh made ready
  to go; and his father chose fifty of his bravest knights            15
  to go with him, that he might present himself to King
  Arthur in a befitting manner.

       *       *       *       *       *

  So gayly the youth rode forth upon a steed of dappled
  gray, four summers old, with shell-shaped hoofs and well-knit
  limbs. His saddle was of burnished gold, his bridle                 20
  of shining gold chains. His saddle cloth was of purple
  silk, with four golden apples embroidered in the four
  corners.

  The war horn slung over his shoulder was of ivory; the
  sword that hung by his side had a golden hilt and a two-edged        5
  blade inlaid with a cross of gold that glittered like
  the lightning of heaven. His shoes, from the knee to the
  tip of the toe, were embossed with gold worth three hundred
  cattle; and his stirrups also were of gold.

  In his hand he held two spears, with shafts of silver and           10
  heads of tempered steel, and of an edge so sharp as to wound
  the wind and cause the blood to flow. Two white-breasted
  greyhounds bounded before his steed. Broad collars
  set with rubies were on their necks; and to and fro they            15
  sprang, like two sea swallows sporting around him. The
  blades of reed grass bent not beneath him, so light was
  his courser's tread, as he journeyed toward the gate of
  Arthur's palace.

       *       *       *       *       *

  The Wide White Hall of Arthur had been built by Rearfort,           20
  the architect. Eight and forty were the rafters of
  its roof. It would hold all Arthur's companions and his
  nobles, his warriors, his retainers, and his guests.

  While Kilhugh was riding thither, the tables were set
  for the evening meal. The king, with his knights, his
  friends, and his attendants, were in their places around            25
  the board. And the gate of the outer court was locked.

  As the prince rode on, he beheld from afar the walls and
  towers of Arthur's Hall. When he drew rein within the
  shadow of the vast portal, he saw that the door was closed
  and barred, and an armed warrior, stalwart and strong,              30
  was standing before it.

  "O chieftain," he said, "is it King Arthur's custom
  to have a gatekeeper stationed here?"

  "It is," replied the warrior sternly; "and if thou dost
  not hold thy peace, scant shall be thy welcome. I am
  Arthur's porter every New Year's Day, and that is why I              5
  am here now."

  "And who is the porter at other times?" asked Prince
  Kilhugh.

  "At other times the gate is guarded by four lusty chieftains
  who serve under me," answered the Dusky Hero with                   10
  the Mighty Grasp. "The names of the first two are
  Blandmien and Speedguest. The third is Grumgruff, a
  man who never did anyone a favor in his life. The fourth
  is Rumbleroll, who goes on his head to save his feet. He
  neither holds it up to the sky like a man, nor stretches it         15
  out toward the ground like a brute; but he goes tumbling
  about the floor, like nothing but a rolling stone."

  "Unbar the door and let me in," commanded Kilhugh.

  "Nay, that I will not," answered the Dusky Hero with
  the Mighty Grasp.                                                   20

  "And why not?" cried the prince.

  "The knife is in the meat and the drink is in the horn,
  and there is revelry in Arthur's Hall; and no man may
  enter in save the son of a king from a friendly land. But
  never shall it be said that a wayfarer was turned harshly           25
  away from Arthur's door. Food enough for thee and thy
  fifty men shall be prepared; collops shall be cooked and
  peppered for all. In the stables there is fodder for thy
  horses and food in plenty for thy dogs. And thou shalt
  fare as well in the guest chamber as in the hall; only be           30
  content, and disturb not the king and his knights at the
  table."

  "Nay, I will have nothing of all this," said young Kilhugh.
  "If thou wilt open the door, well and good. But
  if not, I will bring dishonor upon Arthur and shame upon
  thee. Here, on the spot where I stand, I will shout thrice
  and make the welkin ring. Sounds more deadly than                    5
  those three shouts have never been heard in this land.
  They shall resound from Land's End to Cold Blast Ridge
  in Ireland, and turn the hearts of youths and maidens
  cold as stone. Matrons shall grow wan and weakly and
  many a mother's child shall die of fright--so dreadful              10
  will be my voice."

  The Dusky Hero with the Mighty Grasp stood firm,
  although his heart misgave him. "No clamor that thou
  canst make," said he, "will ever admit thee here against
  King Arthur's wishes. However, I will go and tell him               15
  thou art here."

  Well might he be perturbed by Kilhugh's threat. For
  he remembered what had once happened in the days of
  King Lud, when all Britain had been shaken by a fearful
  shriek. At the sound of it, men had grown pale and feeble,          20
  women listless and sad, and youths and maidens forlorn
  and woebegone. Beasts deserted their young ones, birds
  left their nestlings, trees cast off their fruit, the earth
  yielded no harvest.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Pondering upon these things, the Dusky Hero with the                25
  Mighty Grasp strode into the hall. King Arthur saw him
  and called out, "Hast thou come with tidings from the
  door?"

  The Dusky Hero bowed, and answered in stately phrase,
  becoming a knight of the Table Round:                               30

  "Half of my life is past, noble king, and half of thine.
  I have been with thee in Europe, in Asia, in Africa, and in
  the Island of Corsica. I was thy companion when thou
  didst spread the terror of the sword from Scandinavia to
  Spain. I fought by thy side in the Battle of Shades, when
  we brought away twelve hostages from the Dim Land under              5
  the Sea. I have been in Jerusalem and in Castle Covert-and-Clearing,
  built all of dead men's bones. I have been
  in Turning Castle, and in the Castle of Riches; and there
  thou knowest we saw nine kings of nations, all comely men
  of noble mien. Yet, I protest and declare that I never              10
  before saw a youth so handsome and dignified as that one
  who is now sitting astride his horse and waiting outside
  the door of this hall."

  Then cried the king, "Thou didst walk hither to tell me
  of him; now hie thee back to him, running at full speed.            15
  Invite him to come in; and let every man who sees the light,
  and every man who blinks the eye, stand ready to do him
  honor."

       *       *       *       *       *

  The Dusky Hero with the Mighty Grasp returned to
  the great door. He drew back bolt and bar, and set it               20
  wide open before the prince and his train. The men at
  arms dismounted at the horse block in the courtyard, but
  Kilhugh still sat upon his steed and rode into the Hall.

  "Hail to thee, King Arthur!" he cried. "I greet thee
  and thy guests and thy companions and thy warriors.                 25
  My greeting is to the lowest as well as to the highest of all
  that have a seat within this Hall. May thy name, King
  Arthur, and thy fame and thy renown be forever held in
  glorious memory throughout the length and the breadth
  of this land!"                                                      30

  "Hail to thee, noble youth!" returned Arthur. "Thou
  art right welcome. Here is a place for thee between two of
  my knights. Sit down, and my minstrels will play for thee."

  But Kilhugh made answer: "I have not come hither,
  sire, to eat and drink, but to crave of thee a boon. If thou
  wilt grant it me, I will do thee such service as thou mayest         5
  command; and I will carry the praise of thy bounty and
  thy power into every land. But if thou dost refuse, I will
  spread ill reports of thee to the four quarters of the world."

  Then King Arthur was greatly pleased, and he said:
  "Ask thy boon, young chieftain. Thou shalt have whatever            10
  thy tongue may name, as far as the wind dries and the
  rain moistens and the sun revolves and the sea encircles
  and the earth extends. Thou shalt have anything that is
  mine, except my ship that bears me over the sea, and
  the mantle in which I can walk unseen, and my good sword,           15
  and my keen lance, and my shield, and my gleaming dagger,
  and Guinevere my wife. Ask what thou wilt."

  "My request is, that thou wilt cut my hair," answered
  Kilhugh.

  "Thy request is granted," quoth the king.                           20

  Then Arthur called for a golden comb and a pair of
  scissors with silver loops. And he combed the hair of the
  prince, as he sat upon his steed, and cut it front and back.

  "Now tell me thy name," he said.

  "My name is Kilhugh," replied the prince. "My father                25
  is Prince Kilith, and my mother was a sister of the fair
  Ygerne."

  "Then we are cousins," cried Arthur, "and I give thee
  leave to ask another boon. Ask what thou wilt."
  "Promise me, for the honor of thy kingdom, to grant                 30
  my boon," said Kilhugh.

  "I promise."

  "Then do I crave of thee to obtain for me Olwen, the
  daughter of Thistlehair, chief of the Giants, to be my wife. . . .
  For the sake of the daughters of the Island of the
  Mighty, I crave thy help to seek this maiden. For the
  sake of Guinevere and of her sister; for the sake of Lynette         5
  of the Magic Ring; for the sake of Cordelia the daughter
  of King Lear, the loveliest maiden in this island; and for
  the sake of Iseult la Belle, and of Elaine, and of Angarad
  of the Golden Hand--for the sake of these and many
  others, I crave thy help."                                          10

  Then said Arthur, "O prince and cousin, I have never
  heard of this maiden, Olwen; I have never heard of her
  kindred. But I will send messengers to seek her; only
  grant them time to find her and return."

  "To-day is New Year's Day," answered the prince.                    15
  "I give them from this hour till the last day of the year."

  And having said these words, he dismounted from his
  steed and went and sat by King Arthur's side in the midst
  of the heroes of the Table Round.

                              --_Fifty Famous Rides and Riders._

         1. This is a capital story in its representation of
         the knight in olden days. Do you think Kilhugh
         would be an agreeable fellow to have in your class?
         Give reasons for your answer.

         2. What other legends of Arthur do you know?

         3. The Arthurian tales have long furnished English
         writers with themes for stories and songs.
         Tennyson's _Idylls of the King_, for example, is a
         group of narrative poems describing the adventures
         of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table.



  THE GIFT OF THE WHITE BEAR

  BY GEORGE WEBBE DASENT


  A long time ago there lived in Iceland a man whose
  name was Audun. His means were small, but everybody
  knew of his goodness. In order to see the world and to
  add to his wealth, he once sailed to Greenland with a sea
  captain named Thorir. Before he went, he gave everything             5
  that he had to his mother--and this was not much.

  In Greenland Audun bought a white bear that was well
  tamed and trained--and it was the greatest treasure of
  a bear that had ever been thought of. The next summer
  Thorir sailed back to Norway, and Audun went with him,              10
  taking the bear.

  Now Audun had made up his mind to give the bear to
  Sweyn, the king of Denmark; and so, leaving Thorir, he
  made his way south to the Cattegat. While he was waiting
  for some vessel that would carry him across the channel, it         15
  so happened that Harold, the king of Norway, came also to
  the same place.

  Of course some one soon told King Harold about the
  Icelander who had lately come from Greenland with a
  wonderful white bear, and he at once sent for Audun.                20

  "I have heard about your white bear," said Harold,
  "and I wish to buy it."

  "I will not sell it," answered Audun.

  "But I will pay you twice as much as you gave for it,"
  said the king.                                                      25

  "Not for any price will I sell it," said the Icelander.

  "Then will you give it to me?" asked the king.

  "No, my lord, I will not do that," answered Audun.

  "What, then, will you do with it?" asked the king.

  Audun answered, "I have made up my mind to take it
  to Denmark and give it to King Sweyn, for he is also the             5
  king of my own country."

  Then Harold spoke up sharply: "Don't you know, my
  fellow, that there is war between Norway and Denmark,
  and between myself and your King Sweyn? Don't you
  know that I have the power to prevent you from ever                 10
  getting to his land?"

  Audun answered, "I know that you have the power, and
  that all rests with you. But I will consent to nothing
  save to do as I have told you."

  The king sat in thought for a moment and then said,                 15
  "Well, I see no reason why you should not do as you please
  in this matter. But promise me that when you come this
  way again, you will tell me how King Sweyn rewarded you
  for the beast."

  "I give you my word to do that," answered Audun.                    20

  Then, leading the bear behind him, he went away. But
  it was a long time before he could find any means to cross
  over into Denmark, and when at last he set foot upon the
  shores of that country he had not even a penny with which
  to buy food. Both he and the bear were starving, and it             25
  was a long way to the place where the king was staying.

  In his distress, Audun went to a rich man named Auki
  and begged for food for himself and his bear.

  "What are you going to do with the beast?" asked
  Auki.                                                               30

  "Give him to King Sweyn," answered the Icelander.

  "And how much do you expect to receive for him?"

  "Only so much as the king in his bounty wishes to give."

  Then the rich man answered, "If you will give me one
  half of the bear, I will feed you both."

  And to this Audun made agreement, for he was almost
  dead of hunger and so was the bear.                                  5

  Then the Icelander and the rich man went on, leading
  the bear, until they came to King Sweyn's house. The
  king greeted Auki in a friendly manner, and turning to
  Audun, said, "You are a stranger to me. Pray tell me
  whence you have come."                                              10

  "I am from Iceland," answered Audun, "and have but
  lately been to Greenland. My errand here is to give you
  a white bear which I bought in Greenland. But my
  necessities have obliged me to part with one half of the
  beast, and I can only beg of you to accept the other half."         15
  And then, after much questioning, he told the whole story.

  The king turned to the rich man, who was standing by,
  and asked, "Is this true, Auki?"

  "It is, my lord," answered Auki.

  Then the king was angry and sent the rich man home,                 20
  empty-handed and sorrowful. But he said to the Icelander,
  "I thank you for the rare and wonderful gift which you
  have brought me. Stay here in my house for a while."

  So Audun dwelt for some time with the king's household,
  and no man was more faithful, more honest, or more                  25
  brave than he. Many deeds of courage did he perform,
  and many and worthy were his services. All men liked
  him, and the king was most gracious to him; but his heart
  turned always toward Iceland and his poor mother whom
  he had left behind.                                                 30

  One day when the springtide was drawing on, the king
  spoke to the Icelander and said: "Audun, I have never
  yet given you anything for the white bear. I have a mind
  to make you one of my chief officers, so that you shall
  always be near me."

  And Audun answered, "I thank you, my lord, with all
  my heart. But far away over the northern seas there is a             5
  poor woman who is my mother. I fear that by this time
  she is in want; for although I left her all that I had, it
  was not much. I cannot bear to sit here in ease and honor
  while she has not enough to keep hunger away. And so I
  have set my heart on sailing for Iceland."                          10

  "There speaks a good man and true," cried the king.
  "You shall do as you most desire; but wait a little while
  till a ship is ready."

  So Audun waited. And one day when spring was at its
  best, King Sweyn went with him down to the waterside,               15
  where many men were busy freighting ships for foreign
  lands. They walked till they came to a merchant vessel
  of fine size.

  "What do you think of this ship, Audun?" asked the
  king.                                                               20

  "She is fine enough, surely," answered the Icelander.

  "Well," said the king, "I will now repay you for the
  bear. This ship and all the goods on board of it are
  yours."

  Audun thanked the king as well as he could. And when               25
  the day came for the ship to sail, the two walked down to
  the waterside again.

  "I have heard much of the perils of the sea," said King
  Sweyn, "and if this fair ship should be wrecked, all your
  goods will doubtless be lost and little will be left to show        30
  that you have met the king of Denmark."

  As he said this, the king put into Audun's hand a
  leather bag, full of silver, saying, "Take this, and even if
  your ship goes down, you will not be entirely penniless."

  Audun was so filled with gratitude that he could not
  speak. But the king had still another surprise for him.
  He drew a ring of gold, very costly, from his arm and put            5
  it upon the arm of the Icelander.

  "Take this," he said. "Even though you should lose
  ship and goods and money, you will still not be penniless,
  for the gold will be around your arm."

  What could Audun do? What could he say?                             10

  The king shook his hand at parting, and said: "I have
  this to ask of you: Keep the gold ring on your arm and
  do not part with it on any account, unless it be to some
  great man to whom you feel yourself bound to give your
  best treasure in return for a great favor and much goodness.        15
  And now, farewell, and may good luck follow your voyage."

  Then Audun, in his fair, rich ship, put to sea.

  On his way to Iceland he stopped for a time in a haven
  of Norway, where he heard that King Harold was holding
  his court. He was desirous of seeing the king, as he had            20
  given his word.

  King Harold remembered him well and received him
  kindly.

  "Sit here and tell me how it fared with you in Denmark,"
  he said.                                                            25

  Audun told him a part of his story.

  "But how did King Sweyn repay you for the white bear?"
  asked Harold.

  "In this wise, my lord," answered Audun: "He took it
  and thanked me when I offered it."                                  30

  "I would have repaid you as well myself," said Harold,
  "What more did he give you?"

  "He asked me to abide in his house, and he gave me his
  friendship. He offered me still greater honor if I would
  stay longer with him."

  "That was good; but I would have done as much.
  He must have given you something more."                              5

  "Yes. He gave me a merchant ship filled with rich
  goods for trade in northern ports."

  "That was a noble gift," said the king; "but I would
  have equaled it. Did he give you anything more?"

  Audun answered, "Yes, he gave me a leather bag full of              10
  silver; for he said that if the ship and her cargo should be
  lost in the sea, yet would I not go penniless."

  "That was nobly thought of," said Harold; "and it is
  more than I would have done. But what else did he give?"

  Then Audun took the gold ring from his arm and put                  15
  it upon King Harold's arm, saying, "He gave me as a farewell
  gift this priceless ring; and he bade me never to part
  with it save to some great man to whom I felt myself indebted
  for his goodness. And now I have found that man.
  For it was in your power to take away not only the bear             20
  but my life also, and yet you allowed me to go in peace to
  Denmark."

  The king looked at the ring and then at the man; for
  both were of very great worth. "I thank you, Audun," he
  said; and they had much pleasant talk before they parted.           25

  And when Audun at length came with his ship to Iceland,
  everybody welcomed him as the luckiest man in the world; and
  he made his poor mother comfortable for the rest of her life.

         1. What was the noblest thing Audun did? Why do you
         admire the man? What in the story indicates its old
         age?

         2. Sketch the relative locations of Iceland,
         Norway, and Denmark, showing a possible return
         course for Audun.



  THE STORY OF IRON

         This is one of the tales from the _Kalevala_ ("Home
         of the Heroes"), a group of legends from Finland.
         These tales were sung in verse very similar to that
         which Longfellow used in _Hiawatha_. The following
         is a prose translation of one of the popular myths.


  The first of all mothers was Air, and she had three
  daughters. Of these three maidens there is much
  to be said. They were as lovely as the rainbow after a
  storm; they were as fair as the full moon shining above
  the mountains. They walked with noiseless feet among                 5
  the clouds and showered gifts upon the earth. They sent
  the refreshing rain, the silent dew, and the nipping frost,
  each in its season. They gave life to the fields, and strength
  to the mountains, and grandeur to the sea. And because
  of their bounty the earth was glad and the stars twinkled           10
  for joy.

  "What more can we do to make the land fit for men to
  dwell in? What other gift have we to bestow?" asked the
  eldest of the sisters.

  And the youngest said, "Let us send down iron--iron                 15
  of which tools may be made, iron of which sharp weapons
  may be shaped. For without tools man will not be able
  to plow, to reap, or to build; and without weapons he
  cannot defend himself against the savage beasts of the
  forest."                                                            20

  So when the sun was about going down, the sisters
  went forth in trailing robes of purple and crimson and gold;
  and in their hands they bore mighty vessels of foaming milk.
  The eldest sprinkled red milk in the brooks and marshes
  and along the banks of the rivers. The middle one scattered
  white milk on the wooded hills and the stony mountains.
  The youngest showered blue milk in the valleys
  and by the gray seashore. And, on the morrow, where                  5
  the red milk had been sprinkled, red and brittle ore of
  iron flecked the ground; where the white milk had been
  scattered, powdery ore of a yellow hue abounded; and
  where the blue milk had been showered, flaky masses of
  crude iron, tough and dark, lay hidden beneath the soil.            10

  Thus came Iron into the world--Iron, the youngest
  of three brothers. Next older than he was Fire, a raging,
  dangerous fellow when free, but loving and faithful when
  held in bonds. Older still was Water, terrible in strength
  but, when not aroused, as gentle as a mother's caress.              15

  Years upon years went by, and at length one day Iron
  set out to visit his brothers. He found Water at home in
  the deep sea, and by him he was welcomed kindly enough.
  But when he climbed a mountain to see his second brother
  he had quite another reception. Fire was in a raging                20
  mood. The terrible fellow leaped and roared and stretched
  out his long red fingers as though he would devour his
  visitor.

  Iron was so terrified that he turned and fled down the
  steep slopes, never stopping nor pausing to look behind.            25
  He ran on, hiding in clefts and chasms, creeping under
  rocks, and lurking in the dry beds of mountain torrents.
  When by and by he reached the level plain, he glanced
  backward. The hills and the whole mountain top were
  aflame.                                                             30

  Wild with terror he hurried on, hiding himself in the
  woods and under the roots of trees and resting at last in
  reedy marshes where swans build their nests and wild geese
  rear their young.

  For ages and ages--nobody knows how many--Iron
  lay hidden in bogs and forests and lonely caverns. Fear
  of his raging brother made him lurk in lonely places, made           5
  him cover up his face. Lazy bears went ambling through
  the rocky places; wolves rushed madly over the oozy
  marshlands; and timid deer ran and leaped among the
  trees. In time the hiding places of Iron were uncovered.
  Where the paws of bears had plodded often, where the feet           10
  of wolves had pattered, where the sharp hoofs of deer had
  trodden, there the timid metal, red, gray, yellow, black,
  peeped shyly out.

  At length into that same land there came a skillful Smith.
  He carried a hammer of stone in one hand and tongs of               15
  bronze in the other, and a song of peace was upon his lips.
  On a green hillock, where the south wind blew, he built
  him a smithy, and in it he placed the tools of his craft.
  His anvil was a block of gray granite; his forge was carefully
  built of sand and clay; his bellows was made of the                 20
  skins of mountain goats sewn together.

  The Smith heaped live coals in his forge and blew with
  his bellows until the flames leaped up, roaring and sparkling,
  and the smoke rose in dense clouds over the roof of the
  smithy. "This forge will do its work well," he said. Then           25
  he checked the bellows and smothered the flames and raked
  ashes upon the fire until the red coals slumbered unseen at
  the mouth of the forge.

  Out into the forest the Smith wandered. Closely he
  scanned the hillsides and the boggy thickets and the paths          30
  among the trees. And there, where the bears had trailed
  and the wolves had rushed and the deer had left their
  footprints, he found ruddy Iron, dusky Iron, yellow ore
  of Iron, peeping, trembling, hiding. The heart of the
  Smith was glad. His eyes danced merrily, and he sang a
  song of magic to the timid metal:

    "Iron, Iron, hearken while I call you!                             5
     Let no false and foolish fears appal you,
     Come from out the crevices that hide you,
     Leave the worthless stones that are beside you,
     Leave the earth that lies around, above you,
     And come with me, for I do dearly love you."                     10

  Iron moved not, but timidly answered, "I dare not
  leave my hiding places; for Fire, my brother, waits to
  devour me. He is strong and fierce. He has no pity."

  The Smith shook his head and made reply, still singing:

    "No! your brother does not wish to harm you--                     15
     Willingly he never would alarm you.
     With his glowing arms he would caress you,
     Make you pure and with his kisses bless you.
     So come with me, my smithy waits to greet you;
     In my forge your brother waits to meet you--                     20
     Waits to throw his loving arms around you,
     Glad indeed that thus, at last, he's found you."

  These words made Iron feel much braver; and they
  were spoken in tones so sweet and persuasive that he was
  almost minded to obey without another word. But he asked,           25
  "Why should I leave these places where I have rested so
  long? What will become of me after I have made friends
  with Fire?"

  Again the Smith replied to the query of Iron in a magic
  song:

    "Come with me, for kindly we will treat you.
     On my anvil gently will I beat you;
     With my tongs, then, deftly will I hold you;                      5
     With my hammer I will shape and mold you
     Into forms so fair that all will prize you,
     Forms so rare that none will e'er despise you:
     Axes, knives (so men will wish to use you),
     Needles, pins (so women, too, will choose you).                  10
     Come with me, your brother will not harm you,
     Come with me, my smithy sure will charm you."

  Hearing this, Iron came out of his lurking places and
  without more ado bashfully followed the cunning Smith.
  But no sooner was he in the smithy than he felt himself             15
  a prisoner. The tongs of bronze gripped him and thrust
  him into the forge. The bellows roared, the Smith shouted,
  and Fire leaped joyfully out of the ashes and threw his
  arms around his helpless younger brother. And bashful,
  bashful Iron turned first red and then white and finally            20
  became as soft as dough and as radiant as the sun.

  Then the tongs of bronze drew him forth from the flames,
  and twirled him in the air, and threw him upon the anvil;
  and the hammer of stone beat him fiercely again and again
  until he shrieked with pain.                                        25

  "Oh, spare me! spare me!" he cried. "Do not deal so
  roughly with me. Let me go back to my lonely hiding
  places and lie there in peace as in the days of old."

  But the tongs pinched him worse than before, and the
  hammer beat him still harder, and the Smith answered:               30

  "Not so, not so! Be not so cowardly. We do not hurt
  you; you are only frightened. Be brave and I will shape
  you into things of great use to men. Be brave and you
  shall rule the world."

  Then in spite of Iron's piteous cries, he kept on pounding
  and twisting and turning and shaping the helpless metal              5
  until at length it was changed into many forms of use and
  beauty--rings, chains, axes, knives, cups, and curious
  tools. But it was so soft, after being thus heated and
  beaten, that the edges of the tools were quickly dulled.
  Try as he might, the Smith did not know how to give the             10
  metal a harder temper.

  One day a honeybee strolled that way. It buzzed
  around the smithy and then lit on a clover blossom by the
  door.

  "O bee," cried the busy Smith, "you are a cunning                   15
  little bird, and you know some things better than I know
  them. Come now, and help me temper this soft metal.
  Bring me a drop of your honey; bring the sweet liquor
  which you suck from the meadow flower; bring the magic
  dew of the wildwood. Give me all such things that I may             20
  make a mixture to harden Iron."

  The bee answered not--it was too busy with its own
  affairs. It gathered what honey it could from the blossom
  and then flew swiftly away.

  Under the eaves above the smithy door an idler was                  25
  sitting--a mischief-making hornet who heard every word
  that the Smith said.

  "I will help him make a mixture," this wicked insect
  muttered. "I will help him to give Iron another temper."

  Forthwith he flew to the thorny thickets and the miry               30
  bogs and the fever-breeding marshes, to gather what evils
  he might. Soon he returned with an arm load--the poison
  of spiders, the venom of serpents, the miasmata of swamps,
  the juice of the deadly nightshade. All these he cast into
  the tub of water wherein the Smith was vainly trying to
  temper Iron.

  The Smith did not see him, but he heard him buzzing                  5
  and supposed it was the honeybee with sweets from the
  meadow flowers.

  "Thank you, pretty little bird," he said. "Now I hope
  we shall have a better metal. I hope we shall make edges
  that will cut and not be dulled so easily."                         10

  Thereupon he drew a bar of the metal, white hot, from
  the forge. He held it, hissing and screeching, under the
  water into which the poisons had been poured. Little
  thought he of the evil that was there. He heard the hornet
  humming and laughing under the eaves.                               15

  "Tiny honeybee," he said, "you have brought me much
  sweetness. Iron tempered with your honey will be sweet
  although sharp. Nothing shall be wrought of it that is
  not beautiful and helpful and kind."

  He drew the metal from the tub. He thrust it back                   20
  among the red coals. He plied the bellows and the flames
  leaped up. Then, when the metal was glowing again, he
  laid it on the anvil and beat it with strong, swift strokes;
  and as he worked he sang:

    "Ding! Ding! Ding-a-ling, ding!                                   25
     Of Iron, sharp Iron, strong Iron, I sing,
     Of Iron my servant, of Iron my king--
     Ding! Ding-a-ling, ding!"

  Forthwith Iron leaped up, angry and biting and fierce.
  He was not a soft and ductile metal as before, but Iron             30
  hardened into tough blue steel. Showers of sparks flew
  from him, snapping, burning, threatening; and from among
  them sprang swords and spears and battle-axes, and daggers
  keen and pointed. Out of the smithy and out through
  the great world these cruel weapons raced, slashing and
  clashing, thrusting and cutting, raging and killing, and             5
  carrying madness among men.

  The wicked hornet, idling under the eaves, rejoiced at
  the mischief he had wrought. But the Smith was filled
  with grief, and the music of his anvil became a jangling
  discord.                                                            10

  "Oh, Iron," he cried, "it was not for this that I caused
  you to leave your hiding places in the hills and bogs! The
  three sisters intended that you should be a blessing to
  mankind; but now I greatly fear that you will become a
  curse."                                                             15

  At that moment the honeybee, laden with the sweets of
  field and wood, came buzzing into the smithy. It whispered
  hopefully into the ear of the Smith: "Wait until
  my gifts have done their work."

                             --Retold from the _Kalevala_.

         1. Find on a map the country from which this legend
         comes.

         2. According to this story, where did iron come
         from? Why was it fearful of fire? Who finally
         enticed it into the fire's embrace?

         3. Why did the smith cease to be happy? What did
         the honeybee have in mind in the last sentence?
         Show how the honeybee's prophecy has come true, by
         naming the peaceful uses of iron.

         4. A good description of an ancient forge is given.
         Of what did it consist? How is iron handled to-day
         in modern iron foundries and steel mills?



  THE WONDERFUL ARTISAN

  BY JAMES BALDWIN

         There are enough Greek legends to fill several
         volumes. They relate the doings of the gods and
         heroes of ancient Greece, and endeavor to account
         for the origin of plants and animals and the
         founding of cities. This story no doubt contains
         many facts but it is chiefly fiction.


  While Athens was still only a small city there lived
  within its walls a man named Dædalus (dĕd´a-lŭs),
  who was the most skillful worker in wood and stone and
  metal that had ever been known. It was he who taught
  the people how to build better houses and how to hang                5
  their doors on hinges and how to support the roofs with
  pillars and posts. He was the first to fasten things together
  with glue; he invented the plumb line and the
  auger; and he showed seamen how to put up masts in their
  ships and how to rig the sails to them with ropes. He               10
  built a stone palace for Ægeus, the young king of Athens,
  and beautified the Temple of Athena which stood on the
  great rocky hill in the middle of the city.

  Dædalus had a nephew named Perdix, whom he had
  taken when a boy to teach the trade of builder. But                 15
  Perdix was a very apt learner and soon surpassed his master
  in the knowledge of many things. His eyes were ever
  open to see what was going on about him, and he learned
  the lore of the fields and the woods. Walking one day by
  the sea he picked up the backbone of a great fish, and from         20
  it he invented the saw. Seeing how a certain bird carved
  holes in the trunks of trees, he learned how to make and use
  the chisel. Then he invented the wheel which potters
  use in molding clay; and he made of a forked stick the
  first pair of compasses for drawing circles; and he studied
  out many other curious and useful things.

  Dædalus was not pleased when he saw that the lad was                 5
  so apt and wise, so ready to learn, and so eager to do.

  "If he keeps on in this way," he murmured, "he will
  be a greater man than I; his name will be remembered
  and mine will be forgotten."

  Day after day, while at his work, Dædalus pondered over             10
  this matter, and soon his heart was filled with hatred
  towards young Perdix. One morning when the two were
  putting up an ornament on the outer wall of Athena's
  temple, Dædalus bade his nephew go out on a narrow
  scaffold which hung high over the edge of the rocky cliff           15
  whereon the temple stood. Then when the lad obeyed,
  it was easy enough, with a blow of a hammer, to knock
  the scaffold from its fastenings.

  Poor Perdix fell headlong through the air, and he would
  have been dashed in pieces upon the stones at the foot of           20
  the cliff had not kind Athena seen him and taken pity
  upon him. While he was yet whirling through mid-air
  she changed him into a partridge, and he flitted away to
  the hills to live forever in the woods and fields which he
  loved so well. And to this day, when summer breezes                 25
  blow and the wild flowers bloom in meadow and glade,
  the voice of Perdix may still sometimes be heard calling
  to his mate from among the grass and reeds or amid the
  leafy underwoods.

       *       *       *       *       *

  As for Dædalus, when the people of Athens heard of his              30
  dastardly deed they were filled with grief and rage--grief
  for young Perdix, whom all had learned to love; rage
  towards the wicked uncle who loved only himself. At first
  they were for punishing Dædalus with the death which
  he so richly deserved, but when they remembered what he
  had done to make their homes pleasanter and their lives              5
  easier they allowed him to live; and yet they drove him
  out of Athens and bade him never return.

  There was a ship in the harbor just ready to start on a
  voyage across the sea, and in it Dædalus embarked with
  all his precious tools and his young son Icarus (ĭk´à-rŭs).         10
  Day after day the little vessel sailed slowly southward,
  keeping the shore of the mainland always upon the right.
  It passed Trœzen and the rocky coast of Argos and then
  struck boldly out across the sea.

  At last the famous Island of Crete was reached, and                 15
  there Dædalus landed and made himself known; and the
  King of Crete, who had already heard of his wondrous
  skill, welcomed him to his kingdom, and gave him a home
  in his palace, and promised that he should be rewarded
  with great riches and honor if he would but stay and practice       20
  his craft there as he had done in Athens.

  Now the name of the King of Crete was Minos. His
  grandfather, whose name was also Minos, was the son of
  Europa, a young princess whom a white bull, it was said,
  had brought on his back across the sea from distant Asia.           25
  This elder Minos had been accounted the wisest of men--so
  wise, indeed, that Jupiter chose him to be one of the
  judges of the Lower World. The younger Minos was
  almost as wise as his grandfather; and he was brave and
  farseeing and skilled as a ruler of men. He had made all            30
  the islands subject to his kingdom, and his ships sailed
  into every part of the world and brought back to Crete
  the riches of foreign lands. So it was not hard for him to
  persuade Dædalus to make his home with him and be the
  chief of his artisans.

  And Dædalus built for King Minos a most wonderful
  palace with floors of marble and pillars of granite; and             5
  in the palace he set up golden statues which had tongues
  and could talk; and for splendor and beauty there was
  no other building in all the wide earth that could be compared
  with it.

  There lived in those days among the hills of Crete a                10
  terrible monster called the Minotaur (mĭn´ō-tôr), the like
  of which has never been seen from that time until now.
  This creature, it was said, had the body of a man but the
  face and head of a wild bull and the fierce nature of a
  mountain lion. The people of Crete would not have killed            15
  him if they could; for they thought that the Mighty Folk
  who lived with Jupiter on the mountain top had sent him
  among them and that these beings would be angry if anyone
  should take his life. He was the pest and terror of
  all the land. Where he was least expected, there he was             20
  sure to be; and almost every day some man, woman, or
  child was caught and devoured by him.

  "You have done so many wonderful things," said the
  king to Dædalus, "can you not do something to rid the
  land of this Minotaur?"                                             25

  "Shall I kill him?" asked Dædalus.

  "Ah, no!" said the king. "That would only bring
  greater misfortune upon us."

  "I will build a house for him then," said Dædalus, "and
  you can keep him in it as a prisoner."                              30

  "But he may pine away and die if he is penned up in
  prison," said the king.

  "He shall have plenty of room to roam about," said
  Dædalus; "and if you will only now and then feed one of
  your enemies to him, I promise you that he shall live and
  thrive."

  So the wonderful artisan brought together his workmen,               5
  and they built a marvelous house with so many rooms in
  it and so many winding ways that no one who went far
  into it could ever find his way out again; and Dædalus
  called it the Labyrinth and cunningly persuaded the
  Minotaur to go inside it. The monster soon lost his way             10
  among the winding passages, but the sound of his terrible
  bellowings could be heard day and night as he wandered
  back and forth vainly trying to find some place to escape.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Not long after this it happened that Dædalus was guilty
  of a deed which angered the king very greatly; and had              15
  not Minos wished him to build other buildings for him, he
  would have put him to death and served him right.

  "Hitherto," said the king, "I have honored you for your
  skill and rewarded you for your labor. But now you shall
  be my slave and shall serve me without hire and without             20
  any word of praise."

  Then he gave orders to the guards at the city gates that
  they should not let Dædalus pass out at any time, and he
  set soldiers to watch the ships that were in port so that
  he could not escape by sea. But although the wonderful              25
  artisan was thus held as a prisoner, he did not build any
  more buildings for King Minos; he spent his time in planning
  how he might regain his freedom.

  "All my inventions," he said to his son Icarus, "have
  hitherto been made to please other people; now I will               30
  invent something to please myself."

  So through all the day he pretended to be planning some
  great work for the king, but every night he locked himself
  up in his chamber and wrought secretly by candlelight.
  By and by he had made for himself a pair of strong wings,
  and for Icarus another pair of smaller ones; and then,               5
  one midnight, when everybody was asleep, the two went
  out to see if they could fly. They fastened the wings
  to their shoulders with wax, and then sprang up into the
  air. They could not fly very far at first, but they did so
  well that they felt sure of doing much better in time.              10

  The next night Dædalus made some changes in the wings.
  He put on an extra strap or two; he took out a feather
  from one wing and put a new feather into another; and
  then he and Icarus went out into the moonlight to try
  them again. They did finely this time. They flew up to              15
  the top of the king's palace, and then they sailed away over
  the walls of the city and alighted on the top of a hill. But
  they were not ready to undertake a long journey yet;
  and so just before daybreak, they flew back home. Every
  fair night after that they practiced with their wings, and          20
  at the end of a month they felt as safe in the air as on the
  ground and could skim over the hilltops like birds.

  Early one morning, before King Minos had risen from
  his bed, they fastened on their wings, sprang into the air,
  and flew out of the city. Once fairly away from the island          25
  they turned towards the west, for Dædalus had heard of
  an island named Sicily which lay hundreds of miles away,
  and he had made up his mind to seek a new home there.

  All went well for a time, and the two bold flyers sped
  swiftly over the sea, skimming along only a little above            30
  the waves, and helped on their way by the brisk east wind.
  Towards noon the sun shone very warm, and Dædalus
  called out to the boy, who was a little behind him, and told
  him to keep his wings cool and not fly too high. But the
  boy was proud of his skill in flying, and as he looked up at
  the sun he thought how nice it would be to soar like it
  high above the clouds in the blue depths of the sky.                 5

  "At any rate," said he to himself, "I will go up a little
  higher. Perhaps I can see the horses which draw the sun
  car, and perhaps I shall catch sight of their driver, the
  mighty sun master himself."

  So he flew up higher and higher, but his father, who was            10
  in front, did not see him. Pretty soon, however, the heat
  of the sun began to melt the wax with which the boy's
  wings were fastened. He felt himself sinking through the
  air; the wings had become loosened from his shoulders.
  He screamed to his father, but it was too late. Dædalus             15
  turned just in time to see Icarus fall headlong into the
  waves. The water was very deep there, and the skill of
  the wonderful artisan could not save his child. He could
  only look with sorrowing eyes at the unpitying sea, and
  fly on alone to distant Sicily. There, men say, he lived for        20
  many years, but he never did any great work nor built
  anything half so marvelous as the Labyrinth of Crete.
  And the sea in which poor Icarus was drowned was called
  forever afterward by his name, the Icarian Sea.

                                          --_Old Greek Stories._

         1. Dædalus's adventures can be divided into three
         sections. Tell what happened in each of the three
         episodes.

         2. For other interesting Greek legends read
         Baldwin's _Old Greek Stories_ or Guerber's _Myths
         of Ancient Greece and Rome_.



  CHARLEMAGNE AND ROLAND

  BY HÉLÈNE A. GUERBER

         A series of legends centers about the great emperor
         of France, Charlemagne (shar´lē-mān), and his
         nephew Roland. Charlemagne's sister Bertha had
         married an obscure knight, Milon, and had thus
         incurred the anger of her brother. The following
         story suggests the reconciliation of the two
         through the forwardness of Master Roland. Roland
         came to be known as the greatest knight of
         continental Europe in the Middle Ages.

         Read the selection with a view to understanding the
         characters of the two chief personages.


  Numerous stories are told of the way in which
  Roland first attracted the attention of the great
  emperor, his uncle. Of these the most popular is that
  which relates how Milon, attempting to ford a stream, had
  been carried away and drowned, while his poor half-famished          5
  wife at home was thus left to perish of hunger. Seeing
  the signs of such acute distress around him, the child went
  boldly to the banqueting hall near by, where Charlemagne
  and his lords were feasting. Casting his eyes round for a
  suitable dish to plunder, Roland caught up a platter of             10
  food and fled. His fearless act greatly amused the emperor,
  who forbade his servants to interfere. Thus the boy
  carried off his prize in triumph, and soon set it before the
  startled eyes of his mother.

  Excited by the success of his raid, a few minutes later the         15
  child reëntered the hall, and with equal coolness laid hands
  upon the emperor's cup, full of rich wine. Challenged by
  Charlemagne, the boy then boldly declared that he wanted
  the meat and wine for his mother, a lady of high degree.
  In answer to the emperor's bantering questions, he declared
  that he was his mother's cupbearer, her page, and
  her gallant knight, which answers so amused Charlemagne              5
  that he sent for her. He saw her to be his own sister, and,
  stricken with remorse, he asked for her forgiveness and
  treated her with kindness as long as she lived, and took her
  son into his service.

  Another legend relates that Charlemagne, hearing that               10
  the robber knight of the Ardennes had a priceless jewel
  set in his shield, called all his bravest noblemen together,
  and bade them sally forth separately, with only a page as
  escort, in quest of the knight. Once found, they were to
  challenge him in true knightly fashion, and at the point of         15
  the lance win the jewel he wore. A day was appointed
  when, successful or not, the courtiers were to return, and,
  beginning with the lowest in rank, were to give a truthful
  account of their adventures while on the quest.

  All the knights departed and scoured the forest of the              20
  Ardennes, each hoping to meet the robber knight and win
  the jewel. Among them was Milon, accompanied by his
  son Roland, a lad of fifteen, whom he had taken as page and
  armor-bearer. Milon had spent many days in vain search
  for the knight, when, exhausted by his long ride, he dismounted,    25
  removed his heavy armor, and lay down under a
  tree to sleep, bidding Roland keep close watch during his
  slumbers.

  For a while Roland watched faithfully; then, fired by a
  desire to distinguish himself, he donned his father's armor,        30
  sprang on his steed, and rode off into the forest in search of
  adventures. He had not gone very far when he saw a
  gigantic horseman coming to meet him, and by the dazzling
  glitter of a large stone set in his shield he recognized him to
  be the invincible knight of the Ardennes. Afraid of
  nothing, however, he laid his lance in rest when challenged
  to fight, and charged so bravely that he unhorsed                    5
  his opponent. A fearful battle on foot ensued, each striving
  hard to accomplish the death of the other. But at last the
  fresh young energy of Roland conquered, and his terrible
  foe fell to the ground in agony. A minute later his corpse
  lay stiff on the field, leaving the victory in the hands of         10
  Roland.

  Hastily wrenching the coveted jewel from the shield of
  the dead warrior, the boy hid it in his breast. Then, riding
  rapidly back to his sleeping father, he laid aside the armor
  and removed all traces of a bloody encounter. Soon after,           15
  Milon awoke and resumed the quest, when he came upon
  the body of the dead knight. He was disappointed indeed
  to find that another had won the jewel, and rode sadly back
  to court, to be present on the appointed day.

  In much pomp Charlemagne ascended his throne amid                   20
  the deafening sound of trumpets. Then, seating himself, he
  bade the knights appear before him and relate their adventures.
  One after another strode up the hall, followed by an
  armor-bearer holding his shield. Each in turn told of
  finding the knight slain and the jewel gone. Last of all            25
  came Milon. Gloomily he made his way to the throne
  to repeat the story that had already been told so often.
  But as he went, there followed behind him, with a radiant
  face, young Roland, proudly bearing his father's shield,
  in the center of which shone the precious jewel. At the             30
  sight of this all the nobles started, and whispered to one
  another that Milon had done the deed. Then when he
  dismally told how he too had found the knight dead a
  shout of incredulity greeted him. Turning his head, he
  saw to his amazement that his own shield bore the dazzling
  gem. At the sight of it he appeared so amazed that
  Charlemagne set himself to question Roland and thus soon             5
  learned how it had been obtained. In reward for his bravery
  in this encounter Roland was knighted, and allowed to
  take his place among the paladins of the emperor. Nor was
  it long before he further distinguished himself, becoming,
  to his father's delight, the most renowned of that famous           10
  company.

                   --_Myths and Legends of the Middle Ages._

         1. Explain fully the relationship between
         Charlemagne and Roland.

         2. How did Roland first attract the emperor's
         attention? What do these early acts of the youth
         show about the life and living of the times?

         3. When did Charlemagne live? Over what country did
         he rule? Explain the difference between an emperor
         and a king; a page and a knight.

         4. What feat did Roland perform when he was yet a
         page? One of the characteristics of a legend is its
         overstatement of fact. Is there anything improbable
         in Roland's overthrow of the knight? In a series of
         legendary stories, statements often conflict. What
         conflict of statement about Roland's father is
         there in this story?

         5. Any encyclopedia and many books of legends will
         tell you more about Roland. See what you can find,
         make brief notes of what you read, and report your
         findings from your notes to the class.

         6. Pronounce, spell, and define: amused; attracted;
         acute; interfere; triumph; gallant; separately;
         courtiers; distinguish; gigantic; opponent;
         disappointed; paladin.



  KEEPING THE BRIDGE

  BY THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY

 Ancient Rome stood on seven hills on the south shore of the Tiber     5
 River, which formed a part of the inner defensive works of the city.
 Only one bridge--a wooden affair--spanned the river. Across the
 Tiber was the Janiculum, a hill fortified as an outer post of defense.

 When Lars Porsena (Pŏr´sĕ-na), king of Etruria, declared sudden
 war on Rome, he marched on the city so rapidly that the Janiculum
 was carried by storm. Nothing stood between him and the City of
 the Seven Hills--unless the bridge were destroyed.                    10

 Horatius and two others elected to hold the bridgehead opposite
 the city against Porsena's entire army while the Romans cut down
 the bridge. The best of the Etruscan warriors came against the powerful
 three, only to be slain. Just before the bridge fell into the river,
 Horatius sent his two comrades back across the bridge to safety.
 He held his foes at bay single-handed till the structure fell into the 15
 water. Then he plunged into the Tiber with his heavy fighting gear
 on, and swam to the Roman side. Thus was the city saved.


    Out spake the Consul roundly:
      "The bridge must straight go down;
    For since Janiculum is lost,                                      20
      Naught else can save the town."
    Then out spake brave Horatius,                               5
      The Captain of the Gate:
    "To every man upon this earth
      Death cometh soon or late.
    And how can man die better                                        25
      Than facing fearful odds,                                 10
    For the ashes of his fathers
      And the temples of his gods?

    "Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul,
      With all the speed ye may;
    I, with two more to help me,
      Will hold the foe in play.
    In yon strait path a thousand                                      5
      May well be stopped by three.
    Now, who will stand on either hand,
      And keep the bridge with me?"

    Then out spake Spurius Lartius,--
      A Ramnian proud was he:                                         10
    "Lo, I will stand on thy right hand,
      And keep the bridge with thee."
    And out spake strong Herminius,--
      Of Titian blood was he:
    "I will abide on thy left side,                                   15
      And keep the bridge with thee."

    "Horatius," quoth the Consul,
      "As thou say'st, so let it be."
    And straight against that great array
      Forth went the dauntless three.                                 20
    For Romans, in Rome's quarrel,
      Spared neither land nor gold,
    Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life,
      In the brave days of old.

    The three stood calm and silent,                                  25
      And looked upon the foes,
    And a great shout of laughter
      From all the vanguard rose. . . .

    But soon Etruria's noblest
      Felt their hearts sink to see
    On the earth the bloody corpses,
      In the path the dauntless three!

    Meanwhile the ax and lever                                         5
      Have manfully been plied;
    And now the bridge hangs tottering
      Above the boiling tide.
    "Come back, come back, Horatius!"
      Loud cried the Fathers all;                                     10
    "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius!
      Back, ere the ruin fall!"

    Back darted Spurius Lartius;
      Herminius darted back;
    And, as they passed, beneath their feet                           15
      They felt the timbers crack.
    But when they turned their faces,
      And on the farther shore
    Saw brave Horatius stand alone,
      They would have crossed once more.                              20

    But, with a crash like thunder,
      Fell every loosened beam,
    And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
      Lay right athwart the stream;
    And a long shout of triumph                                       25
      Rose from the walls of Rome,
    As to the highest turret tops
      Was splashed the yellow foam.

    Alone stood brave Horatius,
      But constant still in mind;
    Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
      And the broad flood behind.
    "Down with him!" cried false Sextus,                               5
      With a smile on his pale face.
    "Now yield thee!" cried Lars Porsena,
      "Now yield thee to our grace."

    Round turned he, as not deigning
      Those craven ranks to see;                                      10
    Naught spake he to Lars Porsena,
      To Sextus naught spake he;
    But he saw on Palatinus
      The white porch of his home;
    And he spake to the noble river                                   15
      That rolls by the towers of Rome:

    "O Tiber! Father Tiber!
      To whom the Romans pray!
    A Roman's life, a Roman's arms,
      Take thou in charge this day!"                                  20
    So he spake, and speaking, sheathed
      The good sword by his side,
    And with his harness on his back,
      Plunged headlong in the tide.

    No sound of joy or sorrow                                         25
      Was heard from either bank;
    But friends and foes, in dumb surprise,
    With parted lips and straining eyes,
      Stood gazing where he sank;

    And when above the surges
      They saw his crest appear,
    All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
    And even the ranks of Tuscany
      Could scarce forbear to cheer.                                   5

    "Curse on him!" quoth false Sextus;
      "Will not the villain drown?
    But for this stay, ere close of day
      We should have sacked the town!"
    "Heaven help him!" quoth Lars Porsena,                            10
      "And bring him safe to shore;
    For such a gallant feat of arms
      Was never seen before."

    And now the ground he touches,
      Now on dry earth he stands;                                     15
    Now round him throng the Fathers,
      To press his gory hands;
    And now, with shouts and clapping,
      And noise of weeping loud,
    He enters through the River Gate,                                 20
      Borne by the joyous crowd.

                                              --_Horatius._

         1. This is one of the famous legends of Roman
         history, and it loses nothing in Macaulay's
         brilliant telling. Lord Macaulay (1800-1859) was an
         English statesman, essayist, historian, and poet.
         He reveled in the romance of history. Read and
         report on his life.

         2. What was the situation when this extract takes
         up the tale? How many soldiers had Porsena?

         3. Imagine yourself in Horatius's place. Read aloud
         his brave speech in the first and second stanzas.

         4. If you were dramatizing this whole situation,
         what scenes would you have? What would be the
         climax?



_PIONEER DAYS_


         _In these days of the automobile, the swift express
         train, the telephone, the telegraph, and the
         airplane, it is hard for us to realize that our
         country did not always possess the conveniences and
         comforts we now enjoy. We are too apt to forget the
         struggles the pioneer fathers of our nation had in
         their frontier life. To them we owe a debt of
         gratitude not only for what we have and are, but
         also for the deeds of heroism they have bequeathed
         us as a part of our national heritage._

[Illustration: MOLLY PITCHER SALUTES WASHINGTON

(_See following page_)]



  THE STORY OF MOLLY PITCHER

  BY FRANK R. STOCKTON

         The battle of Monmouth, N. J., was fought June 29,
         1778. It was the first battle the Americans had
         with the British after the terrible winter at
         Valley Forge. It would have been a signal victory
         for Washington's troops had General Charles Lee
         obeyed Washington's orders. Notwithstanding Lee's
         acts, the American troops held their ground till
         nightfall, when the British quietly retreated.


  At the battle of Monmouth, a young Irishwoman,
  wife of an artilleryman, played a very notable part
  in the working of the American cannon on that eventful
  day in June.

  Molly was born with the soul of a soldier, and although              5
  she did not belong to the army she much preferred going
  to war to staying at home and attending to domestic affairs.
  She was in the habit of following her husband on his various
  marches, and on the day of the Monmouth battle she was
  with him on the field.                                              10

  The day was very hot. The rays of the sun came down
  with such force that many of the soldiers were taken sick
  and some died; and the constant discharges of musketry
  and artillery did not make the air any cooler. Molly devoted
  herself to keeping her husband as comfortable as                    15
  possible, and she made frequent trips to a spring not far
  away to bring him water; and on this account he was one
  of the freshest and coolest artillerymen on the ground.
  In fact, there was no man belonging to the battery who was
  able to manage one of these great guns better than Pitcher.         20
  Returning from one of her trips to the spring, Molly
  had almost reached the place where her husband was
  stationed when a bullet from the enemy struck the poor
  man and stretched him dead, so that Molly had no sooner
  caught sight of her husband than she saw him fall. She               5
  ran to the gun, but scarcely had reached it before she heard
  one of the officers order the cannon to be wheeled back out
  of the way, saying that there was no one there who could
  serve it as it had been served.

  Now Molly's eyes flashed fire. One might have thought               10
  that she would have been prostrated with grief at the loss
  of her husband, but as we have said, she had within her
  the soul of a soldier. She had seen her husband, who was
  the same to her as a comrade, fall, and she was filled with
  an intense desire to avenge his death. She cried out to             15
  the officer not to send the gun away but to let her serve it;
  and scarcely waiting to hear what he would say, she sprang
  to the cannon and began to load it and fire it. She had so
  often attended her husband and even helped him in his
  work that she knew all about this sort of thing, and her            20
  gun was managed well and rapidly.

  It might be supposed that it would be a very strange
  thing to see a woman on the battlefield firing a cannon;
  but even if the enemy had watched Molly with a spyglass,
  they would not have noticed anything to excite their surprise.      25
  She wore an ordinary skirt, like other women of
  the time; but over this was an artilleryman's coat and on
  her head was a cocked hat with some jaunty feathers stuck
  in it, so that she looked almost as much like a man as the
  rest of the soldiers of the battery.                                30

  During the rest of the battle Molly bravely served her
  gun; and if she did as much execution in the ranks of the
  redcoats as she wanted to do, the loss in the regiments in
  front of her must have been very great. Of course all the
  men in the battery knew Molly Pitcher, and they watched
  her with the greatest interest and admiration. She would
  not allow anyone to take her place, but kept on loading and          5
  firing until the work of the day was done. Then the
  officers and men crowded about her with congratulations
  and praise.

  The next day General Greene went to Molly--whom he
  found in very much the condition in which she had left              10
  the battlefield, stained with dirt and powder, with her
  fine feathers gone and her cocked hat dilapidated--and
  conducted her, just as she was, to General Washington.
  When the commander in chief heard what she had done,
  he gave her warm words of praise. He determined to                  15
  bestow upon her a substantial reward; for anyone who was
  brave enough and able enough to step in and fill an important
  place, as Molly had filled her husband's place,
  certainly deserved a reward. It was not according to the
  rules of war to give a commission to a woman; but as                20
  Molly had acted the part of a man, Washington considered
  it right to pay her for her services as if she had been a man.
  He therefore gave her the commission of a sergeant and
  recommended that her name be placed on the list of half-pay
  officers for life.                                                  25

                              --_Stories of New Jersey._

         1. How did Molly come to be on the battlefield?
         Describe her as she looked in an artilleryman's
         garb. Relate briefly her deed of heroism. How was
         it rewarded?

         2. What other heroines of history can you recall?

         3. Frank R. Stockton (1834-1902) is a well-known
         name in American literature. He wrote many books,
         among which _Rudder Grange_ stands high. His short
         stories, however, are his best work.



  KING PHILIP TO THE WHITE SETTLERS

  BY EDWARD EVERETT

         For thirty years Massasoit was the firm friend of
         the early settlers in New England. But when his son
         Philip came to rule over the Indian tribe their
         former friendship for the whites was broken. In
         1675 Philip led his 10,000 warriors against the
         white settlers. King Philip's War lasted into 1676
         when Philip was captured and slain. The following
         is a supposed speech of defiance that Philip
         delivered to the colonists.


  White man, there is eternal war between thee and
  me! I quit not the land of my fathers but with my
  life. In those woods where I bent my youthful bow, I will
  still hunt the deer. Over yonder waters I will still glide
  unrestrained in my bark canoe. By those dashing waterfalls           5
  I will still lay up my winter's store of food. On these
  fertile meadows I will still plant my corn. Stranger, the
  land is mine! I understand not these paper rights. I gave
  not my consent when, as thou sayest, these broad regions
  were purchased, for a few baubles, of my fathers. They              10
  could sell what was theirs; they could sell no more. How
  could my fathers sell that which the Great Spirit sent me
  into the world to live upon? They knew not what they
  did. The stranger came, a timid suppliant, few and
  feeble, and asked to lie down on the red man's bearskin, and        15
  warm himself at the red man's fire, and have a little piece
  of land to raise corn for his women and children; and now
  he is become strong, and mighty, and bold, and spreads
  out his parchment over the whole, and says, "It is mine!"
  Stranger, there is not room for us both. The Great Spirit
  has not made us to live together. There is poison in the
  white man's cup; the white man's dog barks at the red
  man's heels.

  If I should leave the land of my fathers, whither shall I            5
  fly? Shall I go to the south, and dwell among the graves
  of the Pequots? Shall I wander to the west?--the fierce
  Mohawk, the man-eater, is my foe. Shall I fly to the east?--the
  great water is before me. No, stranger, here I have
  lived, and here I will die! And if here thou abidest, there         10
  is eternal war between thee and me. Thou hast taught
  me thy arts of destruction. For that alone I thank thee;
  and now take heed to thy steps; the red man is thy foe.
  When thou goest forth by day, my bullet shall whistle
  by thee; when thou liest down at night, my knife is at thy          15
  throat. The noonday sun shall not discover thy enemy,
  and the darkness of midnight shall not protect thy rest.
  Thou shalt plant in terror, and I will reap in blood; thou
  shalt sow the earth with corn, and I will strew it with ashes;
  thou shalt go forth with the sickle, and I will follow after        20
  with the scalping knife; thou shalt build, and I will burn,
  till the white man or the Indian shall cease from the land.
  Go thy way, for this time, in safety; but remember,
  stranger, there is eternal war between me and thee.

         1. What reasons did Philip give for declaring war?
         To what extent were his reasons good?

         2. What did he mean by "paper rights"; "a timid
         suppliant"; "poison in the white man's cup"; "arts
         of destruction"?

         3. Edward Everett (1794-1865) was an American
         statesman, orator, and scholar. He served as a
         member of Congress, and afterwards was president of
         Harvard College. He was the leading orator of his
         day.



  PIONEER LIFE IN OHIO

  BY WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS

         William Dean Howells (1837-1920) long held a
         position of leadership among American writers of
         prose. In his many years of authorship he produced
         novels, essays, criticism, plays, travel, and
         biography. For ten years he was editor of the
         _Atlantic Monthly_; and he was connected at various
         times with _Harper's Magazine_, _The Nation_, and
         other journals. His writings excel in the
         truthfulness of the descriptions.


  It would not be easy to say where or when the first log
  cabin was built, but it is safe to say that it was somewhere
  in the English colonies of North America, and it is
  certain that it became the type of the settler's house
  throughout the whole Middle West. It may be called the               5
  American house, the Western house, the Ohio house.
  Hardly any other house was built for a hundred years by the
  men who were clearing the land for the stately mansions of
  our day. As long as the primeval forests stood, the log cabin
  remained the woodsman's home; and not fifty years ago               10
  I saw log cabins newly built in one of the richest and most
  prosperous regions of Ohio. They were, to be sure, log
  cabins of a finer pattern than the first settler reared. They
  were of logs handsomely shaped with the broadax; the
  joints between the logs were plastered with mortar; the             15
  chimney at the end was of stone; the roof was shingled,
  the windows were of glass, and the door was solid and well
  hung. They were such cabins as were the homes of the
  well-to-do settlers in all the older parts of the West. But
  throughout that region there were many log cabins, mostly
  sunk to the uses of stables and corn cribs, of the kind that
  the borderers built in the times of the Indian War, from
  1750 to 1800. They were framed of the round logs, untouched
  by the ax except for the notches at the ends where                   5
  they were fitted into one another; the chimney was of
  small sticks stuck together with mud, and was as frail
  as a barn-swallow's nest; the walls were stuffed with moss,
  plastered with clay; the floor was of rough boards called
  puncheons, riven from the block with a heavy knife; the             10
  roof was of clapboards, split from logs and laid loosely on
  the rafters and held in place with logs fastened athwart
  them.

  When the first settlers broke the silence of the woods
  with the stroke of their axes and hewed out a space for their       15
  cabins and their fields, they inclosed their homes with a
  high stockade of logs, for defense against the Indians; or
  if they built their cabins outside the wooden walls of their
  stronghold, they always expected to flee to it at the first
  alarm and to stand siege within it. The Indians had                 20
  no cannon, and the logs of the stockade were proof against
  their rifles; if a breach was made, there was still the blockhouse
  left, the citadel of every little fort. This was heavily
  built, and pierced with loopholes for the riflemen within,
  whose wives ran bullets for them at its mighty hearth, and          25
  who kept the savage foe from its sides by firing down upon
  them through the projecting timbers of its upper story;
  but in many a fearful siege the Indians set the roof ablaze
  with arrows wrapped in burning tow, and then the fight
  became desperate indeed. After the Indian War ended,                30
  the stockade was no longer needed, and the settlers had
  only the wild beasts to contend with, and those constant
  enemies of the poor in all ages and conditions--hunger
  and cold.

  They deadened the trees around them by girdling them
  with the ax, and planted the spaces between the leafless
  trunks with corn and beans and pumpkins. These were                  5
  their necessaries, but they had an occasional luxury in the
  wild honey from the hollow of a bee tree when the bears
  had not got at it. In its season, there was an abundance
  of wild fruit, plums and cherries, haws and grapes, berries
  and nuts of every kind, and the maples yielded all the              10
  sugar they chose to make from them. But it was long
  before they had, at any time, the profusion which our
  modern arts enable us to enjoy the whole year round, and
  in the hard beginnings the orchard and the garden were
  forgotten for the fields. Their harvests must pay for the           15
  acres bought of the government, or from some speculator
  who had never seen the land; and the settler must be
  prompt in paying, or else see his home pass from him after
  all his toil into the hands of strangers. He worked hard
  and he fared hard, and if he was safer when peace came,             20
  it is doubtful if he were otherwise more fortunate. As the
  game grew scarcer it was no longer so easy to provide food
  for his family; the change from venison and wild turkey
  to the pork which early began to prevail in his diet was
  hardly a wholesome one. Besides, in cutting down the                25
  trees he opened spaces to the sun which had been harmless
  enough in the shadow of the woods, but which now sent up
  their ague-breeding miasma. Ague was the scourge of
  the whole region, and it was hard to know whether the
  pestilence was worse on the rich levels beside the rivers, or       30
  on the stony hills where the settlers sometimes built to
  escape it.

  When once the settler was housed against the weather,
  he had the conditions of a certain rude comfort indoors.
  If his cabin was not proof against the wind and rain or snow,
  its vast fireplace formed the means of heating, while the
  forest was an inexhaustible store of fuel. At first he dressed       5
  in the skins and pelts of the deer and fox and wolf, and his
  costume could have varied little from that of the red savage
  about him, for we often read how he mistook Indians
  for white men at first sight, and how the Indians in their
  turn mistook white men for their own people. The whole              10
  family went barefoot in the summer, but in winter the
  pioneer wore moccasins of buckskin and buckskin leggins
  or trousers; his coat was a hunting shirt belted at the
  waist and fringed where it fell to his knees. It was of
  homespun, a mixture of wool and flax called linsey-woolsey,         15
  and out of this the dresses of his wife and daughters were
  made. The wool was shorn from the sheep, which were so
  scarce that they were never killed for their flesh, except
  by the wolves, which were very fond of mutton but had
  no use for wool. For a wedding dress a cotton check was             20
  thought superb, and it really cost a dollar a yard; silks,
  satins, laces, were unknown. A man never left his house
  without his rifle; the gun was a part of his dress, and in
  his belt he carried a hunting knife and a hatchet; on his
  head he wore a cap of squirrel skin, often with the plume-like      25
  tail dangling from it.

  The furniture of the cabins was, like the clothing of
  the pioneers, homemade. A bedstead was contrived by
  stretching poles from forked sticks driven into the ground
  and laying clapboards across them; the bedclothes were              30
  bearskins. Stools, benches, and tables were roughed out
  with auger and broadax; the puncheon floor was left bare,
  and if the earth formed the floor, no rug ever replaced the
  grass which was its first carpet. The cabin had but one
  room, where the whole of life went on by day; the father
  and mother slept there at night, and the children mounted
  to their chamber in the loft by means of a ladder.                   5

  The food was what has been already named. The meat
  was venison, bear, raccoon, wild turkey, wild duck, and
  pheasant; the drink was water, or rye coffee, or whisky,
  which the little stills everywhere supplied only too abundantly.
  Wheat bread was long unknown, and corn cakes                        10
  of various makings and bakings supplied its place. The
  most delicious morsel of all was corn grated while still in
  the milk and fashioned into round cakes eaten hot from
  the clapboard before the fire, or from the mysterious depths
  of the Dutch oven buried in coals and ashes on the hearth.          15
  There was soon a great flow of milk from the kine that
  multiplied in the pastures in the woods, and there was sweetening
  enough from the maple tree and the bee tree, but
  salt was very scarce and very dear, and long journeys
  were made through the perilous woods to and from the                20
  licks, or salt springs, which the deer had discovered before
  the white man or the red man knew them.

  The bees which hived their honey in the hollow trees
  were tame bees gone wild, and with the coming of the
  settlers some of the wild things increased so much that             25
  they became a pest. Such were the crows which literally
  blackened the fields after the settlers plowed, and which
  the whole family had to fight from the corn when it was
  planted. Such were the rabbits, and such, above all, were
  the squirrels, which overran the farms and devoured every           30
  green thing till the people combined in great squirrel hunts
  and destroyed them by tens of thousands. The larger
  game had meanwhile disappeared. The buffalo and the
  elk went first; the deer followed, and the bear, and even
  the useless wolf. But long after these the poisonous reptiles
  lingered, the rattlesnake, the moccasin, and the yet-deadlier
  copperhead; and it was only when the whole                           5
  country was cleared that they ceased to be a very common
  danger.

                                     --_Stories of Ohio._

         1. Make a pen or pencil sketch of the log house
         Howells describes; of the bedstead. Help the class
         make a display board of printed pictures that
         illustrate the objects mentioned.

         2. What were the hardships of pioneering? The
         pleasures? Make a list of modern household
         conveniences the American pioneer did not have.



  WITCHCRAFT

  BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE

         Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) is one of the
         best-known figures in American literature. He was a
         New Englander, and most of his writings deal with
         events or situations located in New England. He was
         especially happy in retelling old stories or in
         constructing tales from historical events.


  Sir William Phips became Governor of Massachusetts
  in 1692. Almost as soon as he assumed the government
  he became engaged in a frightful business which
  might have perplexed a wiser and better-cultivated head
  than his. This was the witchcraft delusion, which originated         5
  in the wicked arts of a few children. They belonged
  to the Rev. Mr. Parris, minister of Salem. These children
  complained of being pinched, and pricked with pins, and
  otherwise tormented, by the shapes of men and women,
  who were supposed to have power to haunt them invisibly
  both in darkness and daylight.

  Often in the midst of their family and friends the children
  would pretend to be seized with strange convulsions and              5
  would cry out that the witches were afflicting them. These
  stories spread abroad and caused great tumult and alarm.
  From the foundation of New England it had been the custom
  of the inhabitants, in matters of doubt and difficulty,
  to look to their ministers for counsel. So they did now;            10
  but unfortunately the ministers and wise men were more
  deluded than the illiterate people. Cotton Mather, a
  very learned and eminent clergyman, believed that the
  whole country was full of witches and wizards who had
  given up their hopes of heaven and signed a covenant with           15
  the Evil One.

  Nobody could be certain that his nearest neighbor or
  most intimate friend was not guilty of this imaginary crime.
  The number of those who pretended to be afflicted by
  witchcraft grew daily more numerous; and they bore                  20
  testimony against many of the best and worthiest people.
  A minister named George Burroughs was among the
  accused. In the months of August and September, 1692,
  he and nineteen other innocent men and women were put
  to death. The place of execution was a high hill on the             25
  outskirts of Salem; so that many of the sufferers, as they
  stood beneath the gallows, could discern their habitations
  in the town.

  The killing of these guiltless persons served only to
  increase the madness. The afflicted now grew bolder in              30
  their accusations. Many people of rank and wealth were
  either thrown into prison or compelled to flee for their
  lives. Among these were two sons of old Simon Bradstreet,
  the last of the Puritan governors. Mr. Willard, a pious
  minister of Boston, was cried out upon as a wizard in open
  court. Mrs. Hale, the wife of the minister of Beverly,
  was likewise accused. Philip English, a rich merchant of             5
  Salem, found it necessary to take flight, leaving his property
  and business in confusion. But a short time afterward
  the Salem people were glad to invite him back.

  The boldest thing the accusers did was to cry out against
  the Governor's own beloved wife. Yes, the lady of Sir               10
  William Phips was accused of being a witch and of flying
  through the air to attend witch meetings. When the
  Governor heard this, he probably trembled.

  Our forefathers soon became convinced that they had
  been led into a terrible delusion. All the prisoners on             15
  account of witchcraft were set free. But the innocent
  dead could not be restored to life, and the hill where they
  were executed will always remind people of the saddest
  and most humiliating passage in our history.

                                  --_Grandfather's Chair._

         1. Find a biography of Hawthorne and report to the
         class on one of the following topics: his youth and
         education; his early manhood; his writings. In
         place of either of these subjects you may
         substitute the retelling of another story of
         Hawthorne's you have read.

         2. Briefly, what is the history of witchcraft in
         New England?

         3. How do you account for people as level-headed as
         the New England settlers believing in witches?



  TEA PARTIES IN OLD NEW YORK

  BY WASHINGTON IRVING

         This extract portrays social life among the early
         Dutch settlers on the island of Manhattan. It is
         written in Irving's deliciously humorous style.


  In those happy days, a well-regulated family always
  rose with the dawn, dined at eleven, and went to bed
  at sundown. Dinner was invariably a private meal, and
  the fat old burghers showed incontestable symptoms of
  disapprobation and uneasiness on being surprised by a                5
  visit from a neighbor on such occasions. But though our
  worthy ancestors were thus singularly averse to giving
  dinners, yet they kept up the social bonds of intimacy by
  occasional banquetings, called tea parties.

  As this is the first introduction of those delectable orgies        10
  which have since become so fashionable in this city, I am
  conscious my fair readers will be very curious to receive
  information on the subject. Sorry am I that there will be
  but little in my description calculated to excite their admiration.
  I can neither delight them with accounts of suffocating             15
  crowds, nor brilliant drawing rooms, nor towering
  feathers, nor sparkling diamonds, nor immeasurable trains.

  I can detail no choice anecdotes of scandal, for in those
  primitive times the simple folk were either too stupid or
  too good-natured to pull each other's characters to pieces;         20
  nor can I furnish any whimsical anecdotes of brag--how
  one lady cheated or another bounced into a passion; for
  as yet there was no junto of dulcet old dowagers who met
  to win each other's money and lose their own tempers at
  a card table.

  These fashionable parties were generally confined to the
  higher classes, or _noblesse_; that is to say, such as kept their
  own cows and drove their own wagons. The company                     5
  commonly assembled at three o'clock and went away about
  six, unless it was winter time, when the fashionable hours
  were a little earlier, that the ladies might get home before
  dark. I do not find that they ever treated their company
  to ice creams, jellies, or sillabubs, or regaled them with          10
  musty almonds, moldy raisins, or sour oranges, as is often
  done in the present age of refinement. Our ancestors were
  fond of more sturdy, substantial fare. The tea table was
  crowned with a huge earthen dish, well stored with slices
  of fat pork, fried brown, cut up into morsels, and swimming         15
  in gravy.

  The company, being seated around the genial board and
  each furnished with a fork, evinced their dexterity in
  launching at the fattest pieces of this mighty dish in much
  the same manner as sailors harpoon porpoises at sea or              20
  our Indians spear salmon in the lakes. Sometimes the
  table was graced with immense apple pies or saucers full
  of preserved peaches and pears; but it was always sure to
  boast of an enormous dish of balls of sweetened dough
  fried in hog's fat and called doughnuts; a delicious kind           25
  of cake, at present scarce known in this city except in genuine
  Dutch families.

  The tea was served out of a majestic delft teapot ornamented
  with paintings of fat little Dutch shepherds and
  shepherdesses tending pigs, with boats sailing in the air           30
  and houses built in the clouds, and sundry other ingenious
  Dutch fantasies. The beaux distinguished themselves by
  their adroitness in replenishing this pot from a huge copper
  teakettle which would have made the pigmy macaronis
  of these degenerate days sweat merely to look at it. To
  sweeten the beverage, a lump of sugar was laid beside each
  cup, and the company alternately nibbled and sipped with             5
  great decorum; until an improvement was introduced
  by a shrewd and economic old lady, which was to suspend
  a large lump directly over the tea table by a string from
  the ceiling, so that it could be swung from mouth to mouth--an
  ingenious expedient, which is still kept up by some                 10
  families in Albany, but which prevails without exception
  in Communipaw, Bergen, Flatbush, and all our uncontaminated
  Dutch villages.

  At these primitive tea parties the utmost propriety and
  dignity of deportment prevailed. No flirting nor coquetting;        15
  no gambling of old ladies nor hoyden chattering and
  romping of young ones; no self-satisfied struttings of
  wealthy gentlemen with their brains in their pockets nor
  amusing conceits and monkey divertisements of smart
  young gentlemen with no brains at all.                              20

  The parties broke up without noise and without confusion.
  They were carried home by their own carriages; that
  is to say, by the vehicles nature had provided them, excepting
  such of the wealthy as could afford to keep a wagon.

                        --_Knickerbocker's History of New York._

         1. Read some passages in which Irving pokes fun at
         the Dutch customs; at the customs of his own times.

         2. How was a tea party conducted in New Amsterdam?

         3. Explain these words: incontestable,
         disapprobation, averse, delectable, orgies,
         whimsical, junto, dulcet, dowagers, macaronis,
         pigmy, hoyden, divertisements. Read your definition
         into the sentence where the word occurs.



  A SCHOOL OF LONG AGO

  BY EDWARD EGGLESTON

         The following description of a pioneer school in
         Pennsylvania affords a fine opportunity to study
         the methods of teaching then in vogue. Many of them
         may appeal to us as being ludicrous; but
         undoubtedly Dock's teaching was in many ways far in
         advance of the times, when the usual and
         most-approved method of "imparting knowledge"
         consisted in beating ideas into pupils' heads with
         hickory switches.


  A hundred and fifty years ago there was a famous
  teacher among the German settlers in Pennsylvania,
  who was known as "The Good Schoolmaster." His name
  was Christopher Dock, and he had two little country schools.
  For three days he would teach at a little place called Skippack,     5
  and then for the next three days he would teach at
  Salford.

  People said that the good schoolmaster never lost his
  temper. There was a man who thought he would try to
  make him angry. He said many harsh and abusive words                10
  to the teacher, and even cursed him; but the only reply
  the teacher made was, "Friend, may the Lord have mercy
  on you."

  Other schoolmasters used to beat their scholars severely
  with whips and long switches; but Schoolmaster Dock                 15
  had found a better way. When a child came to school for
  the first time, the other scholars were made to give the
  new scholar a welcome by shaking hands with him one
  after another. Then the new boy or girl was told that
  this was not a harsh school but a place for those who would
  behave. And if a scholar were lazy, disobedient, or stubborn,
  the master would in the presence of the whole school
  pronounce him not fit for this school but only for a school
  where children were flogged. The new scholar was asked               5
  to promise to obey and to be diligent. When he had made
  this promise, he was shown to a seat.

  "Now," the good master would say, when this was
  done, "who will take this new scholar and help him to
  learn?" When the new boy or girl was clean and bright               10
  looking, many would be willing to take charge of him or
  her; but there were few ready to teach a dirty, ragged little
  child. Sometimes no one would wish to do it. In such a
  case the master would offer to the one who would take such
  a child a reward of one of the beautiful texts of Scripture         15
  which the schoolmasters of that time used to write and
  decorate for the children. Or he would give him one of
  the pictures of birds which he was accustomed to paint
  with his own hands.

  Whenever one of the younger scholars succeeded in                   20
  learning his A, B, C, Christopher Dock would send word
  to the father of the child to give him a penny, and he would
  ask his mother to cook two eggs for him as a treat. These
  were fine rewards for poor children in a new country.

  There were no clocks or watches in the country. The                 25
  children came to school one after another, taking their
  places near the master, who sat writing. They spent
  their time reading until all were there; but everyone who
  succeeded in reading his passage without mistake stopped
  reading and came and sat at the writing table to write.             30
  The poor fellow who remained last on the bench was called
  the Lazy Scholar.

  Every Lazy Scholar had his name written on the blackboard.
  If a child at any time failed to read correctly, he
  was sent back to study his passage and called again after
  a while. If he failed a second or a third time, all the scholars
  cried out, "Lazy!" Then his name was written on                      5
  the blackboard, and all the poor Lazy Scholar's friends
  went to work to teach him to read his lesson correctly. And
  if his name should not be rubbed off the board before school
  was dismissed, all the scholars might write it down and
  take it home with them. But if he could read well before            10
  school was out, the scholars, at the bidding of the master,
  called out, "Industrious!" and then his name was erased.

  The funniest of Dock's rewards was that which he gave
  to those who made no mistake in their lessons. He marked
  a large O with chalk on the hand of the perfect scholar.            15
  Fancy what a time the boys and girls must have had, trying
  to go home without rubbing out this O!

  If you had gone into this school some day, you might
  have seen a boy sitting on a punishment bench, all alone.
  This was a fellow who had told a lie or used bad language.          20
  He was put there as not fit to sit near anybody else. If
  he committed the offense often, a yoke would be put round
  his neck, as if he were a brute. Sometimes, however, the
  teacher would give the scholars their choice of a blow on
  the hand or a seat on the punishment bench. They usually            25
  preferred the blow.

  The old schoolmaster in Skippack wrote one hundred
  rules of good behavior for his scholars. This is perhaps the
  first book on good manners written in America. But rules
  of behavior for people living in houses of one or two rooms,        30
  as they did in that day, were very different from those
  needed in our time. Here are some of the rules:

  "When you comb your hair, do not go out in the middle
  of the room," says the schoolmaster. This was because families
  were accustomed to eat and sleep in the same room.

  "Do not eat your morning bread on the road or in school,"
  he tells them, "but ask your parents to give it to you at            5
  home." From this we see that the common breakfast
  was bread alone, and that the children often ate it as they
  walked to school.

  "Put your knife upon the right and your bread on the
  left side," he says. Forks were little used in those days,          10
  and the people in the country did not have any. He also
  tells them not to throw bones under the table. It was a
  common practice among some people of that time to throw
  bones and scraps under the table, where the dogs ate them.

  As time passed on, Christopher Dock had many friends,               15
  for all his scholars of former years loved him greatly. He
  lived to be very old, and taught his schools to the last.
  One evening he did not come home, and the people went
  to look for the beloved old man. They found their dear
  old master on his knees in the schoolhouse. He had died             20
  while praying alone.

                  --_Stories of American Life and Adventure._

         1. How was Christopher Dock's school different from
         most pioneer schools of that day?

         2. How did he teach good behavior? What inducements
         were offered for scholarship? You often hear people
         say that only the "three R's" were taught when they
         went to school. What do they mean?

         3. What information about pioneer home life does
         this article give you?

         4. You will be interested to know that the pupils
         in the early schools studied their reading aloud at
         the top of their voices. They learned reading by
         singing "ab," "ba," etc. Later, when geography was
         taught, the capitals of the states were sung.



  FRENCH LIFE IN THE NORTHWEST

  BY JAMES BALDWIN

         You will recall that the French explorers
         Marquette, Joliet, La Salle, and others established
         missions and trading posts in the Illinois country.
         It was due to these early explorations that the
         French got control of a large part of the Northwest
         Territory.

         The following narrative tells of the simple life of
         the French settlers in that territory.


  It is interesting to learn how the French people in the
  Illinois country lived in friendship with the savage
  tribes around them. The settlements were usually small
  villages on the edge of a prairie or in the heart of the woods.
  They were always near the bank of a river; for the watercourses      5
  were the only roads and the light canoes of the
  _voyageurs_ were the only means of travel. There the French
  settlers lived like one great family, having for their rulers
  the village priest and the older men of the community.

  The houses were built along a single narrow street and so           10
  close together that the villagers could carry on their
  neighborly gossip each from his own doorstep. These
  houses were made of a rude framework of corner posts,
  studs, and crossties, and were plastered, outside and in,
  with "cat and clay"--a kind of mortar, made of mud and              15
  mixed with straw and moss. Around each house was a
  picket fence, and the forms of the dooryards and gardens
  were regulated by the village lawgivers.

  Adjoining the village was a large inclosure, or "common
  field," for the free use of all the villagers. The size of          20
  this field depended upon the number of families in the
  settlement; it sometimes contained several hundred acres.
  It was divided into plots or allotments, one for each household,
  and the size of the plot was proportioned according
  to the number of persons in the family. Each household               5
  attended to the cultivation of its own ground and gathered
  its own harvest. And if anyone should neglect to care for
  his plot and let it become overgrown with weeds and thistles,
  he forfeited his right to any part of the common field and
  his ground was given to another.                                    10

  Surrounding the common field was a large tract of
  cleared land that was used as a common pasture ground.
  In some cases there were thousands of acres in this tract,
  and yet no person was allowed to use any part of it except
  for the pasturage of his stock. When a new family came              15
  into the settlement or a newly married couple began housekeeping,
  a small part of the pasture ground was taken into
  the common field, in order to give the new household its
  proper allotment.

  The priest occupied the place of father to all the villagers,       20
  whether white or red. They confided all their troubles to
  him. He was their oracle in matters of learning as well as
  of religion. They obeyed his word as law.

  The great business of all was fur trading and the care of
  their little plots of ground. The women kept their homes            25
  in order, tended their gardens, and helped with the plowing
  and the harvesting. The men were the protectors of the
  community. Some were soldiers, some were traders, but
  most were engaged in hunting and in gathering beaver skins
  and buffalo hides to be sold to the traders.                        30

  The traders kept a small stock of French goods--laces,
  ribbons, and other articles, useful and ornamental--and
  these they exchanged for the products of the forest. The
  young men, as a rule, sought business and pleasure in the
  great woods. Some of them became _voyageurs_, or boatmen,
  in the service of the traders. In their light canoes they
  explored every rivulet and stream and visited the distant            5
  tribes among the sources of the Mississippi and Missouri.
  Others took to the forest as woods rangers, or _coureurs de
  bois_, and became almost as wild as the Indians themselves.
  They wandered wherever their fancy led them, hunting
  game, trapping beavers, and trading with their dusky                10
  friends. Those who roamed in the Lake regions built here
  and there small forts of logs and surrounded them with
  palisades. In one of these forts a company of two or three
  _coureurs_ would remain for a few weeks and then leave it
  to be occupied by anyone who might next come that way.              15
  A post of this kind was built at Detroit long before any
  permanent settlement was made there; and scattered long
  distances apart on the Lake shore and in the heart of the
  wilderness, were many others.

  The northern _coureurs_, when returning from the woods,             20
  resorted to Mackinac as their headquarters; or loaded
  with beaver skins they made their way to Montreal,
  where they conducted themselves in a manner that would
  have shamed a Mohawk or a Sioux. But the rangers
  of the Illinois country were in the habit of returning once         25
  each year to their village homes. There they were welcomed
  with joy, balls and festivals were given in their
  honor, and old and young gathered around them to hear
  the story of their adventures.

  Thus in the heart of the wilderness, these French settlers          30
  passed their lives in the enjoyment of unbounded freedom.
  They delighted in amusements and there were almost as
  many holidays as working days. Being a thousand miles
  from any center of civilization they knew but little of what
  was taking place in the world. In their hearts they were
  devoted to their mother country; they believed that
  "France ruled the world and therefore all must be right."            5
  Further than this they troubled themselves but little.
  They were contented and happy and seldom allowed
  themselves to be annoyed by the perplexing cares of
  business.

  They had no wish to subdue the wilderness--to hew                   10
  down the forest, and make farms, and build roads, and
  bring civilization to their doors. To do this would be to
  change the modes of living that were so dear to them. It
  would destroy the fur trade, and then what would become
  of the traders, the _voyageurs_, and the _coureurs                  15
  de bois_? These French settlers were not the kind of people to
  found colonies and build empires.

  We are indebted to Father Marest for a description
  of the daily routine of life among the converts and French
  settlers at Kaskaskia. At early dawn his pupils came to             20
  him in the church, where they had prayers and all joined
  in singing hymns. Then the Christians in the village met
  together to hear him say Mass--the women standing on
  one side of the room, the men on the other.

  The French women were dressed in prettily colored                   25
  jackets and short gowns of homemade woolen stuffs or of
  French goods of finer texture. In summer most of them
  were barefooted, but in winter and on holidays they wore
  Indian moccasins gayly decorated with porcupine quills,
  shells, and colored beads. Instead of hats they wore                30
  bright-colored handkerchiefs, interlaced with gay ribbons
  and sometimes wreathed with flowers.

  The men wore long vests drawn over their shirts, leggings
  of buckskin or of coarse woolen cloth, and wooden clog
  shoes or moccasins of heavy leather. In winter they
  wrapped themselves in long overcoats with capes and hoods
  that could be drawn over their heads and thus serve for              5
  hats. In summer their heads were covered with blue
  handkerchiefs worn turbanlike as a protection from mosquitoes
  as well as from the rays of the sun.

  After the morning devotions were over, each person
  betook himself to whatever business or amusement was                10
  most necessary or congenial; and the priest went out to
  visit the sick, giving them medicine and consoling them in
  whatever way he could. In the afternoon those who chose
  to do so came again to the church to be taught the catechism.
  During the rest of the day the priest walked about                  15
  the village, talking with old and young and entering into
  sympathy with all their hopes and plans. In the evening
  the people would meet together again to chant the hymns
  of the church. This daily round of duty and devotion
  was often varied by the coming of holidays and festivals            20
  and sometimes by occurrences of a sadder nature--death,
  or misfortune, or the threatened invasion of savage foes.

                   --_The Discovery of the Old Northwest._

         1. Contrast the life of these French communities
         with the life of the Dutch settlers as described in
         pages 70-72. How did it differ from pioneer life in
         Ohio (pages 62-67)?

         2. Why did the French communities not make
         progress? Why did the English colonists finally
         overcome them?

         3. Longfellow's _Evangeline_ describes French life
         in Nova Scotia. If you have read it, tell your
         classmates how Evangeline lived.

         4. Find from your histories what parts of North
         America were settled by the French. What parts of
         it are still peopled largely by French?



  A BEAR STORY

  BY MAURICE THOMPSON

         Not the least of the perils of the pioneers were
         the wild animals of the forest. Bears, wolves, and
         panthers were the worst terrors. Mothers were in
         constant fear of their children straying away from
         the cabin into the woods where four-footed danger
         lurked.


  A man and his wife with three children--a boy aged nine
  and two little girls, the elder seven and the younger
  five years old--lived in a comfortable cabin not far from
  the eastern line of Indiana. Their nearest neighbor was
  six or seven miles distant, and all around their little clearing     5
  stood a wall of dense forest. The father tended a small
  field of corn and vegetables, but their main dependence for
  food was upon the game killed by him, so he was often
  absent all day in the woods, hunting deer and turkeys.

  The children were forbidden to go outside the inclosure             10
  while their father was away, and the mother, at the slightest
  hint of danger, was instructed to close the door and bar it
  and shut the portholes. But even in times of such danger,
  people grew careless and permitted themselves to take
  risks in a way quite incredible to our minds. Children              15
  were restless when confined to a cabin or within a small
  yard, when the green woods were but a few steps away,
  with flowers blooming and rich mosses growing all around.
  They constantly longed to be free, if only for a few moments,
  to wander at will and make playhouses in the dusky shade,           20
  to climb upon the great logs and watch the gay-winged
  birds flit about in the foliage on high.

  One day in early spring the father went to the woods to
  hunt. Before setting forth with his rifle on his shoulder,
  he particularly charged his wife not to permit the children,
  no matter how much they begged and cried for it, to go
  outside the yard.                                                    5

  "At this time of the year," he said, "bears and all other
  wild beasts are cross. They wander everywhere and are
  very dangerous when met with. Watch the children."

  The wife did try faithfully to keep her eyes upon her
  darlings; but she had many household duties to perform,             10
  and so at last she forgot.

  The spring was very early that year, and although it
  was not yet May, the green tassels were on the maples and
  the wild flowers made the ground gay in places. All around
  the clearing ran a ripple of bird song. The sunshine was            15
  dreamy, the wind soft and warm.

  The little boy felt the temptation. It was as if a sweet
  voice called him to the wood. Nor were the little girls
  less attracted than he by the thought of gathering mosses
  and flowers and running at will under the high old trees.           20

  Before their mother knew it, they were gone. She had
  not yet discovered their truancy when a cry coming from
  some distance startled her; it was her little boy's voice
  screaming lustily, and upon looking out she saw all three
  of the children running as fast as they could across the            25
  clearing from the wood toward the house. Behind them,
  at a slow, peculiar lope, a huge bear followed.

  Frightened almost to death, the poor woman scarcely
  knew what she was doing; but she had the fighting instinct
  of all backwoods people, and her first motion was to snatch         30
  off the wall, where it lay in a deer's-horn rest, a large horse
  pistol. With this in hand she ran to meet her children.
  Some hunter had broken the bear's fore leg with a bullet
  a few days before, which accounted for its strange, waddling
  gait; but it was almost within reach of the hindmost child
  when the mother arrived. The bear at once turned its
  attention to the newcomer, and with a terrific snarl rushed          5
  at her. On sped the children, screaming and crazy with
  fright. It was a moment of imminent peril to the mother,
  but she was equal to the occasion. She leveled the pistol
  and fired. Six leaden slugs struck the bear in the head
  and neck, knocking it over.                                         10

  Not very far away in the woods at the time, the man
  heard the loud report, and fearing that Indians were murdering
  his family, he ran home to find his wife just reviving
  from a swoon. She had fainted immediately after seeing
  the effect of her shot.                                             15

  The bear was not yet dead, but a ball from the rifle finished
  him. He was a monster in size. Doubtless the
  wound in his fore leg had made it difficult for him to get
  food, and he had attacked the children on account of sheer
  hunger. But had he not been in that maimed condition,               20
  his attack would have been successful and the hindmost
  child would have been torn to pieces and eaten up in the
  shortest time and with little show of table manners.

                                   --_Stories of Indiana._

         1. There must be in your community some older
         person who knows stories of the pioneer days. Ask
         your teacher to have him tell your class about the
         life of an earlier day.

         2. What other bear stories have you read or heard?

         3. Maurice Thompson (1844-1901) knew life in the
         Middle West at first hand. His home was in Indiana.
         He was the author of several stories, his
         widest-read novel being _Alice of Old Vincennes_.



  A PATRIOT OF GEORGIA

  BY JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS

         Many of the most interesting incidents of the
         Revolutionary War are buried in old state
         documents, in family records, or in stray personal
         letters. Others are largely traditional; for our
         ancestors of pioneer days were doers rather than
         chroniclers of their doings.

         The following event is largely legendary, but none
         the less true. It is dramatically told here by the
         author of the Uncle Remus stories.


  The Revolutionary War in Georgia developed some
  very romantic figures, which are known to us rather
  by tradition than by recorded history. First among them,
  on the side of the patriots, was Robert Sallette. Neither
  history nor tradition gives us the place of his birth or the         5
  date of his death; yet it is known that he played a more
  important part in the struggle in the colony than any man
  who had no troops at his command. He seems to have
  slipped mysteriously on the scene at the beginning of the
  war. He fought bravely, even fiercely, to the end; and              10
  then, having nothing else to do, slipped away as mysteriously
  as he came.

  Curious as we may be to know something of the personal
  history of Robert Sallette, it is not to be found chronicled
  in the books. The French twist to his name makes it                 15
  probable that he was a descendant of those unfortunate
  Acadians who, years before, had been stripped of their
  lands and possessions in Nova Scotia by the British, their
  houses and barns burned, and they themselves transported
  away from their homes. They were scattered at various               20
  points along the American coast. Some were landed at
  Philadelphia, and some were carried to Louisiana. Four
  hundred were sent to Georgia. The British had many acts
  of cruelty to answer for in those days, but none more infamous
  than this treatment of the gentle and helpless                       5
  Acadians. It stands in history to-day a stain upon the
  British name.

  Another fact that leads to the belief that Robert Sallette
  was a descendant of the unfortunate Acadians was the
  ferocity with which he pursued the British and the Tories.          10
  The little that is told about him makes it certain that he
  never gave quarter to the enemies of his country.

  His name was a terror to the Tories. One of them, a
  man of considerable means, offered a reward of one hundred
  guineas to any person who would bring him the head of               15
  Robert Sallette. The Tory had never seen Sallette, but
  his alarm was such that he offered a reward large enough
  to tempt some one to assassinate the daring partisan.
  When Sallette heard of the reward, he disguised himself
  as a farmer, and provided himself with a pumpkin, which             20
  he placed in a bag. With the bag swinging across his
  shoulder, he made his way to the house of the Tory. He
  was invited in, and deposited the bag on the floor beside
  him, the pumpkin striking the boards with a thump.

  "I have brought you the head of Robert Sallette," said              25
  he. "I hear that you have offered a reward of one hundred
  guineas for it."

  "Where is it?" asked the Tory.

  "I have it with me," replied Sallette, shaking the loose
  end of the bag. "Count out the money and take the head."            30

  The Tory, neither doubting nor suspecting, counted out
  the money and placed it on the table.

  "Now show me the head," said he.

  Sallette removed his hat, tapped himself on the forehead,
  and said, "Here is the head of Robert Sallette!"

  The Tory was so frightened that he jumped from the
  room, and Sallette pocketed the money and departed.                  5

         1. Who was Sallette? What guess does the author
         make as to his nationality? Why?

         2. Relate the incident told.

         3. Explain the meaning of: Tory, Acadians,
         chronicled, "never gave quarter," assassinate,
         partisan.

         4. Joel Chandler Harris (1848-1908) was born, and
         spent most of his life, in Georgia. For many years
         he was editor of _The Atlanta Constitution_. You
         are doubtless acquainted with his charming Uncle
         Remus stories.



  SONG OF THE PIONEERS

  BY W. D. GALLAGHER


      A song for the early times out West,
      And our green old forest home,
      Whose pleasant memories freshly yet
      Across the bosom come;
      A song for the free and gladsome life,                           5
      In those early days we led,
      With a teeming soil beneath our feet,
      And a smiling heaven o'erhead!
      Oh, the waves of life danced merrily,
      And had a joyous flow,                                          10
      In the days when we were pioneers,
      Seventy years ago!

      The hunt, the shot, the glorious chase,
      The captured elk or deer;
      The camp, the big, bright fire, and then
      The rich and wholesome cheer:
      The sweet, sound sleep, at dead of night,                        5
      By our camp fire, blazing high,
      Unbroken by the wolf's long howl,
      And the panther springing by.
      Oh, merrily passed the time, despite
      Our wily Indian foe,                                            10
      In the days when we were pioneers,
      Seventy years ago!

      Our forest life was rough and rude,
      And dangers closed us round;
      But here, amid the green old trees,                             15
      Freedom was sought and found.
      Oft through our dwellings wintry blasts
      Would rush with shriek and moan;
      We cared not--though they were but frail,
      We felt they were our own!                                      20
      Oh, free and manly lives we led,
      'Mid verdure or 'mid snow,
      In the days when we were pioneers,
      Seventy years ago!

         1. In your own community how many years past are
         the days of pioneering?

         2. What pleasant things about pioneer life does the
         author recall?

         3. Imagine that you are a pioneer man or woman.
         Tell what one day of your life is like.



_SPECIAL DAYS_


         _There come days in the lives of men, of nations,
         of races, and in the life of civilization itself
         which are of such conspicuous importance that they
         are set apart from the ordinary run of days and the
         events they stand for are duly remembered each
         recurring year on the proper date. Birthdays,
         religious feast days, days of battle--many are the
         occasions commemorated. The value to us of such
         special days is in their observance--that we
         dedicate ourselves to the spirit they perpetuate._

[Illustration: WASHINGTON'S GREATEST BATTLE

(_See page 116_)]



  COLUMBUS AND THE ECLIPSE

  BY JAMES JOHONNOT

         This incident is related to show, first, something
         of the character of Columbus, and, second, the
         superstitions of the Indians. Read it to determine
         what the author wished to bring out about Columbus.
         Was Columbus justified in deceiving the Indians?


  When Columbus first landed upon the shores of the
  New World, and for a long time after, the natives
  thought that he had come down from heaven, and they
  were ready to do anything for this new friend. But at
  one place, where he stayed for some months, the chiefs               5
  became jealous of him and tried to drive him away. It had
  been their custom to bring food for him and his companions
  every morning, but now the amount they brought was very
  small, and Columbus saw that he would soon be starved
  unless he could make a change.                                      10

  Now Columbus knew that in a few days there was to be
  an eclipse of the sun; so he called the chiefs around him
  and told them that the Great Spirit was angry with them
  for not doing as they agreed in bringing him provisions, and
  that to show his anger, on such a day, he would cause the           15
  sun to be darkened. The Indians listened, but they did
  not believe Columbus and there was a still greater falling
  off in the amount of the food sent in.

  On the morning of the day set, the sun rose clear and
  bright, and the Indians shook their heads as they thought           20
  how Columbus had tried to deceive them. Hour after
  hour passed and still the sun was bright, and the Spanish
  began to fear that the Indians would attack them soon, as
  they seemed fully convinced that Columbus had deceived
  them. But at length a black shadow began to steal over
  the face of the sun. Little by little the light faded and
  darkness spread over the land.                                       5

  The Indians saw that Columbus had told them the truth.
  They saw that they had offended the Great Spirit and that
  he had sent a dreadful monster to swallow the sun. They
  could see the jaws of this horrible monster slowly closing
  to shut off their light forever. Frantic with fear, they filled     10
  the air with cries and shrieks. Some fell prostrate before
  Columbus and entreated his help; some rushed off and
  soon returned laden with every kind of provisions they could
  lay their hands on. Columbus then retired to his tent and
  promised to save them if possible. About the time for the           15
  eclipse to pass away, he came out and told them that the
  Great Spirit had pardoned them this time and he would soon
  drive away the monster from the sun; but they must never
  offend in that way again.

  The Indians promised, and waited. As the sun began                  20
  to come out from the shadow their fears subsided, and
  when it shone clear once more, their joy knew no bounds.
  They leaped, they danced, and they sang. They thought
  Columbus was a god, and while he remained on the island
  the Spaniards had all the provisions they needed.                   25

                              --_Stories of Heroic Deeds._



  FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY PROCLAMATION

  BY GEORGE WASHINGTON, 1789


  Now, therefore, I do recommend and assign Thursday,
  the 26th day of November next, to be devoted by
  the people of these states to the service of that great and
  glorious Being, who is the beneficent author of all the good
  that was, that is, or that will be. That we may then all             5
  unite in the rendering unto Him our sincere and humble
  thanks for His kind care and protection of the people of
  this country previous to their becoming a nation--for the
  single and manifold mercies, and for the favorable interpellation
  of His providence, in the course and conclusion of                  10
  the late war.

         1. This old document comes down to us with a fine
         message of inspiration from the past and from its
         great author. Explain the reference in line 8; in
         lines 10 and 11. Compare this proclamation with the
         President's proclamation for the current year.



  THANKSGIVING DAY PROCLAMATION, 1905

  BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT


  When, nearly three centuries ago, the first settlers
  came to the country which has now become this
  great republic, they fronted not only hardship and privation,
  but terrible risk to their lives. In those grim years the
  custom grew of setting apart one day in each year for a              5
  special service of thanksgiving to the Almighty for preserving
  the people through the changing seasons. The
  custom has now become national and hallowed by immemorial
  usage. We live in easier and more plentiful
  times than our forefathers, the men who with rugged
  strength faced the rugged days; and yet the dangers to
  national life are quite as great now as at any previous time         5
  in our history. It is eminently fitting that once a year our
  people should set apart a day for praise and thanksgiving
  to the Giver of Good, and, at the same time that they
  express their thankfulness for the abundant mercies received,
  should manfully acknowledge their shortcomings                      10
  and pledge themselves solemnly and in good faith to strive
  to overcome them. During the past year we have been
  blessed with plentiful crops. Our business prosperity has
  been great. No other people has ever stood on as high a
  level of material well-being as ours now stands. We are             15
  not threatened by foes from without. The foes from whom
  we should pray to be delivered are our own passions, appetites,
  and follies; and against these there is always need
  that we should war.

  Therefore, I now set apart Thursday, the thirtieth day              20
  of this November, as a day of thanksgiving for the past and
  of prayer for the future, and on that day I ask that throughout
  the land the people gather in their homes and places of
  worship, and in rendering thanks unto the Most High for
  the manifold blessings of the past year, consecrate themselves      25
  to a life of cleanliness, honor, and wisdom, so that
  this nation may do its allotted work on the earth in a
  manner worthy of those who founded it and of those who
  preserved it.

         1. Keep a lookout for the current Thanksgiving Day
         proclamation of the President. Read it with those
         of Washington and Roosevelt, and contrast the
         three, as to style of writing and historical facts
         mentioned.



  HARVEST SONG

  BY JAMES MONTGOMERY


      The God of harvest praise;
      In loud thanksgiving raise
        Hand, heart, and voice.
      The valleys laugh and sing,
      Forests and mountains ring,                                      5
      The plains their tribute bring,
        The streams rejoice.

      Yes, bless His holy name,
      And joyous thanks proclaim
        Through all the earth.                                        10
      To glory in your lot
      Is comely; but be not
      God's benefits forgot
        Amid your mirth.

      The God of harvest praise;                                      15
      Hands, hearts, and voices raise,
        With sweet accord.
      From field to garner throng,
      Bearing your sheaves along,
      And in your harvest song                                        20
        Bless ye the Lord.

         1. Sing these three stanzas to the tune of
         _America_.

         2. Explain lines 11-14; 18.

         3. Search for a Thanksgiving story in current
         newspapers and magazines or in books. Read it and
         report on your story in class.



  THE CRATCHITS' CHRISTMAS

  BY CHARLES DICKENS

         Old Scrooge was a rich and grasping business man;
         Bob Cratchit was his underpaid and overworked
         clerk. On Christmas Eve three spirits in succession
         appeared to Scrooge: Christmas Past, Christmas
         Present, and Christmas Yet-to-Come. The second
         showed him, with other visions, this Christmas
         feast in Cratchit's home. The lessons the spirits
         taught him so influenced Scrooge that he set out
         early next morning to spend a real Christmas; and
         he was a changed man ever after.


  Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, Cratchit's wife, dressed
  out but poorly in a twice-turned gown, but brave
  in ribbons, which are cheap and make a goodly show for
  sixpence; and she laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda
  Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in ribbons;            5
  while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan
  of potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous
  shirt collar (Bob's private property, conferred upon his
  son and heir in honor of the day) into his mouth, rejoiced
  to find himself so gallantly attired and yearned to show his        10
  linen in the fashionable parks. And now two smaller
  Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
  outside the baker's they had smelt the goose and known it
  for their own; and basking in luxurious thoughts of sage
  and onion these young Cratchits danced about the table              15
  and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while he
  (not proud, although his collars nearly choked him) blew
  the fire until the slow potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly
  at the saucepan lid to be let out and peeled.

  "What has ever got your precious father, then?" said
  Mrs. Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim! And
  Martha warn't as late last Christmas Day by half an
  hour!"

  "Here's Martha, mother," said a girl, appearing as she               5
  spoke.

  "Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young
  Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's such a goose, Martha!"

  "Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you
  are!" said Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times and             10
  taking off her shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.

  "We'd a deal of work to finish up last night," replied
  the girl, "and had to clear away this morning, mother!"

  "Well! never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs.
  Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have           15
  a warm, Lord bless ye!"

  "No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young
  Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha,
  hide!"

  So Martha hid herself, and in came little Bob, the father,          20
  with at least three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe,
  hanging down before him; and his threadbare clothes
  darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny Tim
  upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little
  crutch and had his limbs supported by an iron frame!                25

  "Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking
  round.

  "Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.

  "Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in
  his high spirits; for he had been Tim's blood horse all the         30
  way from church and had come home rampant. "Not
  coming upon Christmas Day!"

  Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were
  only a joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the
  closet door and ran into his arms, while the two young
  Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim and bore him off into the
  washhouse, that he might hear the pudding singing in the             5
  copper.

  "And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit,
  when she had rallied Bob on his credulity and Bob had
  hugged his daughter to his heart's content.

  "As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he                10
  gets thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks
  the strangest things you ever heard. He told me, coming
  home, that he hoped the people saw him in the church,
  because he was a cripple and it might be pleasant to them
  to remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars              15
  walk and blind men see."

  Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and
  trembled more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing
  strong and hearty.

  His active little crutch was heard upon the floor and               20
  back came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken,
  escorted by his brother and sister to his stool beside the
  fire; and while Bob, turning up his cuffs--as if, poor
  fellow, they were capable of being made more shabby--compounded
  some hot mixture in a jug with gin and lemons                       25
  and stirred it round and round and put it on the hob to
  simmer, Master Peter and the two ubiquitous young
  Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
  returned in high procession.

  Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a                  30
  goose the rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to
  which a black swan was a matter of course--and in truth
  it was something very like it, in that house. Mrs. Cratchit
  made the gravy (ready beforehand in a little saucepan)
  hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible
  vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce;
  Martha dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside               5
  him in a tiny corner at the table; the two young Cratchits
  set chairs for everybody, not forgetting themselves, and
  mounting guard upon their posts, crammed spoons into
  their mouths lest they should shriek for goose before their
  turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on              10
  and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless
  pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving
  knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she
  did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
  forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board,             15
  and even Tiny Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits,
  beat on the table with the handle of his knife and feebly
  cried, "Hurrah!"

  There never was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness
  and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal        20
  admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes,
  it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family;
  indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying
  one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't eaten
  it all at last! Yet everyone had had enough, and the                25
  youngest Cratchits, in particular, were steeped in sage and
  onion to the eyebrows! But now the plates being changed
  by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left the room alone--too
  nervous to bear witnesses--to take the pudding up, and
  bring it in.                                                        30

  Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it
  should break in turning out! Suppose somebody should
  have got over the wall of the back yard and stolen it, while
  they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
  the two young Cratchits became livid! All sorts of horrors
  were supposed.

  Halloo! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out                   5
  of the copper. A smell like a washing day! That was the
  cloth. A smell like an eating house and a pastry cook's
  next door to each other, with a laundress's next door to
  that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs.
  Cratchit entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with                10
  the pudding, like a speckled cannon ball, so hard and
  firm, blazing in half of half a quartern of ignited brandy
  and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into the top.

  Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and
  calmly too, that he regarded it as the greatest success             15
  achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs.
  Cratchit said that now the weight was off her mind, she
  would confess she had had her doubts about the quantity
  of flour. Everybody had something to say about it, but
  nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for            20
  a large family. It would have been flat heresy to do so.
  Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.

  At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the
  hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the
  jug being tasted and considered perfect, apples and oranges         25
  were put upon the table and a shovelful of chestnuts on the
  fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew round the hearth
  in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a one;
  and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of
  glass--two tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.             30

  These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as
  golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out
  with beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered
  and cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed:

  "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"

  Which all the family reëchoed.

  "God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.            5

                                       --_A Christmas Carol._

         1. A few days before Christmas you should read
         Dickens's _A Christmas Carol_. It is one of the
         best, if not the best, Christmas story ever
         written. How does Dickens make you feel while you
         read this selection? How many people are present at
         the Cratchits'? To whom does your sympathy go?

         2. Select a list of words and phrases that suggest
         happiness. How does Dickens make you wish you were
         at the Cratchit feast?

         3. Appoint a committee of three from your class to
         report fully on Dickens's life and writings. Take
         brief notes on their report.



  THE HOLIDAY SPIRIT

  BY ÉMILE SOUVESTRE


  Twelve o'clock.--A knock at my door; a poor
  girl comes in and greets me by name. At first I
  do not recall her, but she looks at me and smiles. Ah, it is
  Paulette! But it is nearly a year since I have seen her,
  and Paulette is no longer the same; the other day she was            5
  a child; to-day she is almost a young woman.

  Paulette is thin, pale, and miserably clad; but she has
  always the same open and straightforward look--the same
  mouth, smiling at every word as if to plead for sympathy--the
  same voice, timid yet caressing. Paulette is not                    10
  pretty--she is even thought plain; as for me, I think her
  charming. Perhaps that is not on her account but on my
  own. Paulette is a part of one of my happiest recollections.

  It was the evening of a public holiday. Our principal
  buildings were lighted with festoons of fire, a thousand
  flags floated in the night wind, and the fireworks had just
  shot forth their jets of flame in the midst of the _Champ de
  Mars_. Suddenly one of those unaccountable panics which              5
  seize a multitude falls upon the dense crowd; they cry out,
  they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall and the
  frightened crowd tramples them down in its convulsive
  struggles. Escaping from the confusion by a miracle, I
  was hastening away when the cries of a perishing child              10
  arrested me; I went back into that human chaos and
  after unheard-of exertions I brought Paulette away at the
  peril of my life.

  That was two years ago; since then I had seen the child
  only at long intervals and had almost forgotten her; but            15
  Paulette had a grateful heart, and she came at the beginning
  of the year to bring me her good wishes. She brought
  me, too, a wallflower in full bloom; she herself had planted
  and reared it; it was something that belonged wholly to
  herself, for it was because of her care, her perseverance,          20
  and her patience that it was hers.

  The wallflower had grown in a common pot; but Paulette,
  who is a bandbox maker, had put it into a case of
  varnished paper ornamented with arabesques. These
  might have been in better taste, but I felt the good will           25
  none the less.

  This unexpected present, the little girl's modest blushes,
  the compliments she stammered out, dispelled, as by a
  sunbeam, the mist which had gathered round my heart;
  my thoughts suddenly changed from the leaden tints of               30
  evening to the rosiest colors of dawn. I made Paulette
  sit down and questioned her with a light heart.

  At first the little girl replied by monosyllables; but
  very soon the tables were turned and it was I who interrupted
  with short interjections her long confidences. The
  poor child leads a hard life. She was left an orphan long
  ago and with a brother and sister lives with an old grandmother,     5
  who has _brought them up to poverty_, as she says.

  However Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes, her
  little sister Perrine begins to sew, and her brother Henri
  is apprenticed to a printer. All would go well if it were not
  for losses and want of work--if it were not for clothes which       10
  wear out, for appetites which grow larger, and for the
  winter, when you must buy your sunshine. Paulette complains
  that candles go too quickly and that the wood costs
  too much. The fireplace in their garret is so large that a
  fagot produces no more effect than a match; it is so near           15
  the roof that the wind blows down the rain and in winter
  it hails upon the hearth; so they have given up using it.
  Henceforth they must be content with an earthen chafing
  dish, upon which they cook their meals. The grandmother
  had often spoken of a stove that was for sale at the huckster's     20
  on the ground floor, but he asked seven francs for it
  and the times are too hard for such an expense; the family,
  therefore, resign themselves to cold for economy's sake!

  As Paulette spoke I felt more and more that I was rising
  above my low spirits. The first disclosures of the little           25
  bandbox maker created within me a wish that soon became
  a plan. I questioned her about her daily occupations and
  she told me that on leaving me she must go with her brother,
  her sister, and her grandmother, to the different people for
  whom they work. My plan was immediately settled. I                  30
  told the child that I would go to see her in the evening,
  and I sent her away, thanking her anew.

  I placed the wallflower in the open window, where a ray
  of sunshine bade it welcome; the birds were singing around,
  the sky had cleared, and the day which began so gloomily
  had become bright. I sang as I moved about my room,
  and having hastily got ready I went out.                             5

  Three o'clock.--All is settled with my neighbor, the
  chimney doctor; he will repair my old stove, the old stove
  which I had replaced, and promises to make it as good as
  new. At five o'clock we are going to put it up in Paulette's
  grandmother's room.                                                 10

  Midnight.--All has gone well. At the hour agreed
  upon I was at the old bandbox maker's; she was still out.
  My Piedmontese fixed the stove, while I arranged in the
  great fireplace a dozen logs borrowed from my winter's
  stock. I shall make up for them by warming myself with              15
  walking or by going to bed earlier.

  My heart beat at every step which was heard on the
  staircase; I trembled lest they should interrupt me in my
  preparations and should thus spoil my intended surprise.
  But no--everything is ready; the lighted stove murmurs              20
  gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle
  of oil for it is provided on the shelf. The chimney doctor
  is gone. Now my fear lest they should come is changed
  into impatience at their delay. At last I hear children's
  voices; here they are! They push open the door and                  25
  rush in--but they stop with cries of astonishment.

  At sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor who
  stands there like a magician in the midst of these wonders,
  they draw back almost frightened. Paulette is the first to
  understand, and the arrival of the grandmother, mounting            30
  the stairs more slowly, finishes the explanation. Then come
  tears, ecstasies, thanks!

  Surprises are not over yet. The little sister opens the
  oven and discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the
  grandmother puts her hand on the bottles of cider arranged
  on the dresser; and I draw forth from the basket that I
  have hidden, a cold tongue, a wedge-shaped piece of butter,          5
  and some fresh rolls.

  Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family
  have never taken part in such a feast! They lay the cloth,
  they sit down, they eat; it is a perfect festival for all, and
  each contributes his share. I had brought only the supper;          10
  the bandbox maker and the children supplied the enjoyment.

  What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of
  questions which waited for no reply, of replies which answered
  no question! The old woman herself shared in the
  wild merriment of the little ones! I have always wondered           15
  at the ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness.
  Accustomed to live in the present, they use every pleasure
  as soon as it offers itself. But the rich, blunted by luxury,
  gain happiness less easily. They must have all things in
  harmony before they consent to be happy.                            20

  The evening passed like a moment. The old woman has
  told me the story of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes
  crying. Perrine has sung an old ballad with her
  fresh young voice. Henri has told us what he knows of
  the great writers of the day, whose proofs he has to carry.         25
  At last we were obliged to separate, not without new
  thanks on the part of the happy family.

  I have come home slowly, with a full heart, thinking
  over the pure memories of this evening. It has given me
  comfort and much instruction. Now the years can come                30
  and go. I know that no one is so unhappy as to have
  nothing to receive and nothing to give.

  As I came in I met my rich neighbor's new equipage.
  She too had just returned from her evening party; and as
  she sprang from the carriage step with feverish impatience,
  I heard her murmur, "_At last!_"

  I, when I left Paulette's family, said, "_So soon!_"                 5

         1. Is this a Christmas story? Give reasons for your
         answer. Is its title fitting? What in the story
         itself suggests the time of year? Where do the
         events take place? Contrast this story with "The
         Cratchits' Christmas," preceding, as to (_a_) kind
         of people; (_b_) place; (_c_) the chief actor;
         (_d_) the feast itself; (_e_) the manner of
         telling.

         2. Describe Paulette's family. How did they make a
         living? How had the author become acquainted with
         Paulette?

         3. Émile Souvestre (soo-ves-tr´) was a French
         novelist and dramatist (1806-1854). His chief works
         deal with his native Brittany, but his last book
         has in it charming studies of Paris life.



  CHRISTMAS IN THE PINES

  BY MEREDITH NICHOLSON

         Here is a Christmas story of the northland, in
         which cities give way to pine woods, and people to
         silences and snow. Get the picture each stanza
         portrays as you read through the poem, and make a
         mental comparison with snow scenes with which you
         are familiar.


      The sky was clear all yesterday,
        From dawn until the sunset's flame;
      But when the red had grown to gray,
        Out of the west the snow clouds came.

      At midnight by the dying fire,                                   5
        Watching the spruce boughs glow and pale,
      I heard outside a tumult dire,
        And the fierce roaring of the gale.

      Now with the morning comes a lull;
        The sun shines boldly in the east
      Upon a world made beautiful
        In vesture for the Christmas feast.

      Into the pathless waste I go,                                    5
        With muffled step among the pines
      That, robed in sunlight and soft snow,
        Stand like a thousand radiant shrines.

      Save for a lad's song, far and faint,
        There is no sound in all the wood;                            10
      The murmuring pines are still; their plaint
        At last was heard and understood.

      Here floats no chime of Christmas bell,
        There is no voice to give me cheer;
      But through the pine wood all is well,                          15
        For God and love and peace are here.

         1. What does each of the first three stanzas
         portray? The last three stanzas describe the sights
         and sounds as seen by whom?

         2. Explain what pictures these phrases make for
         you: "sunset's flame"; "spruce boughs glow and
         pale"; "tumult dire"; "beautiful In vesture";
         "muffled step"; "radiant shrines." Read lines 11
         and 12, putting the thought in your own words.

         3. Make a Christmas card, sketching one of the
         scenes suggested above as the corner or center
         decoration.

         4. Meredith Nicholson (1866- ) is an American
         writer. He is the author of several popular novels,
         an essayist, and a writer of excellent verse. He
         lives in Indianapolis.

         ("Christmas in the Pines" is used by special
         courtesy of Mr. Nicholson.)



  THE NEW YEAR'S DINNER PARTY

  BY CHARLES LAMB

         The following essay is a humorous treatment of the
         days of the year, with emphasis on the holidays and
         special days in the English calendar. You should
         read it with a sharp lookout for the play on words.
         Each day supposedly acts in keeping with its
         character, and so the New Year's dinner party is
         kept in high mirth. But you cannot appreciate the
         humor until you understand what each day stands
         for.


  The Old Year being dead, the New Year came of age,
  which he does by Calendar Law as soon as the breath
  is out of the old gentleman's body. Nothing would serve
  the youth but he must give a dinner upon the occasion, to
  which all the Days of the Year were invited.                         5

  The Festivals, whom he appointed as his stewards, were
  mightily taken with the notion. They had been engaged
  time out of mind, they said, in providing mirth and cheer
  for mortals below; and it was time that they should have
  a taste of their bounty.                                            10

  All the Days came to dinner. Covers were provided for
  three hundred and sixty-five guests at the principal table,
  with an occasional knife and fork at the sideboard for the
  Twenty-ninth of February.

  I should have told you that invitations had been sent out.          15
  The carriers were the Hours--twelve as merry little whirligig
  foot pages as you should desire to see. They went all
  around, and found out the persons invited well enough,
  with the exception of Easter Day, Shrove Tuesday, and a
  few such Movables, who had lately shifted their quarters.           20

  Well, they were all met at last, four Days, five Days, all
  sorts of Days, and a rare din they made of it. There was
  nothing but "Hail! fellow Day!" "Well met, brother
  Day! sister Day!"--only Lady Day kept a little on the
  aloof and seemed somewhat scornful. Yet some said that               5
  Twelfth Day cut her out, for she came in a silk suit, white
  and gold, like a queen on a frost cake, all royal and
  glittering.

  The rest came, some in green, some in white--but Lent
  and his family were not yet out of mourning. Rainy Days             10
  came in dripping, and Sunshiny Days helped them to
  change their stockings. Wedding Day was there in his
  marriage finery. Pay Day came late, as he always does.
  Doomsday sent word he might be expected.

  April Fool (as my lord's jester) took upon himself to               15
  marshal the guests. And wild work he made of it; good
  Days, bad Days, all were shuffled together. He had stuck
  the Twenty-first of June next to the Twenty-second of
  December, and the former looked like a maypole by the side
  of a marrowbone. Ash Wednesday got wedged in betwixt                20
  Christmas and Lord Mayor's Day.

  At another part of the table, Shrove Tuesday was helping
  the Second of September to some broth, which courtesy
  the latter returned with the delicate thigh of a pheasant.
  The Last of Lent was springing upon Shrovetide's pancakes;          25
  April Fool, seeing this, told him that he did well, for pancakes
  were proper to a good fry-day.

  May Day, with that sweetness which is her own, made a
  neat speech proposing the health of the founder. This
  being done, the lordly New Year from the upper end of               30
  the table, in a cordial but somewhat lofty tone, returned
  thanks.

  They next fell to quibbles and conundrums. The question
  being proposed, who had the greatest number of followers--the
  Quarter Days said there could be no question
  as to that; for they had all the creditors in the world
  dogging their heels. But April Fool gave it in favor of the          5
  Forty Days before Easter; because the debtors in all cases
  outnumbered the creditors, and they kept Lent all the year.

  At last, dinner being ended, all the Days called for
  their cloaks and greatcoats, and took their leaves. Lord
  Mayor's Day went off in a Mist, as usual; Shortest Day              10
  in a deep black Fog, which wrapped the little gentleman
  all round like a hedgehog.

  Two Vigils, or watchmen, saw Christmas Day safe home.
  Another Vigil--a stout, sturdy patrol, called the Eve of
  St. Christopher--escorted Ash Wednesday.                            15

  Longest Day set off westward in beautiful crimson and
  gold--the rest, some in one fashion some in another, took
  their departure.

                                   --_Last Essays of Elia._

         1. Lord Mayor's Day falls on November 9. Explain
         the reference to Mist. Quarter Day is the day
         usually looked upon as the day rent falls due. Why
         did April Fool decide against the Quarter Days in
         behalf of the Forty Days before Easter? The Second
         of September is the beginning of the open season
         for shooting. Explain the reference to "pheasant."

         2. How many were at this feast? Why did the
         Festivals come? Why have only twelve carriers, in
         the fourth paragraph? Explain how April Fool added
         to the merriment in seating the guests. What pun
         did April Fool make?

         3. What American holidays would you add if you were
         writing this essay? How could you make them fit in
         humorously?

         4. Charles Lamb (1775-1834), English essayist, is
         noted for his humorous sketches. You should read
         his "Dissertation on Roast Pig" With his sister
         Mary, he wrote _Tales from Shakespeare_, which you
         will enjoy reading.



  AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN

  (WRITTEN FOR JESSE W. FELL, December 20, 1859)

         Abraham Lincoln enjoyed telling stories of his
         youth and early manhood, but he wrote very little
         about himself. The following is the longest
         statement he has set down anywhere about his own
         life. And he did this only at the earnest request
         of a fellow citizen in Illinois, Mr. Fell. You
         should read this brief autobiography with two
         things in mind: the facts of Lincoln's life, and
         the simplicity and modesty of the statement of
         these facts.


  I was born February 12, 1809, in Hardin County, Kentucky.
  My parents were both born in Virginia, of
  undistinguished families--second families, perhaps I
  should say. My mother, who died in my tenth year, was
  of a family of the name of Hanks, some of whom now reside            5
  in Adams, and others in Macon County, Illinois. My
  paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from
  Rockingham County, Virginia, to Kentucky about 1781
  or 1782, where a year or two later he was killed by the
  Indians, not in battle, but by stealth, when he was laboring        10
  to open a farm in the forest. His ancestors, who were
  Quakers, went to Virginia from Berks County, Pennsylvania.
  An effort to identify them with the New England
  family of the same name ended in nothing more definite
  than a similarity of Christian names in both families, such         15
  as Enoch, Levi, Mordecai, Solomon, Abraham, and the like.

  My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of
  age, and he grew up literally without education. He removed
  from Kentucky to what is now Spencer County,
  Indiana, in my eighth year. We reached our new home
  about the time the state came into the Union. It was a
  wild region, with many bears and other wild animals still
  in the woods. There I grew up. There were some schools,
  so called, but no qualification was ever required of a teacher       5
  beyond "readin', writin', and cipherin'" to the rule of three.
  If a straggler supposed to understand Latin happened to
  sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked upon as a
  wizard. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition
  for education. Of course, when I came of age I did not              10
  know much. Still, somehow, I could read, write, and
  cipher to the rule of three, but that was all. I have not
  been to school since. The little advance I now have upon
  this store of education I have picked up from time to time
  under the pressure of necessity.                                    15

  I was raised to farm work, which I continued till I was
  twenty-two. At twenty-one I came to Illinois, Macon
  County. Then I got to New Salem, at that time in Sangamon,
  now in Menard County, where I remained a year as a
  sort of clerk in a store.                                           20

  Then came the Black Hawk war, and I was elected a captain
  of volunteers, a success which gave me more pleasure
  than any I have had since. I went the campaign, was
  elated, ran for the legislature the same year (1832), and was
  beaten--the only time I have ever been beaten by the                25
  people. The next and three succeeding biennial elections
  I was elected to the legislature. I was not a candidate
  afterward. During this legislative period I had studied
  law, and removed to Springfield to practice it. In 1846 I
  was once elected to the lower house of Congress. Was                30
  not a candidate for reëlection. From 1849 to 1854, both
  inclusive, practiced law more assiduously than ever before.
  Always Whig in politics; and generally on the Whig
  electoral tickets, making active canvasses. I was losing
  interest in politics when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise
  aroused me again. What I have done since then
  is pretty well known.                                                5

  If any personal description of me is thought desirable,
  it may be said I am, in height, six feet four inches, nearly;
  lean in flesh, weighing on an average one hundred and
  eighty pounds; dark complexion, with coarse black hair
  and gray eyes. No other marks or brands recollected.                10

         1. Outline Lincoln's life, ancestry, etc., as here
         presented, under the proper heads. Test your
         outline by trying to group all the facts under
         their proper headings. This will require careful
         re-reading of the selection.

         2. Next take one of your topics and practice
         _thinking_ of the items you have included under it.
         Be ready to speak on any one of your topics at
         class recitation.

         3. What major events of Lincoln's life are omitted
         from this document? Why? (To answer this, refer to
         your history for the dates of Lincoln's presidency;
         compare with the date when this was written.)

         4. Is there anything in the article that sounds the
         least boastful? Explain lines 25-26 in this
         connection.

         5. Who were the Whigs? What was the Missouri
         Compromise?

         6. One sentence in this suggests the sly humor of
         Lincoln. Find it.



  O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN

  BY WALT WHITMAN

         The Civil War between the North and the South
         lasted from 1861-1865. Abraham Lincoln was
         President of the United States at the time, and it
         was largely due to his wisdom that the great
         conflict lasted no longer. The Northern armies were
         generally victorious in the winter and spring of
         1865. The nation, however, was suddenly bowed in
         grief. The President was shot by an assassin on
         April 14, and died next day.

         Walt Whitman (1819-1892) at the time was employed
         in a clerical position in the War Department, and,
         outside office hours, in nursing wounded soldiers
         in Washington. He often saw Lincoln, who passed
         Whitman's house almost every day. The "Good Gray
         Poet" and the President had a bowing acquaintance;
         and in one of his books Whitman refers to the
         dark-brown face, deep-cut lines, and sad eyes of
         Lincoln. Whitman gave expression to his grief at
         the country's loss in the following poem, in which
         he refers to the martyred President as the captain
         of the Ship of State.


      O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
      The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we
          sought is won;
      The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
      While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and           5
          daring;
                  But O heart! heart! heart!
                  O the bleeding drops of red,
                  Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                  Fallen cold and dead.                               10

      O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
      Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle
          trills,
      For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths--for you the
          shores a-crowding.                                           5
      For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces
          turning.
                  Here, Captain! dear father!
                  This arm beneath your head!
                  It is some dream that on the deck                   10
                  You've fallen cold and dead.

      My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
      My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
      The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage closed and
          done,                                                       15
      From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                  Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
                  But I, with mournful tread,
                  Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                  Fallen cold and dead.                               20

                                                    --_Drum Taps._

         1. Explain the references to the safe arrival of
         the ship in port, the ringing of the bells, and the
         general exultation.

         2. Re-read the poem carefully. Picture to yourself
         what each stanza contributes as you read. When you
         have finished, test yourself to see how much of it
         you can recall exactly. Complete the memorization
         by this same process of careful re-reading.

         3. Whitman had his volume, _Drum Taps_, practically
         completed when Lincoln's assassination occurred. He
         held up its publication to include "O Captain! My
         Captain" and another poem on the death of Lincoln,
         called "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloomed."
         Why is the title of the latter poem appropriate?



  WASHINGTON'S GREATEST BATTLE

  BY FREDERICK TREVOR HILL

         By 1781 the French were coöperating with our
         colonial troops against the armies and navies of
         the British. Lafayette was in the South helping
         Greene worry Cornwallis. Rochambeau was working
         with Washington near New York, to keep Clinton from
         uniting his forces with those of Cornwallis. De
         Grasse, in charge of the French fleet, was planning
         a blow at the British squadron. The stage was thus
         set for a great military stroke--and Washington
         readily took up the cue.


  Word was received from Lafayette that Cornwallis
  had moved to Yorktown on the York River, Virginia,
  close to Chesapeake Bay, and almost at the same
  moment the long-expected dispatch arrived from de Grasse,
  advising Washington that he was just on the point of                 5
  sailing for Chesapeake Bay. The instant he received this
  news the American commander realized that his chance had
  come. Cornwallis had evidently brought his army to
  Yorktown that it might coöperate with a British fleet in
  the Chesapeake, and by good luck de Grasse was heading              10
  directly for this very spot. A bold, swift stroke might now
  end the war, and the plan which Washington immediately
  put in operation was daring to a really perilous degree.

  Up to this point all the movements of the French and
  Americans had convinced Clinton that an attack would                15
  soon be made against New York. Never for a moment did
  he imagine that his opponent would dare leave the Hudson
  unguarded and throw his whole army against Cornwallis.
  The risk of losing West Point and the difficulty of covering
  the hundreds of miles that lay between New York and Yorktown
  seemed to forbid any such maneuver. Nevertheless,
  this was precisely what Washington intended to do, and
  within a few days after the receipt of de Grasse's message
  he was hurrying southward with every man he could                    5
  possibly spare.

  Secrecy and speed were essential to success, for if Clinton
  discovered what was happening, he would undoubtedly
  try to throw his army between Cornwallis and the Americans,
  and even though he failed in stopping them he could                 10
  easily delay their march until the British force at Yorktown
  had time to escape. Washington, therefore, took extraordinary
  care to conceal his plans, not only from his foes
  but also from his friends. Indeed, Rochambeau was the
  only officer who knew where the men were being headed as            15
  they hurried through New Jersey, and so cleverly was their
  route selected that even when Clinton learned of their
  march he still believed that the Americans, having failed
  in the attempt on his rear door near King's Bridge, were
  about to swing around and try to get in at the front door           20
  from Staten Island or Sandy Hook.

  This was just what Washington wanted him to think,
  and to deceive him still further, camp kitchens were erected
  along the expected line of march and the troops were so
  handled that they seemed to be moving straight to an                25
  attack on New York. But at the proper moment they were
  suddenly turned southward at a pace that defied pursuit,
  and before the true situation dawned on the British commander
  they were almost at the Delaware River. But
  though he had by this time acquired a fairly safe lead,             30
  Washington did not slacken his speed, and with a roar of
  cheers from the now excited populace, the dusty columns
  were soon pouring through Philadelphia, the American
  commander pushing on ahead to Chester, and sending back
  word that de Grasse had arrived in Chesapeake Bay and
  that not a moment must be lost.

  Clinton then made a frantic effort to save the day by                5
  sending Arnold to attack some of the New England towns,
  thinking that the American commander might hurry back
  to their rescue. But Washington was first and foremost a
  man of good, hard common sense, and he knew that all
  Arnold could accomplish would be the destruction of a few           10
  defenseless towns, and to let Cornwallis escape in order to
  protect them did not appeal to his practical mind at all.
  He therefore paid no attention to the traitor's movements,
  but bent all his efforts on speeding his army southward.

  At Chesapeake Bay an exasperating delay occurred, for               15
  there were not sufficient vessels to transport the army over
  the water, and for a time the success of the whole expedition
  was threatened. But Washington was in no mood to be
  blocked by obstacles of this sort. If his troops could not
  be ferried down the bay, they must march around it, and             20
  march many of them did, their general obtaining the first
  glimpse he had had in six years of his beloved Mount
  Vernon as he swept by, and on September 28, 1781, his
  whole force was in front of Yorktown, with success fairly
  within its grasp.                                                   25

  Meanwhile de Grasse's fleet had fiercely assailed a British
  squadron which had been sent to the rescue, and after a
  sharp engagement the French had been able to return to
  the bay while the British vessels were obliged to retire to
  New York, leaving Cornwallis with the York River on one             30
  side of him, the James River on the other, and the Chesapeake
  Bay at his back, but no ships to carry him to safety.
  Only one chance of escape now remained, and that was to
  hurl his whole army through the narrow neck of land immediately
  in front of him and beat a hasty retreat to the south.
  But Washington had anticipated this desperate move by
  positive instructions to Lafayette, and acting upon them the         5
  young marquis rushed a body of French troops from the
  fleet into the gap, and the arrival of the American army
  completely blocked it.

  But, though the enemy was now in his clutch, Washington
  lost no time in tightening his hold, for de Grasse                  10
  declared that his orders would not allow him to tarry much
  longer in the Chesapeake, and the failure of the other
  attempts to work with the French warned him to take no
  risks on this occasion.

  He therefore instantly set the troops at work with pickaxes         15
  and shovels throwing up intrenchments, behind which
  they crept nearer and nearer the imprisoned garrison, and
  he kept them at their tasks night and day, supervising
  every detail of the siege and organizing the labor with such
  method that not a second of time nor an ounce of strength           20
  was wasted.

  Finally, on October 14th--just sixteen days after the
  combined armies had arrived on the scene--the commander
  in chief determined to hurry matters still further
  by carrying two of the enemy's outer works by assault, and          25
  Hamilton was assigned to lead the Americans and Colonel
  de Deuxponts the French. A brilliant charge followed,
  and Washington and Rochambeau, closely watching the
  movement, saw the Americans scale one of the redoubts
  and capture it within ten minutes, while the French soon            30
  followed with equal success. From these two commanding
  positions a perfect storm of shot and shell was then loosed
  against the British fortifications, but still Cornwallis
  would not yield.

  Indeed, he made an heroic attempt to break through the
  lines on the following night, and actually succeeded in
  spiking some of the French cannon before he was driven               5
  back; and again on the next night he made a desperate
  effort to escape by water, only to be foiled by a terrific
  storm. By this time, however, his defenses were practically
  battered to the ground and the town behind them was
  tumbling to pieces beneath the fire of more than fifty guns.        10

  In the face of this terrific bombardment further resistance
  was useless, and at ten o'clock on the morning of October
  17, 1781, exactly four years after the surrender of Burgoyne,
  a red-coated drummer boy mounted on the crumbling
  ramparts and beside him appeared an officer with a white            15
  flag. Instantly the firing ceased, and an American officer
  approaching, the flag bearer was blindfolded and conducted
  to Washington. The message he bore was a proposition
  for surrender and a request that hostilities be
  suspended for twenty-four hours. But to this Washington             20
  would not consent. Two hours was all he would grant
  for arranging the terms of surrender. To this Cornwallis
  yielded, but his first propositions were promptly rejected
  by Washington, and it was not until eleven at night that
  all the details were finally agreed upon, and Cornwallis,           25
  with over eight thousand officers and men, became prisoners
  of war.

  Two days later the British marched from their intrenchments,
  their bands playing a quaint old English tune, called
  _The World Turned Upside Down_, and, passing between                30
  the French and American troops drawn up in line to receive
  them, laid down their arms. At the head of the
  victorious columns rode Washington, Hamilton, Knox,
  Steuben, Lafayette, Rochambeau, Lincoln, and many other
  officers, but the British commander, being ill, was not
  present in person, and when his representative, General
  O'Hara, tendered his superior's sword to Washington, the             5
  commander in chief allowed General Lincoln, who had
  once been Cornwallis's prisoner, to receive it, and that
  officer, merely taking it in his hand for a moment, instantly
  returned it.

  Meanwhile horsemen were flying in all directions with               10
  the joyful tidings, and within a week the whole country was
  blazing with enthusiasm, while Washington was calmly
  planning to finish the work to which he had set his hand.

         (From Frederick Trevor Hill's _On the Trail of
         Washington_. Used by permission of the publishers,
         D. Appleton & Company.)

         1. Make a sketch showing the position of the
         various armies and navies at the time Washington
         conceived the bold stroke of trapping Cornwallis,
         and explain from your map how this stroke was
         achieved.

         2. Tell who the following are: De Grasse, Greene,
         Clinton, Rochambeau, Lafayette, Lincoln, Steuben,
         Cornwallis, Burgoyne.

         3. What might have disjointed all Washington's
         plans? Discuss.



      Where may the wearied eye repose,
        When gazing on the great,
      Where neither guilty glory glows
        Nor despicable state?
      Yes, one--the first--the last--the best--                        5
      The Cincinnatus of the West,
        Whom envy dared not hate
      Bequeathed the name of Washington,
      To make men blush there was but one!

                                       --_George Gordon Byron._



  JOHN JAMES AUDUBON

  BY W. F. MARKWICK AND W. A. SMITH

         Our birds and our trees are often honored together
         on a Bird and Arbor Day. The names of many
         naturalists might be selected, whose biographies
         could fittingly be read on such an occasion; but
         none could be more appropriately chosen than that
         of John James Audubon, the American pioneer among
         the scientist lovers of both birds and trees.


  In 1828 a wonderful book, _The Birds of America_, by John
  James Audubon, was issued. It is a good illustration
  of what has been accomplished by beginning in one's youth
  to use the powers of observation. Audubon loved and
  studied birds. Even in his infancy, lying under the orange           5
  trees on his father's plantation in Louisiana, he listened to
  the mocking-bird's song, watching and observing every
  motion as it flitted from bough to bough. When he was
  older he began to sketch every bird that he saw, and soon
  showed so much talent that he was taken to France to be             10
  educated.

  He entered cheerfully and earnestly upon his studies,
  and more than a year was devoted to mathematics; but
  whenever it was possible he rambled about the country,
  using his eyes and fingers, collecting more specimens, and          15
  sketching with such assiduity that when he left France,
  only seventeen years old, he had finished two hundred
  drawings of French birds. At this period he tells us that
  "it was not the desire of fame which prompted to this
  devotion; it was simply the enjoyment of nature."                   20

  A story is told of his lying on his back in the woods with
  some moss for his pillow and looking through a telescopic
  microscope day after day, to watch a pair of little birds
  while they made their nest. Their peculiar gray plumage
  harmonized with the color of the bark of the tree, so that it        5
  was impossible to see the birds except by the most careful
  observation. After three weeks of such patient labor,
  he felt that he had been amply rewarded for the toil and
  sacrifice by the results he had obtained.

  His power of observation gave him great happiness, from             10
  the time he rambled as a boy in the country in search of
  treasures of natural history, till, in his old age, he rose with
  the sun and went straightway to the woods near his home,
  enjoying still the beauties and wonders of nature. His
  strength of purpose and unwearied energy, combined with             15
  his pure enthusiasm, made him successful in his work as a
  naturalist; but it was all dependent on the habit formed
  in his boyhood--this habit of close and careful observation;
  and he not only had this habit of using his eyes but
  he looked at and studied things worth seeing, worth                 20
  remembering.

  This brief sketch of Audubon's boyhood shows the predominant
  traits of his character--his power of observation,
  the training of the eye and hand--that made him in manhood
  "the most distinguished of American ornithologists,"                25
  with so much scientific ardor and perseverance that no expedition
  seemed dangerous or solitude inaccessible when
  he was engaged in his favorite study.

  He has left behind him, as the result of his labors, his
  great book, _The Birds of America_, in ten volumes, and             30
  illustrated with four hundred and forty-eight colored plates
  of over one thousand species of birds, all drawn by his own
  hand, and each bird represented in its natural size; also a
  _Biography of American Birds_, in five large volumes, in
  which he describes their habits and customs. He was
  associated with Dr. Bachman, of Philadelphia, in the preparation
  of a work on _The Quadrupeds of America_, in six                     5
  large volumes, the drawings for which were made by his
  two sons; and later on he published his _Biography of American
  Quadrupeds_, a work similar to the _Biography of American
  Birds_. He died at what is known as Audubon Park,
  on the Hudson, now within the limits of New York city, in           10
  1851, at the age of seventy.

                                          --_The True Citizen._

         1. Give a brief summation of Audubon's life. What
         does his name stand for?

         2. How many birds can you identify by sight? By
         song? What winter birds do you know? What is the
         first migrant bird you see in the spring? Name some
         birds that stay with us the year round.

         3. If you are interested in birds you will enjoy
         looking through Chapman's _Bird-Life_; Burroughs'
         _Wake-Robin_; Gilmore's _Birds Through the Year_;
         Blanchan's _Bird Neighbors_; Miller's _The First
         Book of Birds_. You should make a list of these in
         your notebook for summer reading.

         4. In this connection make up a list of five poems
         about birds; five about flowers; five about trees.
         For good reading on trees, see Dorrance's _Story of
         the Forest_.



  MEMORIAL DAY, 1917

  BY WOODROW WILSON

         Spoken at Arlington to the veterans of the Federal
         and Confederate armies. There were present men in
         khaki soon to carry the spirit of America to the
         battlefields of France.


  Any Memorial Day of this sort is, of course, a day touched
  with sorrowful memory, and yet I for one do not see
  how we can have any thought of pity for the men whose
  memory we honor to-day. I do not pity them. I envy
  them, rather, because theirs is a great work for liberty             5
  accomplished and we are in the midst of a work unfinished,
  testing our strength where their strength already has been
  tested. There is a touch of sorrow, but there is a touch
  of reassurance also in a day like this, because we know
  how the men of America have responded to the call of the            10
  cause of liberty, and it fills our minds with a perfect assurance
  that that response will come again in equal measure,
  with equal majesty, and with a result which will hold the
  attention of all mankind.

  When you reflect upon it, these men who died to preserve            15
  the Union died to preserve the instrument which we are
  now using to serve the world--a free nation espousing
  the cause of human liberty. In one sense that great
  struggle into which we have now entered is an American
  struggle, because it is in defense of American honor and            20
  American rights, but it is something even greater than
  that; it is a world struggle. It is a struggle of men who
  love liberty everywhere and in this cause America will
  show herself greater than ever because she will rise to a
  greater thing.

  We have said in the beginning that we planned this
  great government that men who wish freedom might have
  a place of refuge and a place where their hope could be              5
  realized, and now, having established such a government,
  having preserved such a government, having vindicated
  the power of such a government, we are saying to all mankind,
  "We did not set this government up in order that
  we might have a selfish and separate liberty, for we are            10
  now ready to come to your assistance and fight out upon
  the fields of the world the cause of human liberty." In
  this thing America attains her full dignity and the full
  fruition of her great purpose.

         1. During the World War, President Woodrow Wilson
         (1856- ) delivered several notable speeches. In
         fact, his ability to phrase a thought neatly,
         caused Europe to look upon him as the spokesman of
         the Allied cause. This extract from his speech in
         the cemetery at Arlington, Va., is a good example
         of his finished literary style. Compare it with
         Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. How are the two
         alike? How different?

         2. How long before the delivery of this speech did
         the United States declare war against Germany? What
         references to this war are in the speech?

         3. The cemetery at Arlington is a national burying
         ground of the fallen heroes of the Civil War. Read
         the line or lines that refer to them.



_ADVENTURE_


           _Life is a series of experiences. A few of these we
           call adventures because they are out of the
           ordinary. If, however, one is keen and alert, every
           experience is a fresh adventure. And excitement
           galore can be had by reading about the doings of
           other people. It is no longer necessary to hunt
           lions or to be adrift on an ice sheet to get the
           thrill of those who have experienced these things.
           Books, pictures, and theaters afford us ample means
           of enjoying in comfort the hour of high adventure
           of the other person._

[Illustration: A GRANDSTAND SEAT IN THE SKY

(_See following page_)]



  A GRANDSTAND SEAT IN THE SKY

  BY HOWARD MINGOS


  "I don't know whether we can make it or not," said
  the pilot. "There's a forty-mile-an-hour wind up
  aloft, and we're going straight in the teeth of it. Maybe
  we'll have to turn back."

  But we did not turn back, and at times before we had                 5
  covered the twenty-two miles separating New York from
  the army's Hazlehurst Field at Mineola, Long Island, I
  wished that we might turn round, if only for an instant, that
  I might adjust the fur-lined chin strap, the buckle of which
  snapped against my left ear with maddening persistency.             10

  A half dozen times, perhaps, I had raised my left hand
  carefully, only to have it flapped back at me as if I were
  slapping myself in the face. For we were in the pilot's seat
  of America's largest bombing plane, grandstand seats
  with nothing between us and the show but air, of which              15
  there was a plenty.

  Captain Roy N. Francis, one of the best-known American
  pilots, had cautioned me against sticking out my arm
  or hand, because of the nine-foot propeller whirling alongside
  of me, and its tips fanned my elbow just two thousand               20
  times a minute as I huddled in the seat with Francis to
  afford him more room.

  You understand I wanted to make myself as small as
  possible, so that he might have more space in which to
  operate the controls. I had every reason to believe they            25
  required minute attention if we were to remain rebounding
  about the skies from wind pocket to wind pocket five
  thousand feet above the flying field. I had forgotten our
  objective, which was Manhattan--the dreams of fifteen
  years about to be realized.

  I particularly wanted to be ricocheting from the crest               5
  of one air wave to another. It was the choice of alternatives,
  I concluded, for below us the crazy-quilted landscape
  of Long Island appeared to be anything but a soft
  place for landing. And there was a barn directly under
  us for several minutes--the same barn. I know it was a              10
  barn because it had a fence around it; otherwise it might
  have been a dog's kennel--a lone dog's kennel at that--so
  tiny was it from our viewpoint.

  I know we hung suspended over it for some time. I
  had an opportunity to review my entire past life, my good           15
  deeds, of which there were few that I could recall at the
  moment, and my misdeeds, of which there were many.
  I pondered if they would miss me at the office. I thought
  of other offices and other fellows and the nature of their
  retrospection, fellows who had been in positions similar            20
  to mine--and I knew where they were, or rather, where
  they were not.

  Francis had pointed at me among four other prospective
  passengers standing about the great plane while they tuned
  up the motors.                                                      25

  "You there, little fellow, get in here beside me!"

  I had shinnied up the stepladder and crawled in beside
  him, flattered at the distinction--the others took their
  places in other cockpits free from controls and instruments--and
  then I understood the reason for his choice.                        30

  Our flying suits were lined with fur, and bulky. The
  cockpit was narrow at best, and Francis is not a small man.
  So I huddled as far as possible at the side of the flyer's seat,
  my side of it. And then: "Keep your paws in, if you
  don't want them taken off with that propeller," he had
  shouted into my ear. "Sit tight!"

  I sat tight. No shrimp ever had as many wrinkles as I.               5
  I pulled my hand in a fraction of an inch, braced my legs
  against nothing in particular, while my back assumed the
  characteristics of a concertina, closed.

  He had thrown back the throttle. There was a blast
  and a roar. I had the same lonesome feeling in the pit of my        10
  stomach that had seized me when I first took the express
  elevator in the Woolworth Building.

  It occurred to me to win the respect of the pilot by appearing
  confident. So I forced myself to peer over the side.
  The earth was dropping away so fast that it all seemed              15
  like a nightmare. I felt as if I had been dreaming and had
  fallen out of bed.

  "Grin at him," something told me. I grinned.

  A dozen or more icicles immediately crunched between
  my teeth, pierced the roof of my mouth, and froze my                20
  brain, while leaden drops of water percolated through it
  and trickled down my spine.

  "Keep grinning!" that unconscious self put in again.
  The advice was useless. I couldn't have closed my mouth
  had I wanted to. Finally by bowing my head I shut my                25
  jaws. Oh, for that chin strap which was whacking my
  face! It would have kept me warm. Despite the heat
  through which we had traveled in reaching Hazlehurst
  Field that morning, up here, a mile high, the air was cold.

  I stole a sidelong glance at Francis from behind the                30
  heavy goggles which some friendly stranger had fitted over
  my helmet. Francis was not looking at me.

  Instead of watching and appraising me, as I had thought
  he was half turned round, gazing back along the fuselage
  or body, of our craft, for what reason I do not know.

  I turned in my seat and looked back at the tail. Not
  seeing anything unusual, I sat back again. And there was             5
  Francis with his head thrown back, gazing at the sky. His
  hands and feet were not touching the controls.

  Every time we struck an air pocket I shuddered. For
  ten minutes, minutes which seemed hours, I huddled
  and shrank and shuddered. That was about all there                  10
  appeared to be in the flight for me--huddles, shrinks,
  and shudders.

  That dog kennel of a barn gave me much to think about.
  The wind was dead against us. Our speedometer registered
  ninety miles an hour--and the wind pushing us                       15
  back at the rate of forty miles left us fifty miles an hour
  speed. It seemed like fifty feet to me, until I saw off in
  the distance ahead the silvery haze that hangs over New
  York like a mantle of mist. A moment later we made out
  Long Island Sound, laid out with all its little bays and harbors    20
  just like a pattern of white paper fallen on the extreme
  edge of a Persian carpet. There were a few specks on it,
  and from them whisps of smoke drifted up, many times
  smaller than pipe smoke.

  Bump! A slight jar. I looked at Francis. He was                     25
  gazing ahead unconcernedly.

  Air pockets. We had dropped twenty feet on two
  separate occasions within the space of a moment. Great!

  The machine was still intact. Good old machine! Nice
  old craft! . . . I felt like patting it on the nose and stroking    30
  its sleek fabric back--that is, if it remained constant.
  If ever I craved constancy in anything, it was then.

  Suddenly I relaxed. A feeling of delightful content
  surged through me. Approaching New York. Above the
  haze, out of all the hustle and bustle of the human maelstrom.
  That look of absolute futility I had seen on the
  faces in the subway, on the streets, in the early hours of           5
  morning--these receded from memory. Life was good,
  after all. It was a wonderful thing if you viewed it correctly.
  And this was the way to view it.

  Reflections of a bright young man being smeared all
  over the island were things of the past now, as on the right,       10
  as far as we could see, the Bronx stretched away, monotonously,
  endlessly. I thought how much happier I was up
  there, looking at the Bronx, than if I were in the Bronx
  down there, looking up at me.

  Straight down I made out a Sound steamer. Hell Gate                 15
  Bridge, a tiny thing like the toys in shop windows.

  But the Bronx got me. I had heard much of the Bronx
  and once or twice had visited the Zoo. But I never conceived
  the Bronx as a few bushels of building blocks thrown
  down on a wide green lawn and tumbled about promiscuously.          20
  They were blocks, too, whole city squares, miles
  and miles of squares.

  And there was the Harlem River--and Harlem. I
  looked for the homes of the cliff dwellers. They were not
  there. The scenery was as flat as the side of a house.              25

  Veering slightly to the left, a mere touch from Francis
  of the auto wheel in front of him, and we were speeding
  over the upper East Side. Now I knew, or thought I knew,
  the millions who reside there, more or less in a state of
  perpetual congestion. I had often pondered as to where              30
  these millions hung their wash, when they washed. To-day
  I learned.

  Arranged in crisscross rows, compactly and without wasting
  an inch of space, that I could see, the roofs of the East
  Side were literally covered, literally littered, with clothes
  of a sameness that made of whole blocks or squares an
  awning. Here and there a red shirt, the only outstanding             5
  bit of color. At least I chose to assume that it was a shirt
  because I knew that down in those narrow streets, moving
  about like minute grains of sand guided only by the confines
  of the conventional walls, were people sweltering in
  the heat of a summer day, and they needed those shirts              10
  another season.

  We dropped lower. We saw between the lines of garments,
  as we gazed straight downward, a bed, another bed,
  then a cot, more beds, a chair or two, now and then a bit
  of green I took to be plants, occasionally a bit of carpet          15
  on the roof--and babies. The ten or fifteen babies who
  do not spend their days in the middle of the streets are
  enjoying the pleasures of their own roof gardens. As far
  as we could see to the left it was the same--roofs and
  clothes and babies, divided into squares like cuts of frosted       20
  cake.

  We struck Fifth Avenue at 110 Street. To our right
  was Central Park. And it was not as large as the palm of
  one's hand. In fact it might have been a bare spot from
  which a few building blocks had been lifted, evenly and             25
  without disturbing the sharply outlined sides and corners.

  There was nothing to be seen of the beautiful drives.
  The wonderful trees were as clumps of sagebrush, the
  gathering spots mere splotches of gray in a patch of moldy
  green. The lakes and the reservoir were as bits of broken           30
  glass with jagged edges and no reason on earth for their
  being there.

  Below us we did make out a few of the taller buildings,
  but it required an effort and a prior knowledge of their location.
  Fifth Avenue, over which we were traveling at
  ninety miles an hour as we tacked across the pathway of
  the wind and sped southward, was like any other street               5
  from that height. One could never recognize it as Fifth
  Avenue, though in front of the Public Library the limousines
  forming two thin lines like black threads helped identify it.

  The Metropolitan tower was passed far more quickly than
  it requires in the telling. I looked ahead to see the wonderful     10
  skyline down toward the Battery with its galaxy of skyscrapers.
  It was not there. Back over my shoulder I saw
  42 Street and Broadway. Strange to relate, the great
  buildings on that side of town stood up in bold relief.

  We could now take in both the North and East rivers and             15
  all of New York Bay at a single glance. A mile above them,
  and we were following Broadway to Battery Park. We
  recognized the Woolworth tower. But the Statue of
  Liberty was far more prominent, standing alone and distinguished,
  ready to meet all comers.                                           20

  The Woolworth Building was a disappointment. I had
  thought to see it at its best, gaze at it from all angles; but
  I became far more interested in the piers that curbed our
  little island of Manhattan, the ferryboats that plied like
  toy ships, leaving scarcely a wake that we could see.               25

  I recalled that the giant _Leviathan_ was due in, that noon,
  with several thousand soldiers. I scanned the bay for it.
  A moment later, when we had swung around in a wide circle
  and started back uptown, I saw it. The transport had
  been under us and we had not seen it. I knew there must             30
  be thousands in Battery Park to greet the _Leviathan_ and
  her heroes.

  After straining my eyes I decided that the tiny specks at
  certain spots in the park where there were no trees must of
  a surety be human beings. But they were specks.

  At this juncture all of us received a shock. The plane
  headed against the stiff west wind again, bumped into it             5
  head first, and then keeled halfway over. Try tipping up
  on one runner of a rocking chair, try balancing yourself
  as you go whizzing through space. I realized then that if
  one were placed in a rocking chair in the tonneau of a
  motor car and the car rounded a corner say at thirty or             10
  forty-five miles an hour, one might derive the same sensation.

  Our bodies were tugging at the life belts that held us
  firmly in our seats. Every muscle in my body was taut.
  I held my breath. Would we turn over? Would something               15
  snap and send us down? I looked to see where we
  would fall. We would have fallen a sheer 5000 feet, directly
  on the Woolworth tower, the entire building of which
  was little more than a toy. But we did not fall.

  The wind was better to us now, being in the rear. Yet               20
  we did not appear to be making more speed. We drifted
  along, apparently. A moment later we were over green
  fields again. Far ahead I saw a Long Island train, doubtless
  moving. My gaze wandered momentarily. I looked
  for the train. It was gone. I looked back. It was in                25
  our rear, and still coming in our direction.

  It seemed but a matter of a few breaths of piercingly cold
  air before we were circling Hazlehurst Field. A brief glide
  and we were coasting on the ground toward the exact spot
  we had left. I looked at the watch again.                           30

  We had traveled from New York to the field, a distance
  of twenty-two miles, at the rate of two miles and a half a
  minute. And my picture of Greater New York was that
  of a beautiful toy, a diamond sunburst glittering in a setting
  of purple and gold, a city full of windowpanes and skylights
  that throw back the rays of the sun--but a toy nevertheless,
  for verily I had beheld a city and had taken it in the               5
  palm of my hand, gazed at it in wonder a moment, and had
  then put it back again.

                                             --_Motor Life._
    (Used by arrangement with _Motor Life_, New York city)

         1. What was the extent of the airplane journey of
         the author? Had he ever been in an airplane before?
         How did he happen to sit with the pilot? How many
         people were in this plane?

         2. What was the most exciting moment in his
         adventure? In about what year did this ride occur?

         3. Pronounce and define: persistency, ricocheting,
         percolated, speedometer, maelstrom, promiscuously,
         recognize, tonneau.

         4. If you have been close to an airplane tell what
         about it impressed you. What are airplanes used for
         now?



  PRAYER FOR THE PILOT

  BY CECIL ROBERTS


      Lord of Sea and Earth and Air,
      Listen to the Pilot's prayer--
      Send him wind that's steady and strong,
      Grant that his engine sings the song
      Of flawless tone, by which he knows                              5
      It shall not fail him where he goes;
      Landing, gliding, in curve, half-roll--
      Grant him, O Lord, a full control,
      That he may learn in heights of Heaven
      The rapture altitude has given,                                 10
      That he shall know the joy they feel
      Who ride Thy realms on Birds of Steel.

           (Reprinted by permission of Frederick A. Stokes
           Company from _Poems_ by Cecil Roberts.)



  A BATTLE WITH A WHALE

  BY FRANK T. BULLEN

         Before the discovery of petroleum, whale oil was
         generally used for lighting. Whaling was then one
         of the big businesses of our country. Our whalers
         sought their game in all the waters of the world
         where the big animals were to be found. A whaling
         cruise usually lasted from two to five years. The
         following description of harpooning a whale is an
         actual experience of the author.


  "There she white-waters! Ah, bl-o-o-o-o-w, blow,
  blow!" sang Louis; and then, in another tone,
  "Sperm whale, sir; lone fish, headin' 'beout east-by-nothe."

  "All right. Way down from aloft," answered the
  skipper, who was already halfway up the main rigging; and            5
  like squirrels we slipped out of our hoops and down the
  backstays, passing the skipper like a flash as he toiled upwards,
  bellowing orders as he went. Short as our journey
  down had been, when we arrived on deck we found all
  ready for a start. But as the whale was at least seven              10
  miles away and we had a fair wind for him, there was no
  hurry to lower, so we all stood at attention by our respective
  boats, waiting for the signal. I found, to my
  surprise, that although I was conscious of a much more
  rapid heartbeat than usual, I was not half so scared as I           15
  expected to be--that the excitement was rather pleasant
  than otherwise.

  "Lower away boats!" came pealing down from the
  skipper's lofty perch, succeeded instantly by the rattle of
  the patent blocks as the falls flew through them, while the         20
  four beautiful craft took the water with an almost simultaneous
  splash. The ship keepers had trimmed the yards
  to the wind and hauled up the courses, so that simply
  putting the helm down deadened our way and allowed the
  boats to run clear without danger of fouling one another.            5
  To shove off and hoist sail was the work of a few moments,
  and with a fine working breeze away we went.

  Our boat, being the chief's, had the post of honor; but
  there was now only one whale, and I rather wondered
  why we had all left the ship. According to expectations,            10
  down he went when we were within a couple of miles of
  him, but quietly and with great dignity, elevating his tail
  perpendicularly in the air and sinking slowly from our
  view.

  The scene was very striking. Overhead, a bright-blue sky            15
  just fringed with fleecy little clouds; beneath, a deep-blue
  sea with innumerable tiny wavelets dancing and
  glittering in the blaze of the sun; but all swayed in one
  direction by a great solemn swell that slowly rolled from
  east to west, like the measured breathing of some world-supporting  20
  monster. Four little craft in a group, with
  twenty-four men in them, silently waiting for battle with
  one of the mightiest of God's creatures--one that was
  indeed a terrible foe to encounter were he but wise enough
  to make the best use of his opportunities.                          25

  My musings were very suddenly interrupted. Whether
  we had overrun our distance, or the whale, who was not
  "making a passage" but feeding, had changed his course,
  I do not know; but anyhow he broke water close ahead,
  coming straight for our boat. His great black head, like            30
  the broad bow of a dumb barge driving the waves before
  it, loomed high and menacing to me, for I was no longer
  forbidden to look ahead. But coolly as if coming alongside
  the ship, the mate bent to the big steer oar and swung
  the boat off at right angles to her course, bringing her back
  again with another broad sheer as the whale passed foaming.
  This maneuver brought us side by side with him before he             5
  had time to realize that we were there. Up till that instant
  he had evidently not seen us, and his surprise was correspondingly
  great.

  To see Louis raise his harpoon high above his head and
  with a hoarse grunt of satisfaction plunge it into the black,       10
  shining mass beside him, up to the hitches, was indeed a
  sight to be remembered. Quick as thought he snatched up
  a second harpoon, and as the whale rolled from us it flew
  from his hands, burying itself like the former one, but lower
  down the body. The great impetus we had when we                     15
  reached the whale, carried us a long way past him, out of all
  danger from his struggles. No hindrance was experienced
  from the line by which we were connected with the whale,
  for it was loosely coiled in a space for the purpose in the
  boat's bow, to the extent of two hundred feet, and this was         20
  cast overboard by the harpooner as soon as the fish was
  fast.

  He made a fearful to-do over it, rolling completely over
  several times, backward and forward, at the same time
  smiting the sea with his mighty tail, making an almost              25
  deafening noise and pother. But we were comfortable
  enough while we unshipped the mast and made ready for
  action, being sufficiently far away from him to escape the
  full effect of his gambols.

  After the usual time spent in furious attempts to free              30
  himself from our annoyance, he betook himself below, leaving
  us to await his return and hasten it as much as possible
  by keeping a severe strain upon the line. Our efforts in
  this direction, however, did not seem to have any effect
  upon him at all. Flake after flake ran out of the tubs until
  we were compelled to hand the end of our line to the second
  mate, to splice his own on to. Still it slipped away, and            5
  at last it was handed to the third mate, whose two tubs
  met the same fate. It was now Mistah Jones's turn to
  "bend on," which he did with many chuckles, as of a man
  who was the last resource of the unfortunate. But his
  face grew longer and longer as the never-resting line continued     10
  to disappear. Soon he signaled us that he was
  nearly out of line, and two or three minutes after, he bent
  on his "drogue" (a square piece of plank with a rope tail
  spliced into its center, and considered to hinder a whale's
  progress at least as much as four boats) and let go the end.        15
  We had each bent on our drogues in the same way, when
  we passed our ends to one another. So now our friend was
  getting along somewhere below, with 7200 feet of one-and-a-half-inch
  rope, and weight additional equal to the
  drag of sixteen thirty-foot boats.                                  20

  Of course we knew that unless he were dead and sinking
  he could not possibly remain much longer beneath the
  surface. The exhibition of endurance we had just been
  favored with was a very unusual one, I was told, it being a
  rare thing for a cachalot to take out two boats' lines before       25
  returning to the surface to spout.

  Therefore we separated as widely as was thought necessary,
  in order to be near him on his arrival. It was, as
  might be imagined, some time before we saw the light of
  his countenance; but when we did, we had no difficulty              30
  in getting alongside of him again. My friend Goliath,
  much to my delight, got there first and succeeded in picking
  up the bight of the line. But having done so, his chance
  of distinguishing himself was gone. Hampered by the
  immense quantity of sunken line which was attached to
  the whale, he could do nothing and soon received orders to
  cut the bight of the line and pass the whale's end to us.            5

  He had hardly obeyed, with a very bad grace, when the
  whale started off to windward with us, at a tremendous
  rate. The other boats, having no line, could do nothing to
  help; so away we went alone, with barely a hundred fathoms
  of line in case he should take it into his head to sound again.     10
  The speed at which he went made it appear as if a gale of
  wind were blowing, and we flew along the sea surface,
  leaping from crest to crest of the waves with an incessant
  succession of cracks like pistol shots. The flying spray
  drenched us and prevented us from seeing him, but I fully           15
  realized that it was nothing to what we should have to
  put up with if the wind freshened much. One hand was
  kept bailing out the water which came so freely over the
  bows, but all the rest hauled with all their might upon the
  line, hoping to get a little closer to the flying monster.          20
  Inch by inch we gained on him. After what seemed a
  terribly long chase we found his speed slackening, and we
  redoubled our efforts.

  Now we were close upon him; now, in obedience to the
  steersman, the boat sheered out a bit and we were abreast           25
  of his laboring flukes; now the mate hurls his quivering
  lance with such hearty good will that every inch of its
  slender shaft disappears within the huge body.

  "Lay off! Off with her, Louey!" screamed the mate;
  and she gave a wide sheer away from the whale, not a                30
  second too soon. Up flew that awful tail, descending with
  a crash upon the water, not two feet from us.

  "Out oars! Pull, two! starn, three!" shouted the mate;
  and as we obeyed, our foe turned to fight.

  Then might one see how courage and skill were such
  mighty factors in the apparently unequal contest. The
  whale's great length made it no easy job for him to turn,            5
  while our boat, with two oars a side and the great leverage
  at the stern supplied by the nineteen-foot steer oar, circled,
  backed, and darted ahead like a living thing animated by
  the mind of our commander. When the leviathan settled,
  we gave a wide berth to his probable place of ascent;               10
  when he rushed at us, we dodged him; when he paused, if
  only momentarily, in we flew and got home a fearful thrust
  of the deadly lance.

  All fear was forgotten now--I panted, thirsted, for his
  life. Once, indeed, in a sort of frenzy, when for an instant        15
  we lay side by side with him, I drew my sheath knife and
  plunged it repeatedly into the blubber as if I were assisting
  in his destruction.

  Suddenly the mate gave a howl: "Starn all--starn all!
  oh, starn!" and the oars bent like canes as we obeyed.              20
  There was an upheaval of the sea just ahead; then slowly,
  majestically, the vast body of our foe rose into the air.
  Up, up it went, while my heart stood still, until the whole of
  that immense creature hung on high, apparently motionless,
  and then fell--a hundred tons of solid flesh--back                  25
  into the sea. On either side of that mountainous mass the
  waters rose in shining towers of snowy foam which fell in
  their turn, whirling and eddying around us as we tossed and
  fell like a chip in a whirlpool. Blinded by the flying spray,
  bailing for very life to free the boat from the water with          30
  which she was nearly full, it was some minutes before I
  was able to decide whether we were still uninjured or not.
  Then I saw, at a little distance, the whale lying quietly. As
  I looked he spouted, and the vapor was red with his blood.

  "Starn all!" again cried our chief, and we retreated to a
  considerable distance. The old warrior's practiced eye had
  detected the coming climax of our efforts, the dying agony,          5
  or "flurry," of the great mammal. Turning upon his side
  he began to move in a circular direction, slowly at first,
  then faster and faster, until he was rushing round at
  tremendous speed, his great head raised quite out of water
  at times, clashing his enormous jaws. Torrents of blood             10
  poured from his spout hole, accompanied by hoarse bellowings
  as of some gigantic bull, but really caused by the
  laboring breath trying to pass through the clogged air
  passages. The utmost caution and rapidity of manipulation
  of the boat was necessary to avoid his maddened                     15
  rush, but this gigantic energy was short-lived. In a few
  minutes he subsided slowly in death, his mighty body reclined
  on one side, the fin uppermost waving limply as he
  rolled to the swell, while the small waves broke gently over
  the carcass in a low, monotonous surf, intensifying the             20
  profound silence that had succeeded the tumult of our
  conflict with the late monarch of the deep.

                                  --_The Cruise of the Cachalot._

         1. Boats were always lowered when whales were
         sighted within rowing distance. Why? How many were
         lowered in this instance? How many men were in
         each? Who was in command of each?

         2. There was considerable rivalry between the boats
         of the same ship to be the first to harpoon and the
         first to give the final lance thrust. Was there
         rivalry shown here?

         3. How many feet of rope did the whale take out
         when he sounded? Reduce this to miles. How many
         feet of rope were there in each boat?

         4. Find five words in the story for your classmates
         to define.



  THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS

  BY LEIGH HUNT

         This is an old tale of adventure, the incident
         occurring in the days of chivalry. But it is of
         sufficient dramatic interest to cause Sir Edward
         Bulwer-Lytton and Robert Browning each to use it
         also as the subject for a poem. As you read it try
         to picture the scene as it is developed line by
         line.


      King Francis was a hearty king and loved a royal
          sport,
      And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court.
      The nobles filled the benches, and the ladies in their pride,
      And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge with one for             5
          whom he sighed;
      And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show,
      Valor and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts
          below.

      Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws;         10
      They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went
          with their paws;
      With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one
          another,
      Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous         15
          smother;
      The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the
          air;
      Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here
          than there."                                                20

      De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous lively
          dame,
      With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes which always
          seemed the same;
      She thought, "The count, my lover, is brave as brave can         5
          be;
      He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me;
      King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine;
      I'll drop my glove to prove his love; great glory will be
          mine."                                                      10

      She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at
          him and smiled;
      He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild;
      The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his
          place,                                                      15
      Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's
          face.
      "By Heaven," said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose
          from where he sat;
      "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like         20
          that."

         1. Where did this incident take place? How do you
         know?

         2. Imagine yourself in a seat near King Francis.
         Tell what is happening in the arena. Make your
         description vivid.

         3. What is your opinion of the lady? Did De Lorge
         treat her properly? In answering this, consider the
         fact that he did the rash act simply as gallantry.
         What could he have done instead of going among the
         lions? Why did he choose to go?

         4. Leigh Hunt (1784-1859) was an English poet,
         essayist, and critic. Most of his poetry is witty
         and clever.



  HOW BUCK WON THE BET

  BY JACK LONDON

         Buck was a cross between St. Bernard and Scotch
         shepherd bloods, and a wonderful dog he was. He
         made a name for himself in Alaska, during the
         Klondike gold rush, and his owner, Thornton, was
         envied by all the miners in that land where dogs
         take the place of horses. Thornton once boasted
         that Buck could pull a thousand pounds on a
         sled--break it out and "mush," or draw, it a
         hundred yards. Matthewson bet a thousand dollars
         that he could not.


  Matthewson's sled, loaded with a thousand pounds
  of flour, had been standing for a couple of hours, and
  in the intense cold (it was sixty below zero) the runners had
  frozen fast to the hard-packed snow. Men offered odds of
  two to one that Buck could not budge the sled. A quibble             5
  arose concerning the phrase "break out." O'Brien contended
  it was Thornton's privilege to knock the runners loose,
  leaving Buck to "break it out" from a dead standstill.
  Matthewson insisted that the phrase included breaking the
  runners from the frozen grip of the snow. A majority of the         10
  men who had witnessed the making of the bet decided in his
  favor, whereat the odds went up to three to one against Buck.

  There were no takers. Not a man believed him capable
  of the feat. Thornton had been hurried into the wager,
  heavy with doubt; and now that he looked at the sled                15
  itself, the concrete fact, with the regular team of ten dogs
  curled up in the snow before it, the more impossible the task
  appeared. Matthewson waxed jubilant.

  "Three to one!" he proclaimed. "I'll lay you another
  thousand at that figure, Thornton. What d'ye say?"

  Thornton's doubt was strong in his face, but his fighting
  spirit was aroused--the fighting spirit that soars above
  odds, fails to recognize the impossible, and is deaf to all save     5
  the clamor for battle. He called Hans and Pete to him.
  Their sacks were slim, and with his own the three partners
  could rake together only two hundred dollars. In the
  ebb of their fortunes, this sum was their total capital;
  yet they laid it unhesitatingly against Matthewson's six            10
  hundred.

  The team of ten dogs was unhitched, and Buck, with his
  own harness, was put into the sled. He had caught the
  contagion of the excitement, and he felt that in some way
  he must do a great thing for John Thornton. Murmurs of              15
  admiration at his splendid appearance went up. He was in
  perfect condition, without an ounce of superfluous flesh,
  and the one hundred and fifty pounds that he weighed were
  so many pounds of grit and virility. His furry coat shone
  with the sheen of silk. Down the neck and across the                20
  shoulders, his mane, in repose as it was, half bristled
  and seemed to lift with every movement, as though excess
  of vigor made each particular hair alive and active. The
  great breast and heavy fore legs were no more than in
  proportion with the rest of the body, where the muscles             25
  showed in tight rolls underneath the skin. Men felt these
  muscles and proclaimed them hard as iron, and the odds
  went down to two to one.

  "Gad, sir! Gad, sir!" stuttered a member of the
  latest dynasty, a king of the Skookum Benches. "I offer             30
  you eight hundred for him, sir, before the test, sir; eight
  hundred just as he stands."

  Thornton shook his head and stepped to Buck's side.

  "You must stand off from him," Matthewson protested.
  "Free play and plenty of room."

  The crowd fell silent; only could be heard the voices of
  the gamblers vainly offering two to one. Everybody                   5
  acknowledged Buck a magnificent animal, but twenty
  fifty-pound sacks of flour bulked too large in their eyes for
  them to loosen their pouch strings.

  Thornton knelt down by Buck's side. He took his head
  in his two hands and rested cheek on cheek. He did not              10
  playfully shake him, as was his wont, or murmur soft love
  curses; but he whispered in his ear. "As you love me,
  Buck. As you love me," was what he whispered. Buck
  whined with suppressed eagerness.

  The crowd was watching curiously. The affair was growing            15
  mysterious. It seemed like a conjuration. As Thornton
  got to his feet, Buck seized his mittened hand between
  his jaws, pressing it with his teeth and releasing it slowly,
  half reluctantly. It was the answer, in terms not of speech
  but of love. Thornton stepped well back.                            20

  "Now, Buck," he said.

  Buck tightened the traces, then slacked them for a
  matter of several inches. It was the way he had learned.

  "Gee!" Thornton's voice rang out, sharp in the tense
  silence.                                                            25

  Buck swung to the right, ending the movement in a plunge
  that took up the slack and with a sudden jerk arrested his
  one hundred and fifty pounds. The load quivered, and
  from under the runners arose a crisp crackling.

  "Haw!" Thornton commanded.                                          30

  Buck duplicated the maneuver, this time to the left. The
  crackling turned into a snapping, the sled pivoting and the
  runners slipping and grating several inches to the side.
  The sled was broken out. Men were holding their breaths,
  intensely unconscious of the fact.

  "Now, _mush_!"

  Thornton's command cracked out like a pistol shot.                   5
  Buck threw himself forward, tightening the traces with a
  jarring lunge. His whole body was gathered compactly
  together in the tremendous effort, the muscles writhing and
  knotting like live things under the silky fur. His great
  chest was low to the ground, his head forward and down,             10
  while his feet were flying like mad, the claws scarring the
  hard-packed snow in parallel grooves. The sled swayed
  and trembled, half started forward. One of his feet slipped,
  and one man groaned aloud. Then the sled lurched ahead
  in what appeared a rapid succession of jerks, though it never       15
  really came to a dead stop again--half an inch--an
  inch--two inches. The jerks perceptibly diminished; as
  the sled gained momentum he caught them up till it was
  moving steadily along.

  Men gasped and began to breathe again, unaware that                 20
  for a moment they had ceased to breathe. Thornton was
  running behind, encouraging Buck with short, cheery
  words. The distance had been measured off, and as he
  neared the pile of firewood which marked the end of the
  hundred yards, a cheer began to grow and grow, which                25
  burst into a roar as he passed the firewood and halted at
  command. Every man was tearing himself loose, even
  Matthewson. Hats and mittens were flying in the air.
  Men were shaking hands, it did not matter with whom,
  and bubbling over in a general incoherent babel.                    30

  But Thornton fell on his knees beside Buck. Head was
  against head, and he was shaking him back and forth.
  Buck seized Thornton's hand in his teeth. As though
  animated by a common impulse, the onlookers drew back
  to a respectful distance.

                                         --_The Call of the Wild._

           (From _The Call of the Wild_, by Jack London, used
           by permission of The Macmillan Company, Publishers,
           and by arrangement with Mrs. Charmian K. London.)

         1. Jack London (1867-1916) was a Californian by
         birth. He early began roving, and his voyages and
         tramps took him all over the world. He was a keen
         observer and a virile writer. _The Call of the
         Wild_ is perhaps the best known of his many tales.
         You observe from the extract that his stories are
         full of action. They are moving pictures in words.

         2. What was the situation that led up to the bet?
         Where is this event supposed to have taken place?
         Read the lines that show the men are miners.

         3. How much was staked against Buck? Who was for
         the dog? Against him? How did he respond? How did
         the men who bet against Buck show they were good
         losers?



  THE LOSS OF THE _DRAKE_

  BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE


  The Newfoundland coast is a peculiarly dangerous one,
  from the dense fogs that are caused by the warm
  waters of the Gulf Stream. These waters rushing up from
  the equator here come in contact with the cold currents from
  the pole. As they meet, they send up such heavy vapor                5
  that day can sometimes scarcely be discerned from night;
  even at little more than arm's length objects cannot be distinguished,
  while from without, the mist looks like a thick,
  sheer precipice of snow.

  In such a fearful fog, on the morning of the 20th of June,          10
  1822, the small schooner _Drake_ struck suddenly upon a
  rock and almost immediately fell over on her side, the waves
  breaking over her. Her commander, Captain Baker,
  ordered her masts to be cut away, in hopes of lightening
  her so that she might right herself, but in vain. One boat
  was washed away, another upset as soon as she was
  launched, and there remained only the small boat called
  the captain's gig.                                                   5

  The ship was fast breaking up; the only hope was that
  the crew might reach a small rock, the point of which could
  be seen above the waves at a distance that the fog made
  difficult to calculate, but that, it was hoped, might not be
  too great. A man named Leonard seized a rope and sprang             10
  into the sea, but the current was too strong for him; he
  was carried away in an opposite direction and was obliged
  to be dragged on board again.

  Then the boatswain, whose name was Turner, volunteered
  to make the attempt in the gig, taking a rope fastened              15
  round his body. The crew cheered him after the
  gallant fashion of British seamen, though they were all
  hanging on by the ropes to the ship, with the sea breaking
  over them and threatening every moment to dash the vessel
  to pieces. Anxiously they watched Turner in his boat, as            20
  he made his way to within a few feet of the rock. There
  the boat was lifted high and higher by a huge wave, then
  hurled down on the rock and shattered to pieces; but the
  brave boatswain was safe, and contrived to keep his hold
  of the rope and to scramble up on the stone.                        25

  Another great wave, almost immediately after, heaved
  up the remains of the ship and dashed her down close to
  this rock of safety. Captain Baker, giving up the hope of
  saving her, commanded the crew to leave her and make
  their way to the rock. For the first time he met with               30
  disobedience. With one voice they refused to leave the
  wreck unless they saw him before them in safety. Calmly
  he renewed his orders, saying that his life was the last and
  least consideration, and they were obliged to obey, leaving
  the ship in as orderly a manner as if they were going ashore
  in harbor. But they were so benumbed with cold that
  many were unable to climb the rock and were swept off by             5
  the waves; among these was the lieutenant.

  Captain Baker last of all joined his crew. It was then
  discovered that they were at no great distance from the
  land, but that the tide was rising and that the rock on which
  they stood would assuredly be covered at high water. The            10
  heavy mist and lonely coast gave scarcely a hope that help
  would come ere the slowly rising waters must devour them.

  Still there was no murmur. Again the gallant boatswain,
  who still held the rope, volunteered to make an effort to
  save his comrades. With a few words of earnest prayer,              15
  he secured the rope round his waist, struggled hard with the
  waves, and reached the shore, whence he sent back the news
  of his safety by a loud cheer to his comrades.

  There was now a line of rope between the shore and the
  rock, just long enough to reach from one to the other when          20
  held by a man at each end. The only hope of safety lay
  in working a desperate passage along this rope to the land.
  The spray was already beating over those who were
  crouched on the rock, but not a man moved till called by
  name by Captain Baker, and then it is recorded that not             25
  one, so summoned, stirred till he had used his best entreaties
  to the captain to take his place; but the captain
  had but one reply: "I will never leave the rock until every
  soul is safe."

  Forty-four stout sailors had made their perilous way to             30
  shore. The forty-fifth looked round and saw a poor woman
  lying helpless, almost lifeless, on the rock, unable to move.
  He took her in one arm, and with the other clung to the
  rope. Alas! the double weight was more than the much-tried
  rope could bear; it broke halfway, and the poor
  woman and the sailor were both swallowed in the eddy.

  Captain Baker and three seamen remained, utterly cut                 5
  off from hope of help. The men in best condition hurried
  off in search of help, found a farmhouse, obtained a rope,
  and hastened back; but long ere their arrival the waters
  had flowed above the head of the brave and faithful captain.
  All the crew could do was, with full hearts, to write               10
  a most touching letter to an officer who had once sailed
  with them in the _Drake_, entreating him to represent their
  captain's conduct to the Lords of the Admiralty.

  "In fact," said the letter, "during the whole business
  he proved himself a man whose name and last conduct                 15
  ought ever to be held in the highest estimation by a crew
  who feel it their duty to ask, from the Lords Commissioners
  of the Admiralty, that which they otherwise have not the
  means of obtaining; that is, a public and lasting record
  of the lion-hearted, generous, and the very unexampled              20
  way in which our late noble commander sacrificed his
  life in the evening of the 20th of June."

  This letter was signed by the whole surviving crew of the
  _Drake_, and in consequence, a tablet in the dockyard chapel
  at Portsmouth commemorates the heroism of Captain                   25
  Charles Baker.

                                      --_A Book of Golden Deeds._

         1. Retell the main events of this story as briefly
         as you can. You can do this best by making a
         careful outline of the points set forth. Hand your
         topics to your teacher.

         2. What is the rule aboard ship in case of
         abandoning the vessel? What accidents at sea do you
         know about?



  THE WALRUS HUNT

  BY ROBERT M. BALLANTYNE

         The following episode is from _Ungava: A Tale of
         Eskimo Land_, a "classic" of the fifties and
         sixties. _Ungava_ is full of thrilling adventure,
         based on the author's own experiences as a young
         fur trader in the Hudson Bay country. Ballantyne
         (1825-1894) belonged to the family of famous
         Edinburgh publishers that issued Scott's works.

         Just prior to the incident quoted below, Annatock
         had discovered a walrus frozen to death and was
         engaged in chopping him up. Then appears walrus
         number two, who was thoroughly alive.


  Not far from the spot where this fortunate discovery
  had been made, there was a large sheet of recently
  formed black ice, where the main ice had been broken away
  and the open water left. The sheet, although much melted
  by the thaw, was still about three inches thick, and quite           5
  capable of supporting a man.

  While Annatock was working with his back to this ice,
  he heard a tremendous crash take place behind him. Turning
  hastily round, he observed that the noise was caused by
  another enormous walrus, the glance of whose large round            10
  eyes, and whose loud snort, showed clearly enough that he
  was not frozen like his unfortunate companion. By this
  time the little boy had come up with Edith and the sledge,
  so Annatock ordered him to take the dogs behind a hummock
  to keep them out of sight, while he selected several                15
  strong harpoons and a lance from the sledge. Giving
  another lance to Peetoot, he signed to Edith to sit on the
  hummock while he attacked the grisly monster of the deep
  single-handed.

  While these preparations were being made, the walrus
  dived, and while it was under water the man and the boy
  ran quickly forward a short distance and then lay down
  behind a lump of ice. Scarcely had they done so when the
  walrus came up again with a loud snort, splashing the water          5
  with its broad, heavy flippers--which seemed a sort of
  compromise between legs and fins--and dashing waves
  over the ice as it rolled about its large, unwieldy carcass.
  It was truly a savage-looking monster as large as a small
  elephant and having two tusks of a foot and a half long.            10
  The face bore a horrible resemblance to that of a man.
  Its crown was round and bulging, its face broad and
  massive, and a thick, bristling mustache--rough as the
  spines of a porcupine--covered its upper lip and depended
  in a shaggy dripping mass over its mouth. After spluttering         15
  about a short time, it dived again.

  Now was Annatock's time. Seizing a harpoon and a
  coil of line, he muttered a few words to the boy, sprang up,
  and running out upon the smooth ice, stood by the edge
  of the open water. He had not waited here more than a               20
  few seconds when the black waters were cleft by the blacker
  head of the monster, as it once more ascended to renew its
  elephantine gambols in the pool.

  As it rose the Eskimo threw up his arm and poised the
  harpoon. For one instant the surprised animal raised                25
  itself breast-high out of the water and directed a stare of
  intense astonishment at the man. That moment was fatal.
  Annatock buried the harpoon deep under its left flipper.
  With a fierce bellow the brute dashed itself against the ice,
  endeavoring in its fury to reach its assailant; but the ice         30
  gave way under its enormous weight, while Annatock ran
  back as far as the harpoon line would permit him.

  The walrus, seeing that it could not reach its enemy in
  this way, seemed now to be actually endowed with reason.
  It took a long gaze at Annatock, and then dived. But the
  Eskimo was prepared for this. He changed his position
  hastily and played his line the meanwhile, fixing the point          5
  of his lance into the ice in order to give him a more effective
  hold. Scarcely had he done so when the spot he had just
  left was smashed up, and the head of the walrus appeared,
  grinning, and bellowing as if in disappointment.

  At this moment Peetoot handed his uncle a harpoon, and              10
  ere the animal dived the weapon was fixed in his side.
  Once more Annatock changed his position; and once again
  the spot on which he had been standing was burst upwards.
  It was a terrible sight to see that unearthly-looking monster
  smashing the ice around it and lashing the blood-stained            15
  sea into foam, while it waged such mortal war with the
  self-possessed and wary man. How mighty and strong
  the one! how comparatively weak and seemingly helpless
  the other! It was the triumph of mind over matter--of
  reason over blind brute force.                                      20

  But Annatock fought a hard battle that day ere he came
  off conqueror. Harpoon after harpoon was driven into the
  walrus--again and again the lance pierced deep into its
  side and drank its lifeblood; but three hours had passed
  away before the dead carcass was dragged from the deep              25
  by the united force of dogs and man.

                            --_Ungava: A Tale of Eskimo Land._

         1. Find the picture of a walrus, and tell what the
         animal looks like. Get a description of a walrus
         from your reference library, if possible.

         2. Describe Annatock's method of hunting the
         walrus.

         3. Be prepared to give a two-minute talk on the
         Eskimos, touching on race to which they belong,
         methods of obtaining food, and mode of living.



  THE RESCUE


  On a bright moonlight night, in the month of February,
  1831, when it was intensely cold, the little brig which
  I commanded lay quietly at her anchors inside of Sandy
  Hook. We had had a hard time beating about for eleven
  days off this coast, with cutting northeasters blowing and           5
  snow and sleet falling for the most part of that time.

  Forward, the vessel was thickly coated with ice, and it
  was hard work to handle her as the rigging and sails were
  stiff and yielded only when the strength of the men was
  exerted to the utmost. When we at length made the port,             10
  all hands were worn down and exhausted.

  "A bitter cold night, Mr. Larkin," I said to my mate as
  I tarried for a short time upon deck. The worthy down-easter
  buttoned his coat more tightly around him, and looking
  up to the moon replied, "It's a whistler, Captain; and              15
  nothing can live comfortably out of blankets to-night."

  "The tide is running out swift and strong, and it will be
  well to keep a sharp lookout for this floating ice, Mr. Larkin,"
  said I, as I turned to go below.

  About two hours afterward I was aroused from a sound                20
  sleep by the vigilant officer. "Excuse me for disturbing
  you, Captain," said he, as he detected an expression of
  vexation in my face, "but I wish you would turn out and
  come on deck as soon as possible."

  "What's the matter, Mr. Larkin?" said I.                            25

  "Why, sir, I have been watching a large cake of ice,
  which swept by at a distance a moment ago, and I saw
  something black upon it, something that I thought moved.
  The moon is under a cloud and I could not see distinctly,
  but I believe there is a child floating out to the sea, this
  freezing night, on that cake of ice."

  We were on deck before either spoke another word.                    5
  The mate pointed out with no little difficulty the cake of
  ice floating off to the leeward, with its white, glittering
  surface broken by a black spot.

  "Get the glass, Mr. Larkin," said I; "the moon will be
  out of that cloud in a moment and then we can see distinctly."      10

  I kept my eye upon the receding mass of ice while the
  moon was slowly working her way through a heavy bank of
  clouds. The mate stood by me with the glass, and when
  the full light fell upon the water with a brilliancy only           15
  known in our northern latitudes, I put the glass to my eye.
  One glance was enough.

  "Forward, there!" I hailed at the top of my voice; and
  with one bound I reached the main hatch and began to
  clear away the little cutter which was stowed in the ship's         20
  yawl.

  Mr. Larkin had taken the glass to look for himself.
  "There are two children on that cake of ice!" he exclaimed,
  as he hastened to assist me in getting out the boat.

  The men answered my hail and walked quickly aft. In                 25
  a short space of time we launched the cutter, into which Mr.
  Larkin and myself jumped, followed by the two men who
  took the oars. I rigged the tiller, and the mate sat beside
  me in the stern sheets.

  "Do you see that cake of ice with something black upon              30
  it, my lads? Put me alongside of that and I'll give you a
  month's extra wages when you are paid off," said I.

  They bent to their oars, but their strokes were uneven
  and feeble, for they were worn out by the hard duty of the
  preceding fortnight; and though they did their best, the
  boat made little more headway than the tide. It was a
  losing chase, and Mr. Larkin, who was suffering torture              5
  as he saw how little we gained, cried out, "Pull, lads! I'll
  double the captain's prize; two months' extra pay. Pull,
  lads! pull for life!"

  A convulsive effort at the oars told how willing the men
  were to obey, but the strength of the strong men was gone.          10
  One of the poor fellows washed us twice in recovering his
  oar and then gave out, and the other was nearly as far gone.
  Mr. Larkin sprang forward and seized the deserted oar.
  "Lie down in the bottom of the boat," said he to the man;
  "and, Captain, take the other oar! We must row for ourselves."      15

  I took the second man's place. Larkin had stripped off
  his coat, and as he pulled the bow, I waited for the signal
  stroke. It came, gently, but firm; and the next moment
  we were pulling a long, steady stroke, gradually increasing         20
  in rapidity until the wood seemed to smoke in the row-locks.
  We kept time, each by the long, deep breathing
  of the other.

  Such a pull! We bent forward until our faces almost
  touched our knees; and then throwing all our strength into          25
  the backward movement, drew on the oar until every inch
  covered by the sweep was gained. Thus we worked at the
  oars for fifteen minutes, and it seemed to me as many
  hours. The sweat rolled off in great drops, and I was enveloped
  in a steam generated from my own body.                              30

  "Are we almost up to it, Mr. Larkin?" I gasped out.

  "Almost, Captain," said he; "don't give up!"

  The oars flashed as their blades turned up to the moonlight,
  for the men who plied them were fathers and had
  fathers' hearts.

  Suddenly Mr. Larkin ceased pulling, and my heart for a
  moment almost stopped its beating; for the terrible thought          5
  that he had given out crossed my mind. But I was reassured
  by his voice: "Gently, Captain, gently; a stroke
  or two more; there, that will do," and the next moment
  Mr. Larkin sprang upon the ice. I started up, and calling
  to the men to make fast the boat to the ice, followed him.          10

  We ran to the dark spot in the center of the mass and
  found two little boys. The head of the smaller was resting
  in the bosom of the larger, and both were fast asleep. The
  lethargy which would have been fatal but for the timely
  rescue had overcome them.                                           15

  Mr. Larkin grasped one of the lads, cut off his shoes, tore
  off his jacket, and then, loosening his own garments to the
  skin, placed the cold child in contact with his own warm
  body, carefully wrapping his overcoat around him. I did
  the same with the other child, and we then returned to the          20
  boat.

  The children, as we learned when we had the delight of
  restoring them to their parents, were playing on the cake
  of ice, which had jammed into a bend of the river about ten
  miles above New York. A movement of the tide set the                25
  ice in motion, and the little fellows were borne away that
  cold night and would inevitably have perished but for Mr.
  Larkin's espying them as they were sweeping out to sea.

         1. Daring rescues are countless. Do you know of any
         in your community--by police, firemen, or
         civilians?

         2. What about the rescue described here is unusual?



  DESCENDING THE GRAND CAÑON


  One of the most daring voyages in the history of
  American exploration was Major John Wesley Powell's
  descent through the Grand Cañon of the Colorado River,
  in 1869. The river had been discovered three hundred
  years before his memorable journey, but Major Powell was             5
  the first to explore the magnificent gorge through which it
  flows and to report his findings to the world.

  Major Powell was a scientist. The lack of knowledge
  about the Grand Cañon was a challenge too strong for him
  to resist. With a party of ten picked men he started on             10
  the perilous voyage, on May 24, 1869. He did not know
  that ahead of them was a seething stretch of water, two
  hundred miles in length, broken by rapids and waterfalls,
  teethed with jagged stones, and walled in by solid rock a
  mile high in places.                                                15

  Into the cañon shot the frail boats. Oars were soon
  broken on rocks, and new ones had to be made from drift
  logs. The constant hammering of the boats made them
  leaky. To calk the seams, the men had to climb thousands
  of feet to get resin from some stunted pine tree.                   20
  More than once a boat filled with water in a turbulent
  passage, but the swiftness of the current carried it to more
  placid waters below, where it could be bailed out.

  The difficulties of the explorers were increased by the
  lack of daylight hours. The sun shines each day for only            25
  a short time in the gorge, and twilight follows twilight in
  close succession. Moreover, the winding passage prevented
  a view ahead. Falls were guessed at by the roaring of
  waters reverberating against the walls of rock. Upon
  such a warning the boats were landed, and if there was
  ledge room to walk, the men carried and dragged their
  vessels around the danger spot. If there was no shelving             5
  rock wide enough to permit a portage, the men climbed to a
  higher ledge and eased the boats over the falls with ropes.
  Sometimes nothing was left to do but to "shoot" the falls
  and trust to luck to get over without capsizing.

  The food supply of the crew soon ran low. The flour                 10
  was water-soaked, the bacon became tainted, and much of
  the supply was lost by going overboard.

  Short rations, scant sleep on damp ledges, and the hard
  labor of navigation soon told on the men. But most of
  them were of tried courage and endurance. One day they              15
  came to a little patch of earth by the side of the river. On
  this some corn and squashes were growing--probably
  planted by Indian tribes living at the top of the gorge.
  The corn was too immature to be eaten; but the men enjoyed
  a feast of baked squash, even though the squashes                   20
  were green.

  At the end of fifteen days all of their provisions were
  gone, excepting some heavy flour and dried apples. They
  had arrived at a place where they could climb out of the
  cañon and the question arose as to seeing the voyage finished       25
  or giving it up. Three men decided to give up; so they
  took their share of provisions and guns and climbed out,
  only to be killed shortly afterwards by the Indians. The
  remainder pursued their awful way, not knowing how much
  longer they must endure the terrible hardships.                     30

  Suddenly, on the sixteenth day, they emerged into an
  open space. The Grand Cañon had been traversed!

  Down the river they floated till the following day, when
  they found some settlers drawing in a fish net. These
  settlers had heard that Major Powell had been lost in the
  cañon and were keeping a lookout for pieces of boats.
  Instead, a worn but victorious party confronted them.                5
  Food in plenty was soon forthcoming, and the members of
  the party were feasted as heroes.

         1. Give a two-minute talk on the Grand Cañon,
         touching on location, general character, etc.
         Consult your geographies and reference books for
         material. Make your talk interesting.

         2. Why did Major Powell undertake this dangerous
         trip? How many men went with him? How many deserted
         him? What were some of the troubles they
         encountered? How did the venture turn out?

         3. Name some other famous explorers. Who discovered
         the north pole? The south pole? The Mississippi
         River? The Pacific Ocean?



  NIGHT FISHING IN THE SOUTH SEAS

  BY FREDERICK O'BRIEN

         Mr. O'Brien spent some time among the South Sea
         Islands, and had many interesting adventures there.
         One of the most exciting was this encounter with a
         swordfish, which he relates in a delightful manner.


  Red Chicken became my special friend and guide,
  and on one occasion it was our being together, perhaps,
  saved his life, and afforded me one of the most thrilling
  moments of my own.

  He and I had gone in a canoe after nightfall to spear fish           5
  outside the Bay of Virgins. Night fishing has its attractions
  in these tropics, if only for the freedom from severe
  heat, the glory of the moonlight or starlight, and the waking
  dreams that come to one upon the sea, when the canoe rests
  tranquil, the torch blazes, and the fish swim to meet the           10
  harpoon. The night was moonless, but the sea was covered
  with phosphorescence, sometimes a glittering expanse of
  light, and again black as velvet except where our canoe
  moved gently through a soft and glamorous surface of
  sparkling jewels. A night for a lover, a lady, and a lute.

  Our torch of coconut husks and reeds, seven feet high,               5
  was fixed at the prow, so that it could be lifted up when
  needed to attract the fish or better to light the canoe.
  Red Chicken, in a scarlet pareu fastened tightly about
  his loins, stood at the prow when we had reached his
  favorite spot off a point of land, while I, with a paddle,          10
  noiselessly kept the canoe as stationary as possible.

  Light is a lure for many creatures of land and sea and
  sky. The moth and the bat whirl about a flame; the sea
  bird dashes its body against the bright glass of the lonely
  tower; wild deer come to see what has disturbed the dark            15
  of the forest; and fish of different kinds leap at a torch.
  Red Chicken put a match to ours when we were all in readiness.
  The brilliant gleam cleft the darkness and sent
  across the blackness of the water a beam that was a challenge
  to the curiosity of the dozing fish. They hastened                  20
  towards us, and Red Chicken made meat of those that came
  within the radius of his harpoon, so that within an hour or
  two our canoe was heaped with half a dozen kinds.

  Far off in the path of the flambeau rays I saw the swordfish
  leaping as they pursued small fish or gamboled for                  25
  sheer joy in the luminous air. They seemed to be in pairs.
  I watched them lazily, with academic interest in their
  movements, until suddenly one rose a hundred feet away,
  and in his idle caper in the air I saw a bulk so immense, and
  a sword of such amazing size, that the thought of danger            30
  struck me dumb.

  He was twenty-five feet in length, and had a dorsal fin
  that stood up like the sail of a small boat. But even these
  dimensions cannot convey the feeling of alarm his presence
  gave me. His next leap brought him within forty feet of
  us. I recalled a score of accidents I had seen, read, and
  heard of; fishermen stabbed, boats rent, steel-clad ships            5
  pierced through and through.

  Red Chicken held the torch to observe him better, and
  shouted: "_Apau!_ Look out! Paddle fast away!"

  I needed no urging. I dug into the glowing water
  madly, and the sound of my paddle on the side of the canoe          10
  might have been heard half a mile away. It served no
  purpose. Suddenly half a dozen of the swordfish began
  jumping about us, as if stirred to anger by our torch. I
  called to Red Chicken to extinguish it.

  He had seized it to obey when I heard a splash and the              15
  canoe received a terrific shock. A tremendous bulk fell
  upon it. With a sudden swing I was hurled into the air
  and fell twenty feet away. In the water I heard a swish,
  and glimpsed the giant espadon as he leaped again.

  I was unhurt, but feared for Red Chicken. He had                    20
  cried out as the canoe went under, but I found him by the
  outrigger, trying to right the craft. Together we succeeded,
  and when I had ousted some of the water, Red Chicken
  crawled in.

  "_Papaoufaa!_ I am wounded slightly," he said, as I                 25
  assisted him. "The Spear of the Sea has thrust me
  through."

  The torch was lost, but I felt a big hole in the calf of his
  right leg. Blood was pouring from the wound. I made a
  tourniquet of a strip of my pareu and, with a small harpoon,        30
  twisted it until the flow of blood was stopped. Then,
  guided by him, I paddled as fast as I could to the beach,
  on which there was little trouble in landing as the bay was
  smooth.

  Red Chicken did not utter a complaint from the moment
  of his first outcry, and when I roused others and he was
  carried to his house, he took the pipe handed him and                5
  smoked quietly.

  "The Aavehie was against him," said an old man.
  Aavehie is the god of fishermen, who was always propitiated
  by intending anglers in the polytheistic days and who still
  has power.                                                          10

  There was no white doctor on the island, nor had there
  been one for many years. There was nothing to do but
  call the _tatihi_, or native doctor, an aged and shriveled
  man whose whole body was an intricate pattern of tattooing
  and wrinkles. He came at once, and with his clawlike                15
  hands cleverly drew together the edges of Red Chicken's
  wound and gummed them in place with the juice of the _ape_,
  a bulbous plant like the edible taro. Red Chicken must
  have suffered keenly, for the _ape_ juice is exceedingly caustic,
  but he made no protest, continuing to puff the pipe. Over           20
  the wound the _tatihi_ applied a leaf, and bound the whole
  very carefully with a bandage of tapa cloth, folded in surgical
  fashion.

                              --_White Shadows in the South Seas._

         1. What were the author and Red Chicken doing at
         the outset? Read the lines where the adventure
         begins.

         2. Like most real adventures this one was all over
         in a moment. What happened? Why did it occur?

         3. Spell, pronounce, and explain: phosphorescence,
         lure, stationary, propitiated, polytheistic,
         tattooing, caustic.

         (Taken from O'Brien's _White Shadows in the South
         Seas_ by permission of the publishers, The Century
         Co.)



  A BALLAD OF EAST AND WEST

  BY RUDYARD KIPLING

         No man has written more stirring tales, in prose or
         verse, in recent times than Rudyard Kipling. Born
         (1865) in Bombay, India, the son of an Englishman
         in the civil service, he became steeped in the ways
         of the men of the East. Consequently his first
         writings were sketches of Anglo-Indian life,
         written for Indian newspapers with which he was
         connected. Then followed a series of books on
         Eastern themes, some in prose and others in verse.
         Among these was _Departmental Ditties_ from which
         the following narrative poem is taken. Read it
         through first to get the story and the atmosphere
         in mind.


      Kamal is out with twenty men to raise the Border side,
      And he has lifted the Colonel's mare that is the
          Colonel's pride:
      He has lifted her out of the stable door between the dawn
          and the day,                                                 5
      And turned the calkins upon her feet, and ridden her far
          away.

      Then up and spoke the Colonel's son that led a troop of the
          Guides:
      "Is there never a man of all my men can say where Kamal         10
          hides?"

      Then up and spoke Mahommed Khan, the son of the
          Ressaldar,
      "If ye know the track of the morning mist, ye know where
      his pickets are.                                                15

      "At dusk he harries the Abazai--at dawn he is in Bonair;
      But he must go by Fort Bukloh to his own place to fare
      So if ye gallop to Fort Bukloh as fast as a bird can fly,
      By the favor of God ye may cut him off ere he win to the
          Tongue of Jagai.                                             5
      But if he be passed the Tongue of Jagai, right swiftly turn
          ye then,
      For the length and the breadth of that grisly plain is sown
          with Kamal's men.
      There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low       10
          lean thorn between,
      And ye may hear a breech bolt snick where never a man is
          seen."

      The Colonel's son has taken a horse, and a raw, rough dun
          was he,                                                     15
      With the mouth of a bell, and the heart of Hell, and the
          head of the gallows tree.
      The Colonel's son to the fort has won, they bid him stay
          to eat--
      Who rides at the tail of a Border thief, he sits not long at    20
          his meat.

      He's up and away from Fort Bukloh as fast as he can fly,
      Till he was aware of his father's mare in the gut of the
      Tongue of Jagai;
      Till he was aware of his father's mare with Kamal upon her      25
          back,
      And when he could spy the white of her eye, he made the
          pistol crack.
      He has fired once, he has fired twice, but the whistling ball
          went wide.                                                  30
      "Ye shoot like a soldier," Kamal said. "Show now if ye
          can ride."

      It's up and over the Tongue of Jagai, as blown dust-devils
          go,
      The dun he fled like a stag of ten, but the mare like a barren   5
          doe.
      The dun he leaned against the bit and slugged his head
          above,
      But the red mare played with the snaffle bars, as a maiden
          plays with a glove.                                         10
      There was rock to the left and rock to the right, and low,
          lean thorn between,
      And thrice he heard a breech bolt snick tho' never a man
          was seen.

      They have ridden the low moon out of the sky, their hoofs       15
          drum up the dawn,
      The dun he went like a wounded bull, but the mare like a
          new-roused fawn.
      The dun he fell at a watercourse--in a woeful heap fell he,
      And Kamal has turned the red mare back, and pulled the          20
          rider free.

      He has knocked the pistol out of his hand--small room
          was there to strive,
      "'Twas only by favor of mine," quoth he, "ye rode so long
          alive:                                                      25
      There was not a rock for twenty mile, there was not a clump
          of tree,
      But covered a man of my own men with his rifle cocked on
          his knee.

      "If I had raised my bridle hand, as I have held it low,
      The little jackals that flee so fast were feasting all in a row:
      If I had bowed my head on my breast, as I have held it high,
      The kite that whistles above us now were gorged till she
          could not fly."                                              5

      Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "Do good to bird and
          beast,
      But count who come for the broken meats before thou
          makest a feast.
      If there should follow a thousand swords to carry my            10
          bones away,
      Belike the price of a jackal's meal were more than a thief
          could pay.

      "They will feed their horse on the standing crop, their men
          on the garnered grain,                                      15
      The thatch of the byres will serve their fires when all the
          cattle are slain.
      But if thou thinkest the price be fair,--thy brethren wait
          to sup.
      The hound is kin to the jackal spawn,--howl, dog, and           20
          call them up!
      And if thou thinkest the price be high, in steer and gear and
          stack,
      Give me my father's mare again, and I'll fight my own way
          back!"                                                      25

      Kamal has gripped him by the hand and set him upon his
          feet.
      "No talk shall be of dogs," said he, "when wolf and gray
          wolf meet.
      May I eat dirt if thou hast hurt of me in deed or breath;
      What dam of lances brought thee forth to jest at the dawn
          with Death?"

      Lightly answered the Colonel's son: "I hold by the blood
          of my clan:                                                  5
      Take up the mare of my father's gift--by God, she has
          carried a man!"
      The red mare ran to the Colonel's son and nuzzled against
          his breast,
      "We be two strong men," said Kamal then, "but she loveth        10
          the younger best.
      So she shall go with the lifter's dower, my turquoise-studded
          rein,
      My broidered saddle and saddlecloth, and silver stirrups
          twain."                                                     15

      The Colonel's son a pistol drew and held it muzzle end,
      "Ye have taken the one from a foe," said he; "will ye take
          the mate from a friend?"

      "A gift for a gift," said Kamal straight; "a limb for the
          risk of a limb.                                             20
      Thy father has sent his son to me, I'll send my son to him!"
      With that he whistled his only son, that dropped from a
          mountain crest--
      He trod the ling like a buck in spring, and he looked like
      a lance in rest.                                                25
      "Now here is thy master," Kamal said, "who leads a troop
          of the Guides,
      And thou must ride at his left side as shield on shoulder
          rides.

      "Till Death or I cut loose the tie, at camp and board and
          bed.
      Thy life is his--thy fate it is to guard him with thy head.
      So thou must eat the White Queen's meat, and all her foes
          are thine,                                                   5
      And thou must harry thy father's hold for the peace of the
          Border line,
      And thou must make a trooper tough and hack thy way to
          power--
      Belike they will raise thee to Ressaldar when I am hanged       10
          in Peshawar."

      They have looked each other between the eyes and there
          they found no fault,
      They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on
          leavened bread and salt;                                    15
      They have taken the Oath of the Brother-in-Blood on fire
          and fresh-cut sod,
      On the hilt and the haft of the Khyber knife, and the
          wondrous Names of God.

      The Colonel's son he rides the mare and Kamal's boy the         20
          dun,
      And two have come back to Fort Bukloh where there went
          forth but one.
      And when they drew to the Quarter Guard, full twenty
          swords flew clear--                                         25
      There was not a man but carried his feud with the blood of
          the mountaineer.
      "Ha' done! ha' done!" said the Colonel's son. "Put up
          the steel at your sides!
      Last night ye had struck at a Border thief--to-night 'tis a     30
          man of the Guides!"

      Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain
          shall meet,
      Till Earth and Sky stand presently at God's great Judgment
          Seat;
      But there is neither East nor West, Border, nor Breed, nor       5
          Birth,
      When two strong men stand face to face, though they come
          from the ends of the earth!

                                 --_Departmental Ditties._

         1. What do you think Kipling means by "East is
         East, and West is West"? Who in the poem
         represented the East? Who the West? Where is the
         scene of the poem laid?

         2. What incident gave rise to the ride? Interpret
         the advice given by Mahommed Khan. What did he mean
         in lines 14-15, page 168, and lines 12-13, page
         169?

         3. What happened in the first lap of the ride? In
         the second? How was Mahommed Khan's advice shown to
         be true? What was the climax of the chase?

         4. What happened when the two chief characters met
         face to face? What kind of man was Kamal? Prove
         your comments from the poem.

         5. How did the whole affair turn out?

         6. You doubtless have read Kipling's _Jungle
         Books_, and you will wish to read _Captains
         Courageous_, and some of his short stories like
         "Wee Willie Winkie."

         Kipling married an American woman and lived for a
         time at Brattleboro, Vt. He now resides in England.



_UNDER THE OPEN SKY_


     _Love had he found in huts where poor men lie;
      His daily teachers had been woods and rills,
        The silence that is in the starry sky,
      The sleep that is among the lonely hills._

                               --WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

[Illustration: A NIGHT AMONG THE PINES

(_See following page_)]



  A NIGHT AMONG THE PINES

  BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

         This is an account of one night's camping-out
         experience in the mountains of southeastern France.
         Stevenson's only companion was Modestine, a donkey
         "not much bigger than a dog, the color of a mouse,
         with a kindly eye and a determined jaw." The
         selection is especially fine in its interpretation
         of night out of doors. Read it to gather the
         impressions that the sights and sounds made upon
         the author. Then read it to discover what you would
         have listened for (and probably heard) had you been
         in the same position.


  From Bleymard after dinner, although it was already
  late, I set out to scale a portion of the Lozère. An
  ill-marked stony droveroad guided me forward; and I met
  nearly half a dozen bullock carts descending from the woods,
  each laden with a whole pine tree for the winter's firing.           5
  At the top of the woods, which do not climb very high upon
  this cold ridge, I struck leftward by a path among the
  pines, until I hit on a dell of green turf, where a streamlet
  made a little spout over some stones to serve me for a water
  tap. "In a more sacred or sequestered bower . . . nor               10
  nymph, nor faunus, haunted." The trees were not old,
  but they grew thickly round the glade; there was no outlook,
  except northeastward upon distant hilltops or straight
  upward to the sky; and the encampment felt secure and
  private like a room. By the time I had made my arrangements         15
  and fed Modestine, the day was already beginning
  to decline. I buckled myself to the knees into my sack and
  made a hearty meal; and as soon as the sun went down, I
  pulled my cap over my eyes and fell asleep.

  Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but
  in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews
  and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the
  face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to
  people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light            5
  and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night
  long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even
  as she takes her rest, she turns and smiles; and there is
  one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses,
  when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping              10
  hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet.
  It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce
  the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course
  of the night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break
  their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among        15
  the ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with
  the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of
  the night.

  At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of
  Nature, are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour       20
  to life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we
  share some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies?
  Even shepherds and old country folk, who are the deepest
  read in these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or
  purpose of this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the            25
  morning, they declare the thing takes place; and neither
  know nor inquire further. And at least it is a pleasant
  incident. We are disturbed in our slumber only, like the
  luxurious Montaigne, "that we may the better and more
  sensibly relish it." We have a moment to look upon the              30
  stars, and there is a special pleasure for some minds in
  the reflection that we share the impulse with all outdoor
  creatures in our neighborhood, that we have escaped out
  of the Bastille of civilization, and are become, for the time
  being, a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature's flock.

  When that hour came to me among the pines, I wakened
  thirsty. My tin was standing by me, half full of water.              5
  I emptied it at a draft. The stars were clear, colored and
  jewellike, but not frosty. A faint silvery vapor stood for
  the Milky Way. All around me the black fir points stood
  upright and stock-still. By the whiteness of the packsaddle,
  I could see Modestine walking round and round at the                10
  length of the tether; I could hear her steadily munching
  at the sward; but there was not another sound, save the
  indescribable quiet talk of the runnel over the stones. I
  lay lazily smoking and studying the color of the sky, as
  we call the void of space, from where it showed a reddish           15
  gray behind the pines to where it showed a glossy blue-black
  between the stars.

  A faint wind, more like a moving coolness than a stream
  of air, passed down the glade from time to time; so that
  even in my great chamber the air was being renewed all              20
  night long. I have not often enjoyed a more serene possession
  of myself, nor felt more independent of material aids.
  The outer world, from which we cower into our houses, seemed
  after all a gentle, habitable place; and night after night a
  man's bed, it seemed, was laid and waiting for him in the           25
  fields, where God keeps an open house. I thought I had
  rediscovered one of those truths which are revealed to
  savages and hid from political economists: at the least, I
  had discovered a new pleasure for myself. And yet even
  while I was exulting in my solitude I became aware of a             30
  strange lack. I wished a companion to lie near me in the
  starlight, silent and not moving, but ever within touch.
  For there is a fellowship more quiet even than solitude,
  and which, rightly understood, is solitude made perfect.

  As I thus lay, between content and longing, a faint
  noise stole towards me through the pines. I thought, at
  first, it was the crowing of cocks or the barking of dogs at         5
  some very distant farm; but steadily and gradually it took
  articulate shape in my ears, until I became aware that a
  passenger was going by upon the highroad of the valley
  and singing loudly as he went. There was more of good will
  than grace in his performance; but he trolled with ample            10
  lungs; and the sound of his voice took hold upon the hillside
  and set the air shaking in the leafy glens. I have
  heard people passing by night in sleeping cities; some of
  them sang; one, I remember, played loudly on the bagpipes.
  I have heard the rattle of a cart or carriage spring                15
  up suddenly after hours of stillness and pass, for some
  minutes, within the range of my hearing as I lay abed.
  There is a romance about all who are abroad in the black
  hours, and with something of a thrill we try to guess their
  business. But here the romance was double: first, this              20
  glad passenger, who sent up his voice in music through the
  night; and then I, on the other hand, buckled into my
  sack, and smoking alone in the pine woods between four
  and five thousand feet towards the stars.

  When I awoke again (Sunday, 29th September) many of                 25
  the stars had disappeared, only the stronger companions
  of the night still burned visibly overhead; and away
  towards the east I saw a faint haze of light upon the horizon,
  such as had been the Milky Way when I was last awake.
  Day was at hand. I lit my lantern, and by its glowworm              30
  light put on my boots and gaiters; then I broke up some
  bread for Modestine, filled my can at the water tap, and
  lit my spirit lamp to boil myself some chocolate. The blue
  darkness lay long in the glade where I had so sweetly
  slumbered; but soon there was a broad streak of orange
  melting into gold along the mountain top of Vivarais.
  A solemn glee possessed my mind at this gradual and lovely           5
  coming in of day. I heard the runnel with delight; I
  looked round me for something beautiful and unexpected;
  but the still black pine trees, the hollow glade, the munching
  ass, remained unchanged in figure. Nothing had
  altered but the light, and that, indeed, shed over all a            10
  spirit of life and of breathing peace, and moved me to a
  strange exhilaration.

  I drank my water chocolate, which was hot if it was not
  rich, and strolled here and there, and up and down about
  the glade. While I was thus delaying, a gush of steady              15
  wind, as long as a heavy sigh, poured direct out of the
  quarter of the morning. It was cold and set me sneezing.
  The trees near at hand tossed their black plumes in its
  passage; and I could see the thin, distant spires of pines
  along the edge of the hill, rock slightly to and fro against the    20
  golden east. Ten minutes after, the sunlight spread at
  a gallop along the hillside, scattering shadows and sparkles,
  and the day had come completely.

  I hastened to prepare my pack, and tackle the steep
  ascent that lay before me; but I had something on my                25
  mind. It was only a fancy; yet a fancy will sometimes be
  importunate. I had been most hospitably received and
  punctually served in my green caravansary. The room
  was airy, the water excellent, and the dawn had called me
  to a moment. I say nothing of the tapestries or the inimitable      30
  ceiling, nor yet of the view which I commanded from
  the windows; but I felt I was in some one's debt for all
  this liberal entertainment. And so it pleased me, in a
  half-laughing way, to leave pieces of money on the turf
  as I went along, until I had left enough for my night's
  lodging. I trust they did not fall to some rich and churlish
  drover.                                                              5

                                   --_Travels with a Donkey._

         1. What did Stevenson _see_ during the night? What
         did he _hear_? How did he _feel_? The details are
         not unlike those in _Robinson Crusoe_.

         2. Re-read the first paragraph, page 178, and tell
         what its chief idea is. Select the paragraph in
         which the description is clearest to you. Read it
         aloud. Observe how the simple words are arranged to
         make pictures and to produce rhythm. Stevenson
         rewrote many times to get this easy clearness.

         3. If you have ever slept out of doors what
         impressed you most? What sounds did Stevenson
         probably fail to hear? Was he a naturalist?

         4. Stevenson was born in Edinburgh, Scotland, in
         1850. He belonged to a family of civil engineers.
         His health was always poor, so he traveled a great
         deal. He went to France and to Switzerland. He came
         to America and spent some time in the Adirondacks.
         Finally he settled on an island far out in the
         Pacific Ocean, where he lived till his death, in
         1894. In spite of his poor health, he was a busy
         writer of novels, essays, short stories, and verse.



  AUTUMN ON THE FARM

  BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

         This is a poetic description of an old-fashioned
         autumn scene on a England farm. The huskers in the
         field merely jerked the ear of corn from its stalk,
         leaving the husk on the ear. The husks were
         afterwards removed in the barn at a big husking bee
         or picnic, in which the neighbors took part. Read
         the poem for its pictures.


      It was late in mild October,
        And the long autumnal rain
      Had left the summer harvest fields
        All green with grass again;
      The first sharp frosts had fallen,                               5
        Leaving all the woodlands gay
      With the hues of summer's rainbow
        Or the meadow flowers of May.

      Through a thin, dry mist, that morning,
        The sun rose broad and red;                                   10
      At first a rayless disk of fire,
        He brightened as he sped;
      Yet even his noontide glory
        Fell chastened and subdued
      On the cornfields and the orchards                              15
      And softly pictured wood.

      And all that quiet afternoon,
        Slow sloping to the night,
      He wove with golden shuttle
        The haze with yellow light;                                   20

      Slanting through the painted beeches,
        He glorified the hill;
      And beneath it pond and meadow
        Lay brighter, greener still.

      And shouting boys in woodland haunts                             5
        Caught glimpses of that sky,
      Flecked by many-tinted leaves,
        And laughed, they knew not why;
      And schoolgirls, gay with aster flowers,
        Beside the meadow brooks,                                     10
      Mingled the glow of autumn
        With the sunshine of sweet looks.

      From spire and barn, looked westerly
        The patient weathercocks;
      But even the birches on the hill                                15
        Stood motionless as rocks.
      No sound was in the woodlands
        Save the squirrel's dropping shell,
      And the yellow leaves among the boughs,
        Low rustling as they fell.                                    20

      The summer grains were harvested;
        The stubble fields lay dry,
      Where June winds rolled, in light and shade,
        The pale-green waves of rye;
      But still on gentle hill slopes,                                25
        In valleys fringed with wood,
      Ungathered, bleaching in the sun,
        The heavy corn crop stood.

      Bent low by autumn's wind and rain,
        Through husks that, dry and sere,
      Unfolded from their ripened charge,
        Shone out the yellow ear;
      Beneath, the turnip lay concealed                                5
        In many a verdant fold,
      And glistened in the slanting light
        The pumpkin's sphere of gold.

      There wrought the busy harvesters;
        And many a creaking wain                                      10
      Bore slowly to the long barn floor
        Its load of husk and grain;
      Till, broad and red as when he rose,
        The sun sank down at last,
      And like a merry guest's farewell,                              15
        The day in brightness passed.

      And lo! as through the western pines,
        On meadow, stream, and pond,
      Flamed the red radiance of a sky,
        Set all afire beyond,                                         20
      Slowly o'er the eastern sea bluffs
        A milder glory shone,
      And the sunset and the moonrise
        Were mingled into one!


                                       --_The Huskers._

         1. What is Indian summer? Is this a description of
         an Indian summer day? Sketch the field described,
         or the sunset. Observe the color words in the last
         stanza.

         2. What was happening in the woods on that October
         day? In the fields? Describe the scene in each.



  GOLDENROD

  BY ELAINE GOODALE EASTMAN

         Most of our wild flowers that blossom in the fall
         are of brilliant colors. In September the fields
         and fence rows are a blaze of reds, yellows, buffs,
         and browns. Conspicuous among these is the stately
         yellow plume of the goldenrod, strikingly described
         in the following poem. Read this selection slowly.
         Every line adds to the picture--every word means
         one more idea. Try to sense the entire meaning of
         the author.

  (Used by special permission of the author.)


      When the wayside tangles blaze
        In the low September sun,
      When the flowers of summer days
        Droop and wither, one by one,
      Reaching up through bush and brier,                              5
      Sumptuous brow and heart of fire,
      Flaunting high its wind-rocked plume,
      Brave with wealth of native bloom--
                    Goldenrod!

      When the meadow lately shorn,                                   10
        Parched and languid, swoons with pain,
      When her lifeblood, night and morn,
        Shrinks in every throbbing vein,
      Round her fallen, tarnished urn
      Leaping watch fires brighter burn;                              15
      Royal arch o'er autumn's gate,
      Bending low with lustrous weight--
                    Goldenrod!

      In the pasture's rude embrace,
        All o'errun with tangled vines,
      Where the thistle claims its place,
        And the straggling hedge confines,
      Bearing still the sweet impress                                  5
      Of unfettered loveliness,
      In the field and by the wall,
      Binding, clasping, crowning all--
                    Goldenrod!

      Nature lies disheveled, pale,                                   10
        With her feverish lips apart;
      Day by day the pulses fail,
        Nearer to her bounding heart;
      Yet that slackened grasp doth hold
      Store of pure and genuine gold;                                 15
      Quick thou comest, strong and free,
      Type of all the wealth to be--
                    Goldenrod!

         1. Three of the stanzas definitely locate the
         goldenrod. Read the lines that tell where it grows.

         2. Which stanza makes the most vivid picture for
         you? What descriptive words in the stanza help make
         this picture?

         3. Read the second stanza aloud, and tell in your
         own words what you think each line means.

         4. Find synonyms (words of similar meaning) for the
         following: sumptuous, unfettered, disheveled,
         lustrous. Substitute your synonym for each of these
         words and read the line aloud.

         5. Make a pencil sketch of a goldenrod as you
         recall it. Color your sketch with crayon.

         6. The goldenrod is sometimes called our national
         flower. Why do you think it is so called? What is
         your state flower?



  THE PALISADES

  BY JOHN MASEFIELD

    (Used by permission of Dodd, Mead and Company, Publishers.)


  On the west side of the Hudson River there is a cliff,
  or crag of rock, all carved into queer shapes. It
  stretches along the riverside for twenty or thirty miles,
  as far as Tarrytown, or further, to the broad part where the
  stream looks like a sea. The cliff rises up, as a rule very          5
  boldly, to the height of several hundred feet. The top of
  it (the Jersey shore) appears regular. It is like a well-laid
  wall along the river, with trees and one or two white wooden
  houses, instead of broken glass, at the top. This wall appearance
  made the settlers call the crag the "Palisades."                    10

  Where the Palisades are the grandest is just as high up as
  Yonkers. Hereabouts they are very stately, for they are
  all marshaled along a river a mile or more broad, which
  runs in a straight line past them, with a great tide. If you
  take a boat and row across to the Palisades their beauty            15
  makes you shiver. In the afternoon, when you are underneath
  them, the sun is shut away from you; and there you
  are, in the chill and the gloom, with the great cliff towering
  up and the pinnacles and tall trees catching the sunlight
  at the top. Then it is very still there. You will see no            20
  one along that shore. A great eagle will go sailing out, or
  a hawk will drop and splash after a fish, but you will see
  no other living thing, except at the landing. There are
  schooners in the river, of course, but they keep to the New
  York shore to avoid being becalmed.

 You can lie there in your boat, in the slack water near
  the crag foot, and hear nothing but the wind, the suck of
  the water, or the tinkle of a scrap of stone falling from the
  cliff face. It is like being in the wilds, in one of the desolate
  places, to lie there in a boat watching the eagles.                  5

                                       --_A Tarpaulin Muster._

         1. Put yourself in the author's place and try to
         visualize this scene as he viewed it. Tell what you
         see. From what position are you looking?



  ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET

  BY JOHN KEATS


      The poetry of earth is never dead:
      When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
      And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
      From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
      That is the grasshopper's--he takes the lead                     5
      In summer luxury--he has never done
      With his delights, for when tired out with fun,
      He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
      The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
      On a lone winter evening, when the frost                        10
      Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
      The cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever,
      And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
      The grasshopper's among the grassy hills.

         1. What keeps the poetry of earth alive in the heat
         of summer? In the cold of winter? What does Keats
         mean by his first line?



  TO A WATERFOWL

  BY WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT

         Bryant saw a solitary waterfowl winging its way
         high up in the air in the twilight of evening. The
         sight sets him thinking of the inborn sense of the
         bird. Where was it going? How did it know it was on
         the right way? Who gave it the power to direct its
         flight? Then he imagines that the bird is bound for
         its nesting place among its fellows. And he finally
         gets for himself--and for us all--a fine lesson
         from the flight of the waterfowl. Try to follow the
         poet's thinking, step by step, as you read the
         poem.


        Whither, midst falling dew,
      While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,
      Far through their rosy depths dost thou pursue
        Thy solitary way?

        Vainly the fowler's eye                                        5
      Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong,
      As darkly painted on the crimson sky,
        Thy figure floats along.

        Seek'st thou the plashy brink
      Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,                          10
      Or where the rocking billows rise and sink
        On the chafed ocean side?

        There is a Power whose care
      Teaches thy way along that pathless coast--
      The desert and illimitable air--                                15
        Lone wandering, but not lost.

        All day thy wings have fanned
      At that far height the cold, thin atmosphere,
      Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land,
        Though the dark night is near.

        And soon that toil shall end;                                  5
      Soon shalt thou find a summer home, and rest,
      And scream among thy fellows; reeds shall bend,
        Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest.

        Thou'rt gone; the abyss of heaven
      Hath swallowed up thy form; yet on my heart                     10
      Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou hast given,
        And shall not soon depart.

        He who from zone to zone
      Guides through the boundless sky thy certain flight,
      In the long way that I must tread alone,                        15
        Will lead my steps aright.

         1. What time of day is it when Bryant observes the
         bird? Is it clear or cloudy weather? Prove both
         answers.

         2. In the third stanza, how many places does he
         mention as the possible ends of the bird's flight?
         Name each.

         3. Has the waterfowl traveled far? Read the line
         that answers this.

         4. Explain line 5, page 190; the third stanza on
         page 191.

         5. What lesson does Bryant get from the bird?
         Memorize the last stanza.

         6. William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878) was born at
         Cummington, Massachusetts, where his father
         practiced medicine. He attended the district school
         and later studied law, but gave up his practice for
         journalism. He was very successful and was for many
         years editor of _The New York Evening Post_. This
         poem was written when he was unsettled and
         discouraged about his law practice.



  A NIGHT IN THE TROPICS

  BY RICHARD HENRY DANA, JR.

         Those who have spent their lives on the ocean say
         that we dwellers on land know nothing of life under
         the open sky. The following extract is a bit of
         night scenery aboard ship in the days of wooden
         vessels with canvas wings.


  One night while we were in the tropics, I went out to
  the end of the flying jib boom upon some duty; and
  having finished it, turned around and lay on the boom for
  a long time, admiring the beauty of the sight below me.
  Being so far out from the deck I could look at the ship              5
  as at a separate vessel; and there rose up from the water,
  supported only by the small black hull, a pyramid of canvas
  spreading far out beyond the hull and towering up almost,
  as it seemed in the indistinct night, into the clouds. The
  sea was as still as an inland lake; the light trade wind was        10
  gently and steadily breathing from astern; the dark-blue
  sky was studded with the tropical stars; there was no
  sound but the rippling of the water under the stem; and
  the sails were spread out wide and high--the two lower
  studding sails stretching out on either side far beyond the         15
  deck; the topmost studding sails like wings to the topsails;
  the topgallant studding sails spreading fearlessly out above
  them; still higher the two royal studding sails, looking
  like two kites flying from the same string; and highest
  of all the little skysail, the apex of the pyramid, seeming         20
  actually to touch the stars and to be out of reach of human
  hand. So quiet, too, was the sea, and so steady the breeze,
  that if these sails had been sculptured in marble they could
  not have been more motionless--not a ripple on the
  surface of the canvas, not even a quivering of the extreme
  edges of the sail, so perfectly were they distended by the
  breeze. I was so lost in the sight that I forgot the presence
  of the man who came out with me, until he said (for he               5
  too, rough old man-of-war's man that he was, had been
  gazing at the show) half to himself, still looking at the
  marble sails: "How quietly they do their work!"

                              --_Two Years Before the Mast._

         1. This is a painting in words. From what position
         did Mr. Dana view the scene? What impressed him
         most?



  A WINTER RIDE

  BY AMY LOWELL


      Who shall declare the joy of the running!
        Who shall tell of the pleasures of flight!
      Springing and spurning the tufts of wild heather,
        Sweeping, wide winged, through the blue dome of light.
      Everything mortal has moments immortal,                          5
        Swift and God-gifted, immeasurably bright.

      So with the stretch of the white road before me,
        Shining snow crystals rainbowed by the sun,
      Fields that are white, stained with long, cool, blue shadows,
        Strong with the strength of my horse as we run.               10
      Joy in the touch of the wind and the sunlight!
        Joy! With the vigorous earth I am one.

         1. What was the author doing? How did the ride
         affect her? What does she mean in line 5? In line
         12? If you have ever coasted or had a swift sleigh
         ride tell the thrills you experienced.



  THE SNOWSTORM

  BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

         The following selection is an artistic description
         of a winter storm. Read it carefully to get the
         successive pictures that are presented. Try to
         determine, as you read, when the snow fell, whether
         the scenes are in the country or in town; if the
         author was an actual observer of the storm or if he
         wrote the poem out of imagination.


        Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
      Arrives the snow, and driving o'er the fields,
      Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
      Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
      And veils the farmhouse at the garden's end.                     5
      The sled and traveler stopped, the courier's feet
      Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
      Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed
      In a tumultuous privacy of storm.

        Come see the north wind's masonry!                            10
      Out of an unseen quarry evermore
      Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
      Curves his white bastions with projected roof
      Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
      Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work                      15
      So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he
      For number or proportion. Mockingly,
      On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
      A swanlike form invests the hidden thorn;
      Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,                   20
      Mauger the farmer's sighs; and at the gate
      A tapering turret overtops the work;
      And when his hours are numbered and the world
      Is all his own, retiring as he were not,
      Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art                     5
      To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
      Built in an age, the mad wind's night work--
      The frolic architecture of the snow.

         1. The first stanza describes the effect of the
         storm on people. Who are some of those
         inconvenienced?

         2. In the remainder of the poem, the storm is
         thought of as an architect. What words describe him
         and his work? Why is he "myriad-handed?" Explain
         windward; mauger; "Parian wreaths." Why is the
         storm said to use the last mockingly? What other
         fanciful or mischievous things does the storm do?

         3. Express in your own words the idea in lines 3-8,
         page 195. Compare the work of human builders with
         the work of the storm.

         4. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) was an American
         essayist, poet, and philosopher. He lived at
         Concord, Massachusetts.



  SNOW-BOUND

  BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER


      The sun that brief December day
      Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
      And darkly circled, gave at noon
      A sadder light than waning moon.
      Slow tracing down the thickening sky                             5
      Its mute and ominous prophecy,
      A portent seeming less than threat,
      It sank from sight before it set.
      A chill no coat, however stout,
      Of homespun stuff could quite shut out--                        10

      A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
      That checked, midvein, the circling race
      Of lifeblood in the sharpened face--
      The coming of the snowstorm told.
      The wind blew east; we heard the roar                            5
      Of ocean on his wintry shore,
      And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
      Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

      Meanwhile we did our nightly chores:
      Brought in the wood from out of doors,                          10
      Littered the stalls, and from the mows
      Raked down the herd's grass for the cows;
      Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
      And sharply clashing horn on horn,
      Impatient down the stanchion rows,                              15
      The cattle shake their walnut bows;
      While peering from his early perch
      Upon the scaffold's pole of birch,
      The cock his crested helmet bent
      And down his querulous challenge sent.                          20

      Unwarmed by any sunset light
      The gray day darkened into night,
      A night made hoary with the swarm
      And whirl dance of the blinding storm,
      As zigzag, wavering to and fro,                                 25
      Crossed and recrossed the wingèd snow;
      And ere the early bedtime came
      The white drift piled the window frame,
      And through the glass the clothesline posts
      Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.                         30

      So all night long the storm roared on:
      The morning broke without a sun;
      In tiny spherule traced with lines
      Of nature's geometric signs,
      In starry flake and pellicle,                                    5
      All day the hoary meteor fell;
      And when the second morning shone,
      We looked upon a world unknown,
      On nothing we could call our own.
      Around the glistening wonder bent                               10
      The blue walls of the firmament,
      No cloud above, no earth below--
      A universe of sky and snow!

      The old familiar sights of ours
      Took marvelous shapes: strange domes and towers                 15
      Rose up where sty or corncrib stood,
      Or garden wall, or belt of wood;
      A smooth white mound the brush pile showed,
      A fenceless drift what once was road;
      The bridle post an old man sat,                                 20
      With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
      The well curb had a Chinese roof;
      And even the long sweep, high aloof,
      In its slant splendor, seemed to tell
      Of Pisa's leaning miracle.                                      25

      All day the gusty north wind bore
      The loosening drift its breath before;
      Low circling round its southern zone,
      The sun through dazzling snow mist shone.
      No church bell lent its Christian tone                          30
      To the savage air; no social smoke

      Curled over woods of snow-hung oak;
      A solitude made more intense
      By dreary-voicèd elements--
      The shrieking of the mindless wind,
      The moaning tree boughs swaying blind,                           5
      And on the glass the unmeaning beat
      Of ghostly finger tips of sleet.

                                            --_Snow-Bound._

         1. Outline, stanza by stanza, the story told. Who
         tells it? Where is the scene laid? How many days
         and nights are covered?

         2. Compare this with the previous poem for
         clearness, pleasant sound, pictures shown, new
         ideas. Which do you like better? The last line of
         "The Snowstorm" interprets lines 14-25, page 197.
         How?

         3. John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892) was born at
         Haverhill, Massachusetts. _Snow-bound_, from which
         this extract is taken, gives a good description of
         his home and family. A great deal of his writing
         was done while editor of various magazines and
         newspapers. He was for a long time connected with
         the _Atlantic Monthly_. Many of his poems describe
         country life in New England; others retell old
         stories of pioneer days. He died at Amesbury,
         Massachusetts.



  TOM PINCH'S RIDE

  BY CHARLES DICKENS


  It was a charming evening, mild and bright. The four
  grays skimmed along, as if they liked it quite as well
  as Tom did; the bugle was in as high spirits as the grays;
  the coachman chimed in sometimes with his voice; the
  wheels hummed cheerfully in unison; the brass work on                5
  the harness was an orchestra of little bells; and thus as they
  went clinking, jingling, rattling smoothly on, the whole
  concern, from the buckles of the leaders' coupling reins to
  the handle of the boot, was one great instrument of music.

  Yo-ho! Past hedges, gates, and trees; past cottages, and
  barns, and people going home from work. Yo-ho! Past
  donkey chaises drawn aside into the ditch, and empty
  carts with rampant horses whipped up at a bound upon the
  little watercourse and held by struggling carters close to           5
  the five-barred gate until the coach had passed the narrow
  turning in the road. Yo-ho! By churches dropped down
  by themselves in quiet nooks, with rustic burial grounds
  about them, where the graves are green and daisies sleep--for
  it is evening--on the bosoms of the dead.                           10

  Yo-ho! Past streams in which the cattle cool their feet,
  and where the rushes grow; past paddock fences, farms,
  and rickyards; past last year's stacks, cut slice by slice
  away, and showing in the waning light like ruined gables,
  old and brown. Yo-ho! Down the pebbly dip, and through              15
  the merry water splash, and up at a canter to the level
  road again. Yo-ho! Yo-ho!

  Yo-ho! Among the gathering shades, making of no
  account the reflection of the trees, but scampering on
  through light and darkness, all the same, as if the light of        20
  London fifty miles away were quite enough to travel by,
  and some to spare. Now, with a clattering of hoofs and
  striking out of fiery sparks, across the old stone bridge,
  and down again into the shadowy road, and through the
  open gate, and far away, into the world. Yo-ho!                     25

  See the bright moon! High up before we know it,
  making the earth reflect the objects on its breast like water--hedges,
  trees, low cottages, church steeples, blighted stumps,
  and flourishing young slips, have all grown vain upon a
  sudden, and mean to contemplate their own fair images till          30
  morning. The poplars yonder rustle, that their quivering
  leaves may see themselves upon the ground. Not so the
  oak; trembling does not become him; and he watches
  himself in his stout old burly steadfastness without the
  motion of a twig.

  The moss-grown gate, ill-poised upon its creaking hinges,
  crippled and decayed, swings to and fro before its glass             5
  like some fantastic dowager: while our own ghostly likeness
  travels on, through ditch and brake, upon the plowed land
  and the smooth, along the steep hillside and steeper wall,
  as if it were a phantom hunter.

  Yo-ho! Why, now we travel like the moon herself.                    10
  Hiding this minute in a grove of trees; next minute in a
  patch of vapor; emerging now upon our broad, clear course;
  withdrawing now, but always dashing on, our journey is a
  counterpart of hers. Yo-ho! A match against the moon.

  The beauty of the night is hardly felt when day comes               15
  leaping up. Two stages, and the country roads are almost
  changed to a continuous street. Yo-ho! Past market
  gardens, rows of houses, villas, crescents, terraces, and
  squares, and in among the rattling pavements. Yo-ho!
  Down countless turnings, and through countless mazy                 20
  ways, until an old innyard is gained, and Tom Pinch, getting
  down quite stunned and giddy, is in London.

  "Five minutes before the time, too!" said the driver, as
  he received his fee from Tom.

                                         --_Martin Chuzzlewit._

         1. Tom Pinch traveled by the fast night coach to
         London, in the days before railroads. Tell what he
         saw, and make sketches.

         2. Explain: grays, boot, yo-ho, chaises, paddock,
         dowager, rickyards, brake, crescents.

         3. Charles Dickens (1812-1870), an English
         novelist, is famous for his humor and for the
         marvelous characters he has created. Many of his
         books attack or laugh at abuses and prejudices of
         his time.



  ODE TO A BUTTERFLY

  BY THOMAS WENTWORTH HIGGINSON

         The poet watches the butterfly and speaks to it,
         guessing in a fanciful way at its origin,
         commenting on its way of life, and thinking of the
         symbolic meaning that people in all ages have
         associated with it.


      Thou spark of life that wavest wings of gold,
      Thou songless wanderer mid the songful birds,
      With nature's secrets in thy tints unrolled
      Through gorgeous cipher, past the reach of words,
        Yet dear to every child                                        5
        In glad pursuit beguiled,
      Living his unspoiled days mid flowers and flocks and herds!

      Thou wingèd blossom, liberated thing,
      What secret tie binds thee to other flowers,
      Still held within the garden's fostering?                       10
      Will they too soar with the completed hours,
        Take flight, and be like thee
        Irrevocably free,
      Hovering at will o'er their parental bowers?

      Or is thy luster drawn from heavenly hues--                     15
      A sumptuous drifting fragment of the sky,
      Caught when the sunset its last glance imbues
      With sudden splendor, and the treetops high
        Grasp that swift blazonry,
        Then lend those tints to thee,                                20
      On thee to float a few short hours, and die?

      Birds have their nests; they rear their eager young,
      And flit on errands all the livelong day;
      Each field mouse keeps the homestead whence it sprung;
      But thou art nature's freeman--free to stray
        Unfettered through the wood,                                   5
        Seeking thine airy food,
      The sweetness spiced on every blossomed spray.

      The garden one wide banquet spreads for thee,
      O daintiest reveler of the joyous earth!
      One drop of honey gives satiety;                                10
      A second draft would drug thee past all mirth.
        Thy feast no orgy shows;
        Thy calm eyes never close,
      Thou soberest sprite to which the sun gives birth.

      And yet the soul of man upon thy wings                          15
      Forever soars in aspiration; thou
      His emblem of the new career that springs
      When death's arrest bids all his spirit bow.
        He seeks his hope in thee
        Of immortality.                                               20
      Symbol of life, me with such faith endow!

         1. What color was the butterfly that the poet
         watched? What does he imagine it to be in the
         second stanza? In the third? What does he say about
         its habits in the fourth stanza? In the fifth?

         2. What are the four stages in the life of a
         butterfly? The Greeks represented Psyche, the soul,
         with butterfly wings. Why? Express the meaning of
         the last stanza in your own words.

         3. Use these words in sentences of your own:
         cipher, fostering, imbues, blazonry, satiety, orgy,
         sprite, arrest, symbol.

         4. Thomas Wentworth Higginson (1823-1911) was an
         American writer of essays and biography.



  IN THE DESERT

  BY A. W. KINGLAKE

         The following sketch vividly describes an English
         traveler's impression of the desert country that
         lies between Jerusalem and Cairo. Mr. Kinglake had
         only an interpreter, two Arabian attendants and two
         camels in his little caravan.

         _Eothen_, the title of the volume from which this
         selection is extracted, is a Greek word meaning
         "From the East."


  Once during this passage my Arabs lost their way
  among the hills of loose sand that surrounded us,
  but after a while we were lucky enough to recover our right
  line of march. The same day we fell in with a sheik, the
  head of a family that actually dwells at no great distance           5
  from this part of the desert during nine months of the year.
  The man carried a matchlock, and of this he was inordinately
  proud, on account of the supposed novelty and ingenuity
  of the contrivance. We stopped, and sat down and
  rested awhile, for the sake of a little talk.                       10

  There was much that I should have liked to ask this man,
  but he could not understand Dthemetri's language, and
  the process of getting at his knowledge by double interpretation
  through my Arabs was tedious. I discovered,
  however (and my Arabs knew of that fact), that this man             15
  and his family lived habitually for nine months of the year
  without touching or seeing either bread or water. The
  stunted shrub growing at intervals through the sand in
  this part of the desert enables the camel mares to yield a
  little milk, and this furnishes the sole food and drink of          20
  their owner and his people. During the other three months
  (the hottest, I suppose) even this resource fails, and then
  the sheik and his people are forced to pass into another
  district. You would ask me why the man should not
  remain always in that district which supplies him with
  water during three months of the year, but I don't know              5
  enough of Arab politics to answer the question.

  The sheik was not a good specimen of the effect produced
  by his way of living. He was very small, very spare, and
  sadly shriveled--a poor overroasted snipe--a mere
  cinder of a man. I made him sit down by my side, and                10
  gave him a piece of bread and a cup of water from out of
  my goatskins. This was not a very tempting drink to
  look at, for it had become turbid and was deeply reddened
  by some coloring matter contained in the skins; but it
  kept its sweetness and tasted like a strong decoction of            15
  Russia leather. The sheik sipped this drop by drop with
  ineffable relish, and rolled his eyes solemnly round after
  every draft as though the drink were the drink of the
  Prophet and had come from the seventh heaven.

  An inquiry about distances led to the discovery that this           20
  sheik had never heard of the division of time into hours.

  About this part of my journey I saw the likeness of a
  fresh-water lake. I saw, as it seemed, a broad sheet of
  calm water stretching far and fair towards the south--stretching
  deep into winding creeks and hemmed in by                           25
  jutting promontories, and shelving smooth off toward the
  shallow side. On its bosom the reflected fire of the sun lay
  playing and seeming to float as though upon deep, still
  waters.

  Though I knew of the cheat, it was not till the spongy              30
  foot of my camel had almost trodden in the seeming lake
  that I could undeceive my eyes, for the shore line was quite
  true and natural. I soon saw the cause of the phantasm.
  A sheet of water, heavily impregnated with salts, had
  gathered together in a vast hollow between the sand hills,
  and when dried up by evaporation had left a white saline
  deposit; this exactly marked the space which the waters              5
  had covered, and so traced out a good shore line. The
  minute crystals of the salt, by their way of sparkling in
  the sun, were made to seem like the dazzled face of a lake
  that is calm and smooth.

  The pace of the camel is irksome, and makes your                    10
  shoulders and loins ache from the peculiar way in which
  you are obliged to suit yourself to the movements of the
  beast; but one soon, of course, becomes inured to the work,
  and after my first two days, this way of traveling became so
  familiar to me that (poor sleeper as I am) I now and then           15
  slumbered for some moments together on the back of my
  camel.

  After the fifth day of my journey, I no longer traveled
  over the shifting hills but came upon a dead level--a dead
  level bed of sand, quite hard, and studded with small shining       20
  pebbles.

  The heat grew fierce; there was no valley, no hollow,
  no hill, no mound, no shadow of hill nor of mound, by which
  I could mark the way I was making. Hour by hour I
  advanced, and saw no change. I was still the very center            25
  of a round horizon. Hour by hour I advanced, and still
  there was the same, and the same, and the same--the
  same circle of flaming sky--the same circle of sand still
  glaring with light and fire. Over all the heaven above,
  over all the earth beneath, there was no visible power that         30
  could balk the fierce will of the sun. "He rejoiced as a
  strong man to run a race; his going forth was from the end
  of the heaven, and his circuit unto the ends of it: and there
  was nothing hid from the heat thereof." From pole to
  pole, and from the east to the west, he brandished his
  fiery scepter as though he had usurped all heaven and
  earth. As he bid the soft Persian in ancient times, so               5
  now, and fiercely too, he bid me bow down and worship
  him; so now in his pride he seemed to command me, and
  say, "Thou shalt have none other gods but me." I was
  all alone before him. There were these two pitted together,
  and face to face--the mighty sun for one, and for                   10
  the other this poor, pale, solitary Self of mine.

  But on the eighth day, and before I had yet turned away
  from Jehovah for the glittering god of the Persians, there
  appeared a dark line upon the edge of the forward horizon,
  and soon the line deepened into a delicate fringe that              15
  sparkled here and there as though it were sown with diamonds.
  There, then, before me were the gardens and the
  minarets of Egypt, and the mighty works of the Nile, and
  I, I had lived to see, and I saw them.

  When evening came I was still within the confines of the            20
  desert, and my tent was pitched as usual; but one of my
  Arabs stalked away rapidly toward the west without telling
  me of the errand on which he was bent. After a while he
  returned. He had toiled on a graceful service; he had
  traveled all the way on to the border of the living world,          25
  and brought me back for a token an ear of rice, full, fresh,
  and green.

                                                 --_Eothen._

         1. Several aspects of the desert are herein
         described. The first is a native sheik. What are
         the others?

         2. The camel and the blazing sun belong peculiarly
         to the desert. What comments has Mr. Kinglake made
         on each?

         3. Show on your maps approximately where this
         journey was made.



  MAY IS BUILDING HER HOUSE

  BY RICHARD LE GALLIENNE

         This poem is a series of clearly drawn pictures
         grouped about a central image of the month of May
         as the builder of a house. While you read it,
         preferably aloud, try to see the pictures and feel
         the rhythm of the words. The thought in the last
         stanza may remind you of the "Ode to a Butterfly."
         Richard Le Gallienne is a poet of our own day, now
         living in this country.

         (Used by permission of the author)


      May is building her house. With apple blooms
        She is roofing over the glimmering rooms;
      Of the oak and the beech hath she builded its beams,
        And, spinning all day at her secret looms,
      With arras of leaves each wind-swayed wall                       5
      She pictureth over, and peopleth it all
        With echoes and dreams
        And singing of streams.

      May is building her house. Of petal and blade,
      Of the roots of the oak, is the flooring made;                  10
        With a carpet of mosses and lichen and clover,
        Each small miracle over and over,
      And tender, traveling green things strayed.

      Her windows, the morning and evening star,
      And her rustling doorways, ever ajar                            15
        With the coming and going
        Of fair things blowing,
      The thresholds of the four winds are.

      May is building her house. From the dust of things
      She is making the songs and the flowers and the wings;
        From October's tossed and trodden gold
        She is making the young year out of the old;
          Yea: out of winter's flying sleet                            5
          She is making all the summer sweet,
          And the brown leaves spurned of November's feet
      She is changing back again to spring's.

         1. What form the roof, the beams, the floors, the
         doors and windows, of the house of May? What is
         arras? When was it used? Why was it so called? What
         form the hangings and the carpets of the house? Who
         inhabit it? Why are the rooms "glimmering"?

         2. What is October's "tossed and trodden gold"? Is
         the poet telling the truth in the last stanza?
         Explain what is meant.

         3. This verse is different in form from most that
         you have studied. Do you think it is especially
         suited to the subject?



  THE DAFFODILS

  BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

      I wandered lonely as a cloud
      That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
      When all at once I saw a crowd,
      A host of golden daffodils;
      Beside the lake, beneath the trees,                              5
      Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

      Continuous as the stars that shine
      And twinkle on the Milky Way,
      They stretched in never-ending line
      Along the margin of a bay;                                      10
      Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
      Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

      The waves beside them danced; but they
      Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
      A poet could not but be gay
      In such a jocund company:
      I gazed--and gazed--but little thought                           5
      What wealth the show to me had brought:

      For oft, when on my couch I lie
      In vacant or in pensive mood,
      They flash upon that inward eye
      Which is the bliss of solitude;                                 10
      And then my heart with pleasure fills,
      And dances with the daffodils.

         1. Have you ever seen a daffodil? If not, find out
         all you can about the color, time of blooming, etc.
         of this flower. Remember that the scene of the poem
         is the north of England.

         2. Put briefly into your own words the experience,
         as told in the first three stanzas, and its result,
         as told in the last stanza. At what time of year
         did the incident occur? Was the day fair or cloudy?
         Why did the flowers show up so well against the
         lake as a background? What change took place in the
         poet's state of mind while he looked at the
         flowers? What was the wealth that the sight brought
         him?

         3. Wordsworth's purpose in poetry was "awakening
         the mind's attention . . . by directing it to the
         loveliness and wonders of the world before us." His
         best poetry is about things out of doors and their
         influence on people's minds. You may like to read
         "Fidelity," "To the Cuckoo," "The Solitary Reaper,"
         "The Reverie of Poor Susan," and others that you
         find for yourself.

         4. Wordsworth was born in 1770, at Cockermouth,
         England, and was educated at Cambridge University.
         He gave all his time to writing poetry and lived an
         uneventful life, surrounded by his family and
         friends, in the beautiful Lake District, in the
         North of England, which he describes in his poems.
         From 1843 till his death in 1850 he was Poet
         Laureate of England.



  THE FALLS OF LODORE

  BY ROBERT SOUTHEY

         Robert Southey (1774-1843) was Poet Laureate of
         England from 1815 till his death. He wrote several
         long poems and a great deal of history and
         biography, but his best-remembered works are
         shorter poems like this and "The Inchcape Rock" and
         "The Battle of Blenheim." He is sometimes
         associated with Wordsworth and Coleridge in the
         group called the "Lake Poets".


      How does the water come down at Lodore?
          Here it comes sparkling,
          And there it lies darkling;
          Here smoking and frothing,
          Its tumult and wrath in,                                     5
        It hastens along, conflicting and strong;
          Now striking and raging,
          As if a war waging,
        Its caverns and rocks among.
            Rising and leaping,                                       10
            Sinking and creeping,
            Swelling and flinging,
            Showering and springing,
            Eddying and whisking,
            Spouting and frisking;                                    15
            Turning and twisting,
          Around and around,
            Collecting, disjecting,
          With endless rebound.
            Smiting and fighting,                                     20
            In turmoil delighting,
            Confounding, astounding,
        Dizzying and deafening the ear with its sound.
          Receding and speeding,
          And shocking and rocking,                                    5
          And darting and parting,
          And threading and spreading,
          And whizzing and hissing,
          And dripping and skipping,
          And hitting and spitting,                                   10
          And shining and twining,
          And rattling and battling,
          And shaking and quaking,
          And pouring and roaring,
          And waving and raving,                                      15
          And tossing and crossing,
          And running and stunning,
          And hurrying and skurrying,
          And glittering and frittering,
          And gathering and feathering,                               20
          And dinning and spinning,
          And foaming and roaming,
          And hopping and dropping,
          And working and jerking,
          And guggling and struggling,                                25
          And heaving and cleaving,
          And thundering and floundering,
            And falling and brawling, and sprawling,
            And driving and riving and striving,
            And sprinkling and crinkling and twinkling,               30
            And sounding and bounding and rounding,
            And bubbling and troubling and doubling;
            Dividing and gliding and sliding,
            Grumbling and rumbling and tumbling,
            Clattering and battering and shattering,
          And gleaming and streaming and skimming and beaming
          And rushing and flushing and brushing and gushing,           5
          And flapping and rapping and clapping and slapping,
          And curling and whirling and purling and twirling;
            Retreating and meeting and beating and sheeting,
            Delaying and straying and spraying and playing,
            Advancing and prancing and glancing and dancing,          10
            Recoiling, turmoiling, and toiling and boiling;
          And thumping and bumping and flumping and jumping,
          And thrashing and clashing and flashing and splashing;
                          And so never ending,
                          But always descending,                      15
            Sounds and motions forever and ever are blending,
                          All at once and all o'er
                          With a mighty uproar;--
              And this way the water comes down at Lodore.

         1. The Falls of Lodore, in the Lake District,
         England, consist of a series of cascades in which a
         small stream rushes over a great rock about 200
         feet high.

         2. Read this poem aloud and notice how the sound
         fits the sense. Does it give you an idea of the
         sound of the waterfall? Why do you think the poet
         uses first two, then three, and then four,
         participles to a line? Other poems in which this
         method of creating an impression of sound and
         motion is used are Poe's "The Bells" and parts of
         Browning's "How We Brought the Good News from Ghent
         to Aix" and "The Pied Piper." Words like _bubble_
         and _gurgle_ imitate sounds. Look for such words in
         this poem and elsewhere.

         3. Compare this poem with Lowell's "The Fountain,"
         Tennyson's "The Brook," and Lanier's "Song of the
         Chattahoochee." Decide which you like best, and
         why.



_STORIES THAT TEACH_


         _If any man can convince me and bring home to me
         that I do not think or act aright, gladly will I
         change; for I search after truth, by which man
         never yet was harmed. But he is harmed who abideth
         on still in his own deception and ignorance._


                                           --MARCUS AURELIUS.

[Illustration: AN ADVENTURE IN BROTHERHOOD

(_See opposite page_)]



  AN ADVENTURE IN BROTHERHOOD


  In an ancient city of the East there were seven brothers
  who were constantly quarreling among themselves. They
  fell out about the way their father divided his property
  among them; they argued about the number of camels
  each had a right to; they disagreed over the management              5
  of their business; and altogether they behaved so
  rudely to each other that their acquaintances came to speak
  of them as the "unbrotherly brothers."

  Their father was much grieved over the actions of his
  sons, and he pondered long what means to take to teach them         10
  a lasting lesson. At length he called them together in
  his own house and spoke to them in this manner:

  "As you know, I still have much wealth of my own. The
  whole of this I shall bequeath to that son of mine who can
  perform a task I have to set. Should two or more succeed,           15
  the property will be divided equally among the winners.
  But before any of you can take part in this contest, each
  must pledge himself to live up fully to any lesson he may
  have exemplified here this day. Are you willing to make
  me this promise?"                                                   20

  Each stepped forth in turn and gave a solemn assurance to
  his father that come what might he would be true in spirit
  and in deed to any lesson that the test might bring forth.

  The father then took from a chest a bundle of seven sticks,
  ingeniously tied together. "In accordance with what I               25
  have said," he told them, "whichever of you breaks these
  sticks shall be the winner of the prize."

  Each tried in turn, beginning with the youngest. Each
  tugged and strained in vain. At best the bundle could only
  be bent. Finally the turn of the seventh came, and he
  too was unsuccessful. They all said the task could not be
  done and agreed that they had failed.                                5

  Thereupon the father took the bundle, sought out the
  end of the cord that held the sticks together, and unwound
  it at a single pull. Seizing each stick separately he broke
  all seven, one after another, before his astonished sons
  could protest.                                                      10

  "Now," said he, "those broken sticks are you, my seven
  sons. As long as you hold together, nobody can break your
  friendship or your reputation. When you fall apart, anybody
  can make broken reeds of you. Need I say more
  about the lesson that you have pledged yourselves to learn          15
  in spirit and in deed?"

  The rebuke touched the seven brothers. They agreed to
  forget their petty grievances, thanked their father for the
  lesson he had taught them, and gladly joined in a big feast
  he had had prepared. And thereafter all who knew them               20
  spoke of them as "the seven blood brothers."

         1. Did the seven brothers have any good reason for
         quarreling? About what matters did they disagree?
         What is the difference between disagreeing and
         quarreling? How did they probably get into their
         contentious habits?

         2. What was their father's agreement with them? Was
         it a fair one? What part of the story is
         illustrated on page 214?

         3. This is an old story retold. Groups of seven,
         three, or twelve are very common in folk tales and
         legends. See how many famous groups of seven you
         can find.



  THE PRAYER PERFECT

  BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY


      Dear Lord! kind Lord!
        Gracious Lord! I pray
      Thou wilt look on all I love,
        Tenderly to-day!
      Weed their hearts of weariness;                                  5
        Scatter every care
      Down a wake of angel wings
        Winnowing the air.

      Bring unto the sorrowing
        All release from pain;                                        10
      Let the lips of laughter
        Overflow again;
      And with all the needy
        Oh, divide, I pray,
      This vast treasure of content                                   15
        That is mine to-day!

         1. James Whitcomb Riley (1853-1916) is an American
         poet, best known for his poems for and about
         children. You probably know "The Raggedy Man,"
         "Little Orphant Annie," and "The Circus-Day
         Parade." "The Prayer Perfect" is an example of his
         serious verse.

         2. From what three evils does the poet pray to have
         his friends delivered? What good things does he
         want them to have? What, beside the things he says
         here, shows that Riley thought laughter a blessing?

         (From the Biographical Edition of the Complete
         Works of James Whitcomb Riley, copyright 1913, used
         by special permission of the Publishers, The
         Bobbs-Merrill Company)



  GET OUT OR GET IN LINE

  BY ELBERT HUBBARD

         This selection is a sermon that begins with an
         illustration. The text is the title. The whole
         incident of Lincoln's letter to Hooker is used to
         enforce the text, whose title might be "Loyalty."
         Why?

         Elbert Hubbard (1859-1915) is an American writer of
         essays and biography. He was interested in the
         revival of the old handicrafts, especially in the
         art of printing and binding books.


  If all the letters, messages, and speeches of Lincoln were
  destroyed except that one letter to Hooker, we should
  still have a good index to the heart of "The Rail-splitter."

  In this letter we see that Lincoln ruled his own spirit;
  and we also behold the fact that he could rule others.               5
  The letter shows frankness, kindliness, wit, tact, wise
  diplomacy, and infinite patience.

  Hooker had harshly and unjustly criticized Lincoln,
  his commander in chief, and he had embarrassed Burnside,
  his ranking officer. But Lincoln waives all this in deference       10
  to the virtues that he believes Hooker possesses, and promotes
  him to succeed Burnside. In other words, the man
  who had been wronged promotes the man who had wronged
  him, over the head of a man whom the promotee had wronged
  and for whom the promoter had a warm personal friendship.           15

  But all personal considerations were sunk in view of the
  end desired. Yet it was necessary that the man promoted
  should know the truth, and Lincoln told it to him in a way
  that did not humiliate nor fire to foolish anger, but which
  certainly prevented the attack of cerebral elephantiasis to         20
  which Hooker was liable.

  Perhaps we had better give the letter entire, and so here
  it is:

            "Executive Mansion, Washington, January 26, 1863.
  Major-General Hooker:

  General:--                                                           5

  I have placed you at the head of the Army of the
  Potomac. Of course I have done this upon what appear
  to me to be sufficient reasons, and yet I think it best for
  you to know that there are some things in regard to which
  I am not quite satisfied with you.                                  10

  I believe you to be a brave and skillful soldier, which,
  of course, I like. I also believe you do not mix politics
  with your profession, in which you are right.

  You have confidence in yourself, which is a valuable, if
  not indispensable, quality.                                         15

  You are ambitious, which, within reasonable bounds,
  does good rather than harm; but I think that during
  General Burnside's command of the army you have taken
  counsel of your ambition and thwarted him as much as you
  could, in which you did a great wrong to the country and            20
  to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer.

  I have heard, in such a way as to believe it, of your
  recently saying that both the army and the government
  needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this, but in
  spite of it, that I have given you the command. Only                25
  those generals who gain successes can set up dictators.
  What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk
  the dictatorship. The government will support you to the
  utmost of its ability, which is neither more nor less than
  it has done and will do for all commanders. I much                  30
  fear that the spirit you have aided to infuse into the army,
  of criticizing their commander and withholding confidence
  from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you as
  far as I can to put it down. Neither you nor Napoleon,
  if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army
  while such a spirit prevails in it. And now beware of
  rashness; beware of rashness, but with energy and sleepless          5
  vigilance go forward and give us victories.

                                          Yours very truly,
                                                  A. Lincoln."

  One point in this letter is especially worth our consideration,
  for it suggests a condition that springs up like                    10
  deadly nightshade from a poisonous soil. I refer to the
  habit of sneering, carping, grumbling at, and criticizing
  those who are above us.

  The man who is anybody and who does anything is
  surely going to be criticized, vilified, and misunderstood.         15
  This is a part of the penalty for greatness and every great
  man understands it; and understands, too, that it is no
  proof of greatness. The final proof of greatness lies in being
  able to endure contumely without resentment. Lincoln
  did not resent criticism; he knew that every life must be its       20
  own excuse for being; but look how he calls Hooker's
  attention to the fact that the dissension Hooker has sown is
  going to return and plague him! "Neither you nor Napoleon,
  were he alive, could get any good out of an army
  while such a spirit prevails in it." Hooker's fault falls on        25
  Hooker--others suffer, but Hooker suffers most of all.

  Not long ago I met a college student, home on a vacation.
  I am sure he did not represent the true college
  spirit, for he was full of criticism and bitterness toward
  the institution. The president of the college came in for           30
  his share, and I was supplied items, facts, data, with
  times and places, for a "peach of a roast."

  Very soon I saw the trouble was not with the college,
  the trouble was with the young man. He had mentally
  dwelt on some trivial slights until he had got so out of
  harmony with the institution that he had lost the power to
  derive any benefit from it. No college is a perfect institution--a   5
  fact, I suppose, that most college presidents and
  college men are quite willing to admit; but a college does
  supply certain advantages, and it depends upon the students
  whether they will avail themselves of these advantages
  or not.                                                             10

  If you are a student in a college, seize upon the good that
  is there. You get good by giving it. You gain by giving--so
  give sympathy and cheerful loyalty to the institution.
  Be proud of it. Stand by your teachers--they are doing
  the best they can. If the place is faulty, make it a better         15
  place by an example of cheerfully doing your work every
  day the best you can. Mind your own business.

  If the concern where you are employed is all wrong,
  and the Old Man is a curmudgeon, it may be well for you to
  go to the Old Man and confidentially, quietly, and kindly           20
  tell him that he is a curmudgeon. Explain to him that his
  policy is absurd and preposterous. Then show him how to
  reform his ways, and you might offer to take charge of the
  concern and cleanse it of its secret faults.

  Do this, or if for any reason you should prefer not, then           25
  take your choice of these: Get Out or Get in Line. You
  have got to do one or the other--now make your choice.
  If you work for a man, in heaven's name work for him!

  If he pays you wages that supply you your bread and
  butter, work for him--speak well of him, think well of              30
  him, stand by him, and stand by the institution he represents.

  I think if I worked for a man I would work for him; I
  would not work for him a part of the time, and the rest of
  the time work against him. I would give an undivided
  service or none. If put to the pinch, an ounce of loyalty is
  worth a pound of cleverness.                                         5

  If you must vilify, condemn, and eternally disparage,
  why, resign your position, and when you are outside,
  damn to your heart's content. But, I pray you, so long
  as you are a part of an institution, do not condemn it.
  Not that you will injure the institution--not that--but             10
  when you disparage the concern of which you are a part,
  you disparage yourself.

  More than that, you are loosening the tendrils that
  hold you to the institution, and the first high wind that
  comes along, you will be uprooted and blown away in the             15
  blizzard's track--and probably you will never know why.
  The letter only says "Times are dull and we regret there
  is not enough work," et cetera.

  Everywhere you find those out-of-a-job fellows. Talk
  with them and you will find that they are full of railing,          20
  bitterness, and condemnation. That was the trouble--through
  a spirit of faultfinding they got themselves swung
  around so they blocked the channel and had to be dynamited.
  They are out of harmony with the concern, and
  no longer being a help they had to be removed. Every                25
  employer is constantly looking for people who can help him;
  naturally he is on the lookout among his employees for those
  who do not help, and everything and everybody that is a
  hindrance has to go. This is the law of trade--do not
  find fault with it; it is founded on nature. The reward             30
  is only for the man that helps, and in order to help, you
  must have sympathy.

  You cannot help the Old Man so long as you are explaining
  in undertone and whisper, by gesture and suggestion, by
  thought and mental attitude, that he is a curmudgeon and
  his system dead wrong. You are not necessarily menacing
  him by stirring up discontent and warming envy into strife,          5
  but you are doing this: You are getting yourself upon a well-greased
  chute that will give you a quick ride down and out.

  When you say to other employees that the Old Man is a
  curmudgeon, you reveal the fact that you are one; and
  when you tell that the policy of the institution is "rotten,"       10
  you surely show that yours is.

  Hooker got his promotion even in spite of his failings;
  but the chances are that your employer does not have the
  love that Lincoln had--the love that suffereth long and is
  kind. But even Lincoln could not protect Hooker forever.            15
  Hooker failed to do the work, and Lincoln had to try some
  one else. So there came a time when Hooker was superseded
  by a Silent Man, who criticized no one, railed at nobody--not
  even the enemy. And this Silent Man, who ruled his
  own spirit, took the cities. He minded his own business and         20
  did the work that no man ever can do unless he gives
  absolute loyalty, perfect confidence, and untiring devotion.

  Let us mind our own business and work for self by working
  for the good of all.

         1. Find in the letter instances of the qualities
         named in paragraph two. What is the moral of the
         selection?

         2. What is there humorous about the third paragraph
         on page 221?

         3. Explain: ranking officer, waives, cerebral
         elephantiasis, dictator, deadly nightshade, data,
         disparage, curmudgeon, chute, superseded.

         4. You are a clerk in a shoe store on Saturday
         afternoon, and learn that your employer is
         overcharging some customers. What should you do?

         5. What incentive to loyalty is suggested here?
         Name a better one.

    (Used by permission of Elbert Hubbard II, East Aurora, N. Y.)



  JOHN MARSHALL OF VIRGINIA

  BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE

         This anecdote about a great American begins with a
         short account of his life and work. It goes on to
         tell about his appearance and habits and then
         relates the story that illustrates something fine
         in his character. Judge Marshall was born in 1755
         and died in 1835. By recalling what events happened
         during his lifetime and what great men were his
         contemporaries, you will get a clearer idea of the
         setting of the story. In reading it try to picture
         costumes, houses, etc.


  Among the great men of Virginia, John Marshall
  will always be remembered with honor and esteem.
  He was the son of a poor man, and his early life was spent
  in poverty; but he was not afraid of labor, and everybody
  saw that he was a person of more than common ability.                5

  Little by little he rose to distinction, and there was
  scarcely any public office in the gift of the people that he
  might not have had for the asking. He served in the legislature
  of Virginia; he was sent as envoy to France; he was
  made Secretary of State; and finally he became Chief                10
  Justice of the United States. When he died at the age of
  eighty, he was one of the greatest and most famous men
  in America.

  My father knew him well and loved him, and told me
  many things about him. He was very tall and thin, and               15
  dressed very plainly. He wore a suit of plain black cloth,
  and common yarn stockings, which fitted tightly to his legs
  and showed how thin they were. He was a very great
  walker, and would often walk out to his farm, which was
  several miles from Richmond. But sometimes he went on
  horseback, and once he was met riding out with a bag of
  clover seed on the saddle before him.

  His manners were plain and simple, and he liked to talk
  about everyday matters with plain country people and
  laugh and jest with them. In a word, he was so great a man           5
  that he never thought of appearing greater than other
  people, but was always the same unpretending John
  Marshall.

  It was the fashion among the gentlemen of Richmond to
  walk to market early in the morning and buy fresh meats             10
  and vegetables for their family dinners. This was a good
  old fashion, and some famous gentlemen continued to do
  so to the end of their lives. It was the habit of Judge
  Marshall, and very often he took no servant with him. He
  would buy what he wanted and return home, carrying his              15
  purchases on his arm; and on one of these occasions a little
  incident occurred which is well worth telling.

  Judge Marshall had made his purchases at the market
  and was just starting for home when he heard some one
  using very rough and unbecoming language. He turned                 20
  round and saw what was the cause of the hubbub. A
  finely dressed young man, who seemed to be a stranger,
  had just bought a turkey in the market. Finding that
  it would not be carried home for him, he became very angry.
  Judge Marshall listened a moment to his ungentlemanly               25
  talk, and then stepping up to him asked very kindly,
  "Where do you live, sir?"

  The young man looked at the plainly dressed old countryman,
  as he supposed him to be, and then named the street
  and number where he lived.                                          30

  "I happen to be going that way," said Judge Marshall
  with a smile, "and I will take it for you."

  The young man handed him the turkey and left the
  market, followed by Judge Marshall. When they reached
  the young man's home, Marshall politely handed him the
  turkey and turned to go.

  "What shall I pay you?" asked the young man.                         5

  "Oh, nothing," answered Marshall. "You are welcome.
  It was on my way, and no trouble at all." He bowed and
  walked away, while the young man looked after him,
  beginning now to see that he had made a mistake.

  "Who is that polite old gentleman who carried my turkey             10
  for me?" he asked of a friend who was passing.

  "That is John Marshall, Chief Justice of the United
  States," was the answer.

  The young man was astounded and ashamed. "But
  why did he offer to carry my turkey?" he exclaimed.                 15

  "To give you a reprimand and teach you to attend to
  your own business and behave like a gentleman."

  This little anecdote will show you the character of John
  Marshall; and I cannot believe that it was his wish merely
  to reprimand the foolish young man. He was too sweet-tempered       20
  and kind to take pleasure in reprimanding anyone;
  and I have not a doubt that he carried the turkey
  simply from the wish to be obliging.

                                --_Stories of the Old Dominion._

         1. What were the offices that Judge Marshall held?
         What great men did he probably meet and talk with?
         What important events happened during his lifetime?
         Describe his appearance, character, and habits.

         2. Relate the story about the turkey. Did the young
         man mean to be disagreeable? About whom was he
         thinking? What was the difference between his point
         of view and Judge Marshall's? Why did Judge
         Marshall carry the turkey for him?



  OPPORTUNITY

  BY EDWARD ROWLAND SILL

         This poem is an allegory. In reading it try to get
         a clear picture of the scene described, and at the
         same time remember that everything in it has a
         hidden meaning; to understand it fully, you must
         find out what the pictures represent. The title
         gives you the necessary key.


      This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:--
      There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
      And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
      A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
      Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner               5
      Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
      A craven hung along the battle's edge,
      And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel--
      That blue blade that the king's son bears,--but this
      Blunt thing!" He snapped and flung it from his hand,            10
      And lowering crept away and left the field.
      Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
      And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
      Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
      And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout                  15
      Lifted afresh, he hewed his enemy down,
      And saved a great cause that heroic day.

         1. What do the following represent: the battle; the
         swords; the craven; the king's son; the broken
         sword buried in the sand? Express the meaning of
         the allegory in a sentence of your own.

         2. Define an allegory, a fable; a parable. Most
         allegories are long. Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_
         is a very famous one.



  BOY WANTED

  BY DR. FRANK CRANE

         Dr. Frank Crane is an American writer whose little
         essays you often see in newspapers and magazines.
         This description of the right sort of boy is put in
         the form of a "Want ad" in a newspaper. While you
         read it, consider whether the boy you are best
         acquainted with could apply for the job.

  (Used by special permission of the author.)


  A boy who stands straight, sits straight, acts straight,
  and talks straight.

  A boy who listens carefully when spoken to, who asks
  questions when he does not understand, and does not ask
  questions about things that are none of his business.                5

  A boy whose finger nails are not in mourning, whose
  ears are clean, whose shoes are polished, whose clothes
  are brushed, whose hair is combed, and whose teeth are
  well cared for.

  A boy who moves quickly and makes as little noise about             10
  it as possible.

  A boy who whistles in the street but not where he
  ought to keep still.

  A boy who looks cheerful, has a ready smile for everybody,
  and never sulks.                                                    15

  A boy who is polite to every man and respectful to every
  woman and girl.

  A boy who does not smoke cigarettes and has no desire to
  learn how.

  A boy who never bullies other boys or allows other boys             20
  to bully him.

  A boy who, when he does not know a thing, says, "I do
  not know"; and when he has made a mistake says, "I'm
  sorry"; and when requested to do a thing immediately
  says, "I'll try."

  A boy who looks you right in the eye and tells the truth             5
  every time.

  A boy who would rather lose his job or be expelled from
  school than tell a lie or be a cad.

  A boy who is more eager to know how to speak good
  English than to talk slang.                                         10

  A boy who does not want to be "smart" nor in any wise
  attract attention.

  A boy who is eager to read good, wholesome books.

  A boy whom other boys like.

  A boy who is perfectly at ease in the company of respectable        15
  girls.

  A boy who is not a goody-goody, a prig, or a little
  Pharisee, but just healthy, happy, and full of life.

  A boy who is not sorry for himself and not forever
  thinking and talking about himself.                                 20

  A boy who is friendly with his mother and more intimate
  with her than with anyone else.

  A boy who makes you feel good when he is around.

  This boy is wanted everywhere. The family wants him,
  the school wants him, the office wants him, the boys and            25
  girls want him, and all creation wants him.

         1. What is the difference in use between the first
         two and the last two "straight's" in the first
         paragraph?

         2. Which of the requirements are matters of good
         manners? Of health? Of courage? Of ambition? Of
         unselfishness? Of honesty?

         3. Which of these items would you cut out, if any?
         What others would you put in the list?



  JOHN LITTLEJOHN

  BY CHARLES MACKAY


      John Littlejohn was stanch and strong,
      Upright and downright, scorning wrong;
      He gave good weight and paid his way,
      He thought for himself and said his say.
      Whenever a rascal strove to pass,                                5
      Instead of silver, a coin of brass,
      He took his hammer and said with a frown,
      "The coin is spurious--nail it down!"

      John Littlejohn was firm and true,
      You could not cheat him in "two and two";                       10
      When foolish arguers, might and main,
      Darkened and twisted the clear and plain,
      He saw through the mazes of their speech
      The simple truth beyond their reach;
      And crushing their logic said with a frown,                     15
      "Your coin is spurious--nail it down!"

      John Littlejohn maintained the right,
      Through storm and shine, in the world's despite;
      When fools or quacks desired his vote,
      Dosed him with arguments learned by rote,                       20
      Or by coaxing, threats, or promise tried
      To gain his support to the wrong side,
      "Nay, nay," said John with an angry frown,
      "Your coin is spurious--nail it down!"

      When told that kings had a right divine,
      And that the people were herds of swine,
      That nobles alone were fit to rule,
      That the poor were unimproved by school,
      That ceaseless toil was the proper fate                          5
      Of all but the wealthy and the great,
      John shook his head and said with a frown,
      "The coin is spurious--nail it down!"

      When told that events might justify
      A false and crooked policy,                                     10
      That a decent hope of future good
      Might excuse departure from rectitude,
      That a lie, if white, was a small offense,
      To be forgiven by men of sense,
      "Nay, nay," said John with a sigh and frown,                    15
      "The coin is spurious--nail it down!"

      Whenever the world our eyes would blind
      With false pretenses of such a kind,
      With humbug, cant, or bigotry,
      Or a specious, sham philosophy,                                 20
      With wrong dressed up in the guise of right,
      And darkness passing itself for light,
      Let us imitate John and exclaim with a frown,
      "The coin is spurious--nail it down!"

         1. What kinds of cheating are mentioned? Which is
         most dangerous?

         2. Littlejohn could detect and put down lies
         because he kept his head clear and told the truth
         to himself. What lines tell you this? Who is the
         person most likely to deceive you about right and
         wrong?

         3. Explain: spurious, mazes, logic, despite,
         quacks, rote, policy, rectitude, cant, bigotry,
         specious.



  THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM


  An old clock that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's
  kitchen without giving its owner any cause of complaint,
  early one summer's morning, before the family was
  stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, the dial plate (if
  we may credit the fable) changed countenance with alarm;             5
  the hands made a vain effort to continue their course;
  the wheels remained motionless with surprise; the weights
  hung speechless; and each member felt disposed to lay the
  blame on the others. At length the dial instituted a formal
  inquiry into the cause of the stoppage; when hands, wheels,         10
  weights, with one voice, protested their innocence. But
  now a faint tick was heard below from the pendulum, who
  thus spoke:

  "I confess myself to be the sole cause of the stoppage;
  and I am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my        15
  reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon
  hearing this the old clock became so enraged that it was on
  the very point of striking.

  "Lazy wire!" exclaimed the dial plate, holding up its
  hands.                                                              20

  "Very good!" replied the pendulum. "It is vastly
  easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as everybody
  knows, set yourself up above me--it is vastly easy for
  _you_, I say, to accuse other people of laziness! You, who
  have had nothing to do all your life but to stare people in         25
  the face and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes
  on in the kitchen! Think how you would like to be shut
  up for life in this dark closet and wag backward and forward,
  year after year, as I do."

  "As to that," said the dial, "is there not a window in
  your house on purpose for you to look through?"

  "For all that," resumed the pendulum, "it is very dark               5
  here; and although there is a window, I dare not stop, even
  for an instant, to look out. Besides I am really tired of my
  way of life; and if you wish, I'll tell you how I took this
  disgust at my employment. This morning I happened to
  be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the          10
  course of only the next twenty-four hours; perhaps some
  of you, above there, can give me the exact sum."

  The minute hand, being quick at figures, instantly replied,
  "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times."

  "Exactly so," replied the pendulum. "Well, I appeal to              15
  you all, if the thought of this was not enough to fatigue
  one? And when I began to multiply the strokes of one
  day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if
  I felt discouraged at the prospect; so after a great deal of
  reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, _I'll stop_!"         20

  The dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this
  harangue, but resuming its gravity it at last replied:
  "Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a
  useful, industrious person as yourself should have been
  overcome by this suggestion. It is true you have done a             25
  great deal of work in your time; so have we all, and are
  likely to do; and though this may fatigue us to _think_ of,
  the question is, will it fatigue us to _do_? Would you, now,
  give half a dozen strokes to illustrate my argument?"

  The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its                  30
  usual pace. "Now," resumed the dial, "may I be allowed
  to ask, was that exertion at all fatiguing to you?"

  "Not in the least," replied the pendulum; "it is not of
  six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of _millions_."

  "Very good," replied the dial; "but recollect that although
  you may _think_ of a million strokes in an instant, you
  are required to execute but one, and that however often              5
  you may hereafter have to swing, a moment will always
  be given you to swing in."

  "That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the
  pendulum.

  "Then I hope," resumed the dial plate, "we shall all                10
  immediately return to our duty; for the maids will be in
  bed till noon if we stand idling thus."

  Upon this the weights, who had never been accused of
  light conduct, used all their influence in urging him to
  proceed; when, as with one consent, the wheels began to             15
  turn, the hands began to move, the pendulum began to
  swing, and, to its credit, ticked as loud as ever; while a
  beam of the rising sun that streamed through a hole in the
  kitchen shutter, shining full upon the dial plate, made it
  brighten up as if nothing had been the matter.                      20

  But when the farmer came down to breakfast that morning,
  he looked at the clock and declared that his watch
  had gained half an hour in the night!

         1. Write a single short sentence expressing the
         moral of this story.

         2. Why did the minute hand make the calculation
         (page 233)? Is its calculation correct?

         3. What play on words is made in line 21, page 233.
         In line 13-14, page 234?

         4. There is an old saying to the effect that we
         should let each day's work take care of itself. How
         far is this true?



  TWO SIDES TO EVERY QUESTION


  In the days of knight-errantry and paganism, one of
  the old British princes set up a statue to the goddess of
  Victory in a point where four roads met together. In her
  right hand she held a spear, and her left hand rested upon a
  shield. The outside of this shield was of gold and the inside        5
  of silver. On the former was inscribed, in the old British
  language, "To the goddess ever favorable"; and on the
  other, "For four victories obtained successively over the
  Picts and other inhabitants of the northern islands."

  It happened one day that two knights completely armed,              10
  one in black armor, the other in white, arrived from opposite
  parts of the country at this statue, just about the same time;
  and as neither of them had seen it before, they stopped to
  read the inscription and to observe its workmanship.

  After contemplating it for some time, "This golden                  15
  shield--" said the black knight.

  "Golden shield!" cried the white knight (who was as
  strictly observing the opposite side); "why, if I have my
  eyes, it is silver."

  "I know nothing of your eyes," replied the black knight;            20
  "but if ever I saw a golden shield in my life, this is one."

  "Yes," returned the white knight smiling, "it is very
  probable indeed that they should expose a shield of gold in
  so public a place as this! For my own part, I wonder that
  even a silver one is not too strong a temptation for the            25
  devotion of some people who pass this way; and it appears
  by the date that this has been here above three years."

  The black knight could not bear the smile with which
  this was delivered and grew so warm in the dispute that it
  soon ended in a challenge; they both, therefore, turned
  their horses and rode back so far as to have sufficient space
  for their career; then, fixing their spears in their rests
  they flew at each other with the greatest fury and impetuosity.      5
  Their shock was so rude, and the blow on each
  side so effectual, that they both fell to the ground much
  wounded and lay there for some time as in a trance.

  A good druid who was traveling that way found them in
  this condition. The druids were the physicians of those             10
  times as well as the priests. So he stanched their blood, and
  brought them, as it were, from death to life again. As soon
  as they were sufficiently recovered he began to inquire into
  the cause of their quarrel.

  "Why this man," cried the black knight, "will have it               15
  that yonder shield is silver."

  "And he will have it," replied the white knight, "that
  it is gold."

  And then they told him all the particulars of the affair.

  "Ah!" said the druid, "my brothers, you are both of you             20
  in the right and both of you in the wrong. Had either
  given himself time to look at the opposite side of the shield,
  as well as that which first presented itself to view, all this
  ill feeling and bloodshed might have been avoided. Allow
  me, therefore, to entreat you by all our gods, and by this          25
  goddess of Victory in particular, _never again to enter into
  any dispute till you have fairly considered both sides of the
  question_."

         1. This story is a fable. State the moral in your
         own words. Tell a story of your own, with a modern
         setting, to enforce the same moral; or one with
         animals for characters, as in Æsop's _Fables_.



  IF I WERE A BOY

  BY WASHINGTON GLADDEN


  If I were a boy again, and knew what I know now, I
  would not be quite so positive in my opinions as I
  used to be. Boys generally think that they are very certain
  about many things. A boy of fifteen is a great deal
  more sure of what he thinks he knows than most men of                5
  fifty. You ask the boy a question and he will answer you
  right off, up and down; he knows all about it. Ask a man
  of large experience and ripe wisdom the same question,
  and he will say, "Well, there is much to be said about it.
  I am inclined on the whole to think so and so, but other            10
  intelligent men think otherwise."

  When I was eight years old, I traveled from central
  Massachusetts to western New York, crossing the river at
  Albany and going by canal from Schenectady to Syracuse.
  On the canal boat, a kindly gentleman was talking to me             15
  one day, and I remarked that I had crossed the Connecticut
  River at Albany. How I got it into my head that it was
  the Connecticut River I do not know, for I knew my
  geography very well then, but in some unaccountable way
  I had it fixed in my mind that the river at Albany was the          20
  Connecticut, and I called it so.

  "Why," said the gentleman, "that is the Hudson River."

  "Oh, no, sir!" I replied politely, but firmly. "You're
  mistaken. That is the Connecticut River."

  The gentleman smiled and said no more. I was not                    25
  much in the habit, I think, of contradicting my elders;
  but in this matter I was perfectly sure that I was right and
  so I thought it my duty to correct the gentleman's geography.
  I felt rather sorry for him that he should be so
  ignorant. One day, after I reached home, I was looking
  over my route on the map, and lo! there was Albany standing          5
  on the Hudson River, a hundred miles from the Connecticut.

  Then I did not feel so sorry for the gentleman's ignorance
  as I did for my own. I never told anybody that story
  until I wrote it down on these pages the other day; but I
  have thought of it a thousand times and always with a               10
  blush for my boldness. Nor was it the only time that I
  was perfectly sure of things that really were not so. It is
  hard for a boy to learn that he may be mistaken; but unless
  he is a fool, he learns it after a while. The sooner he finds
  it out, the better for him.                                         15

  If I were a boy, I would not think that I and the boys of
  my times were an exception to the general rule--a new
  kind of boys, unlike all who have lived before, having
  different feelings and different ways. To be honest, I
  must own that I used to think so myself. I was quite inclined       20
  to reject the counsel of my elders by saying to myself,
  "That may have been well enough for boys thirty or
  fifty years ago, but it isn't the thing for me and my set of
  boys." Of course that was nonsense. The boys of one
  generation are not very different from the boys of any              25
  other generation.

  If we say that boyhood lasts fifteen or sixteen years, I
  have known three generations of boys, some of them city
  boys and some of them country boys, and they are all
  substantially alike--so nearly alike that the old rules of          30
  industry and patience and perseverance and self-control
  are as applicable to one generation as to another. The
  fact is, that what your fathers and teachers have found by
  experience to be good for boys will be good for you; and
  what their experience has taught them is bad for boys will
  be bad for you. You are just boys, nothing more nor less.

         1. Why would a boy of fifteen be more likely to
         "think he knew all about it" than an equally honest
         and intelligent man of fifty? Apply to your answer
         the preceding story about the two knights. What is
         the value of experience?

         2. Retell the story of the boy's mistake about the
         river. Why was he so ashamed?

         3. What is meant by saying that all boys are
         substantially alike? What four rules does the
         author say are always applicable? Compare the
         training of a boy in ancient Sparta and of a page
         in medieval times with that of a modern schoolboy.



  THE LESSON OF THE WATER MILL

  BY SARAH DOUDNEY


      Listen to the water mill;
      Through the livelong day,
      How the clicking of its wheel
      Wears the hours away!
      Languidly the autumn wind                                        5
      Stirs the forest leaves,
      From the field the reapers sing,
      Binding up their sheaves;
      And a proverb haunts my mind
      As a spell is cast,                                             10
      "The mill cannot grind
      With the water that is past."

      Autumn winds revive no more
      Leaves that once are shed,
      And the sickle cannot reap
      Corn once gatherèd;
      Flows the ruffled streamlet on,                                  5
      Tranquil, deep, and still,
      Never gliding back again
      To the water mill;
      Truly speaks the proverb old,
      With a meaning vast--                                           10
      "The mill cannot grind
      With the water that is past."

      Take the lesson to thyself,
      True and loving heart!
      Golden youth is fleeting by,                                    15
      Summer hours depart;
      Learn to make the most of life,
      Lose no happy day,
      Time will never bring thee back
      Chances swept away!                                             20
      Leave no tender word unsaid,
      Love while love shall last;
      "The mill cannot grind
      With the water that is past."

      Work while yet the daylight shines,                             25
      Man of strength and will!
      Never does the streamlet glide
      Useless by the mill;
      Wait not till to-morrow's sun
      Beams upon thy way,                                             30

      All that thou canst call thine own
      Lies in thy to-day;
      Power and intellect and health
      May not always last;
      "The mill cannot grind                                           5
      With the water that is past."

      Oh, the wasted hours of life
      That have drifted by!
      Oh, the good that might have been--
      Lost, without a sigh!                                           10
      Love that we might once have saved
      By a single word;
      Thoughts conceived but never penned,
      Perishing unheard;
      Take the proverb to thine heart,                                15
      Take, and hold it fast--
      "The mill cannot grind
      With the water that is past."

         1. How does a water mill work? Find a picture of
         one. What was this mill probably used to grind? Why
         is it appropriate to have the reapers in the
         picture in the first stanza?

         2. What other proverbs with the same meaning as
         this one can you find?



  A MOTTO OF OXFORD

         This stanza is engraved over one of the old
         colleges of Oxford University, a great seat of
         learning in England.


      He who reads and reads
        And does not what he knows,
      Is he who plows and plows
        And never sows.



  SAILING AND FAILING

  BY HAMILTON W. MABIE


  There are two kinds of men in the world: those who
  sail and those who drift; those who choose the ports
  to which they will go and skillfully and boldly shape their
  course across the seas, with the wind or against it, and those
  who let winds and tides carry them where they will. The              5
  men who sail, in due time arrive; those who drift, often
  cover greater distances but they never make port.

  The men who sail know where they want to go and
  what they want to do; they do not wait on luck or fortune
  or favorable currents; they depend on themselves and                10
  expect no help from circumstances. Success of the real
  kind is always in the man who wins it, not in conditions.
  No man becomes great by accident; great things are never
  done by chance; a man gets what he pays for it, in character,
  in work, and in energy. A boy would better put                      15
  luck out of his mind if he means to accomplish anything.
  There are few really fine things which he cannot get if he
  is willing to pay the price.

  Keep ahead of your work, and your work will push your
  fortunes for you. Our employers do not decide whether we            20
  shall stay where we are or go on and up; we decide that
  matter ourselves. We can drift along, doing our work
  fairly well; or we can set our faces to the front and do our
  work so well that we cannot be kept back. In this way we
  make or mar our own fortunes. Success or failure is not             25
  chosen for us; we choose for ourselves.



  USE AND ABUSE OF TIME

  BY ARCHER BROWN


  Time is the stuff life is made of, says Benjamin Franklin.
  Every man has exactly the same amount of
  it in a year. One improves it and reaps great results.
  Another wastes it and reaps failure. The first class, they
  call lucky; the second, unfortunate.                                 5

  To use time aright, have a system. Shape everything
  to it. Divide the twenty-four hours between work, recreation,
  sleep, and mental culture according to a scheme
  that suits your judgment and circumstances. Then make
  things go that way. The scheme will quickly go to pieces            10
  unless backed by persistent purpose.

  When you work, work. Put the whole mind and heart
  in it. Know nothing else. Do everything the very best.
  Distance everybody about you. This will not be hard, for
  the other fellows are not trying much. Master details and           15
  difficulties. Be always ready for the next step up. If a
  bookkeeper, be an expert. If a machinist, know more than
  the boss. If an office boy, surprise the employer by model
  work. If in school, go to the head and stay there. All this
  is easy when the habit of conquering takes possession.              20

  It is wholesome in this connection to read what men
  have accomplished who have once learned the art of redeeming
  time. Study the causes of the success of Benjamin
  Franklin, of Lincoln, of McKinley, of Sir Michael
  Faraday, of Agassiz, of Edison. Learn the might of minutes.         25
  "Every day is a little life, and our whole life is a
  day repeated. Those that dare lose a day are dangerously
  prodigal; those that dare misspend it, desperate." Emerson
  says, "The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn."

  Sound and wholesome recreation is important in our
  scheme; but in this age of athletic frenzy the danger of             5
  neglect on that line is not excessive. The real fact is that
  athletic sports are educating the muscles too often at the
  expense of the brain.

  It is the mind work that differentiates you from the herd.
  Mental culture calls for study--carefully planned, regular,         10
  persistent. One or two hours a day, aiming at some distinct
  object, mastering what you learn, adding little by
  little, like a miser to his store, will in a few years make of
  you a broad, educated man, no matter what your schooling.

  To abuse time, have no system. Chance everything.                   15
  Do your work indifferently. Growl if too much is asked.
  Hunt for an easy job. Change often. Dodge obstacles.
  Always come a little short of the standard. Fritter away
  in silly things the few golden moments left for self-culture.
  Then you will not crowd anybody very hard in the contest            20
  for leadership.

  Time abused is bad luck.

         1. What great men do you know of who divided up
         their day in the way suggested here? Make out a
         timetable for yourself and see how you can improve
         it and how long you can stick to its use.

         2. In what did the "success" of each of the men
         mentioned in the fourth paragraph consist? Make one
         of the studies suggested and report your findings
         to the class.

         3. What out-of-door exercises educate both brain
         and muscles? What is the special value of games
         played by a team? What great people of ancient
         times trained the body as well as the mind?

         4. Which paragraphs define bad luck? What is it?



  HIDDEN TREASURE

  BY CHARLES READE

         Charles Reade (1814-1884) was born at Ipsden,
         England, and educated at Oxford. He wrote plays and
         novels, the latter usually with some purpose of
         reform. Compare this story with "Ali Hafed's Quest"
         (page 13) as to setting, characters, ending, and
         moral.


  Once upon a time there was an old farmer that had
  heard or read about treasures being found in odd
  places--a potful of gold pieces or something of the sort--and
  it took root in his heart till nothing would satisfy
  him but he must find a potful of gold pieces too. He spent           5
  all his time hunting in this place and in that for buried
  treasures. He poked about all the old ruins in the neighborhood
  and even wished to take up the floor of the church.

  One morning he arose with a bright face and said to his
  wife, "It's all right, Mary. I've found the treasure."              10

  "No! Have you, though?" said she.

  "Yes!" he answered; "at least it's as good as found.
  It's only waiting till I've had my breakfast, and then I'll
  go out and fetch it in."

  "Oh, John! How did you find it?"                                    15

  "It was revealed to me in a dream," said he, as grave
  as a judge.

  "Oh! and where is it?"

  "Under a tree in our orchard--no farther than that."

  "Oh, how long you are at your breakfast, John! Let's                20
  hurry out and get it."

  They went out together into the orchard.

  "Now which tree is it under?" asked the wife.

  John scratched his head and looked very sheepish. "I'm
  blessed if I know!"

  "Oh, you foolish fellow," said the wife. "Why didn't
  you take the trouble to notice?"                                     5

  "I did notice," said he. "I saw the exact tree in my
  dream, but now there's so many of them, they muddle
  it all."

  "Well, I think you're stupid," said the wife angrily.
  "You ought to have cut a nick in the right one while you            10
  were there."

  "That may be," answered John; "but now I see that I'll
  have to begin with the first tree and keep on digging till I
  come to the one with the treasure under it."

  This made the wife lose all hope; for there were eighty             15
  apple trees and a score of cherry trees. She heaved a sigh
  and said: "Well, I guess if you must, you must. But
  mind you don't cut any of the roots."

  John was in no good humor. He abused the trees with
  all the bad words he could think of.                                20

  "What difference does it make if I cut all the roots?
  The old fagots aren't worth a penny apiece. The whole
  lot of them don't bear a bushel of good apples. In father's
  time they used to bear wagonloads of choice fruit. I wish
  they were every one dead!"                                          25

  "Well, John," said the woman, trying to soothe his
  anger, "you know that father always gave them a good deal
  of attention."

  "Attention? Nonsense!" he answered spitefully.
  "They don't need attention. They've got old, like ourselves.        30
  They're good for nothing but firewood."

  Then, muttering to himself, he brought out pickax and
  spade and began his work. He dug three feet deep all
  around the first tree, and finding nothing but earth and
  stones went on to the next. He heaped up a mound half
  as high as his head--but no pot of gold did he strike.

  He had dug round three or four trees before his neighbors            5
  began to notice him. Then their curiosity was awakened,
  and each one told another about his queer actions. After
  that there was scarcely an hour in the day that seven or
  eight were not sitting on the fence and passing sly jokes.
  Then it became the fashion for the boys to fling a stone or         10
  two or a clod of dry earth at John.

  To defend himself, John brought out his gun, loaded with
  fine shot, and the next time a stone was thrown he fired
  sharp in the direction it came from. The boys took the
  hint, and John dug on in peace till the fourth Sunday, when         15
  the parson alluded to him in church. "People ought not
  to heap up to themselves treasures on earth."

  But it seemed that John was only heaping up dirt; for
  when he had dug the fivescore holes, no pot of gold came
  to light. Then the neighbors called the orchard "Jacobs's           20
  folly"; his name was Jacobs--John Jacobs.

  "Now then, Mary," said he, "you and I will have to
  find some other village to live in, for the jokes and gibes
  of these people are more than I can bear."

  Mary began to cry.                                                  25

  "Oh, John, we have been here so long!" she said. "You
  brought me here when we were first married. I was just
  a lass then, and you were the smartest young man I ever
  saw--at least I thought so."

  "Well, Mary," answered John, "I guess we'll try to stay.            30
  Perhaps it will all blow over some time."

  "Yes, John, it will be like everything else by and by.
  But if I were you, I'd fill those holes. The people come
  from far and wide on Sundays to see them."

  "Mary, I haven't the heart to do that," said the disappointed
  man. "You see, when I was digging for treasure
  I felt sure I was going to find it, and that kept my heart up.       5
  But take a shovel and fill all those holes? I'd rather do
  without eggs every Sunday!"

  So for six months the heaps of earth stood in the heat and
  the frost. Then in the spring the old man took heart and
  filled the holes, smoothing the ground until it was as level        10
  as before. And soon everybody forgot "Jacobs's folly"
  because it was out of sight.

  The month of April was warm, and out burst the trees.
  "Mary," said John, "the bloom is richer than I've seen
  it for many a year; it's a good deal richer than in any of          15
  our neighbors' orchards."

  The bloom died, and then out came a million little green
  things, quite hard. Summer passed. Autumn followed,
  and the old trees staggered under their weight of fruit.

  The trees were old and needed attention. John's                     20
  letting in the air to them and turning the soil up to the
  frost and sun had renewed their youth. And so, in that
  way, he learned that tillage is the way to get treasure
  from the earth.

         1. What other stories about buried treasure have
         you read? What is fascinating about the theme
         besides the get-rich-quick idea?

         2. In what country is the scene of this story laid?
         At about what time? Give evidence in support of
         your answer.

         3. Do apple trees bear better when the ground is
         cultivated around them? Where do you get your first
         hint of the end of the story? Is the conclusion
         satisfying to you? Was it to John?



  THE SOLITARY REAPER

  BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

         A friend of Wordsworth's, while traveling in the
         Highlands of Scotland, was impressed by the
         beautiful singing voice of a girl whom he saw
         working alone in a field; he wrote in his
         diary--"the sweetest human voice I ever heard. The
         strains felt delicious long after they were heard
         no more." Wordsworth had traveled through the same
         country, and from the note and his own impressions
         he built up this poem. The first stanza gives the
         real picture, the second offers two
         comparisons--the nightingale and the cuckoo--one
         sad, the other happy, both associated with solitude
         and open spaces. The third stanza relates the girl
         and her song to the background of history and human
         experience that belongs to the scene; and the last
         refers to Wordsworth's delight in recalling
         beautiful things.

      Behold her, single in the field,
      Yon solitary Highland lass!
      Reaping and singing by herself;
      Stop here, or gently pass!
      Alone she cuts and binds the grain,                              5
      And sings a melancholy strain;
      O listen! for the vale profound
      Is overflowing with the sound.

      No nightingale did ever chant
      More welcome notes to weary bands                               10
      Of travelers in some shady haunt
      Among Arabian sands;
      A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
      In springtime from the cuckoo bird,
      Breaking the silence of the seas                                15
      Among the farthest Hebrides.

      Will no one tell me what she sings?
      Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
      For old, unhappy, far-off things,
      And battles long ago;
      Or is it some more humble lay,                                   5
      Familiar matter of to-day--
      Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
      That has been and may be again?

      Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
      As if her song could have no ending;                            10
      I saw her singing at her work
      And o'er the sickle bending;
      I listened, motionless and still,
      And as I mounted up the hill,
      The music in my heart I bore                                    15
      Long after it was heard no more.

         1. Describe what is seen and heard. To what bird
         songs is the girl's voice compared? Have you ever
         heard the song of the nightingale? What widely
         different places are thought of in the second
         stanza? What have the desert and the sea in common?
         Where are the Hebrides?

         2. Explain: numbers, lay, sickle, lass, vale,
         profound.

         3. What in this poem reminds you of "The
         Daffodils?" How is the theme identical with
         Longfellow's "The Arrow and the Song?"

       *       *       *       *       *

      Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
      we must carry it with us or we find it not.

                                           --_Ralph Waldo Emerson._



_IN GOOD HUMOR_


         _He is twice blessed who has a sense of humor; he
         is saved from taking too seriously the shortcomings
         of his fellows; and he makes glad the hearts of his
         friends. For it has been wisely said that humor is
         the measure of a gentleman, even as its possession
         distinguishes civilized from savage man._

[Illustration: THE STAGECOACH

(_See opposite page_)]



  THE STAGECOACH

  BY MARK TWAIN

         Before the days of the railroad, the lumbering,
         horse-drawn stagecoach was the general vehicle used
         for cross-country passenger travel. Following the
         Civil War, the brother of Mark Twain (Samuel L.
         Clemens) was appointed Territorial Secretary of
         Nevada. Samuel accompanied his brother as private
         secretary. The journey was made largely in a
         stagecoach, the inconveniences of which are
         whimsically set forth in the following extract from
         Twain's _Roughing It_.


  As the sun went down and the evening chill came on,
  we made preparation for bed. We stirred up the
  hard leather letter sacks, and the knotty canvas bags of
  printed matter (knotty and uneven because of projecting
  ends and corners of magazines, boxes, and books). We                 5
  stirred them up and redisposed them in such a way as to
  make our bed as level as possible. And we did improve
  it, too, though after all our work it had an upheaved
  and billowy look about it, like a little piece of a stormy
  sea. Next we hunted up our boots from odd nooks among               10
  the mail bags where they had settled, and put them on.

  Then we got down our coats, vests, pantaloons, and heavy
  woolen shirts, from the arm loops where they had been
  swinging all day, and clothed ourselves in them--for,
  there being no ladies either at the stations or in the coach,       15
  and the weather being hot, we had looked to our comfort
  by stripping to our underclothing at nine o'clock in the
  morning. All things being now ready, we stowed the uneasy
  Dictionary where it would lie as quiet as possible and
  placed the water canteen and pistols where we could find            20
  them in the dark. Then we smoked a final pipe and
  swapped a final yarn; after which we put the pipes, tobacco,
  and bag of coin in snug holes and caves among the mail
  bags, and then fastened down the coach curtains all around,
  and made the place as "dark as the inside of a cow," as              5
  the conductor phrased it in his picturesque way. It was
  certainly as dark as any place could be--nothing was even
  dimly visible in it. And finally we rolled ourselves up like
  silkworms, each person in his own blanket, and sank peacefully
  to sleep.                                                           10

  Whenever the stage stopped to change horses we would
  wake up, and try to recollect where we were---and succeed--and
  in a minute or two the stage would be off again,
  and we likewise. We began to get into country now,
  threaded here and there with little streams. These had              15
  high, steep banks on each side, and every time we flew
  down one bank and scrambled up the other, our party
  inside got mixed somewhat. First we would all be down
  in a pile at the forward end of the stage, nearly in a sitting
  posture, and in a second we would shoot to the other end            20
  and stand on our heads. And we would sprawl and kick,
  too, and ward off ends and corners of mail bags that came
  lumbering over us and about us; and as the dust rose
  from the tumult, we would all sneeze in chorus, and the
  majority of us would grumble, and probably say some hasty           25
  thing, like, "Take your elbow out of my ribs!--can't you
  quit crowding?"

  Every time we avalanched from one end of the stage to
  the other, the Unabridged Dictionary would come too;
  and every time it came it damaged somebody. One trip                30
  it "barked" the Secretary's elbow; the next trip it hurt
  me in the stomach; and the third it tilted Bemis's nose
  up till he could look down his nostrils--he said. The
  pistols and coin soon settled to the bottom, but the pipes,
  pipestems, tobacco, and canteens clattered and floundered
  after the Dictionary every time it made an assault on us,
  and aided and abetted the book by spilling tobacco in                5
  our eyes and water down our backs.

  Still, all things considered, it was a very comfortable
  night. It wore gradually away, and when at last a cold,
  gray light was visible through the puckers and chinks in
  the curtains, we yawned and stretched with satisfaction,            10
  shed our cocoons, and felt that we had slept as much as was
  necessary. By and by, as the sun rose up and warmed the
  world, we pulled off our clothes and got ready for breakfast.
  We were just pleasantly in time, for five minutes afterward
  the driver sent the weird music of his bugle winding over           15
  the grassy solitudes, and presently we detected a low hut
  or two in the distance. Then the rattling of the coach, the
  clatter of our six horses' hoofs, and the driver's crisp commands,
  awoke to a louder and stronger emphasis, and we
  went sweeping down on the station at our smartest speed.            20
  It was fascinating--that old Overland stagecoaching.

  We jumped out in undress uniform. The driver tossed
  his gathered reins out on the ground, gaped and stretched
  complacently, drew off his heavy buckskin gloves with
  great deliberation and insufferable dignity--taking not             25
  the slightest notice of a dozen solicitous inquiries after his
  health, and humbly facetious and flattering accostings, and
  obsequious tenders of service, from five or six hairy and
  half-civilized station keepers and hostlers who were nimbly
  unhitching our steeds and bringing the fresh team out of the        30
  stables--for in the eyes of the stage driver of that day,
  station keepers and hostlers were a sort of good-enough low
  creatures, useful in their place and helping to make up a
  world, but not the kind of beings which a person of distinction
  could afford to concern himself with; while on the
  contrary, in the eyes of the station keeper and the hostler,
  the stage driver was a hero--a great and shining dignitary;          5
  the world's favorite son, the envy of the people, the observed
  of the nations.

  When they spoke to him they received his insolent
  silence meekly and as being the natural and proper
  conduct of so great a man; when he opened his lips                  10
  they all hung on his words with admiration (he never
  honored a particular individual with a remark, but addressed
  it with a broad generality to the horses, the stables,
  the surrounding country, and the human underlings); when
  he discharged a facetious insulting personality at a hostler,       15
  that hostler was happy for the day; when he uttered his
  one jest--old as the hills, coarse, profane, witless, and inflicted
  on the same audience, in that same language, every
  time his coach drove up there--the varlets roared, and
  slapped their thighs, and swore it was the best thing they'd        20
  ever heard in all their lives. And how they would fly
  around when he wanted a basin of water, a gourd of the same,
  or a light for his pipe!--but they would instantly insult
  a passenger if he so far forgot himself as to crave a favor
  at their hands. They could do that sort of insolence as             25
  well as the driver they copied it from--for, let it be borne
  in mind, the Overland driver had but little less contempt
  for his passengers than he had for his hostlers.

  The hostlers and station keepers treated the really
  powerful conductor of the coach merely with the best                30
  of what was their idea of civility, but the driver was the
  only being they bowed down to and worshiped. How
  admiringly they would gaze up at him in his high seat as
  he gloved himself with lingering deliberation, while some
  happy hostler held the bunch of reins aloft and waited
  patiently for him to take it! And how they would bombard
  him with glorifying ejaculations as he cracked his long whip         5
  and went careering away.

  The station buildings were long, low huts, made of sun-dried,
  mud-colored bricks, laid up without mortar (_adobes_,
  the Spaniards call these bricks, and Americans shorten it
  to _'dobies_). The roofs, which had no slant to them worth          10
  speaking of, were thatched and then sodded, or covered
  with a thick layer of earth, and from this sprang a pretty
  rank growth of weeds and grass. It was the first time we
  had ever seen a man's front yard on top of his house. The
  buildings consisted of barns, stable room for twelve or             15
  fifteen horses, and a hut for an eating room for passengers.
  This latter had bunks in it for the station keeper and a hostler
  or two. You could rest your elbow on its eaves, and
  you had to bend in order to get in at the door. In place
  of a window there was a square hole about large enough              20
  for a man to crawl through, but this had no glass in it.
  There was no flooring, but the ground was packed hard.
  There were no shelves, no cupboards, no closets. In a
  corner stood an open sack of flour, and nestling against its
  base were a couple of black and venerable tin coffeepots,           25
  a tin teapot, a little bag of salt, and a side of bacon.

  By the door of the station keeper's den, outside, was a
  tin washbasin, on the ground. Near it was a pail of water
  and a piece of yellow bar soap, and from the eaves hung a
  hoary blue-woolen shirt, significantly--but this latter was         30
  the station keeper's private towel, and only two persons
  in all the party might venture to use it--the stage driver
  and the conductor. The latter would not, from a sense of
  decency; the former would not, because he did not choose
  to encourage the advances of a station keeper. We had
  towels--in the valise; they might as well have been in
  Sodom and Gomorrah.                                                  5

  We (and the conductor) used our handkerchiefs, and
  the driver his pantaloons and sleeves. By the door, inside,
  was fastened a small old-fashioned looking-glass
  frame, with two little fragments of the original mirror
  lodged down in one corner of it. This arrangement afforded          10
  a pleasant double-barreled portrait of you when you
  looked into it, with one half of your head set up a couple
  of inches above the other half. From the glass frame hung
  the half a comb by a string--but if I had to describe that
  patriarch or die, I believe I would order some sample               15
  coffins. It had come down from Esau and Samson, and
  had been accumulating hair ever since--along with
  certain impurities. In one corner of the room stood three
  or four rifles and muskets, together with horns and pouches
  of ammunition.                                                      20

  The station men wore pantaloons of coarse country-woven
  stuff, and into the seat and the inside of the
  legs were sewed ample additions of buckskin to do duty
  in place of leggings when the man rode horseback--so
  the pants were half dull blue and half yellow, and                  25
  unspeakably picturesque. The pants were stuffed into
  the tops of high boots, the heels whereof were armed with
  great Spanish spurs whose little iron clogs and chains
  jingled with every step. The man wore a huge beard and
  mustachios, an old slouch hat, a blue-woolen shirt, no              30
  suspenders, no vest, no coat; in a leathern sheath in his
  belt, a great long "navy" revolver (slung on right side,
  hammer to the front), and projecting from his boot a horn-handled
  bowie knife. The furniture of the hut was neither
  gorgeous nor much in the way. The rocking-chairs and
  sofas were not present and never had been, but they were
  represented by two three-legged stools, a pine-board bench           5
  four feet long, and two empty candle boxes. The table
  was a greasy board on stilts, and the tablecloth and napkins
  had not come--and they were not looking for them, either.
  A battered tin platter, a knife and fork, and a tin pint cup,
  were at each man's place, and the driver had a queen's-ware         10
  saucer that had seen better days. Of course this
  duke sat at the head of the table.

  There was one isolated piece of table furniture that bore
  about it a touching air of grandeur in misfortune. This was
  the caster. It was German silver and crippled and rusty,            15
  but it was so preposterously out of place there that it
  was suggestive of a tattered exiled king among barbarians,
  and the majesty of its native position compelled respect
  even in its degradation. There was only one cruet left,
  and that was a stopperless, fly-specked, broken-necked              20
  thing, with two inches of vinegar in it and a dozen preserved
  flies with their heels up and looking sorry they
  had invested there.

  The station keeper upended a disk of last week's bread,
  of the shape and size of an old-time cheese, and carved some        25
  slabs from it which were as good as Nicholson pavement,
  and tenderer.

  He sliced off a piece of bacon for each man, but only the
  experienced old hands made out to eat it, for it was condemned
  army bacon which the United States would not feed                   30
  to its soldiers in the forts, and the stage company had
  bought it cheap for the sustenance of their passengers and
  employees. We may have found this condemned army
  bacon further out on the plains than the section I am locating
  it in, but we _found_ it--there is no gainsaying that.

  Then he poured for us a beverage which he called _slumgullion_
  and it is hard to think he was not inspired when                     5
  he named it. It really pretended to be tea, but there was
  too much dishrag, and sand, and old bacon rind in it to
  deceive the intelligent traveler. He had no sugar and no
  milk--not even a spoon to stir the ingredients with.

  We could not eat the bread or the meat, or drink the                10
  "slumgullion." And when I looked at that melancholy
  vinegar cruet, I thought of the anecdote (a very, very old
  one, even at that day) of the traveler who sat down at a
  table which had nothing on it but a mackerel and a pot
  of mustard. He asked the landlord if this was all. The              15
  landlord said:

  "_All!_ Why, thunder and lightning, I should think
  there was mackerel enough there for six."

  "But I don't like mackerel."

  "Oh--then help yourself to the mustard."                            20

                                             --_Roughing It._

         1. How much of this selection is given over to a
         description of actual travel inside a stagecoach?
         To what is the remainder devoted?

         2. Re-read only the description of the night's
         traveling and decide which parts of it are most
         humorous. Why are they funny?

         3. Describe the driver. Make a sketch of him.

         4. How much of the central paragraph, page 257, is
         serious description? What parts of it are humorous?
         Test your answer by reading the paragraph with the
         humor omitted.

         5. Much of Twain's humor depends on an occasional
         single sentence or a startling word. Prove or
         disprove this statement.

         6. Report fully on Samuel L. Clemens's life. If
         possible, read his _Huckleberry Finn_ and _Tom
         Sawyer_.



  THE CHAMELEON

  BY JAMES MERRICK


      Two travelers of conceited cast,
      As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed,
      And on their way, in friendly chat,
      Now talked of this and then of that,
      Discoursed awhile 'mongst other matter                           5
      Of the chameleon's form and nature.

      "A stranger animal," cries one,
      "Sure never lived beneath the sun;
      A lizard's body, lean and long;
      A fish's head; a serpent's tongue;                              10
      Its foot with triple claw disjoined;
      And what a length of tail behind!
      How slow its pace! And then its hue!--
      Who ever saw so fine a blue?"

      "Hold, there!" the other quick replies;                         15
      "'Tis _green_--I saw it with these eyes,
      As late with open mouth it lay,
      And warmed it in the sunny ray;
      Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed,
      And saw it eat the air for food."                               20

      "I've seen it, sir, as well as you,
      And must again affirm it blue.
      At leisure I the beast surveyed,
      Extended in the cooling shade."

      "'Tis green, 'tis green, sir, I assure ye."
      "Green!" cries the other in a fury;
      "Why, sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes?"
      "'Twere no great loss," the friend replies,
      "For if they always serve you thus,                              5
      You'll find them of but little use."

      So high at last the contest rose,
      From words they almost came to blows;
      When luckily came by a third--
      To him the question they referred,                              10
      And begged he'd tell them, if he knew,
      Whether the thing was green, or blue.

      "Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease your pother!
      The creature's neither one nor t'other.
      I caught the animal last night,                                 15
      And viewed it o'er by candle light;
      I marked it well--'twas black as jet;
      You stare--but, sirs, I've got it yet,
      And can produce it." "Pray, sir, do;
      I'll lay my life the thing is blue."                            20
      "And I'll engage that when you've seen
      The reptile, you'll pronounce him green."

      "Well, then, at once to ease the doubt,"
      Replies the man, "I'll turn him out;
      And when before your eyes I've set him,                         25
      If you don't find him black, I'll eat him."
      He said: then full before their sight
      Produced the beast, and lo--'twas white!

      Both stared; the man looked wondrous wise!--
      "My children," the chameleon cries
      (Then first the creature found a tongue),
      "You all are right, and all are wrong,
      When next you talk of what you view,                             5
      Think others see as well as you;
      Nor wonder if you find that none
      Prefers your eyesight to his own."

         1. You should read with this poem Saxe's "The Blind
         Men and the Elephant." Is it like any other
         selection you have read?

         2. Does the chameleon actually change color?
         Wherein does the humor of the poem lie?



  THE PICKWICK CLUB ON ICE

  BY CHARLES DICKENS


  "Now," said Wardle, after a substantial lunch had
  been done ample justice to, "what say you to an
  hour on the ice? We shall have plenty of time."

  "Capital," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.

  "Prime," ejaculated Mr. Bob Sawyer.                                  5

  "You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Wardle.

  "Ye--yes; oh, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle. "I--I--am
  rather out of practice."

  "Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. "I like to
  see it so much."                                                    10

  "Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady.

  A third young lady said it was "elegant," and a fourth expressed
  her opinion that it was "swanlike."

  "I should be very happy, I'm sure," said Mr. Winkle,
  reddening; "but I have no skates."                                  15

  This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had a
  couple of pair, and the fat boy announced that there were
  half a dozen more in the house; whereat Mr. Winkle expressed
  exquisite delight and looked exquisitely uncomfortable.              5

  Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands blue with the cold,
  forced a gimlet into the soles of his feet, put his skates on
  with the points behind, and got the straps into a very
  complicated and entangled state, with the assistance of
  Mr. Snodgrass, who knew rather less about skates than a             10
  Hindu. At length, however, with the assistance of Mr.
  Weller, the unfortunate skates were firmly screwed and
  buckled on, and Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet.

  "Now, then, sir," said Sam in an encouraging tone; "off
  with you, and show 'em how to do it."                               15

  "Stop, Sam, stop," said Mr. Winkle, trembling violently
  and clutching hold of Sam's arm with the grasp of a drowning
  man. "How slippery it is, Sam."

  "Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr.
  Weller. "Hold up, sir."                                             20

  This last observation of Mr. Weller's bore reference to a
  demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant, of a frantic
  desire to throw his feet in the air and dash the back of his
  head on the ice.

  "These--these--are very awkward skates, ain't they,                 25
  Sam?" inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering.

  "I'm afraid there's an awkward gentleman in 'em, sir,"
  replied Sam.

  "Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite unconscious
  that there was anything the matter. "Come, the ladies               30
  are all anxiety."

  "Yes, yes!" replied Mr. Winkle with a ghastly smile.

  "Just a goin' to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to disengage
  himself. "Now, sir, start off."

  "Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging
  most affectionately to Mr. Weller. "I find I've got a
  couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You may              5
  have them, Sam."

  "Thank'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

  "Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. Winkle
  hastily. "You needn't take your hand away to do that.
  I meant to have given you five shillings this morning for a         10
  Christmas box, Sam; I'll give it to you this afternoon,
  Sam."

  "You're very good, sir," replied Mr. Weller.

  "Just hold me at first, Sam, will you?" said Mr. Winkle.
  "There--that's right. I shall soon get in the way of it,            15
  Sam. Not too fast, Sam; not too fast."

  Mr. Winkle, stooping forward with his body half doubled
  up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. Weller in a very
  singular and unswanlike manner when Mr. Pickwick most
  innocently shouted from the opposite bank,                          20

  "Sam!"

  "Sir?" said Mr. Weller.

  "Here. I want you."

  "Let go, sir," said Sam. "Don't you hear the governor
  a callin'? Let go, sir."                                            25

  With a violent effort Mr. Weller disengaged himself from
  the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian; and in so doing
  administered a considerable impetus to the unhappy Mr.
  Winkle. With an accuracy which no degree of dexterity or
  practice could have insured, that gentleman bore swiftly            30
  down into the center of a group at the very moment when
  Mr. Bob Sawyer was performing a flourish of unparalleled
  beauty. Mr. Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a
  wild crash they fell heavily down. Mr. Pickwick ran to the
  spot. Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle
  was far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He
  was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile;            5
  but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his countenance.

  Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beckoned
  to Mr. Weller and said in a stern voice, "Take his skates
  off."                                                               10

  "No; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated
  Mr. Winkle.

  "Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly.

  The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle
  allowed Sam to obey it in silence.                                  15

  "Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him
  to rise.

  Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the bystanders,
  and beckoning his friend to approach, fixed a
  searching look upon him and uttered in a low but distinct           20
  and emphatic tone these remarkable words:

  "You're a humbug, sir."

  "A what?" said Mr. Winkle, starting.

  "A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer if you wish it.
  An impostor, sir."                                                  25

  With these words, Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his
  heel and rejoined his friends.

  While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the sentiment
  just recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, having by
  their joint endeavors cut out a slide, were exercising themselves   30
  thereupon in a very masterly and brilliant manner.
  Sam Weller, in particular, was displaying that beautiful
  feat of fancy sliding which is currently denominated "knocking
  at the cobbler's door," and which is achieved by skimming
  over the ice on one foot and occasionally giving a two-penny
  postman's knock upon it with the other. It was
  a good long slide, and there was something in the motion             5
  which Mr. Pickwick, who was very cold with standing still,
  could not help envying.

  "It looks a nice warm exercise, that, doesn't it?" he
  inquired of Wardle, when that gentleman was thoroughly
  out of breath by reason of the indefatigable manner in              10
  which he had converted his legs into a pair of compasses
  and drawn complicated problems on the ice.

  "Ah, it does, indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you slide?"

  "I used to do so, on the gutters, when I was a boy,"
  replied Mr. Pickwick.                                               15

  "Try it now," said Wardle.

  Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves
  and put them in his hat, took two or three short runs,
  balked himself as often, and at last took another run and
  went slowly and gravely down the slide with his feet about          20
  a yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts of
  all the spectators.

  It was the most intensely interesting thing to observe
  the manner in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share
  in the ceremony; to watch the torture of anxiety with               25
  which he viewed the person behind, gaining upon him at
  the imminent hazard of tripping him up; to see him
  gradually expend the painful force which he had put on
  at first and turn slowly round on the slide, with his face
  towards the point from which he had started; to contemplate         30
  the playful smile which mantled on his face when he had
  accomplished the distance and the eagerness with which he
  turned round when he had done so and ran after his predecessor,
  his black gaiters tripping pleasantly through
  the snow and his eyes beaming cheerfulness and gladness
  through his spectacles. And when he was knocked down
  (which happened upon the average every third round),                 5
  it was the most invigorating sight that can possibly be
  imagined to behold him gather up his hat, gloves, and
  handkerchief with a glowing countenance, and resume
  his station in the rank with an ardor and enthusiasm which
  nothing could abate.                                                10

  The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the quickest,
  the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp, smart
  crack was heard. There was a quick rush towards the bank,
  a wild scream from the ladies, and a shout from Mr. Tupman.
  A large mass of ice disappeared, the water bubbled                  15
  up over it, and Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and handkerchief
  were floating on the surface; and this was all of Mr.
  Pickwick that anybody could see.

  Dismay and anguish were depicted on every countenance;
  the males turned pale, and the females fainted; Mr. Snodgrass       20
  and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by the hand and
  gazed at the spot where their leader had gone down, with
  frenzied eagerness; while Mr. Tupman, by way of rendering
  the promptest assistance and at the same time conveying
  to any persons who might be within hearing the clearest             25
  possible notion of the catastrophe, ran off across the country
  at his utmost speed, screaming "Fire!" with all his
  might and main.

  It was at this very moment--when old Wardle and Sam
  Weller were approaching the hole with cautious steps and            30
  Mr. Benjamin Allen was holding a hurried consultation
  with Mr. Bob Sawyer on the advisability of bleeding the
  company generally, as an improving little bit of professional
  practice--it was at this very moment that a head, face,
  and shoulders emerged from beneath the water, and disclosed
  the features and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick.

  "Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow?" said Wardle.             5

  "Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the
  water from his head and face and gasping for breath. "I
  fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first."

  The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was yet
  visible bore testimony to the accuracy of this statement;           10
  and as the fears of the spectators were still further relieved
  by the fat boy's suddenly recollecting that the water was
  nowhere more than five feet deep, prodigies of valor were
  performed to get him out. After a vast quantity of splashing,
  and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pickwick was at                   15
  length fairly extricated from his unpleasant position and
  once more stood on dry land.

                                           --_Pickwick Papers._

         1. The members of the Pickwick Club herein
         presented are Mr. Pickwick, a heavy, pompous,
         dignified gentleman, and three friends, Messrs.
         Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman. Characterize each.
         Weller is a guide-valet. _Pickwick Papers_ records
         the experiences of the Club during a series of
         tours.

         2. How many episodes are related?

         3. Why didn't Winkle admit his inability to skate?
         What do you consider the funniest part of the
         Winkle story?

         4. What is ludicrous about Pickwick's sliding? When
         he fell into the water, why was there so little
         assistance offered at first, and so much later?

         5. If you have had a funny experience of your own
         on ice, tell it to the class.



  DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING MACHINE

  BY JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE


      If ever there lived a Yankee lad,
      Wise or otherwise, good or bad,
      Who, seeing the birds fly, didn't jump
      With flapping arms from stake or stump,
        Or spreading the tail                                          5
        Of his coat for a sail,
      Take a soaring leap from post or rail,
        And wonder why
        _He_ couldn't fly,
      And flap and flutter and wish and try--                         10
      If ever you knew a country dunce
      Who didn't try that as often as once--
      All I can say is, that's a sign
      He never would do for a hero of mine.

      An aspiring genius was D. Green:                                15
      The son of a farmer--age fourteen;
      His body was long and lank and lean--
      Just right for flying, as will be seen;
      He had two eyes as bright as a bean,
      And a freckled nose that grew between,                          20
      A little awry;--for I must mention
      That he had riveted his attention
      Upon his wonderful invention,
      Twisting his tongue as he twisted the strings,
      And working his face as he worked the wings,                    25
      And with every turn of gimlet and screw
      Turning and screwing his mouth round too,
        Till his nose seemed bent
        To catch the scent,
      Around some corner, of new-baked pies,
      And his wrinkled cheeks and squinting eyes                       5
      Grew puckered into a queer grimace,
      That made him look very droll in the face,
        And also very wise.

      And wise he must have been, to do more
      Than ever a genius did before,                                  10
      Excepting Dædalus of yore,
      And his son Icarus, who wore
        Upon their backs
        Those wings of wax
      He had read of in the old almanacs.                             15
      Darius was clearly of the opinion,
      That the air was also man's dominion,
      And that, with paddle or fin or pinion,
        We soon or late
        Shall navigate                                                20
      The azure as now we sail the sea.
      The thing looks simple enough to me;
        And if you doubt it,
      Hear how Darius reasoned about it:

        "The birds can fly,                                           25
        An' why can't I?
        Must we give in,"
        Says he with a grin,
        "That the bluebird an' phoebe
        Are smarter 'n we be?                                         30
      Jest fold our hands an' see the swaller
      An' blackbird an' catbird beat us holler?
      Does the leetle chatterin', sassy wren,
      No bigger'n my thumb, know more than men?
        Jest show me that                                              5
        Er prove 't the bat
      Hez got more brains than's in my hat,
      An' I'll back down, an' not till then!"

      He argued further: "Ner I can't see
      What's th' use o' wings to a bumblebee                          10
      Fer to git a livin' with, more'n to me;
        Ain't my business
        Importanter'n his'n is?
        That Icarus
        Made a perty muss--                                           15
      Him an' his daddy Daedalus.
      They might 'a' knowed wings made o' wax
      Wouldn't stan' sun heat an' hard whacks:
        I'll make mine o' luther,
        Er suthin' er other."                                         20

      And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned:
      "But I ain't goin' to show my hand
      To nummies that never can understand
      The fust idee that's big an' grand."
      So he kept his secret from all the rest,                        25
      Safely buttoned within his vest;
      And in the loft above the shed
      Himself he locks, with thimble and thread
      And wax and hammer and buckles and screws,
      And all such things as geniuses use:                            30
      Two bats for patterns, curious fellows!
      A charcoal pot and a pair of bellows;
      An old hoop skirt or two, as well as
      Some wire and several old umbrellas;
      A carriage cover for tail and wings;                             5
      A piece of harness; and straps and strings;
        And a big, strong box,
        In which he locks
      These and a hundred other things.

      His grinning brothers, Reuben and Burke                         10
      And Nathan and Jotham and Solomon, lurk
      Around the corner to see him work--
      Sitting cross-legged, like a Turk,
      Drawing the waxed end through with a jerk,
      And boring the holes with a comical quirk                       15
      Of his wise old head, and a knowing smirk.
      But vainly they mounted each other's backs,
      And poked through knot holes and pried through cracks;
      With wood from the pile and straw from the stacks
      He plugged the knot holes and calked the cracks;                20
      And a bucket of water, which one would think
      He had brought up into the loft to drink
        When he chanced to be dry,
        Stood always nigh,
        For Darius was sly!                                           25
      And whenever at work he happened to spy
      At chink or crevice a blinking eye,
      He let a dipper of water fly.

      So day after day
      He stitched and tinkered and hammered away,                     30
        Till at last 'twas done,--
      The greatest invention under the sun!
        "An' now," says Darius, "hooray fer some fun!"

        'Twas the Fourth of July,
        And the weather was dry,                                       5
      And not a cloud was on all the sky,
      Save a few light fleeces, which here and there,
        Half mist, half air,
      Like foam on the ocean went floating by,--
      Just as lovely a morning as ever was seen                       10
      For a nice little trip in a flying machine.

      Thought cunning Darius: "Now I shan't go
      Along 'ith the fellers to see the show:
      I'll say I've got sich a terrible cough!
      An' then, when the folks 'ave all gone off,                     15
        I'll have full swing
        Fer to try the thing,
      An' practice a little on the wing."

      "Ain't goin' to see the celebration?"
      Says brother Nate. "No; botheration!                            20
      I've got sich a cold--a toothache--I--
      My gracious!--feel's though I should fly!"
        Said Jotham, "'Sho!
        Guess ye better go."
        But Darius said, "No!                                         25
      Shouldn't wonder 'f you might see me, though,
      'Long 'bout noon, if I get red
      O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head."
      For all the while to himself he said:
        "I tell ye what!
      I'll fly a few times around the lot,
      To see how't seems, then soon's I've got
      The hang o' the thing, ez likely's not,
        I'll astonish the nation,                                      5
        An' all creation,
      By flyin' over the celebration!
      Over their heads I'll sail like an eagle;
      I'll balance myself on my wings like a sea gull;
      I'll dance on the chimbleys; I'll stand on the steeple;         10
      I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people!
      I'll light on the liberty pole an' crow;
      An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below,
        'What world's this 'ere
        That I've come near?'                                         15
      Fer I'll make 'em b'lieve I'm a chap f'm the moon;
      An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' balloon!"

        He crept from his bed,
      And seeing the others were gone, he said:
      "I'm a gittin' over the cold 'n my head."                       20
        And away he sped,
      To open the wonderful box in the shed.

      His brothers had walked but a little way,
      When Jotham to Nathan chanced to say,
      "What is the feller up to, hey?"                                25
      "Don'o',--the' 's suthin' er other to pay,
      Er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum to-day."
      Says Burke, "His toothache's all 'n his eye!
      _He_ never'd miss a Fo'th o' July,
      Ef he hedn't got some machine to try."                          30
      Then Sol, the little one, spoke: "By darn!
      Le's hurry back an' hide 'n the barn,
      An' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn!"

      "Agreed!" Through the orchard they creep back,
      Along by the fences, behind the stack,                           5
      And one by one, through a hole in the wall,
      In under the dusty barn they crawl,
      Dressed in their Sunday garments all.
      And a very astonishing sight was that,
      When each in his cobwebbed coat and hat                         10
      Came up through the floor like an ancient rat.

        And there they hid;
        And Reuben slid
      The fastenings back, and the door undid.
        "Keep dark!" said he,                                         15
      "While I squint an' see what the' is to see."

      As knights of old put on their mail,--
        From head to foot
        An iron suit,
      Iron jacket and iron boot,                                      20
      Iron breeches, and on the head
      No hat, but an iron pot instead,
        And under the chin the bail
      (I believe they called the thing a helm);
      And, thus accoutered, they took the field,                      25
      Sallying forth to overwhelm
      The dragons and pagans that plagued the realm,--
        So this modern knight
        Prepared for flight,
      Put on his wings and strapped them tight,--
      Jointed and jaunty, strong and light,--
      Buckled them fast to shoulder and hip,--
      Ten feet they measured from tip to tip!
      And a helm had he, but that he wore,                             5
      Not on his head, like those of yore,
        But more like the helm of a ship.

        "Hush!" Reuben said,
        "He's up in the shed!
      He's opened the winder,--I see his head!                        10
        He stretches it out,
        An' pokes it about,
      Lookin' to see 'f the coast is clear,
        An' nobody near;--
       Guess he don'o' who's hid in here!                             15
      He's riggin' a springboard over the sill!
      Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still!
      He's climbin' out now. Of all the things!
      What's he got on? I van, it's wings!
      An' that t'other thing? I vum, it's a tail!
        An' there he sets like a hawk on a rail!                      20
      Steppin' careful, he travels the length
      Of his springboard, and teeters to try its strength.

      "Now he stretches his wings like a monstrous bat;
      Peeks over his shoulder, this way an' that,                     25
      Fer to see 'f the' 's anyone passin' by;
      But the' 's on'y a ca'f an' a goslin' nigh.
      _They_ turn up at him a wonderin' eye,
      To see--the dragon! he's goin' to fly!
      Away he goes! Jiminy! what a jump!
        Flop--flop--an' plump
        To the ground with a thump,
      Flutt'rin' an' flound'rin', all 'n a lump!"

      As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear,                        5
      Heels over head, to his proper sphere,
      Heels over head, and head over heels,
      Dizzily down the abyss he wheels,--
      So fell Darius. Upon his crown,
      In the midst of the barnyard, he came down,                     10
      In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings,
      Broken braces and broken springs,
      Broken tail and broken wings,
      Shooting stars and various things,
      Barnyard litter of straw and chaff.                             15
      Away with a bellow fled the calf,
      And what was that? Did the gosling laugh?

        'Tis a merry roar
        From the old barn door,
      And he hears the voice of Jotham crying,                        20
      "Say, D'rius! how do you like flyin'?"

      Slowly, ruefully, where he lay,
      Darius just turned and looked that way,
      As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff.
      "Wall, I like flyin' well enough,"                              25
      He said, "but the' ain't sich a awful sight
      O' fun in't when ye come to light."


    _Moral_

      I just have room for the moral here:
      And this is the moral,--Stick to your sphere.
      Or, if you insist, as you have the right,
      On spreading your wings for a loftier flight,
      The moral is,--Take care how you light.                          5

         1. Tell the story of Icarus and Dædalus. Compare
         Darius's flying machine with a modern airplane.
         When and by whom was the airplane perfected as a
         practical flyer?

         2. How much of the story is told from Darius's
         standpoint? Through whose eyes do we see the rest?

         3. Describe Darius. Is he really a clever lad? Why
         do we laugh at his experiment?

         4. The poem is written partially in dialect.
         Explain what "dialect" is. What other poems do you
         know that are in dialect?

         5. J. T. Trowbridge (1827-1916) was a clever
         American writer of verse and fiction, chiefly boys'
         books. Can you find anything of interest about him?



  AUNT DOLEFUL'S VISIT


  How do you do, Cornelia? I heard you were sick, and
  I stepped in to cheer you up a little. My friends
  often say, "It's such a comfort to see you, Aunt Doleful.
  You have such a flow of conversation, and are _so_ lively."
  Besides, I said to myself as I came up the stairs, "Perhaps          5
  it's the last time I'll ever see Cornelia Jane alive."

  _You don't mean to die yet, eh?_ Well, now, how do you
  know? You can't tell. You think you are getting better;
  but there was poor Mrs. Jones sitting up, and everyone
  saying how smart she was, and all of a sudden she was taken         10
  with spasms in the heart and went off like a flash.

  But you must be careful and not get anxious or excited.
  Keep quite calm and don't fret about anything. Of course
  things can't go just as if you were downstairs; and I
  wondered whether you knew your little Billy was sailing
  about in a tub on the mill pond, and that your little Sammy          5
  was letting your little Jimmy down from the veranda
  roof in a clothes basket.

  Goodness! what's the matter? I guess Providence'll
  take care of them. Don't look so. You thought Bridget
  was watching them? Well, no, she isn't. I saw her talking           10
  to a man at the gate. He looked to me like a burglar.
  No doubt she let him take the impression of the door key
  in wax, and then he'll get in and murder you all. There
  was a family at Murray Hill all killed last week.

  How is Mr. Kobble? Well, but finds it warm in town, eh?             15
  Well, I should think he would. They are dropping down by
  hundreds there with sunstroke. You must prepare your
  mind to have him brought home any day. Anyhow, a
  trip on these railroad trains is just risking your life every
  time you take one. Back and forth every day as he is,               20
  is just trifling with danger.

  Scarlet fever has broken out in the village, Cornelia.
  Little Isaac Potter has it, and I saw your Jimmy playing
  with him last Saturday.

  Well, I must be going now. I've got another sick                    25
  friend, and I sha'n't consider my duty done unless I cheer
  her up a little before I sleep. You don't look so well as you did
  when I came in. But if anything happens, send for me at
  once. If I can't do anything else, I can cheer you up a little.

         1. This is an old, favorite recitation. What do you
         think of this type of humor as compared with Mark
         Twain's?



  GRADGRIND'S IDEA OF EDUCATION

  BY CHARLES DICKENS

         Thomas Gradgrind was proud of himself. He was a
         "self-made" man who attributed his own successes in
         life to his mastery of Facts. He is here
         represented as officially testing a school upon its
         knowledge of his favorite Facts.


  "Now what I want is Facts. Teach these boys and
  girls nothing but Facts. Facts alone are wanted
  in life. You can only form the minds of reasoning animals
  upon Facts; nothing else will ever be of any service to
  them. This is the principle on which I bring up my own               5
  children. Stick to Facts, sir; nothing but Facts."

  The speaker, and the schoolmaster, and the third grown
  person present, all backed a little and swept with their eyes
  the inclined plane of little vessels then and there arranged
  in order, ready to have gallons of facts poured into them           10
  until they were full to the brim.

  Thomas Gradgrind, sir. A man of realities. A man of
  facts and calculations. A man who proceeds upon the
  principle that two and two are four and nothing over,
  and who is not to be talked into allowing for anything over.        15
  Thomas Gradgrind, sir, with a rule and a pair of scales
  and the multiplication table always in his pocket, sir,
  ready to weigh and measure any parcel of human nature
  and tell you exactly what it comes to.

  It is a mere question of figures, a case of simple arithmetic.      20
  You might hope to get some other nonsensical
  belief into the head of George Gradgrind, or Augustus
  Gradgrind, or John Gradgrind, or Joseph Gradgrind; but
  into the head of Thomas Gradgrind--no, sir!

  Indeed, he seemed to be a kind of cannon loaded to the
  muzzle with facts.

  "Girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, squarely                   5
  pointing with his square forefinger. "I don't know that
  girl. Who is that girl?"

  "Sissy Jupe, sir," explained number twenty, blushing,
  standing up, and curtsying.

  "Sissy is not a name," said Mr. Gradgrind. "Don't                   10
  call yourself Sissy. Call yourself Cecilia."

  "Father calls me Sissy, sir," returned the young girl in a
  trembling voice and with another curtsy.

  "Then he has no business to do it," said Mr. Gradgrind.
  "Tell him he mustn't. Cecilia Jupe. Let me see. What                15
  is your father?"

  "He belongs to the horse riding, if you please, sir."

  Mr. Gradgrind frowned, and waved off the objectionable
  calling with his hand.

  "We don't want to know anything about that, here.                   20
  You mustn't tell us about that, here. Your father breaks
  horses, don't he?"

  "If you please, sir, when they can get any to break, they
  do break horses in the ring, sir."

  "You mustn't tell us about the ring, here. Very well,               25
  then. Describe your father as a horse breaker. He
  doctors sick horses, I dare say."

  "Oh, yes, sir!"

  "Very well, then. He is a veterinary surgeon, a farrier,
  and a horse breaker. Give me your definition of a horse."           30

  Sissy Jupe was thrown into the greatest alarm by this
  demand.

  "Girl number twenty unable to define a horse!" said
  Mr. Gradgrind. "Girl number twenty possessed of no
  facts in reference to one of the commonest of animals!
  Some boy's definition of a horse. Bitzer, yours."

  The square finger, moving here and there, lighted suddenly           5
  on Bitzer, perhaps because he chanced to sit in the
  same ray of sunlight which irradiated Sissy.

  "Bitzer," said Thomas Gradgrind, "your definition of a
  horse."

  "Quadruped. Graminivorous. Forty teeth: namely,                     10
  twenty-four grinders, four eyeteeth, and twelve incisors.
  Sheds coat in the spring; in marshy countries, sheds hoofs
  too. Hoofs hard, but requiring to be shod with iron.
  Age known by marks in the mouth."

  "Now, girl number twenty," said Mr. Gradgrind, "you                 15
  know what a horse is."

  She curtsied again and would have blushed deeper, if she
  could have blushed deeper than she had blushed all this
  time.

  The third gentleman now stepped forth. A mighty man at              20
  cutting and drying, was he; a government officer; always
  in training, always with a system to force down the general
  throat, always to be heard of at the bar of his little public
  office.

  "Very well," said this gentleman briskly, smiling and               25
  folding his arms. "That's a horse. Now, let me ask you,
  girls and boys, would you paper a room with representations
  of horses?"

  After a pause, one half the children cried in a chorus,
  "Yes, sir!" Upon which the other half, seeing in the                30
  gentleman's face that "yes" was wrong, cried out in a
  chorus, "No, sir!"--as the custom is in these examinations.

  "Of course not. Why wouldn't you?"

  A pause. One corpulent slow boy, with a wheezy manner
  of breathing, ventured to answer, "Because I wouldn't
  paper a room at all; I'd paint it."

  "You _must_ paper it," said the gentleman rather warmly.        5

  "Yes, you must paper it," said Thomas Gradgrind,
  "whether you like it or not. Don't tell _us_ you wouldn't
  paper it. What do you mean, boy?"

  "I'll explain to you, then," said the gentleman, after a
  dismal pause, "why you wouldn't paper a room with representations   10
  of horses. Do you ever see horses walking
  up and down the sides of a room in reality--in fact?
  Do you?"

  "Yes, sir!" from one half. "No, sir!" from the other.

  "Of course not," said the gentleman, with an indignant              15
  look at the wrong half. "Why, then, you are not to see
  anywhere what you don't see in fact; you are not to have
  anywhere what you don't have in fact. What is called
  taste is only another name for fact. This is a new principle,
  a discovery, a great discovery," said the gentleman. "Now           20
  I'll try you again. Suppose you were going to carpet a
  room, would you use a carpet having a representation of
  flowers upon it?"

  There being a general conviction by this time that "No,
  sir!" was always the right answer to this gentleman, the            25
  chorus of "No," was very strong. Only a few feeble
  stragglers said, "Yes"; among them Sissy Jupe.

  "Girl number twenty," said the gentleman, smiling in
  the calm strength of knowledge.

  Sissy blushed and stood up.                                         30

  "So you would carpet your room with representations of
  flowers, would you?" said the gentleman. "Why?"

  "If you please, sir, I am very fond of flowers," returned
  the girl.

  "And is that why you would put tables and chairs upon
  them and have people walking over them with heavy
  boots?"                                                              5

  "It wouldn't hurt them, sir. They wouldn't crush and,
  wither, if you please, sir. They would be the pictures of
  what was very pretty and pleasant, and I fancy--"

  "Aye, aye, aye! But you mustn't fancy," cried the
  gentleman, quite elated by coming so happily to his point.          10
  "That's it! You are never to fancy."

  "You are not, Cecilia Jupe," Thomas Gradgrind solemnly
  repeated, "to do anything of that kind."

  "You are to be in all things regulated and governed,"
  said the gentleman, "by Fact. You must discard the word             15
  'fancy' altogether. You have nothing to do with it.
  You don't walk upon flowers in fact; you cannot be allowed
  to walk upon flowers in carpets. You never meet with
  quadrupeds going up and down the walls; you must not
  have quadrupeds represented upon the walls. You must                20
  use," said the gentleman, "for all these purposes, combinations
  and modifications (in primary colors) of mathematical
  figures which are susceptible of proof and demonstration.
  This is the new discovery. This is Fact. This
  is taste."                                                          25

                                                  --_Hard Times._

         1. Make a list of adjectives that fit the character
         of Gradgrind.

         2. Does Dickens agree with Gradgrind's ideas of
         teaching? Prove your answer. Define irony; sarcasm.
         Does either of these words apply to Dickens's
         presentation of Gradgrind?

         3. What do you think of Gradgrind's theories? How
         far do you agree with him? In what do you disagree?



  THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE,
  OR THE WONDERFUL "ONE-HOSS SHAY"

  BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES

         Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894) was born at
         Cambridge, Mass. Although he practiced his
         profession of medicine, was Professor of Anatomy
         and Physiology at the Harvard Medical School, and
         wrote some scientific works, he is best known as
         the author of poems and essays, mostly humorous,
         light, and fanciful. He was very popular in his
         time as a witty conversationalist and a brilliant
         speech maker.


      Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay,
      That was built in such a logical way?
      It ran a hundred years to a day,
      And then, of a sudden, it--ah, but stay,
      I'll tell you what happened without delay--                      5
      Scaring the parson into fits,
      Frightening people out of their wits--
      Have you ever heard of that, I say?

      Seventeen hundred and fifty-five.
      _Georgius Secundus_ was then alive--                       10
      Snuffy old drone from the German hive.
      That was the year when Lisbon town
      Saw the earth open and gulp her down,
      And Braddock's army was done so brown,
      Left without a scalp to its crown.                              15
      It was on the terrible Earthquake day
      That the Deacon finished the one-hoss shay.

      Now in building of chaises I tell you what,
      There is always _somewhere_ a weakest spot--
      In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill,
      In panel or crossbar or floor or sill,
      In screw, bolt, thorough-brace,--lurking still,                  5
      Find it somewhere you must and will--
      Above or below or within or without--
      And that's the reason, beyond a doubt,
      A chaise _breaks down_, but doesn't _wear out_.

      But the Deacon swore (as Deacons do,                            10
      With an "I dew vum" or an "I tell _yeou_")
      He would build one shay to beat the taown
      'N' the keounty 'n' all the kentry raoun';
      It should be so built that it _couldn't_ break daown.

      "Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's mighty plain                      15
      Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' the strain;
      'N' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain,
        Is only jest
      T' make that place uz strong uz the rest."

      So the Deacon inquired of the village folk                      20
      Where he could find the strongest oak,
      That couldn't be split nor bent nor broke--
      That was for spokes and floor and sills;
      He sent for lancewood to make the thills;
      The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees              25
      The panels of whitewood, that cuts like cheese
      But lasts like iron for things like these;
      The hubs, of logs from the "Settler's ellum"--
      Last of its timber--they couldn't sell 'em--

      Never an ax had seen their chips,
      And the wedges flew from between their lips,
      Their blunt ends frizzled like celery tips;
      Step and prop iron, bolt and screw,
      Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,                            5
      Steel of the finest, bright and blue;
      Thorough-brace, bison skin, thick and wide;
      Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide
      Found in the pit when the tanner died.
      That was the way he "put her through."                          10
      "There!" said the Deacon, "naow she'll dew!"

      Do! I tell you, I rather guess
      She was a wonder, and nothing less!
      Colts grew horses, beards turned gray,
      Deacon and deaconess dropped away,                              15
      Children and grandchildren--where were they?
      But there stood the stout old one-hoss shay,
      As fresh as on Lisbon-Earthquake day!

      _Eighteen hundred_--it came and found
      The Deacon's masterpiece strong and sound.                      20
      Eighteen hundred increased by ten--
      "Hahnsum kerridge" they called it then.
      Eighteen hundred and twenty came--
      Running as usual; much the same.
      Thirty and Forty at last arrive,                                25
      And then come Fifty--and _Fifty-five_.

      Little of all we value here
      Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year
      Without both feeling and looking queer.

      In fact there's nothing that keeps its youth,
      So far as I know, but a tree and truth.
      (This is a moral that runs at large;
      Take it.--You're welcome.--No extra charge.)

      _First of November_--the Earthquake day--                        5
      There are traces of age in the one-hoss shay,
      A general flavor of mild decay,
      But nothing local, as one may say.
      There couldn't be--for the Deacon's art
      Had made it so like in every part                               10
      That there wasn't a chance for one to start.

      For the wheels were just as strong as the thills,
      And the floor was just as strong as the sills,
      And the panels just as strong as the floor,
      And the whippletree neither less nor more,                      15
      And the back crossbar as strong as the fore,
      And spring, and axle, and hub _encore_.
      And yet, _as a whole_, it is past a doubt
      In another hour it will be _worn out_!

      First of November, Fifty-five!                                  20
      This morning the parson takes a drive.
      Now, small boys, get out of the way!
      Here comes the wonderful one-hoss shay,
      Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked bay.
      "Huddup!" said the parson.--Off went they.                      25

      The parson was working his Sunday's text--
      Had got to _fifthly_, and stopped perplexed
      At what the--Moses--was coming next.

      All at once the horse stood still,
      Close by the meet'n'house on the hill.
      First a shiver, and then a thrill,
      Then something decidedly like a spill--
      And the parson was sitting upon a rock,                          5
      At half past nine by the meet'n'house clock--
      Just the hour of the Earthquake shock!

      What do you think the parson found
      When he got up and stared around?
      The poor old chaise in a heap, or mound,                        10
      As if it had been to the mill and ground!
      You see, of course, if you're not a dunce,
      How it went to pieces all at once--
      All at once, and nothing first--
      Just as bubbles do when they burst.                             15

      End of the wonderful one-hoss shay.
      Logic is logic. That's all I say.

         1. What kind of vehicle did the Deacon build? What
         was his theory as to building a "shay"?

         2. How did he carry out his theory? Read the
         passages that answer this question. Make a list of
         the special parts of the chaise named.

         3. On what day did the Deacon complete his task? Is
         Holmes correct as to the dates of Braddock's defeat
         and the Lisbon earthquake?

         4. Explain lines 10-11, page 286; 8, 17, 27, page
         289; 17, page 290.

         5. What happened finally to the "masterpiece"? Was
         the Deacon still living? How did the chaise happen
         to go to pieces? Was the Deacon's theory of
         building correct?

         6. Suggested readings: Holmes's "How the Old Horse
         Won the Bet"; Lowell's "The Courtin'."



  THE SCHOOLMASTER'S RIDE

  BY WASHINGTON IRVING

         The time of this story is post-Revolutionary.
         Ichabod Crane, a lean, awkward schoolmaster, has
         been courting the village belle, Katrina Van
         Tassel, his rival being Brom Bones, a powerful
         fellow, noted for his pugnacity. He has frequently
         threatened Ichabod for aspiring to the charming
         Katrina. Here, Ichabod, at a late hour, is leaving
         the Van Tassel home after a "quilting frolic" where
         he took occasion to propose to Katrina. Judge of
         the young lady's answer!


  Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crestfallen, pursued his
  travel homewards, along the sides of the lofty hills
  which rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal as
  himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky
  and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the              5
  tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the
  land. In the dead hush of midnight he could even hear
  the barking of the watchdog from the opposite shore of the
  Hudson; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an
  idea of his great distance from this faithful companion of          10
  man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a
  cock, accidentally awakened, would sound far, far off,
  from some farmhouse away among the hills. No signs of
  life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy
  chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bullfrog     15
  from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably
  and turning suddenly in his bed.

  The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed to
  sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid
  them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and                20
  dismal. In the center of the road stood an enormous tulip
  tree, which towered like a giant above all the other trees
  of the neighborhood and formed a kind of landmark. It
  was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate
  André, who had been taken prisoner hard by, and was                  5
  universally known by the name of Major André's Tree.
  The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect
  and superstition.

  As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to
  whistle. He thought his whistle was answered. It was                10
  but a blast sweeping through the dry branches. As he
  approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something
  white hanging in the midst of the tree. He paused and
  ceased whistling; but on looking more narrowly, perceived
  that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by              15
  lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard
  a groan. His teeth chattered, and his knees smote against
  the saddle. It was but the rubbing of one huge bough upon
  another as they were swayed about by the breeze. He
  passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him.           20

  About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook
  crossed the road and ran into a marshy and thickly wooded
  glen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few rough
  logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream.
  To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this          25
  identical spot that the unfortunate André was captured,
  and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream,
  and fearful are the feelings of the schoolboy who has to
  pass it alone after dark.

  As he approached the stream his heart began to thump.               30
  He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his
  horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to
  dash briskly across the bridge. But instead of starting
  forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement
  and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears
  increased with the delay, jerked the reins on the other side
  and kicked lustily with the contrary foot. It was all in             5
  vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only to
  plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of
  brambles and alder bushes.

  The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel
  upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, who dashed               10
  forward, snuffling and snorting, but came to a stand just
  by the bridge with a suddenness which had nearly sent his
  rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a
  plashy tramp on the bank of the stream, by the side of
  the bridge, caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the             15
  dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the murmuring
  brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and
  towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathering up in the
  gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the
  traveler.                                                           20

  The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose upon his head
  with terror. What was to be done? To turn and fly was now
  too late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he
  demanded, in stammering tones, "_Who are you?_" He
  received no reply.                                                  25

  He repeated his demand in a still more agitated voice.
  Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgeled the sides
  of the inflexible Gunpowder, and shutting his eyes, broke
  forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then
  the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a        30
  scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road.

  Though the night was dark and dismal, yet the form of
  the unknown might now, in some degree, be ascertained.
  He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions and
  mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made
  no offer of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on
  one side of the road. Ichabod, who had no relish for this            5
  strange midnight companion, now quickened his steed in
  hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger quickened
  his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up and fell
  into a walk, thinking to lag behind. The other did the
  same. His heart began to sink within him. He endeavored             10
  to resume his psalm tune, but his parched tongue clove to
  the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave.

  There was something in the moody and dogged silence
  of this pertinacious companion that was mysterious and
  appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On                  15
  mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his
  fellow traveler in relief against the sky, gigantic in height
  and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving
  that he was headless! But his horror was still more
  increased on observing that the head which should have              20
  rested on his shoulders was carried before him on the
  pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation.
  He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder,
  hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the
  slip. But the specter started full jump with him. Away              25
  then they dashed, through thick and thin, stones flying
  and sparks flashing at every bound.

  An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes
  that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection
  of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that            30
  he was not mistaken. "If I can but reach that bridge,"
  thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he heard the
  black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he
  even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive
  kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang
  upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding
  planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod                 5
  cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish,
  according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just
  then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very
  act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to
  dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered            10
  his cranium with a tremendous crash. He was tumbled
  headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed,
  and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind.

  The next morning the old horse was found without his
  saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping        15
  the grass at his master's gate, while near the bridge, on
  the bank of a broad part of the brook where the water
  ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate
  Ichabod, and close beside it--_a shattered pumpkin_!

                                  --_A Legend of Sleepy Hollow._

         1. You should read the entire "Legend" (see
         Irving's _Sketch Book_) and enjoy the detailed
         incidents leading up to this climax. Of course
         Ichabod leaves Sleepy Hollow, never to return. What
         evidence is there that Brom Bones was the ghost?

         2. A ghost was supposed not to be able to cross
         running water. What evidence of this do you find in
         the story?

         3. Why was Ichabod "heavy-hearted and crestfallen"?
         Give two reasons.

         4. Pick out the elements of the first two
         paragraphs that make the situation appear lonely.

         5. Who was Major André? Why should Ichabod have
         especially feared the André tree?

         6. What is there in this selection that is
         humorous?



  SIGNING PETITIONS


  "Another petition!" exclaimed the banker. "No, I
  never sign them offhand--not any more. I used to
  do so--once to my sorrow and to the amusement of my
  friends. Leave yours with me till day after to-morrow and
  I'll consider it. I have at least four more now on the waiting       5
  list, ranging in subject from the Removal of a Soap Factory
  to a Bridge Across the Pacific. Every business man is
  hounded week in and week out with petitions."

  I reluctantly surrendered my long scroll with its formidable
  list of signatures. "But _the_ one that you once signed--what       10
  of that?"

  "Oh, that one? Well, there was a bright newsboy down
  on the square whose booth had been removed from a street
  corner because of a petition to the Police Commissioner.
  Of course everybody had signed the petition; for signing            15
  petitions was considered the proper thing if certain names
  headed the list. It came to be a roster of the best families
  in town. This newsboy retaliated--in kind. He drafted
  and circulated a petition that was in due form. Everybody,
  including myself, signed it. Next day it was published in           20
  full with the names of its signers, by all our city papers, and
  by night everybody in the state was laughing at us.

  "The petition recited that a sundial in Central Park, the
  gift of a wealthy citizen, was weathering badly. It should
  be protected. That sounded reasonable, so everybody                 25
  signed just below the name of everybody else. And what
  had we petitioned for? _A roof to cover that sundial!_

  "You'll get no hasty signatures to a petition in this
  city--we remember the sundial!"



_IN TIME OF WAR_


     _Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
        Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
      Dream of battled fields no more,
        Days of danger, nights of waking. . . .

      Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
        Dream of fighting fields no more;
      Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking,
        Morn of toil, nor night of waking._

                                --SIR WALTER SCOTT.

[Illustration: A MODERN BATTLE SCENE]



  GREAT LITTLE RIVERS

  BY FRAZIER HUNT

         The armies of the world were contending on the
         battlefields of France in a death struggle, known
         in history as the World War. It was a mighty clash
         of ideas and ideals. Frazier Hunt, a war
         correspondent and journalist, selected the Little
         Rivers of France as a subject to carry his theme:
         that little things sometimes set apart great
         differences, and that littleness and greatness are
         not matters of physical size.


  For miles along the hard white road that had helped
  save France a tiny river ran. But it was such a quiet
  race with life and time. It had no steep banks; only gentle,
  green, silent slopes that fell gracefully back from its edges.
  Here and there fragrant woods wandered almost to its                 5
  drowsy waters.

  A cuckoo sounded its call, and far off its mate sent
  back the echo. On sun-splashed mornings the thrush
  came, and in the moonlight the nightingale sang to
  this little stream.                                                 10

  It was a tiny river, and if in great America, only the
  countryside that knew its winding ways could have told
  its name. It was a brook for poets to dream by. Little
  islands of willows, weeping for France, slept in its heart.
  One could almost whisper across it, and as a French schoolgirl      15
  of fourteen wrote, "Birds could fly over it with one
  sweep of their wings. And on the two banks there were
  millions of men, the one turned towards the other, eye to
  eye. But the distance which separated them was greater
  than the stars in the sky; it was the distance which separates
  right from injustice."

  It was a tiny river; it was the Yser.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Oxen drawing the cultivating plows that will help feed
  France and win the war almost splash into its shallow edges          5
  as they turn the furrow. And on hot July days, the old
  man who prods them with his pointed stick and the sturdy
  woman who handles the plow let them drink their fill of
  its cooling waters--not plunging their noses deep like
  thirsty horses but gently drawing in the water with the lips,       10
  after the manner of oxen.

  It is a quiet stream that a child could ford without danger.
  It flows slowly and sweetly from the mother hills to the
  embracing sea. A few arched bridges leap from one low
  bank to another. It has not cut deep into the land of               15
  France but it has cut deep into the heart of France. It is
  one of the ribbons of victory and glory that France will
  always wear across her breast. And it is a ribbon made red
  by the blood of the men of France who have died for France.

  And yet we of America would call it a little stream, and            20
  old men would fish all day in it from a shaded velvet point,
  and boys swimming would hunt some favorite Devil's Hole
  where they might dive.

  It is the Marne.

       *       *       *       *       *

  For four years now it has flowed peacefully on while                25
  men have fought to scar its banks with trenches--burrowing
  themselves into the earth as only the muskrat had done
  in the forgotten days of peace. Strong, unafraid men came
  from the ends of the world to die by its side. And it would
  have gladly sung them a sweet, low lullaby, crooning a song         30
  with which mothers on the shores of all the seven seas had
  once rocked them to sleep--only now the sound of heavy
  firing, dull booms of the cannon, and the spit and nervous
  drum of the machine gun, made its song as futile and indistinguishable
  as the whisper of a child in the roar of a mob.                      5

  What a story its sweet waters had to tell to all the rivers
  of the world when they met in the broad sea: a tale of
  strange men who fought and died that it might still be a
  part of France; a tale of deeds of glory and of valor and
  of sacrifice. And some of these men had come from faraway           10
  America to this little river, this stream so tiny and so
  modest that it might have forever remained unknown and
  unsung.

  It was the Somme.

       *       *       *       *       *

  After all, what does size matter--except the size of the            15
  heart and of the soul?

  The great Mississippi, the mystic Amazon, the majestic
  Hudson, the wide Danube--all mighty in power and commerce!

  The Yser, the Aisne, the Oise, the Somme, the Marne--little         20
  streams of France; old brooks as precious as Thermopylæ
  or Bunker Hill!

  Tiny are they--and so was Bethlehem!

                                       --_Red Cross Magazine._

         1. What three rivers are discussed? For what does
         each stand?

         2. Explain the French schoolgirl's letter. Which
         party, to her, represented justice?

         3. What great general is called the "Hero of the
         Marne"? Why?

         4. Why are Thermopylæ and Bunker Hill "previous"?
         Name some other "precious" places in the world.

         5. What lesson do you get from this selection?

         (Used by permission of the _Red Cross Magazine_.)



  THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE

  BY CHARLES WOLFE

         Sir John Moore (1761-1809) was a British general.
         His last engagement was at the head of the British
         forces in Spain, fighting against Napoleon. Upon
         word that Napoleon with an army of 70,000 was
         marching against him, he decided to make for the
         coast with his 25,000 men. They were obliged to
         march for 250 miles over slippery mountain roads,
         and were forced into battle before they could
         embark. The French were repulsed with heavy losses,
         but Moore was fatally wounded. This fine poem
         describes his burial on that foreign shore.


      Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
        As his corse to the ramparts we hurried;
      Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
        O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

      We buried him darkly at dead of night,                           5
        The sods with our bayonets turning,
      By the struggling moonbeam's misty light,
        And the lantern dimly burning.

      No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
        Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;                       10
      But he lay like a warrior taking his rest
        With his martial cloak around him.

      Few and short were the prayers we said,
        And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
      But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,               15
        And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

      We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed
        And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
      That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head.
        And we far away on the billow.

      Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,                  5
        And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
      But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on,
        In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

      But half of our heavy task was done
        When the bell tolled the hour for retiring;                   10
      And we heard the distant and random gun
        That the foe was sullenly firing.

      Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
        From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
      We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,                15
        But we left him alone with his glory!

         1. Give synonyms for: corse, ramparts, martial,
         upbraid, tolled, reck, gory, random.

         2. Describe this simple burial in your own words.
         What are the customary rites at a soldier's burial?
         Why did Sir John Moore not receive a military
         funeral?

         3. Compare this burial with the one described on
         page 329.

         4. Report briefly on Napoleon: who he was, what he
         did, and what finally became of him.

         5. Memorize the poem. Time yourself to see how
         quickly you can do this.



  LEXINGTON AND CONCORD

  BY WILLIAM EMERSON

         The Reverend William Emerson, grandfather of Ralph
         Waldo Emerson, was pastor of the Congregational
         Church at Concord. The battle of April 19, 1775,
         was fought near his residence. He was called the
         "patriot preacher" and died while serving in the
         Revolutionary army.


  This morning between one and two o'clock we were
  alarmed by the ringing of the church bell, and upon
  examination found that the troops, to the number of eight
  hundred, had stolen their march from Boston in boats and
  barges from the bottom of the Common over to a point                 5
  in Cambridge near to Inman's farm, and were at Lexington
  meetinghouse half an hour before sunrise, where they had
  fired upon a body of our men, and as we afterward heard,
  had killed several. This intelligence was brought to us at
  first by Dr. Samuel Prescott, who narrowly escaped the              10
  guard that were sent before on horses purposely to prevent
  all posts and messengers from giving us timely information.
  He, by the help of a very fleet horse, crossing several walls
  and fences, arrived at Concord at the time above mentioned,
  when several posts were immediately dispatched,                     15
  that, returning, confirmed the presence of the regular
  army at Lexington, and that they were on their way to
  Concord. Upon this a number of our minutemen belonging
  to this town and Acton and Lincoln, with several others
  that were in readiness, marched out to meet them.                   20

  While the alarm company were preparing to meet them
  in the town, Captain Minot, who commanded them,
  thought it proper to take possession of the hill above the
  meetinghouse as the most advantageous situation. No
  sooner had we gained it than we were met by the company
  that were sent out to meet the troops, who informed us               5
  they were just upon us and that we must retreat, as their
  number was more than thribble to ours. We then retreated
  from the hill near Liberty Pole and took a new post
  back of the town upon a rising eminence, where we formed
  into two battalions and waited the arrival of the enemy.            10
  Scarcely had we formed before we saw the British troops
  at the distance of a quarter of a mile, glittering in arms,
  advancing toward us with the greatest celerity.

  Some were for making a stand notwithstanding the
  superiority of their numbers, but others more prudent               15
  thought best to retreat till our strength should be equal
  to the enemy by recruits from neighboring towns who were
  continually coming in to our assistance. Accordingly we
  retreated over the bridge; when the troops came into the
  town, set fire to several carriages for the artillery, destroyed    20
  sixty barrels of flour, rifled several houses, took possession
  of the Town House, destroyed five hundred pounds of
  ball, set a guard of a hundred men at the North Bridge,
  and sent up a party to the house of Colonel Barrett, where
  they were in expectation of finding a quantity of warlike           25
  stores; but these were happily secured just before their
  arrival by transfer into the woods and other by-places.
  In the meantime, the guard set by the enemy to secure the
  pass at the North Bridge were alarmed by the approach
  of our people, who had retreated, as mentioned before,              30
  and were now advancing with special orders not to fire
  upon the troops unless fired upon.

  These orders were so punctually observed that we received
  the fire of the enemy in three several and separate
  discharges of their pieces before it was returned by our
  commanding officer. The firing then soon became general
  for several minutes, in which skirmish two were killed on            5
  each side and several of the enemy wounded. It may here
  be observed, by the way, that we were the more careful
  to prevent beginning a rupture with the King's troops as
  we were then uncertain what had happened at Lexington
  and knew not that they had begun the quarrel there by               10
  first firing upon our party and killing eight men upon the
  spot. The British troops soon quitted their post at the
  bridge and retreated in great disorder and confusion to the
  main body, who were soon upon the march to meet them.
  For half an hour the enemy, by their marches and countermarches,    15
  discovered great fickleness and inconstancy of
  mind, sometimes advancing, sometimes returning to their
  former posts, till at length they quitted the town and retreated
  by the way they came. In the meantime a party of
  our men (one hundred and fifty) took the back way through           20
  the great fields into the East Quarter and had placed themselves
  to advantage, lying in ambush behind walls, fences,
  and buildings, ready to fire upon the enemy on their retreat.

                                                   --_Journal._

         1. This entry in Mr. Emerson's journal was made on
         the day of the Lexington-Concord battle. Give the
         date of it.

         2. What poem did the Reverend Mr. Emerson's
         grandson write about the battle of Concord? Bring
         it to class and read it.

         3. What famous ride is connected with this battle?

         4. Describe the fight. Was Mr. Emerson actually
         engaged in the battle? Give proof of your answer.



  HERVÉ RIEL

  BY ROBERT BROWNING

         Robert Browning (1812-1889) is one of the great
         poets of England. The following incident of a
         simple French sailor performing a deed of heroism
         appealed to Browning's dramatic sense; hence this
         stirring ballad. The poem was written in 1871, when
         France was suffering defeat in the Franco-Prussian
         War. The proceeds from its sale (one hundred
         pounds) were contributed to French war sufferers.


      On the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred
          ninety-two,
      Did the English fight the French,--woe to France!
      And, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter through the blue,
      Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of sharks           5
          pursue,
      Came crowding ship on ship to Saint Malo on the Rance,
      With the English fleet in view.

      'Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor in full
          chase;                                                      10
      First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship,
          Damfreville;
        Close on him fled, great and small,
        Twenty-two good ships in all;
      And they signaled to the place--                                15
      "Help the winners of a race!
      Get us guidance, give us harbor, take us quick--or, quicker
          still,
      Here's the English can and will!"

      Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt on
          board.
      "Why, what hope or chance have ships like these to pass?"
          laughed they.
      "Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage scarred      5
          and scored,
      Shall the _Formidable_ here, with her twelve and eighty guns,
      Think to make the river mouth by the single narrow way,
      Trust to enter where 'tis ticklish for a craft of twenty tons,
        And with flow at full beside?                                 10
        Now, 'tis slackest ebb of tide.
      Reach the mooring? Rather say,
      While rock stands or water runs,
      Not a ship will leave the bay!"

      Then was called a council straight.                             15
      Brief and bitter the debate:
      "Here's the English at our heels; would you have them
          take in tow
      All that's left us of the fleet, linked together stern and bow,
      For a prize to Plymouth Sound?                                  20
      Better run the ships aground!"--
        (Ended Damfreville his speech)--
      "Not a minute more to wait!
        Let the captains all and each
        Shove ashore, then blow up, burn the vessels on the           25
          beach!
      France must undergo her fate.

      "Give the word!" But no such word
      Was ever spoke or heard;
      For up stood, for out stepped, for in struck, amid all these--  30
      A captain? A lieutenant? A mate--first, second, third?
        No such man of mark, and meet
        With his betters to compete,
      But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for the
          fleet--                                                      5
      A poor coasting pilot he, Hervé Riel the Croisickese.
      And "What mockery or malice have we here?" cries Hervé
          Riel.
      "Are you mad, you Malouins? Are you cowards, fools, or
          rogues?                                                     10
      Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the soundings,
          tell
      On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every swell,
      'Twixt the offing here and Grève where the river
          disembogues?                                                15
      Are you bought by English gold? Is it love the lying's
          for?
        Morn and eve, night and day,
        Have I piloted your bay,
      Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of Solidor.          20
      Burn the fleet and ruin France? That were worse than
          fifty Hogues!
      Sirs, they know I speak the truth! Sirs, believe me there's
          a way!
      Only let me lead the line,                                      25
        Have the biggest ship to steer;
        Get this _Formidable_ clear,
      Make the others follow mine,
      And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I know well,
      Right to Solidor past Grève,                                    30
        And there lay them safe and sound;
        And if one ship misbehave--
        Keel so much as grate the ground--
      Why, I've nothing but my life--here's my head!" cries
          Hervé Riel.

      Not a minute more to wait.
      "Steer us in, then, small and great!                             5
      Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron!" cried its
          chief.
      "Captains, give the sailor place!
      He is admiral, in brief."
      Still the north wind, by God's grace!                           10
      See the noble fellow's face
      As the big ship, with a bound,
      Clears the entry like a hound,
      Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas
          profound!                                                   15
        See, safe through shoal and rock,
        How they follow in a flock,
      Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the
          ground,
      Not a spar that comes to grief!                                 20
        The peril, see, is past,
        All are harbored to the last,
      And just as Hervé Riel hollas "Anchor!"--sure as fate,
      Up the English come--too late!

      So the storm subsides to calm;                                  25
        They see the green trees wave
        On the heights o'erlooking Grève;
      Hearts that bled are stanched with balm.
      "Just our rapture to enhance,
      Let the English rake the bay,                                   30
      Gnash their teeth and glare askance
      As they cannonade away!
      'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!"
      How hope succeeds despair on each captain's countenance!

      Out burst all with one accord,                                   5
        "This is paradise for hell!
        Let France, let France's king,
        Thank the man that did the thing!"
      What a shout, and all one word,
        "Hervé Riel!"                                                 10
      As he stepped in front once more,
      Not a symptom of surprise
      In the frank blue Breton eyes,
      Just the same man as before.

      Then said Damfreville, "My friend,                              15
      I must speak out at the end,
      Though I find the speaking hard.
      Praise is deeper than the lips;
      You have saved the King his ships,
      You must name your own reward.                                  20
      Faith, our sun was near eclipse!
      Demand whate'er you will,
      France remains your debtor still.
      Ask to heart's content and have!--or my name's not
      Damfreville."                                                   25

      Then a beam of fun outbroke
      On the bearded mouth that spoke,
      As the honest heart laughed through
      Those frank eyes of Breton blue:
      "Since I needs must say my say,
      Since on board the duty's done--
      And from Malo Roads to Croisic Point, what is it but a
          run?--
      Since 'tis ask and have, I may--                                 5
      Since the others go ashore--?
      Come! A good whole holiday!
      Leave to go and see my wife, whom I call the Belle Aurore!"
      That he asked and that he got,--nothing more.

      Name and deed alike are lost:                                   10
      Not a pillar nor a post
      In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell;
      Not a head in white and black
      On a single fishing smack,
      In memory of the man but for whom had gone to wrack             15
      All that France saved from the fight whence England bore
          the bell.
      Go to Paris: rank on rank
      Search the heroes flung pell-mell
      On the Louvre, face and flank!                                  20
      You shall look long enough ere you come to Hervé Kiel.
        So, for better and for worse,
        Hervé Riel, accept my verse!
      In my verse, Hervé Riel, do thou once more
      Save the squadron, honor France, love thy wife the Belle        25
      Aurore!

         1. What about the man Hervé Riel do you admire
         most? Try to describe his character. Tell how he
         saved the fleet.

         2. Notes: Line 13, page 312, refers to the custom
         of painting or carving the head of a hero on the
         bow of a ship.--Lines 16-17, page 312. Formerly a
         bell was the prize given the victor in a race.



  THE SONG OF THE CAMP

  BY BAYARD TAYLOR

         This is a song of the Crimean War, a war between
         Russia on one side and Turkey, Great Britain,
         France, and Sardinia on the other. Guarding
         Sebastopol (the chief city of the Crimea) were
         several forts among which were the Redan and the
         Malakoff, mentioned herein. These, as well as the
         works of Balaklava, were held by the Russians. It
         was at Balaklava, you will recall, that the "Charge
         of the Light Brigade" was made, a charge made
         famous by Tennyson's poem.


      "Give us a song!" the soldiers cried,
        The outer trenches guarding,
      When the heated guns of the camps allied
        Grew weary of bombarding.

      The dark Redan, in silent scoff,                                 5
        Lay grim and threatening under;
      And the tawny mound of the Malakoff
        No longer belched its thunder.

      There was a pause. A guardsman said,
        "We storm the forts to-morrow:                                10
      Sing while we may; another day
        Will bring enough of sorrow."

      They lay along the battery's side,
        Below the smoking cannon--
      Brave hearts from Severn and from Clyde                         15
        And from the banks of Shannon.

      They sang of love and not of fame;
        Forgot was Britain's glory;
      Each heart recalled a different name,
        But all sang _Annie Laurie_.

      Voice after voice caught up the song,                            5
        Until its tender passion
      Rose like an anthem, rich and strong--
        Their battle-eve confession.

      Dear girl, her name he dared not speak,
        But as the song grew louder,                                  10
      Something upon the soldier's cheek
        Washed off the stains of powder.

      Beyond the darkening ocean burned
        The bloody sunset's embers,
      While the Crimean valleys learned                               15
        How English love remembers.

      And once again a fire of hell
        Rained on the Russian quarters,
      With scream of shot, and burst of shell,
        And bellowing of the mortars!                                 20

      And Irish Nora's eyes are dim
        For a singer dumb and gory;
      And English Mary mourns for him
        Who sang of _Annie Laurie_.

      Sleep, soldiers! Still in honored rest
        Your truth and valor wearing;
      The bravest are the tenderest--
        The loving are the daring.

         1. At what time of day did the singing take place?
         Why, do you suppose, did the British soldiers sing
         _Annie Laurie_? Repeat some of the lines of that
         song.

         2. What and where are the Severn, the Clyde, and
         the Shannon?

         3. Who was Florence Nightingale? How was she
         connected with the Crimean War?



  CABIN BOY AND ADMIRAL

         Sir Cloudesley Shovel (1650?-1707) was the cabin
         boy of this story. He went to sea when quite young,
         and by his ability and courage won constant
         promotion, finally becoming admiral. In the sea
         fight between the English and French at La Hogue in
         1692 (see Browning's "Hervé Riel," page 307)
         Shovel's was the first English ship to break
         through the enemy's line.


  It was a gray autumn evening more than two hundred
  years ago, in the reign of King Charles II. There was
  the moan of a rising storm over the North Sea, and the
  lowering sky, the flying streamers of cloud, and the great
  leaden waves, heaving sullenly far as the eye could reach,           5
  warned even the bravest sailor that it was a day to keep
  safe in port. For what ship could live in such a sea as
  that?

  Yet the English fleet, far from keeping in port, was
  beating seaward against wind and wave. On the quarter deck          10
  of the flagship stood Admiral Sir John Narborough--the
  first seaman in England--who thirty-five years before
  had been a cabin boy. His daring and dauntless courage
  had earned for him the name of "Gunpowder Jack,"
  and that dark autumn day was to test how well the bold
  name fitted him. But he had been tried many a time, and
  tempest and sea and the fire of the enemy could not make             5
  his stout heart quail.

  Suddenly his grave face lighted up and his stern gray
  eyes sparkled with joy. Far away along the eastern sky he
  saw a bristling line of tall masts with a flag which he knew
  well floating over them. The shadow of a smile of scorn             10
  changed for a moment the expression of the admiral's
  face. For a moment only. There was no time for smiles.
  There was mighty work to be done. The floating flag told
  that the Dutch were coming; and that day must see the
  enemy of England swept from the sea or England herself              15
  forget her ancient glory.

  Next to an old friend the British sailor loves an old
  enemy; and as soon as the men saw the flag of Holland
  they were eager for battle. On came the enemy in grim
  silence until their nearest vessels were within musket              20
  range of the English. Then, all at once, bang! went the
  whole broadside from the admiral's vessel, and with a
  crash that seemed to echo to the sky the deadly struggle
  began.

  The English blood was soon up and the only thought                  25
  was to fight to the last. Amid the blinding smoke, the reek
  of gunpowder, the thunder of cannon, and the grinding
  tear of the shot through the strong timbers, the sailors did
  noble duty that day in the dogged faith that they would
  "give as good as they got, anyhow!"                                 30

  Aided by a sudden change of the wind, the Dutch vessels
  closed around the flagship with a perfect circle of fire.
  Two guns were disabled, the main and mizzen masts had
  been shot away, and a long line of wounded and dying men
  were lying among the shattered rigging. The thunder from
  the guns on the right showed that there the English were
  getting the best of it; but even if help should come to the          5
  admiral from that quarter, it might come too late.

  But how should help be summoned? No signal could
  be seen in that smoke, and as for lowering a boat, the great
  waves that rushed roaring up the battered sides of the flagship
  were a sufficient warning against that.                             10

  "Lads," cried Sir John, going forward with a scrap of
  paper in his hand, "this order must go at once to Captain
  Hardy, and the only way is for one of you to swim with it.
  Fifty guineas to anyone that will volunteer!"

  Such a request, in the face of that boiling sea and that            15
  hailstorm of shot, was little better than a sentence of
  death; yet before the words were well out of his mouth,
  half the crew stepped forward. Before any of them could
  speak, however, a shrill, childish voice made itself heard:
  "Let me go, your honor!"                                            20

  And there stood a ragged little cabin boy, bareheaded
  and barefooted, touching his forelock to Sir John, just as
  Sir John had touched his to the admiral, five and thirty
  years ago. The boy had evidently been in the thick of the
  fight. His hands were grimed with powder and there                  25
  were splashes of blood upon his tattered clothing. But
  through his bright, fearless blue eyes there shone a spirit
  worth that of ten ordinary men.

  "You, my boy? Why, you can never swim so far in
  this sea, and with all that shot flying about."                     30

  "Can't I?" echoed the boy indignantly. "I've done
  more than that before now; and, as for the shot, I don't
  care _that_ for it. I'm not going to sit still while everybody
  else is fighting the Dutch. Flog me at the gangway
  to-morrow, if you like, your honor, but let me do this job
  to-day."

  The old warrior's stern eyes glistened as if tears were              5
  forcing their way. He grasped the thin little hand in his
  own.

  "You're a chip of the old block," he growled, "and no
  mistake! Off with you, then; and may God keep you
  safe!"                                                              10

  The words were hardly spoken when the boy, thrusting
  the dispatch into his mouth, plunged headlong into the
  roaring sea. And then for fifteen fierce minutes all was
  one scene of fire and tumult and slaughter.

  Many a time in that terrible quarter of an hour did the             15
  weary men strain their bloodshot eyes, and strain them in
  vain, to catch a glimpse of English colors breaking through
  the smoke. "If help is to come at all, it must come soon,"
  said more than one worn-out sailor.

  Suddenly the admiral's grim face brightened with a                  20
  light never seen there before, and he drew a long, deep
  breath like one shaking off a heavy burden. At the same
  moment there broke out a fresh thunder of guns on the
  right, and through the smoke burst the flag of England,
  sweeping all before it like mists scattered by the rising sun.      25

  The battle was won, and the few Dutch vessels that had
  escaped were disappearing in the dimness of night when the
  admiral and his remaining officers gathered on the quarter-deck
  to do honor to the little hero. He stood in their
  presence with a boyish smile upon his face; but when Sir            30
  John held out a well-filled purse, the boy turned his head
  proudly away.

  "Your honor, I did not do this job for money," said he
  firmly. "I did it for the sake of the flag and because you
  have been good to me. If you say you are satisfied, that
  is all I want."

  The listening crew, forgetting all restraint, broke into a           5
  deafening cheer; and the admiral's iron face softened
  strangely as he laid his blackened hand on the bare white
  shoulder: "God bless you, my brave lad! I shall live to
  see you on a quarter-deck of your own yet."

  Thirty years later, when Queen Anne's greatest admiral,             10
  Sir Cloudesley Shovel, sailed up the Thames in triumph,
  the first to greet him as he stepped ashore was an old white-haired
  man who still retained traces of the fire and energy
  that had once distinguished "Gunpowder Jack."

  "Welcome home, my lad!" said he, heartily. "I said                  15
  I'd live to see you on a quarter-deck of your own; and,
  thank God, I _have_ lived to see you there!"

         1. What other sea fights have you read about? Make
         a list of sea books and sea battles with which you
         are acquainted.

         2. What is the high point of interest in this
         story? What happened? How is the story related to
         Browning's "Hervé Riel"?

         3. In modern warfare, how do the ships communicate
         with each other? Contrast briefly naval warfare in
         Queen Anne's time (the early seventeen hundreds)
         with naval warfare of to-day as to: (_a_)
         propulsion of ships; (_b_) armor; (_c_) guns; (_d_)
         range of fighting.

         4. What modern machines operate now in water
         fighting? Describe one of these.



  LITTLE GIFFEN

  BY FRANCIS O. TICKNOR

         This poem is based on an actual occurrence. A lad,
         nursed back to life, rejoins the hard-pressed
         Southern troops and is killed in the first battle.
         Ticknor (1822-1874) was a Georgian. By profession a
         physician, his love of poetry led to the production
         of some of the finest lyrics of the South. Among
         these the best known are "Little Giffen" and "The
         Virginians of the Valley."


      Out of the focal and foremost fire--
      Out of the hospital walls as dire--
      Smitten of grapeshot and gangrene--
      Eighteenth battle and he sixteen--
      Specter such as you seldom see,                                  5
      Little Giffen of Tennessee.

      "Take him and welcome," the surgeon said;
      "Little the doctor can help the dead!"
      So we took him and brought him where
      The balm was sweet in our summer air;                           10
      And we laid him down on a wholesome bed--
      Utter Lazarus, heel to head!

      And we watched the war with bated breath--
      Skeleton boy against skeleton death!
      Months of torture, how many such!                               15
      Weary weeks of the stick and crutch;
      And still a glint in the steel-blue eye
      Told of a spirit that wouldn't die,

      And didn't! Nay, more! in death's despite
      The crippled skeleton learned to write.
      "Dear Mother," at first, of course; and then,
      "Dear Captain," inquiring about the men.
      Captain's answer: "Of eighty and five,                           5
      Giffen and I are left alive."

      Word of gloom from the war, one day:
      "Johnston's pressed at the front, they say!"
      Little Giffen was up and away;
      A tear--his first--as he bade good-by,                          10
      Dimmed the glint of his steel-blue eye.
      "I'll write, if spared." There was news of fight,
      But none of Giffen.--He did not write.

      I sometimes fancy that were I king
      Of the courtly knights of Arthur's Ring,                        15
      With the voice of the minstrel in mine ear
      And the tender legend that trembles here,
      I'd give the best on his bended knee--
      The whitest soul of my chivalry--
      For Little Giffen of Tennessee.                                 20

         1. In what war did the incidents described occur?
         When and between whom did this war take place? Name
         some of its great battles; its great commanders.

         2 On which side was Little Giffen? Prove your
         answer from the poem. Who was Johnston, line 8,
         page 321? How old was Giffen? How much service had
         he seen?

         3. Explain the meaning of: Utter Lazarus (see Luke
         xvi: 20); specter; gangrene; line 14, page 320;
         line 15, page 321.

         4. Name some other writers of the South.

         (Used by permission of the Neale Publishing Company.)



  MARCO BOZZARIS

  BY FITZ-GREENE HALLECK

         Marco Bozzaris (1790-1823) was born among the
         mountains of Suli, in Epirus, a province of Greece.
         He had early military training in the French
         service; but at the age of thirty he undertook to
         battle against the Turks, who were holding the
         Greeks in heavy subjection. At the head of his
         countrymen, the Suliotes, he won many battles; but
         finally, through treachery, he and his forces were
         besieged. To relieve the siege, Bozzaris led his
         troops against the enemy in a night attack and won
         a complete victory, but the hero fell, dying in the
         hour of triumph.


      At midnight, in his guarded tent,
        The Turk was dreaming of the hour
      When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
        Should tremble at his power;
      In dreams, through camp and court, he bore                       5
      The trophies of a conqueror;
        In dreams, his song of triumph heard;
      Then wore his monarch's signet ring;
      Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king;
      As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,                          10
        As Eden's garden bird.

      At midnight, in the forest shades,
        Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
      True as the steel of their tried blades,
        Heroes in heart and hand.                                     15
      There had the Persian's thousands stood,
      There had the glad earth drunk their blood,
        On old Platæa's day;
      And now, there breathed that haunted air
      The sons of sires who conquered there,
      With arm to strike, and soul to dare,                            5
        As quick, as far, as they.

      An hour passed on--the Turk awoke;
        That bright dream was his last;
      He woke to hear his sentries shriek,
        "To arms!--they come! the Greek! the Greek!"                  10
      He woke--to die midst flame, and smoke,
      And shout, and groan, and saber stroke,
        And death shots falling thick and fast
      As lightning from the mountain cloud--
      And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,                          15
        Bozzaris cheer his band:
      "Strike--till the last armed foe expires;
      Strike--for your altars and your fires;
      _Strike_--for the green graves of your sires,
        God--and your native land!"                                   20

      They fought--like brave men, long and well;
        They piled that ground with Moslem slain;
      They conquered--but Bozzaris fell
        Bleeding at every vein.
      His few surviving comrades saw                                  25
      His smile when rang their proud huzza
        And the red field was won;
      Then saw in death his eyelids close,
      Calmly as to a night's repose,
        Like flowers at set of sun.                                   30

      Come to the bridal chamber, Death!
        Come to the mother, when she feels,
      For the first time, her first-born's breath;
        Come when the blessed seals
      That close the pestilence are broke,                             5
      And crowded cities wail its stroke;
      Come in consumption's ghastly form,
      The earthquake's shock, the ocean's storm;
      Come when the heart beats high and warm
        With banquet song, and dance, and wine,--                     10
      And thou art terrible!--The tear,
      The groan, the knell, the pall, the bier;
      And all we know, or dream, or fear,
        Of agony are thine.

      But to the hero, when his sword                                 15
        Has won the battle for the free,
      Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
      And in its hollow tones are heard
        The thanks of millions yet to be.
      Bozzaris! with the storied brave                                20
        Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
      Rest thee; there is no prouder grave,
        Even in her own proud clime.
        We tell thy doom without a sigh;
      For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's.--                       25
      One of the few, the immortal names,
        That were not born to die!

         1. This is a stirring selection to read aloud. What
         makes it so? Read the lines that you like best.

         2. What has the first stanza on page 324 to do with
         the poem?

         3. Explain: Suliote; Moslem; Platæa; lines 25-27,
         page 324.



  SAN JUAN HILL

  BY GENERAL JOHN J. PERSHING

         Santiago, Cuba, was the center of some of the
         heaviest fighting of the Spanish-American War. The
         Spanish fleet had taken refuge from the American
         fleet in Santiago Harbor. The Spanish army had been
         concentrated there to protect their fleet. The
         American army, under the general command of Major
         General Shafter, invested the city. The following
         extract describes picturesquely the fighting three
         days before the Spanish fleet put to sea.


  On June 30th the general order came to move forward
  and every man felt that the final test of skill at arms
  would soon come. The cavalry division of six regiments,
  camped in its tracks at midnight on El Pozo Hill, awoke
  next morning to find itself in support of Grimes' Battery,           5
  which was to open fire here on the left.

  The morning of July 1st was ideally beautiful, the sky
  was cloudless and the air soft and balmy, peace seemed to
  reign supreme, great palms towered here and there above
  the low jungle. It was a picture of a peaceful valley.              10
  There was a feeling that we had secretly invaded the Holy
  Land. The hush seemed to pervade all nature as though
  she held her bated breath in anticipation of the carnage.

  Captain Capron's field guns opened fire upon the southern
  field at El Caney and the hill resounded with echoes.               15
  Then followed the rattle of the musketry of the attacking
  invaders. The firing in our front burst forth and the
  battle was on.

  The artillery duel began and in company with foreign
  military attachés and correspondents we all sat watching
  the effect of the shots as men witness any friendly athletic
  contest, eagerly trying to locate the enemy's smokeless
  batteries. A force of insurgents near the old Sugar Mill
  applauded at the explosion of each firing charge, apparently         5
  caring for little except the noise.

  Now and then a slug of iron fell among the surrounding
  bushes or buried itself deep in the ground near us. Finally
  a projectile from an unseen Spanish gun disabled a Hotchkiss
  piece, wounded two cavalrymen, and smashed into the                 10
  old Sugar Mill in our rear, whereupon the terrorized insurgents
  fled and were not seen again near the firing line until
  the battle was over.

  When the Tenth Cavalry arrived at the crossing of San
  Juan River our observation balloon had become lodged in             15
  the treetops above and the enemy had just begun to make
  a target of it. A converging fire upon all the works within
  range opened upon us that was terrible in its effect. Our
  mounted officers dismounted and the men stripped off at
  the roadside everything possible and prepared for business.         20

  We were posted for a time in the bed of the stream
  directly under the balloon, and stood in the water to our
  waists awaiting orders to deploy. Standing there under
  that galling fire of exploding shrapnel and deadly Mauser
  bullets the minutes seemed like hours. General Wheeler              25
  and a part of his staff stood mounted a few minutes in the
  middle of the stream. Just as I raised my hand to salute
  in moving up the stream to post the leading squadron of
  my regiment, a piece of bursting shell struck between his
  horse's feet and covered us both with water.                        30

  Pursuant to orders, with myself as guide, the second
  squadron of the Tenth forced its way through wire fence
  and almost impenetrable thicket to its position. The regiment
  was soon deployed as skirmishers in an opening
  across the river to the right of the road and, our line being
  partly visible from the enemy's position, their fire was
  turned upon us and we had to lie down in the grass a few             5
  minutes for safety. Two officers of the regiment were
  wounded; here and there were frequent calls for the surgeon,
  but no order came to move forward. Whatever may have
  been the intention of the commanding general as to the
  part to be played by the cavalry division on that day, the          10
  officers present were not long in deciding the part their
  command should play, and the advance began.

  White regiments, black regiments, regulars and rough
  riders, representing the young manhood of the North and
  South, fought shoulder to shoulder unmindful of race or             15
  color, unmindful of whether commanded by an ex-Confederate
  or not, and mindful only of their common duty as
  Americans.

  Through streams, tall grass, tropical undergrowth, under
  barbed-wire fences and over wire entanglements, regardless          20
  of casualties, up the hill to the right this gallant advance
  was made. As we appeared on the crest we found the
  Spaniards retreating only to take up a new position farther
  on, spitefully firing as they retired and only yielding their
  ground inch by inch.                                                25

  Our troopers halted and lay down for a moment to get
  a breath and in the face of continued volleys soon formed
  for attack on the blockhouses and intrenchments on the
  second hill. This attack was supported by troops including
  some of the Tenth who had originally moved to the left              30
  toward this second hill and had worked their way in groups,
  slipping through the tall grass and bushes, crawling when
  casualties came too often, courageously facing a sleet of
  bullets, and now hugging the steep southern declivity
  ready to spring forward the few remaining yards into the
  teeth of the enemy. The fire from the Spanish position
  had doubled in intensity until the popping of their rifles           5
  made a continuous roar. There was a moment's lull and
  our line moved forward to the charge across the valley
  separating the two hills. Once begun it continued dauntless
  in its steady, dogged, persistent advance until like a
  mighty resistless torrent it dashed triumphant over the             10
  crest of the hill, and firing a final volley at the vanishing
  foe, planted the regimental colors on the enemy's breastworks
  and the Stars and Stripes over the blockhouse on
  San Juan Hill to stay.

  This was a time for rejoicing. It was glorious.                     15

                                     --_From an address given in
                                      Chicago, November 27, 1898._

         1. When was the Spanish-American War fought? Why?
         What were its greatest battles? Tell how each of
         the following figured in this war: Dewey, Sampson,
         Schley, Shafter, Wheeler, Roosevelt.

         2. Imagine yourself in Lieutenant Pershing's place
         on the field of battle. Describe the engagement.

         3. Report briefly from notes taken on outside
         reading on the battle of Manila Bay, or the cruise
         of the _Oregon_, or the destruction of the Spanish
         fleet off Santiago.

         4. General John Joseph Pershing was born in
         Missouri, September 13, 1860. He was graduated from
         the West Point Military Academy; served in a number
         of Indian campaigns, was a military instructor;
         served with the Tenth Cavalry in the Cuban
         campaign, 1898, and in the Philippines, 1899-1903;
         commanded the U. S. troops in pursuit of the bandit
         Villa in Mexico in 1916; was in command of the
         American Expeditionary Forces in the World War. If
         possible, read an account of Pershing's early life
         and report on it in class.



  BURIAL OF A SOLDIER IN FRANCE

  BY GERALD M. DWYER

         This is part of a letter home from Private Dwyer,
         Co. A, 121st Engineers, A. E. F. It is used here by
         permission of _The Springfield (Mass) Republican_.


  Even far behind the lines of battle, in this beautiful
  France, little scenes take place which bring home to
  one the seriousness and sadness of life. Picture to yourself
  a dark-green hillside divided into sections by the hedge
  fences which the French peasant makes so much use of.                5
  In one of these fields soldiers are at work making roads and
  little pathways. At one end are a number of flower-covered
  mounds, each one marked with a wooden cross, for this
  particular little field is one of the American Expeditionary
  Force's cemeteries.                                                 10

  On the day which I have in mind, a drizzling rain comes
  softly, though steadily, down. A number of soldiers, hardly
  distinguishable from the mud in which they are working,
  are busy leveling off the ground around a flagpole which
  stands in the center of the cemetery. Presently they stop           15
  work and stand listening to the drumbeats which can be
  heard faintly in the distance. The little group gathers about
  the flagpole, waiting.

  Slowly up the roadway comes a procession headed by the
  band playing the sweetly solemn funeral march. Behind               20
  it is carried a plain wooden box, draped with the Stars and
  Stripes, while a firing squad marches in the rear. They stop
  at a newly dug grave and gently lower the coffin. In clear,
  concise tones the chaplain reads the funeral service. A mist
  seems to creep up from the valley and wisps of it wind themselves
  through the air. In the neighboring field the sheep
  who have been grazing huddle together and gaze, as only
  sheep can, at the performance going on near them. Like
  the sheep, the soldiers in the cemetery gather closer to each        5
  other, each one's eyes filled with tears, and each one conscious
  of a queer sensation going on within him. . . .

  Now the chaplain has finished, the members of the firing
  squad take their places. A dead silence ensues, broken by
  the shots of their rifles. Two more salvos are fired and the        10
  ceremony is finished. Finally, when the mist has become
  very dense, the clear notes of the bugle ring out, blowing
  taps for a soldier's last farewell sleep.

  You will never really appreciate the beauty and pathos
  of the notes of taps unless you have heard them while lying         15
  on your hard bunk some night at the end of a hard day.
  The music seems to say that some day things will be peaceful
  again, all these hardships will be merely incidents to
  laugh over in the happy days to come. And so, singing its
  farewell to you, the notes die away, leaving you to slip into       20
  the balm of sleep.

  The grave has now been covered and the procession and
  workers gone. The fields and valley seem forsaken and
  alone in the late afternoon. But no, there by the graves,
  flitting through the rain in their capes and hoods, and looking     25
  like so many little sparrows, are some little French girls,
  daughters of the near-by peasants. Tenderly their little
  hands decorate the newest grave with flowers, their tribute
  to one who risked all for the safety of little maidens. Thus
  the grave is left, heaped with green branches and flowers, a        30
  pretty resting place.

                                  --_The Springfield Republican._



_OUR COUNTRY_


     _Of old sat Freedom on the heights,
        The thunders breaking at her feet:
      Above her shook the starry lights,
        She heard the torrents meet.

      There in her place she did rejoice,
        Self-gathered in her prophet mind,
      But fragments of her mighty voice
        Came rolling on the wind.

      Then stepped she down through town and field
        To mingle with the human race,
      And part by part to men revealed
        The fullness of her face._

                                 --ALFRED TENNYSON.

[Illustration: THE STATUE OF LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD]



  AMERICA FOR ME

  BY HENRY VAN DYKE

         Doctor van Dyke (1852-) is a noted clergyman,
         writer, and educator. He has long been connected
         with Princeton University. From 1913-1917, during
         the trying period of the World War, he was United
         States minister to Holland. His many visits to
         Europe have served only to increase his devotion to
         his native land. The following poem is a fine
         expression of the genuine homesickness of the
         traveled scholar for his own country. You should
         read it and re-read it until it has sung itself
         into your memory.

         (From _The Poems of Henry van Dyke_. Copyright,
         1920, by Charles Scribner's Sons.)


      'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down
      Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,
      To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the
          kings--
      But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.            5

       _So it's home again, and home again, America for me!
        My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,
        In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,
        Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._

      Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air;           10
      And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;
      And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study
          Rome;
      But when it comes to living, there is no place like home.

      I like the German fir woods, in green battalions drilled;
      I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains
          filled;
      But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day
      In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her            5
          way!

      I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to
          lack;
      The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back;
      But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,--      10
      We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.

       _Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!
        I want a ship that's westward bound to plow the rolling
            sea,
        To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,     15
        Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._

         1. How many places are mentioned by name? Tell what
         and where each is.

         2. What does the author admire in the Old World?
         What does he mean by his distinction between London
         and Paris? List the things the author misses in the
         Old World. How is America contrasted with Europe?
         Explain line 15, page 334.

         3. Report on other writings of Dr. van Dyke. Which
         of his outdoor books do you know?

       *       *       *       *       *

        Love thou thy land, with love far-brought
          From out the storied Past, and used
          Within the Present, but transfused
        Through future time by power of thought.

                               --_Alfred Tennyson._



  WARREN'S ADDRESS AT THE BATTLE OF
  BUNKER HILL

  BY JOHN PIERPONT


      Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!
      Will ye give it up to slaves?
      Will ye look for greener graves?
        Hope ye mercy still?
      What's the mercy despots feel?                                   5
      Hear it in that battle peal!
      Read it on yon bristling steel!
        Ask it--ye who will!

      Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
      Will ye to your homes retire?                                   10
      Look behind you! they're afire!
        And, before you, see
      Who have done it! From the vale
      On they come!--and will ye quail?--
      Leaden rain and iron hail                                       15
        Let their welcome be!

      In the God of battles trust!
      Die we may--and die we must;
      But, oh, where can dust to dust
        Be consigned so well,                                         20
      As where heaven its dews shall shed
      On the martyred patriot's bed,
      And the rocks shall raise their head,
        Of his deeds to tell?



  WHAT IS AN AMERICAN?

  BY HECTOR SAINT JEAN DE CRÈVECŒUR

         De Crèvecœur (1731-1813) was a French writer who
         emigrated to America at the age of twenty-three. He
         settled on a farm near the City of New York, and
         came to know many of the great men of his day. For
         instance, he had the friendship of Washington and
         Franklin. France appointed him as her consul at New
         York. In 1782 Crèvecœur published his _Letters
         of an American Farmer_. As this extract shows, it
         is almost prophetic in its insight into the future.


  What then is the American, this new man? He is
  either a European, or the descendant of a European,
  hence that strange mixture of blood which you will find
  in no other country. I could point out to you a family
  whose grandfather was an Englishman, whose wife was                  5
  Dutch, whose son married a French woman, and whose
  present four sons have now four wives of different nations.

  An American is he who, leaving behind him all his ancient
  prejudices and manners, receives new ones from the
  new mode of life he has embraced, the new government he             10
  obeys, and the new rank he holds. He becomes an American
  by being received in the broad lap of our great Alma Mater.
  Here individuals of all nations are melted into a new race
  of men, whose labors and posterity will one day cause
  great changes in the world. Americans are the western               15
  pilgrims, who are carrying along with them that great
  mass of arts, sciences, vigor, and industry which began
  long since in the East; they will finish the great circle.

  The Americans were once scattered all over Europe;
  in America they are incorporated into one of the finest
  systems of population which has ever appeared, and which
  will hereafter become distinct by the power of the different
  climates they inhabit. The American ought therefore to
  love his country much better than that wherein either he             5
  or his forefathers were born. Here the rewards of his
  industry follow with equal steps the progress of his labor;
  his labor is founded on the basis of nature, self-interest.
  Can it want a stronger allurement?

  Women and children, who before in vain demanded a                   10
  morsel of bread, now gladly help their men folk to clear those
  fields whence exuberant crops are to arise to feed and to
  clothe them all, without any part being claimed either
  by a despotic prince, a rich abbot, or a mighty lord.

  Religion demands but little of the American: a small                15
  voluntary salary to the minister, and gratitude to God.
  Can he refuse these?

  The American is a new man, who acts upon new
  principles; he must therefore entertain new ideas and form
  new opinions. From involuntary idleness, servile dependence,        20
  penury, and useless labor, he has passed to toils of
  a very different nature, rewarded by ample subsistence.--This
  is an American.

                                --_Letters of an American Farmer._

         1. What is Crèvecœur's definition of an
         American? How would you define an American to-day?

         2. Explain lines 15-18, on page 336. What does the
         last clause of the sentence mean?

         3. What reasons does the author give for a great
         love of country on the part of Americans? Do these
         reasons still hold good?

         4. Explain: Alma Mater, posterity, allurement,
         voluntary, servile, penury, subsistence.



  THE RISING OF '76

  BY THOMAS BUCHANAN READ

         Read this selection entirely through before
         stopping to inquire the meaning of puzzling
         passages. Then re-read it for the references not
         previously clear to you. A final reading should
         enable you to get the fullness of the author's
         meaning. On your first reading you should be able
         to determine generally when the events took place,
         where, and what happened.


      Out of the North the wild news came,
        Far flashing on its wings of flame,
      Swift as the boreal light that flies
      At midnight through the startled skies.
      And there was tumult in the air,                                 5
        The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat
      And through the wide land everywhere
        The answering tread of hurrying feet;
      While the first oath of Freedom's gun
      Came on the blast of Lexington;                                 10
      And Concord, roused, no longer tame,
      Forgot her old baptismal name,
      Made bare her patriot arm of power,
      And swelled the discord of the hour.

      Within its shade of elm and oak                                 15
        The church of Berkeley Manor stood;
      There Sunday found the rural folk,
        And some esteemed of gentle blood.
      In vain their feet with loitering tread
        Passed mid the graves where rank is naught;
        All could not read the lesson taught
      In that republic of the dead.

      How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk,
        The vale with peace and sunshine full,                         5
      Where all the happy people walk,
        Decked in their homespun flax and wool!
      Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom,
        And every maid, with simple art,
        Wears on her breast, like her own heart,                      10
      A bud whose depths are all perfume;
        While every garment's gentle stir
        Is breathing rose and lavender.

      The pastor came: his snowy locks
        Hallowed his brow of thought and care;                        15
      And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks,
        He led into the house of prayer.
      The pastor rose; the prayer was strong;
      The psalm was warrior David's song;
      The text, a few short words of might,--                         20
      "The Lord of hosts shall arm the right!"

      He spoke of wrongs too long endured,
      Of sacred rights to be secured;
      Then from his patriot tongue of flame
      The startling words for Freedom came.                           25
      The stirring sentences he spake
      Compelled the heart to glow or quake,
      And rising on his theme's broad wing,
        And grasping in his nervous hand
        The imaginary battle brand,
      In face of death he dared to fling
      Defiance to a tyrant king.                                       5

      Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed
      In eloquence of attitude,
      Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher;
      Then swept his kindling glance of fire
      From startled pew to breathless choir;                          10
      When suddenly his mantle wide
      His hands impatient flung aside,
      And lo! he met their wondering eyes
      Complete in all a warrior's guise.

      A moment there was awful pause,--                               15
      When Berkeley cried, "Cease, traitor! Cease!
      God's temple is the house of peace!"
        The other shouted, "Nay, not so,
      When God is with our righteous cause;
      His holiest places then are ours,                               20
      His temples are our forts and towers
        That frown upon the tyrant foe;
      In this, the dawn of Freedom's day,
      There is a time to fight and pray!"

      And now before the open door--                                  25
        The warrior priest had ordered so--
      The enlisting trumpet's sudden roar
      Rang through the chapel, o'er and o'er,
        Its long reverberating blow,
      So loud and clear, it seemed the ear
      Of dusty death must wake and hear;
      And there the startling drum and fife
      Fired the living with fiercer life.

      While overhead, with wild increase,                              5
      Forgetting its ancient toll of peace,
        The great bell swung as ne'er before.
      It seemed as it would never cease;
      And every word its ardor flung
      From off its jubilant iron tongue                               10
        Was, "War! War! War!"

      "Who dares?"--this was the patriot's cry,
        As striding from the desk he came,--
        "Come out with me, in Freedom's name,
      For her to live, for her to die?"                               15
      A hundred hands flung up reply,
      A hundred voices answered, "I."

         1. Explain the following references in the first
         stanza: "the North"; "wild news"; "boreal light";
         "first oath of Freedom's gun"; "Concord . . .
         forgot her old baptismal name."

         2. Where does this story begin? What is the purpose
         of the first stanza? Where is the scene laid? What
         is the date of the action? Who was Berkeley? What
         occurs?

         3. What other dramatic Revolutionary War episodes
         do you know? Name three other Revolutionary War
         poems.

         4. Thomas Buchanan Read (1822-1872) was a
         Pennsylvanian by birth. His interests in art and
         literature took him abroad, and he spent several
         years in Italy. A number of his poems and paintings
         are highly esteemed.



  OUR OWN COUNTRY

  BY JAMES MONTGOMERY


      There is a land of every land the pride,
      Beloved of Heaven o'er all the world beside,
      There brighter suns dispense serener light
      And milder moons imparadise the night.
      O land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,                          5
      Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth!
      There is a spot of earth supremely blest,
      A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest,
      Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
      His sword and scepter, pageantry and pride,                     10
      While in his softened looks benignly blend
      The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend.
      Where shall that land, that spot of earth, be found?
      Art thou a man, a patriot? Look around!
      O thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam,                  15
      That land thy country and that spot thy home.

         1. Make a list of songs whose theme is love of
         country. Name the national hymns of the chief
         countries of the world. What songs have love of
         home as their theme?

         2. Write the meaning of the above poem in a few
         short sentences.

         3. Select five unusual words from the poem, give a
         brief definition of each, and use each in a
         sentence.

         4. Find out the following facts about the life of
         Montgomery: dates of birth and death; nationality;
         business or profession; chief writings.



  PATRICK HENRY'S SPEECH

         In March, 1775, a month before Lexington, Patrick
         Henry electrified the Virginia convention with the
         speech that here follows. A resolution was before
         the convention "that the colony be immediately put
         in a state of defence." Speaking to that resolution,
         Henry thrilled the delegates with his review of
         British mistreatment and his climax of "give me
         liberty or give me death."


  Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in
  the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes
  against a painful truth, and to listen to the song of the
  siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of
  wise men engaged in the great and arduous struggle for               5
  liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those
  who, having eyes see not, and having ears hear not, the
  things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation?
  For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am
  willing to know the whole truth; to know the worst and to           10
  provide for it.

  I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided and that
  is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of
  the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I
  wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the              15
  British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes
  with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves
  and the House. Is it that insidious smile with which
  our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir;
  it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves           20
  to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this
  gracious reception of our petition comports with those
  warlike preparations which cover our waters and darken our
  land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and
  reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling
  to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back
  our love?                                                            5

  Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements
  of war and subjugation, the last argument to which
  kings resort. I ask, sir, what means this martial array,
  if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can
  gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has              10
  Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world to
  call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No,
  sir, she has none. They are meant for us. They can be
  meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet
  upon us those chains which the British ministry have been           15
  so long forging.

  And what have we to oppose them? Shall we try argument?
  Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years.
  Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing.
  We have held the subject up in every light of which it is           20
  capable; but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to
  entreaty and supplication? What terms shall we find that
  have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech
  you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done
  everything that could have been done to avert the storm             25
  that is now coming on. We have petitioned, we have remonstrated,
  we have supplicated, we have prostrated
  ourselves before the throne and have implored its interposition
  to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry
  and Parliament.                                                     30

  Our petitions have been slighted, our remonstrances
  have produced additional violence and insult, our supplications
  have been disregarded, and we have been spurned
  with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after
  these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and
  reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If
  we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate these           5
  inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending,
  if we mean not basely to abandon the noble
  struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which
  we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the
  glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must           10
  fight! I repeat, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms
  and to the God of hosts is all that is left us.

  They tell us, sir, that we are weak; unable to cope with
  so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be
  stronger? Will it be the next week or the next year?                15
  Will it be when we are totally disarmed, and when a
  British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we
  gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we
  acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely
  on our backs, and hugging the delusive phantom, hope,               20
  until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?
  Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means
  which the God of Nature hath placed in our power.

  Three millions of people armed in the holy cause of
  liberty, and in such a country as that which we possess,            25
  are invincible by any force which our enemy can send
  against us. Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone.
  There is a just God who presides over the destinies of
  nations, and who will raise up friends to fight our battles
  for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to       30
  the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have
  no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now
  too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat
  but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged.
  Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston!
  The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat, sir, let
  it come!                                                             5

  It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may
  cry Peace, peace! But there is no peace. The war is
  actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the North
  will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our
  brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here                10
  idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they
  have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased
  at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it,
  Almighty God! I know not what course others may take,
  but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!                    15

         1. The following outline sets forth the major
         topics of the speech. Find the paragraphs each
         includes. What did Henry say on each point?

        I. Introduction
             1. The speaker is willing to face facts
       II. Body
             1. The past acts of the British ministry are not
           favorable to present hope
             2. The present assembly of British armies and navies
           means subjugation for the colonists
             3. The colonists cannot meet this force with petitions,
           for
                a. Petitions have been tried and are useless
             4. The colonists can meet the British only with force of
           arms, for
                a. It is the only means left, and
                b. The colonists have the strength to fight
      III. Conclusion
             1. Therefore, let us make ready for battle.



  ABRAHAM LINCOLN TO MRS. BIXBY


                                    Executive Mansion, Washington.
                                         November 21, 1864.

  Mrs. Bixby, Boston, Massachusetts.

  Dear Madam: I have been shown in the files of the War
  Department a statement of the Adjutant General of Massachusetts      5
  that you are the mother of five sons who have
  died gloriously on the field of battle. I feel how weak
  and fruitless must be any words of mine which should
  attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming.
  But I cannot refrain from tendering to you the                      10
  consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic
  they died to save. I pray that our heavenly Father may
  assuage the anguish of your bereavement, and leave you
  only the cherished memory of the loved and lost, and the
  solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a            15
  sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

                         Yours very sincerely and respectfully,
                                                 Abraham Lincoln.

         1. Undoubtedly the most difficult kind of letter to
         write is the letter of sympathy, expressing sorrow
         for loss by death. Why? Lincoln's little letter to
         Mrs. Bixby has long been considered a classic of
         its kind. It is sincere, sympathetic, and helpful.
         What makes it so?

         2. How did Lincoln come to write this letter? What
         does the fact that he wrote it show about the man?
         What was his object in writing it? Do you think he
         succeeded? What consolation did he offer the
         mother?



  THE FLOWER OF LIBERTY

  BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES


       What flower is this that greets the morn,
       Its hues from heaven so freshly born?
       With burning star and naming band
       It kindles all the sunset land:
       Oh, tell us what its name may be,--                             5
       Is this the Flower of Liberty?
         It is the banner of the free,
         The starry Flower of Liberty!

       In savage nature's far abode
       Its tender seed our fathers sowed;                             10
       The storm winds rocked its swelling bud,
       Its opening leaves were streaked with blood,
       Till lo! earth's tyrants shook to see
       The full-blown Flower of Liberty!
         Then hail the banner of the free,                            15
         The starry Flower of Liberty!

       Behold its streaming rays unite
       One mingling flood of braided light,--
       The red that fires the Southern rose,
       With spotless white from Northern snows,                       20
       And, spangled o'er its azure, see
       The sister stars of Liberty!
         Then hail the banner of the free,
         The starry Flower of Liberty!

       The blades of heroes fence it round,
       Where'er it springs in holy ground;
       From tower and dome its glories spread;
       It waves where lonely sentries tread;
       It makes the land as ocean free,                                5
       And plants an empire on the sea!
         Then hail the banner of the free,
         The starry Flower of Liberty.

       Thy sacred leaves, fair Freedom's flower,
       Shall ever float on dome and tower,                            10
       To all their heavenly colors true,
       In blackening frost or crimson dew,--
       And God love us as we love thee,
       Thrice-holy Flower of Liberty!
         Then hail the banner of the free,                            15
         The starry Flower of Liberty.

         1. What is "The Flower of Liberty?" Does Holmes
         gain anything by calling it a flower? Substitute
         its real name and read the poem through thus, to
         test your answer.

         2. Interpret the following passages: "hues from
         heaven"; "burning star"; "flaming band"; lines
         9-14, page 348; lines 19-20, page 348; "blades of
         heroes"; "empire on the sea"; "thrice-holy."

         3. What other poems on the flag have you read?
         Which do you like best? How does this one compare
         in quality with the others?

         4. Bring to class another poem by Holmes and read
         an interesting extract from it.



  TRUE PATRIOTISM

  BY BENJAMIN HARRISON

         Benjamin Harrison (1833-1901) was the twenty-third
         President of the United States; the grandson of
         President William Henry Harrison; and the
         great-grandson of Benjamin Harrison, Sr., a signer
         of the Declaration of Independence. He was well
         qualified to speak on the subject of real
         patriotism as against mere loyalty to political
         party.


  Let us exalt patriotism and moderate our party contentions.
  Let those who would die for the flag on the
  field of battle give a better proof of their patriotism and a
  higher glory to their country by promoting fraternity and
  justice. A party success that is achieved by unfair methods          5
  or by practices that partake of revolution is hurtful and
  evanescent, even from a party standpoint. We should
  hold our different opinions in mutual respect; and, having
  submitted them to the arbitrament of the ballot, should
  accept an adverse judgment with the same respect that we            10
  would have demanded of our opponents if the decision had
  been more in our favor.

  No other people have a government more worthy of their
  respect and love, or a land so magnificent in extent, so
  pleasant to look upon, and so full of generous suggestion           15
  to enterprise and labor. God has placed upon our head
  a diadem, and has laid at our feet power and wealth beyond
  definition or calculation. But we must not forget that
  we take these gifts upon the condition that justice and
  mercy shall hold the reins of power, and that the upward            20
  avenues of hope shall be free for all the people.

  I do not mistrust the future. Dangers have been in
  frequent ambush along our path, but we have uncovered
  and vanquished them all. Passion has swept some of our
  communities, but only to give us a new demonstration that
  the great body of our people are stable, patriotic, and law-abiding. 5
  No political party can long pursue advantage
  at the expense of public honor, or by rude and indecent
  methods, without protest and fatal disaffection in its own
  body. The peaceful agencies of commerce are more fully
  revealing the necessary unity of all our communities, and           10
  the increasing intercourse of our people is promoting mutual
  respect. We shall find unalloyed pleasure in the revelation
  which our census will make of the swift development of the
  great resources of some of the states. Each state will
  bring its generous contributions to the great aggregate of          15
  the nation's increase. And when the harvests from the
  fields, the cattle from the hills, and the ores from the earth,
  shall have been weighed, counted, and valued, we will turn
  from all to crown with the highest honor the state that has
  most promoted education, virtue, justice, and patriotism            20
  among its people.

         1. When was Benjamin Harrison President? What did
         he know about the party defeats he mentions? Was he
         ever a defeated candidate?

         2. What are the leading political parties of our
         country at present? Are they essential to our form
         of government? Support your answer by reasons.

         3. Explain what Harrison meant by: "A party success
         . . . achieved by unfair methods"; "the arbitrament
         of the ballot"; "justice and mercy shall hold the
         reins of power"; the last sentence.



  AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL

  BY KATHARINE LEE BATES


      O beautiful for spacious skies,
        For amber waves of grain,
      For purple mountain majesties
        Above the fruited plain!
          America! America!                                            5
        God shed His grace on thee,
      And crown thy good with brotherhood
        From sea to shining sea!

      O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
        Whose stern, impassioned stress                               10
      A thoroughfare for freedom beat
        Across the wilderness!
          America! America!
        God mend thine every flaw,
      Confirm thy soul in self-control,                               15
        Thy liberty in law!

      O beautiful for heroes proved
        In liberating strife,
      Who more than self their country loved,
        And mercy more than life!                                     20
          America! America!
        May God thy gold refine
      Till all success be nobleness
        And every gain divine!

      O beautiful for patriot dream
        That sees, beyond the years,
      Thine alabaster cities gleam
        Undimmed by human tears!
          America! America!                                            5
        God shed His grace on thee,
      And crown thy good with brotherhood
        From sea to shining sea!

         1. The author mentions many ways in which America
         is beautiful. Which of these are real,
         matter-of-fact? Which are not?

         2. To whom is the reference in lines 9-10
         applicable? Explain lines 14-16. Paraphrase line
         19. What is meant by line 7, page 353?

         3. Memorize at least one stanza of the poem.



  O BEAUTIFUL! MY COUNTRY!

  BY JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL

         This is a part of Lowell's "Commemoration Ode"
         written in honor of the heroes of Harvard College,
         killed in the Civil War. Lowell here imagines
         America as a beautiful woman--a Goddess of
         Liberty--now fully restored to her worshipers.


      O beautiful! My Country! ours once more!
      Smoothing thy gold of war-disheveled hair
      O'er such sweet brows as never other wore, . . .
        What were our lives without thee?
        What all our lives to save thee?                               5
        We reck not what we gave thee;
        We will not dare to doubt thee,
      But ask whatever else, and we will dare!



  THE PROBLEMS OF THE REPUBLIC

  BY THEODORE ROOSEVELT

         The following is extracted from the inaugural
         address of President Roosevelt, delivered March 4,
         1905. It is of special interest to read it in
         connection with Mr. Hughes's speech (page 356) and
         to compare the ideas of citizenship and of our
         country as expressed in the two. In reading this
         speech you should bear in mind that the era was one
         of peace, long undisturbed by war. Our problems
         then were the ordinary problems of everyday living.


  Modern life is both complex and intense, and the
  tremendous changes wrought by the extraordinary
  industrial development of the half century are felt in every
  fiber of our social and political being. Never before have
  men tried so vast and formidable an experiment as that of            5
  administering the affairs of a continent under the form of a
  democratic republic. The conditions which have told for
  our marvelous material well-being, which have developed
  to a very high degree our energy, self-reliance, and individual
  initiative, also have brought the care and anxiety                  10
  inseparable from the accumulation of great wealth in
  industrial centers.

  Upon the success of our experiment much depends, not
  only as regards our own welfare, but as regards the welfare
  of mankind. If we fail, the cause of free self-government           15
  throughout the world will rock to its foundations, and
  therefore our responsibility is heavy, to ourselves, to the
  world as it is to-day, and to the generations yet unborn.

  There is no good reason why we should fear the future,
  but there is every reason why we should face it seriously,          20
  neither hiding from ourselves the gravity of the problems
  before us, nor fearing to approach these problems with the
  unbending, unflinching purpose to solve them aright.

  Yet after all, though the problems are new, though the
  tasks set before us differ from the tasks set before our             5
  fathers who founded and preserved this republic, the
  spirit in which these tasks must be undertaken and these
  problems faced, if our duty is to be well done, remains
  essentially unchanged. We know that self-government is
  difficult. We know that no people needs such high traits            10
  of character as that people which seeks to govern its affairs
  aright through the freely expressed will of the free men who
  compose it.

  But we have faith that we shall not prove false to memories
  of the men of the mighty past. They did their work;                 15
  they left us the splendid heritage we now enjoy. We in our
  turn have an assured confidence that we shall be able to leave
  this heritage unwasted and enlarged to our children's children.

  To do so, we must show, not merely in great crises, but
  in the everyday affairs of life, the qualities of practical         20
  intelligence, of courage, of hardihood, of endurance, and
  above all, the power of devotion to a lofty ideal, which
  made great the men who founded this republic in the days
  of Washington; which made great the men who preserved
  this republic in the days of Abraham Lincoln.                       25

         1. Give a full report of Roosevelt's life and
         activities--political, literary, personal. Try to
         describe the kind of man you think he was.

         2. Find in this section of your Reader expressions
         similar to lines 10-13, page 355.

         3. What qualities does Roosevelt say we must
         display if our country is to survive? Why does he
         speak of our form of government as an experiment?



  THE MEANING OF AMERICANISM

  BY CHARLES EVANS HUGHES

         Charles Evans Hughes (1862- ) has had a conspicuous
         political career. He has been successively governor
         of New York for two terms, a justice of the Supreme
         Court; Republican nominee for the Presidency; and
         Secretary of State.

         At the time of the delivery of this speech Europe
         was in the throes of the World War. America was
         soon to join forces with the Allies against
         Germany. This extract from Mr. Hughes's speech
         should be read with the spirit of portending war in
         mind. But the four-square interpretation of
         Americanism that is herein set forth holds to-day
         with as much force as in 1916. Read the selection
         especially to get the notion of an ideal America
         and the ideal citizen.


  We want something more than thrills in our patriotism--we
  want thought; we want intelligence--a
  new birth of the sentiment of unity in the nation.

  My dream of America is America represented in public
  office by its best men working entirely for the good of the          5
  Republic and according to the laws and ordinances established
  by the people for the government of their conduct,
  and not for personal or political desires and ambitions;
  America working her institutions as they were intended to
  be worked, with men whose sole object shall be to secure            10
  the end for which the offices were designed.

  And if one will throw his personal fortunes to the winds,
  if he will perform in each place, high or low, the manifest
  obligations of that place, we will soon have those victories
  of democracy which will make the Fourth of July in its              15
  coming years a far finer and nobler day than it has ever
  been in the fortunate years of the past.

  When we are thinking of the ideals of democracy, we
  are thinking of the schools, and we deplore every condition
  in which we find man lower than he should be under a free
  government, and we want greater victories of democracy,
  that the level of success shall be raised.                           5

  We are not a rash people; we are not filled with the
  spirit of militarism. We are not anxious to get into trouble,
  but if anybody thinks that the spirit of service and sacrifice
  is lost and that we have not the old sentiment of self-respect,
  he doesn't understand the United States.                            10

  We want patriotism, and I don't think that we are going
  to lose it very soon, although I do devoutly hope that out
  of the perils and difficulties of this time may come a new
  birth of the sentiment of unity. I do hope that in the
  midst of all these troublesome conditions we will have a            15
  better realization of our national strength and the import
  of our democratic institutions.

  The boy is going to thrill at the sight of the flag to-day
  just as he did fifty years or one hundred years ago. We
  are all going to thrill when we hear the words of our               20
  national hymn and we think of the long years of struggle
  and determination that have brought us to this hour. But
  we want something more than thrills in our patriotism:
  we want thought; we want intelligence.

  Not vast extent of territory, not great population, not             25
  simply extraordinary statistics of national wealth, although
  they speak in eloquent words of energy and managing
  ability; but what we need more than anything else is an
  intelligent comprehension of the ideals of democracy.
  Those ideals are that every man shall have a fair and equal         30
  chance according to his talents. It is not an ideal of democracy
  that one alone shall emerge because of conspicuous
  ability, but that there shall be a great advance of the plain
  people of the country, upon whom the prosperity of the
  country depends.

  It is all very well to talk about the Declaration of Independence
  and the strong sentiments it contains, but that                      5
  was backed by men who couldn't have committed it to
  memory, men who couldn't have repeated it, but men in
  whose lives was the incarnation of independence and whose
  spirit was breathed into that immortal document.

  It is because we had men who were willing to suffer, to             10
  die, to venture, to sacrifice, that we have a country, and
  it is only by that spirit that we will ever be able to keep a
  country. I love to think of those hardy men coming here
  with the same spirit that led the pioneers to the West and
  Farther West, the same spirit which in every part of our            15
  land has accounted for our development.

  Quiet men, not noisy men; sensible men, not foolish
  men; straight men, honest men, dependable men, real
  men--that is what we mean by Americanism.

                                --_From a Speech Delivered at
                                Easthampton, L. I., July 4, 1916._

         1. What evidences do you find in the speech that it
         was delivered in war times? When did we enter the
         World War? On what occasion was the speech made?

         2. Explain what Mr. Hughes describes as his "dream
         of America."

         3. Discuss: "But we want something more than
         thrills in our patriotism," lines 22-24, page 357.

         4. What ideals of democracy are described?

         5. Define Americanism in your own words.

         6. Explain what you think an ideal citizen of your
         community should be and do; of your school.



  WHAT CONSTITUTES A STATE?

  BY WILLIAM JONES


      What constitutes a State?
        Not high-raised battlement or labored mound,
        Thick wall or moated gate;
      Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned;
        Not bays and broad-armed ports,                                5
      Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride;
        Not starred and spangled courts,
      Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to pride.
        No:--men, high-minded men,
      With powers as far above dull brutes endued                     10
        In forest, brake, or den,
      As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude;
        Men who their duties know,
      But know their rights, and knowing, dare maintain,
        Prevent the long-aimed blow,                                  15
      And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain:--
        These constitute a State.

         1. What is meant by the word "State" as it is here
         used? In what "State" do you live?

         2. How many things are named, which do not
         constitute a State? Why do these things not make a
         State?

         3. What is it that makes a State? Why?

         4. Give in your own words the meaning of lines
         13-16.



  A PATRIOTIC CREED

  BY EDGAR A. GUEST


      To serve my country day by day
      At any humble post I may;
      To honor and respect her flag,
      To live the traits of which I brag;
      To be American in deed                                           5
      As well as in my printed creed.

      To stand for truth and honest toil,
      To till my little patch of soil,
      And keep in mind the debt I owe
      To them who died that I might know                              10
      My country prosperous and free,
      And passed this heritage to me.

      I must always in trouble's hour
      Be guided by the men in power;
      For God and country I must live,                                15
      My best for God and country give;
      No act of mine that men may scan
      Must shame the name American.

      To do my best, and play my part,
      American in mind and heart;                                     20
      To serve the flag and bravely stand
      To guard the glory of my land;
      To be American in deed,--
      God grant me strength to keep this creed.

         (From _Over Here_, copyrighted by Reilly & Lee Co.,
         Publishers. Reproduced by permission.)



_FROM GREAT BOOKS_


         _Only a few great books can be represented in this
         small section of your Reader. The extracts are
         offered in the firm belief that you will wish to
         read further in the volumes from which they were
         taken. Good books are like good friends; the better
         you know them the better you like them; and they
         stand ready always to give you genuine pleasure._

[Illustration: THE LISTS AT ASHBY

(_See following page_)]



  THE LISTS AT ASHBY

  BY SIR WALTER SCOTT

         The following is the larger part of chapter eight
         of Scott's _Ivanhoe_. The hero of the novel is a
         Saxon knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe, son of Cedric.
         Ivanhoe is in love with his father's ward, Rowena,
         but Cedric wishes her to marry a thick-headed Saxon
         thane, or lord, called Athelstane. According to
         Scott, the period was one of unrest. England had
         come into the possession of the Normans, and the
         native Saxons hated their new masters. Richard was
         king. But since he had gone to the Holy Land as a
         leader in one of the crusades, his brother, Prince
         John, ruled in his stead. Both were foreigners, but
         the common people liked Richard and hated John, who
         was not only a tyrant, but was also planning to
         seize his brother's throne. He had had Richard
         imprisoned in Austria, and had surrounded himself
         with ambitious and dissatisfied Norman knights. The
         tournament at Ashby was really a trial at arms
         between the Prince's followers and those of
         Richard, of whom Ivanhoe was one.


  The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle.
  The sloping galleries were crowded with all that was
  noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful in the northern and
  midland parts of England; and the contrast of the various
  dresses of these dignified spectators rendered the view as           5
  gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled
  with the substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England,
  formed, in their more plain attire, a dark fringe, or
  border, around this circle of brilliant embroidery, relieving,
  and at the same time setting off, its splendor.                     10

  The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual
  cry of "Largess, largess, gallant knights!" and gold and
  silver pieces were showered on them from the galleries,
  it being a high point of chivalry to exhibit liberality toward
  those whom the age accounted at once the secretaries and
  the historians of honor. The bounty of the spectators
  was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of                 5
  Ladies--Death of Champions--Honor to the Generous--Glory
  to the Brave!" To which the more humble
  spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band
  of trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments.
  When these sounds had ceased, the heralds withdrew from             10
  the lists in gay and glittering procession, and none remained
  within them save the marshals of the field, who, armed cap-a-pie,
  sat on horseback, motionless as statues, at the opposite
  ends of the lists.

  Meantime, the inclosed space at the northern extremity              15
  of the lists, large as it was, was now completely crowded
  with knights desirous to prove their skill against the challengers,
  and when viewed from the galleries presented the
  appearance of a sea of waving plumage intermixed with
  glistening helmets and tall lances, to the extremities of           20
  which were, in many cases, attached small pennons of
  about a span's breadth, which, fluttering in the air as the
  breeze caught them, joined with the restless motion of the
  feathers to add liveliness to the scene.

  At length the barriers were opened, and five knights                25
  chosen by lot advanced slowly into the area; a single champion
  riding in front and the other four following in pairs.
  All were splendidly armed, and my Saxon authority records
  at great length their devices, their colors, and the embroidery
  of their horse trappings. It is unnecessary to be                   30
  particular on these subjects. To borrow lines from a
  contemporary poet, who has written but too little--

      "The knights are dust,
       And their good swords are rust,
       Their souls are with the saints, we trust."

  Their escutcheons have long moldered from the walls of
  their castles. Their castles themselves are but green                5
  mounds and shattered ruins--the place that once knew
  them knows them no more--nay, many a race since theirs
  has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
  occupied with all the authority of feudal lords. What,
  then, would it avail the reader to know their names or the          10
  evanescent symbols of their martial rank!

  Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which
  awaited their names and feats, the champions advanced
  through the lists, restraining their fiery steeds and compelling
  them to move slowly, while, at the same time, they                  15
  exhibited their paces, together with the grace and dexterity
  of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound
  of a wild barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of
  the challengers, where the performers were concealed. It
  was of Eastern origin, having been brought from the Holy            20
  Land; and the mixture of the cymbals and bells seemed to
  bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the knights as they
  advanced.

  With the eyes of an immense concourse of spectators
  fixed upon them, the five knights advanced up the platform          25
  upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and
  there separating themselves, each touched slightly, and
  with the reverse of his lance, the shield of the antagonist to
  whom he wished to oppose himself. The lower orders of
  spectators in general--nay, many of the higher class, and           30
  it is even said several of the ladies--were rather disappointed
  at the champions choosing the arms of courtesy.
  For the same sort of persons who, in the present day, applaud
  most highly the deepest tragedies were then interested in a
  tournament exactly in proportion to the danger incurred by
  the champions engaged.

  Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions           5
  retreated to the extremity of the lists, where they
  remained drawn up in a line; while the challengers, sallying
  each from his pavilion, mounted their horses, and
  headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
  platform and opposed themselves individually to the knights         10
  who had touched their respective shields.

  At the flourish of clarions and trumpets they started out
  against each other at full gallop; and such was the superior
  dexterity or good fortune of the challengers that those
  opposed to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Bœuf,             15
  rolled on the ground. The antagonist of Grantmesnil,
  instead of bearing his lance point fair against the crest or
  the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct
  line as to break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent--a
  circumstance which was accounted more disgraceful                   20
  than that of being actually unhorsed; because the
  latter might happen from accident, whereas the former
  evinced awkwardness and want of management of the
  weapon and of the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained
  the honor of his party and parted fairly with the                   25
  Knight of St. John, both splintering their lances without
  advantage on either side.

  The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations
  of the heralds and the clangor of the trumpets,
  announced the triumph of the victors and the defeat of              30
  the vanquished. The former retreated to their pavilions,
  and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
  withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree
  with their victors concerning the redemption of their arms
  and their horses, which, according to the laws of the
  tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth of their number
  alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted by the          5
  applauses of the spectators, amongst whom he retreated, to
  the aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.

  A second and a third party of knights took the field; and
  although they had various success, yet, upon the whole,
  the advantage decidedly remained with the challengers,              10
  not one of whom lost his seat or swerved from his charge--misfortunes
  which befell one or two of their antagonists
  in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
  to them seemed to be considerably dampened by their continued
  success. Three knights only appeared on the fourth                  15
  entry, who, avoiding the shields of Bois-Guilbert and
  Front-de-Bœuf, contented themselves with touching those
  of the three other knights, who had not altogether manifested
  the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection
  did not alter the fortune of the field: the challengers             20
  were still successful. One of their antagonists was overthrown
  and both the others failed in the attaint, that is,
  in striking the helmet and shield of their antagonist firmly
  and strongly with the lance held in a direct line, so that the
  weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.              25

  After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable
  pause; nor did it appear that anyone was very desirous
  of renewing the contest. The spectators murmured among
  themselves; for, among the challengers, Malvoisin and
  Front-de-Bœuf were unpopular from their characters, and             30
  the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers
  and foreigners.

  But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction
  so keenly as Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage
  gained by the Norman challengers, a repeated triumph
  over the honor of England. His own education had taught
  him no skill in the games of chivalry, although, with the            5
  arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself on
  many occasions a brave and determined soldier.

  He looked anxiously to Athelstane, who had learned the
  accomplishments of the age, as if desiring that he should
  make some personal effort to recover the victory which was          10
  passing into the hands of the Templar and his associates.
  But, though both stout of heart and strong of person,
  Athelstane had a disposition too inert and unambitious to
  make the exertions which Cedric seemed to expect from
  him.                                                                15

  "The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in
  a marked tone; "are you not tempted to take the lance?"

  "I shall tilt to-morrow," answered Athelstane, "in the
  _mêlée_; it is not worth while for me to arm myself to-day."

  Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained           20
  the Norman word _mêlée_ (to express the general
  conflict), and it evinced some indifference to the honor of
  the country; but it was spoken by Athelstane, whom he
  held in such profound respect that he would not trust himself
  to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he                 25
  had no time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his
  word, observing, "It was better, though scarce easier, to be
  the best man among a hundred than the best man of
  two."

  Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment;            30
  but Cedric, who better understood the jester's meaning,
  darted at him a severe and menacing look; and lucky it
  was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and place prevented
  his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service, more
  sensible marks of his master's resentment.

  The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted,
  excepting by the voices of the heralds exclaiming--"Love             5
  of ladies, splintering of lances! Stand forth, gallant knights,
  fair eyes look upon your deeds!"

  The music also of the challengers breathed from time to
  time wild bursts expressive of triumph or defiance, while
  the clowns grudged a holiday which seemed to pass away              10
  in inactivity; and old knights and nobles lamented in
  whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the triumphs
  of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now
  supply dames of such transcendent beauty as had animated
  the justs of former times.                                          15

  Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making
  ready the banquet, and the necessity of adjudging the
  prize to Brian de Bois-Guilbert who had, with a single
  spear, overthrown two knights and foiled a third.

  At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded      20
  one of those high and long flourishes with which
  they had broken the silence of the lists, it was answered
  by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note of defiance
  from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see
  the new champion which these sounds announced, and no               25
  sooner were the barriers opened than he paced into the
  lists.

  As far as could be judged from a man sheathed in armor,
  the new adventurer did not greatly exceed the middle size
  and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made.                 30
  His suit of armor was formed of steel, richly inlaid with
  gold, and the device on his shield was a young oak tree
  pulled up by the roots with the Spanish word _Desdichado_,
  signifying "disinherited". He was mounted on a gallant
  black horse, and as he passed through the lists he gracefully
  saluted the prince and the ladies by lowering his
  lance. The dexterity with which he managed his steed,                5
  and something of youthful grace which he displayed in his
  manner, won him the favor of the multitude, which some
  of the lower class expressed by calling out, "Touch Ralph
  de Vipont's shield--touch the Hospitaler's shield; he
  has the least sure seat; he is your cheapest bargain."              10

  The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant
  hints, ascended the platform by the sloping alley which
  led to it from the lists, and to the astonishment of all
  present, riding straight up to the central pavilion, struck
  with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de              15
  Bois-Guilbert until it rang again.

  All stood astonished at his presumption, but none more
  than the redoubted knight whom he had thus defied to
  mortal combat and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
  was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.                20

  "Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar,
  "and have you heard Mass this morning, that you
  peril your life so frankly?"

  "I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the
  Disinherited Knight; for by this name the stranger had              25
  recorded himself in the books of the tourney.

  "Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert,
  "and look your last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt
  sleep in Paradise."

  "Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited               30
  Knight, "and to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh
  horse and a new lance, for by my honor you will need both."

  Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his
  horse backward down the slope which he had ascended and
  compelled him in the same manner to move backward
  through the lists till he reached the northern extremity,
  where he remained stationary in expectation of his antagonist.       5
  This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause
  of the multitude.

  However incensed at his adversary for the precautions
  which he recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not
  neglect his advice; for his honor was too nearly concerned          10
  to permit his neglecting any means which might insure
  victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed
  his horse for a proved and fresh one of great strength and
  spirit. He chose a new and tough spear, lest the wood of
  the former might have been strained in the previous encounters      15
  he had sustained. Lastly, he laid aside his shield,
  which had received some little damage, and received another
  from his squires. His first had only borne the general
  device of his order, representing two knights riding upon one
  horse, an emblem expressive of the original humility and            20
  poverty of the Templars, qualities which they had since
  exchanged for the arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned
  their suppression. Bois-Guilbert's new shield bore
  a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing
  the motto _Gare le Corbeau_.                                        25

  When the two champions stood opposed to each other
  at the two extremities of the lists, the public expectation
  was strained to the highest pitch. Few augured the possibility
  that the encounter could terminate well for the
  Disinherited Knight, yet his courage and gallantry secured          30
  the general good wishes of the spectators.

  The trumpets had no sooner given the signal than the
  champions vanished from their posts with the speed of
  lightning and closed in the center of the lists with the
  shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into shivers up
  to the very grasp and it seemed at the moment that both
  knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil         5
  backwards upon its haunches. The address of the riders
  recovered their steeds by use of the bridle and spur; and
  having glared on each other for an instant with eyes which
  seemed to flash fire through the bars of their visors, each
  made a demivolt, and retiring to the extremity of the               10
  lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.

  A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and
  handkerchiefs, and general acclamations, attested the interest
  taken by the spectators in this encounter; the most equal,
  as well as the best performed, which had graced the day.            15
  But no sooner had the knights resumed their station
  than the clamor of applause was hushed into a silence so
  deep and so dead that it seemed the multitude were afraid
  even to breathe.

  A few minutes' pause having been allowed, that the                  20
  combatants and their horses might recover breath, Prince
  John with his truncheon signed to the trumpets to sound
  the onset. The champions a second time sprung from their
  stations and closed in the center of the lists, with the same
  speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the           25
  same equal fortune as before.

  In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the center
  of his antagonist's shield and struck it so fair and forcibly
  that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight
  reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that champion              30
  had, in the beginning of his career, directed the point of his
  lance toward Bois-Guilbert's shield, but changing his aim
  almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it to the
  helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
  rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true, he
  hit the Norman on the visor, where his lance's point kept
  hold of the bars.                                                    5

  Yet, even at this disadvantage, the Templar sustained
  his high reputation; and had not the girths of his saddle
  burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As it chanced,
  however, saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under
  a cloud of dust.                                                    10

  To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed
  was to the Templar scarce the work of a moment; and,
  stung with madness, both at his disgrace and at the acclamations
  with which it was hailed by the spectators, he
  drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.           15
  The Disinherited Knight sprang from his steed and also
  unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the field, however,
  spurred their horses between them and reminded them
  that the laws of the tournament did not, on the present
  occasion, permit this species of encounter.                         20

  "We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar,
  casting a resentful glance at his antagonist; "and where
  there are none to separate us."

  "If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault
  shall not be mine. On foot or horseback, with spear,                25
  with ax, or with sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee."

  More and angrier words would have been exchanged,
  but the marshals, crossing their lances betwixt them,
  compelled them to separate. The Disinherited Knight
  returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to his             30
  tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an
  agony of despair.

  Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called
  for a bowl of wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part
  of his helmet, announced that he quaffed it "To all true
  English hearts, and to the confusion of foreign tyrants."
  He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance to                 5
  the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them
  that he should make no election, but was willing to encounter
  them in the order in which they pleased to advance
  against him.

  The gigantic Front-de-Bœuf, armed in sable armor, was               10
  the first who took the field. He bore on a white shield a
  black bull's head, half defaced by the numerous encounters
  which he had undergone, and bearing the arrogant motto,
  _Cave, adsum_. Over this champion the Disinherited
  Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both               15
  knights broke their lances fairly, but Front-de-Bœuf, who
  lost a stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged to have the
  disadvantage.

  In the stranger's third encounter, with Sir Philip Malvoisin,
  he was equally successful; striking that baron so                   20
  forcibly on the casque that the laces of the helmet broke,
  and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by being unhelmeted,
  was declared vanquished like his companions.

  In his fourth combat, with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited
  Knight showed as much courtesy as he had                            25
  hitherto evinced courage and dexterity. De Grantmesnil's
  horse, which was young and violent, reared and plunged in
  the course of the career so as to disturb the rider's aim,
  and the stranger, declining to take the advantage which
  this accident afforded him, raised his lance, and passing           30
  his antagonist without touching him, wheeled his horse
  and rode back again to his own end of the lists, offering
  his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a second encounter.
  This De Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself
  vanquished as much by the courtesy as by the address of
  his opponent.

  Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's                 5
  triumphs, being hurled to the ground with such force that
  the blood gushed from his nose and his mouth and he was
  borne senseless from the lists.

  The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous
  award of the prince and marshals, announcing that day's             10
  honors to the Disinherited Knight.

                                              --_Ivanhoe._

         1. Describe the lists as Scott makes you see them.
         What was the order of proceeding at the outset?

         2. Who were the Norman knights upon whom Prince
         John relied to win the tournament? Which of these
         was considered the best lance?

         3. Where does the interest in the story begin
         suddenly to increase? How does Scott make the
         situation exciting?

         4. Describe the combat between Bois-Guilbert and
         the Disinherited Knight. Why did they not fight to
         a finish? What makes you think they do before the
         novel is finished? Tell of the succeeding combats
         in turn.

         5. As you have probably guessed, the Disinherited
         Knight is Ivanhoe. Did anybody present recognize
         him? How do you think Prince John felt at the
         outcome?

         6. _Gare le Corbeau_ means "Look out for the
         raven," a boast that the ravens would pick the
         bones of Brian's enemies. _Cave, adsum_ means
         "Beware, I am here." Select a list of ten other
         words or phrases for your classmates to explain.

         7. Report either on Scott's life and writings or on
         another chapter from _Ivanhoe_.



  THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM

         The Bible serves, first, as a great religious
         teacher. Second, it stands as a model of literature
         whose greatness is everywhere acknowledged. Men
         like John Bunyan and Abraham Lincoln learned to
         write their beautiful prose through their close,
         continued reading of the Scriptures. No finer
         poetry exists than the Psalms of David, among which
         the following is a favorite.


      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.                               5

      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                10
      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 forever.

                                                --_The Bible._

         1. This psalm should be among your collection of
         memory gems. Repeat it aloud in unison with the
         other members of your class. Why does it especially
         lend itself to being spoken?

         2. Palestine is a semiarid country. Why should
         David make the reference to "green pastures" and
         "still waters"? Why is there no mention of running
         brooks and woods?

         3. What is your understanding of lines 9-11?

         4. What does David mean to convey to his hearers in
         this psalm?



  DOUBTING CASTLE

  BY JOHN BUNYAN

         Books are like men: great ones are rare.
         Occasionally a book is written that affects the
         thinking of people for centuries. To this class
         belongs John Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_,
         published 1678-1684.

         It is the story of the journey of a man named
         Christian the Pilgrim, who travels from the City of
         Destruction to the Holy City. On this journey
         Christian is beset by all manner of terrors,
         temptations, and evils. The story is an allegory,
         portraying life and its struggles if one attempts
         to live righteously. Its language is that of the
         Bible. Its dialogue and characters seem real, and
         its narrative is full of action.


  Now I beheld in my dream that Christian and Hopeful
  had not journeyed far until they came where
  the river and the way parted, at which they were not a
  little sorry; yet they durst not go out of the way. Now
  the way from the river was rough, and their feet tender              5
  by reason of their travel; so the souls of the pilgrims were
  much discouraged because of the way. Wherefore, still
  as they went on, they wished for a better way.

  Now, a little before them, there was on the left hand of
  the road a meadow, and a stile to go over into it; and that         10
  meadow is called Bypath Meadow. Then said Christian
  to his fellow, "If this meadow lieth along by our wayside,
  let us go over into it." Then he went to the stile to see,
  and behold a path lay along by the way on the other side
  of the fence.                                                       15

  "'Tis according to my wish," said Christian; "here is
  the easiest going; come, good Hopeful, and let us go over."

  "But how if this path should lead us out of the way?"

  "That is not likely," said the other. "Look, doth it
  not go along by the wayside?"

  So Hopeful, being persuaded by his fellow, went after
  him over the stile. When they were gone over, and were               5
  got into the path, they found it very easy for their feet;
  and withal they, looking before them, espied a man walking
  as they did, and his name was Vain-Confidence: so
  they called after him, and asked him whither that way
  led.                                                                10

  He said, "To the Celestial Gate."

  "Look," said Christian, "did not I tell you so? By
  this you may see we are right."

  So they followed, and he went before them. But,
  behold, the night came on, and it grew very dark; so that           15
  they who were behind lost sight of him that went before.
  He, therefore, that went before--Vain-Confidence by
  name--not seeing the way before him, fell into a deep
  pit and was dashed in pieces with his fall.

  Now Christian and his fellow heard him fall; so they                20
  called to know the matter. But there was no answer,
  only they heard a groan.

  Then said Hopeful, "Where are we now?"

  Then was his fellow silent, as mistrusting that he had
  led him out of the way; and now it began to rain and                25
  thunder and lightning in a most dreadful manner, and the
  water rose amain, by reason of which the way of going
  back was very dangerous.

  Yet they adventured to go back; but it was so dark
  and the flood so high, that in their going back they had            30
  like to have been drowned nine or ten times. Neither
  could they, with all the skill they had, get back again to
  the stile that night. Wherefore, at last lighting under a
  little shelter, they sat down there until daybreak. But
  being weary, they fell asleep.

       *       *       *       *       *

  Now there was, not far from the place where they lay,
  a castle, called Doubting Castle, the owner whereof was              5
  Giant Despair; and it was in his grounds they now were
  sleeping. Wherefore he, getting up in the morning early,
  and walking up and down in his fields, caught Christian
  and Hopeful asleep in his grounds. Then with a grim and
  surly voice he bid them awake, and asked them whence                10
  they were and what they did in his grounds.

  They told him they were pilgrims, and that they had
  lost their way.

  Then said the giant, "You have this night trespassed
  on me, by trampling in and lying on my grounds, and therefore       15
  you must go along with me."

  So they were forced to go, because he was stronger
  than they. They also had but little to say, for they
  knew themselves in a fault. The giant, therefore, drove
  them before him and put them into his castle, in a very             20
  dark dungeon.

  Here, then, they lay from Wednesday morning till Saturday
  night, without one bit of bread, or drop of drink, or
  light, or any to ask how they did: they were, therefore,
  here in evil case, and were far from friends and acquaintance.      25

  Now Giant Despair had a wife, and her name was Diffidence.
  So, when he was gone to bed, he told his wife that
  he had taken a couple of prisoners, and had cast them into
  his dungeon for trespassing on his grounds. Then he asked
  her also what he had best do to them. So she asked him              30
  what they were, whence they came, and whither they
  were bound; and he told her. Then she counseled him
  that when he arose in the morning he should beat them
  without mercy.

  So when he arose, he getteth him a grievous crab-tree
  cudgel, and goes into the dungeon to them, and there first           5
  falls to rating of them as if they were dogs, although they
  never gave him an unpleasant word. Then he fell upon
  them and beat them fearfully, in such sort that they were
  not able to help themselves or to turn them upon the floor.
  This done he withdraws and leaves them there to condole             10
  their misery and to mourn under their distress. So all
  that day they spent their time in nothing but sighs and
  bitter lamentations.

  The next night she, talking with her husband further
  about them, and understanding that they were yet alive,             15
  did advise him to counsel them to make away with themselves.

  So, when morning was come, he goes to them in a
  surly manner as before, and perceiving them to be very
  sore with the stripes that he had given them the day before,        20
  he told them that, since they were never like to come out
  of that place, their only way would be forthwith to make
  an end of themselves, either with knife, halter, or poison.
  "For why," he said, "should you choose to live, seeing it
  is attended with so much bitterness?"                               25

  But they desired him to let them go. With that he
  looked ugly upon them, and rushing to them, had doubtless
  made an end of them himself, but that he fell into
  one of his fits and lost for a time the use of his hands.
  Wherefore he withdrew, and left them, as before, to                 30
  consider what to do.

  Then did the prisoners consult between themselves,
  whether it was best to take his counsel or no. But they
  soon resolved to reject it; for it would be very wicked to
  kill themselves; and, besides, something might soon
  happen to enable them to make their escape.

  Well, towards evening the giant goes down to the dungeon             5
  again, to see if his prisoners had taken his counsel; but
  when he came there, he found them alive. I say, he found
  them alive; at which he fell into a grievous rage, and told
  them that, seeing they had disobeyed his counsel, it should
  be worse with them than if they had never been born.                10

  At this they trembled greatly, and I think that Christian
  fell into a swoon; but, coming a little to himself again,
  they renewed their discourse about the giant's counsel,
  and whether yet they had best take it or no. Now Christian
  again seemed for doing it, but Hopeful reminded                     15
  him of the hardships and terrors he had already gone
  through, and said that they ought to bear up with patience
  as well as they could, and steadily reject the giant's
  wicked counsel.

  Now, night being come again, and the giant and his                  20
  wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the prisoners,
  and if they had taken his counsel. To this he replied,
  "They are sturdy rogues; they choose rather to bear all
  hardships than to make away with themselves."

  Then said she, "Take them into the castle yard to-morrow,           25
  and show them the bones and skulls of those that
  thou hast already dispatched, and make them believe thou
  wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows
  before them."

  So when morning has come, the giant goes to them again,             30
  and takes them into the castle yard, and shows them as his
  wife had bidden him. "These," said he, "were pilgrims,
  as you are, once, and they trespassed on my grounds,
  as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in
  pieces; and so within ten days I will do to you. Get
  you down to your den again."

  And with that he beat them all the way thither.                      5

  Now, when night was come, Mrs. Diffidence and her
  husband began to renew their discourse of their prisoners.
  The old giant wondered that he could neither by his blows
  nor by his counsel bring them to an end.

  And with that his wife replied. "I fear," said she, "that           10
  they live in hopes that some will come to relieve them,
  or that they have picklocks about them, by the means of
  which they hope to escape."

  "And sayest thou so, my dear?" said the giant. "I
  will therefore search them in the morning."                         15

  Well, on Saturday, about midnight, they began to pray,
  and continued in prayer till almost break of day.

  Now a little before it was day, good Christian, as one
  half amazed, broke out into a passionate speech: "What
  a fool am I, thus to lie in a dungeon! I have a key in              20
  my bosom, called Promise, that will, I am persuaded,
  open any lock in Doubting Castle."

  Then said Hopeful, "That's good news, good brother;
  pluck it out of thy bosom and try."

  Then Christian pulled it out of his bosom and began                 25
  to try at the dungeon door, whose bolt, as he turned the
  key, gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and
  Christian and Hopeful both came out.

  After that, he went to the iron gate, for that must be
  opened too, but that lock went desperately hard: yet the            30
  key did open it. Then they thrust open the gate to make
  their escape with speed; but that gate, as it opened, made
  such a creaking that it waked Giant Despair, who, hastily
  rising to pursue his prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his
  fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after
  them. Then they went on, and came to the King's highway
  again, and so were safe.                                             5

                                        --_Pilgrim's Progress._

         1. Who was traveling with Christian? What mishap
         first befell them? Why did it occur? What next did
         they encounter? What happened to the two in
         Doubting Castle?

         2. Explain what an allegory is. Remembering this is
         an allegory, what do you think each of the
         following represents in actual life: Bypath Meadow,
         Vain-Confidence, Doubting Castle, Giant Despair,
         Mrs. Diffidence, the key called Promise, the King's
         highway?

         3. What is the significance of the name of each of
         the two leading characters?

         4. Select and read aloud a short passage that
         reminds you of the Bible. In what way is the
         language of your passage like that of the Bible?

         5. John Bunyan (1628-1688) was an Englishman,
         believed to be the son of a gipsy tinker. He said
         his youth was very ungodly; but he married a
         religious woman and early became a preacher. At the
         same time he began to write books of a religious
         nature. Because he preached at "unlawful meetings"
         he was thrown into prison, where he remained for
         twelve years. It was while he was in the Bedford
         jail that he wrote the first part of _Pilgrim's
         Progress_, the book that has made his name one of
         the best loved in literature. After his release
         from prison, he became an elected pastor of the
         Baptist faith, and spent his remaining years in
         preaching and writing. What is there in the above
         extract that may reflect his experiences in
         Bedford?



  CHRISTMAS EVE AT FEZZIWIG'S

  BY CHARLES DICKENS


  Old Fezziwig in his warehouse laid down his pen
  and looked up at the clock, which pointed to the
  hour of seven. He rubbed his hands; adjusted his waistcoat;
  laughed all over himself, from his shoes to his organ                5
  of benevolence; and called out in a comfortable, oily, rich,
  fat, jovial voice:

  "Yo-ho, there! Ebenezer! Dick!"

  Ebenezer came briskly in, followed by his fellow
  'prentice.                                                          10

  "Yo-ho, my boys!" said Fezziwig. "No more work
  to-night. Christmas Eve, Dick! Christmas, Ebenezer!
  Let's have the shutters up," cried old Fezziwig, with a
  sharp clap of his hands, "before a man can say Jack
  Robinson."                                                          15

  You wouldn't believe how those two fellows went at it!
  They charged into the street with the shutters--one, two,
  three--had 'em in their places--four, five, six--barred
  'em and pinned 'em--seven, eight, nine--and came back
  before you could have got to twelve, panting like race              20
  horses.

  "Hilli-ho!" cried old Fezziwig, skipping down from his
  desk with wonderful agility. "Clear away, my lads, and
  let's have lots of room here! Hilli-ho, Dick! Chirrup,
  Ebenezer!"                                                          25

  Clear away? There was nothing they wouldn't have
  cleared away or couldn't have cleared away, with old
  Fezziwig looking on. It was done in a minute. Every
  movable was packed off, as if it were dismissed from public
  life forevermore. The floor was swept and watered, the
  lamps were trimmed, fuel was heaped upon the fire; and
  the warehouse was as snug and warm, and dry and bright,              5
  as any ballroom you would desire to see.

  In came a fiddler with a music book, and went up to the
  lofty desk, and made an orchestra of it. In came Mrs.
  Fezziwig, one vast substantial smile. In came the three
  Miss Fezziwigs, beaming and lovable. In came the six                10
  young followers whose hearts they broke. In came all
  the young men and young women employed in the business.
  In came the housemaid with her cousin the baker. In
  came the cook with her brother's particular friend the milkman
  In came the boy from over the way, who was                          15
  suspected of not having enough to eat from his master. In
  they all came, one after another--some shyly, some boldly,
  some gracefully, some awkwardly, some pushing, some
  pulling. In they all came, anyhow and everyhow.

  Away they all went, twenty couples at once; down the                20
  middle and up again; round and round in various stages
  of affectionate grouping; old top couple always turning up
  in the wrong place; new top couple starting off again as
  soon as they got there; all top couples at last, and not a
  bottom one to help them!                                            25

  When this result was brought about, old Fezziwig,
  clapping his hands to stop the dance, cried out, "Well
  done!" Then there were more dances, and there were
  forfeits, and more dances; and there was cake, and there
  was a great piece of cold roast, and there was a great piece        30
  of cold boiled, and there were mince pies and other delicacies.
  But the great effect of the evening came after
  the roast and the boiled, when the fiddler, artful dog, struck
  up _Sir Roger de Coverley_. Then old Mr. Fezziwig stood
  out to dance with Mrs. Fezziwig. Top couple, too, with
  a good stiff piece of work cut out for them; three or
  four and twenty pair of partners; people who were not to             5
  be trifled with--people who would dance and had no
  notion of walking.

  But if they had been twice as many--aye, four times--old
  Mr. Fezziwig would have been a match for them and
  so would Mrs. Fezziwig. As to _her_, she was worthy to              10
  be his partner in every sense of the term. If that's not
  high praise, tell me higher and I'll use it. . . . And when
  Mr. Fezziwig and Mrs. Fezziwig had gone all through the
  dance--advance and retire, both hands to your partner,
  bow and curtsy, thread the needle, and back to your place--Fezziwig 15
  "cut" so deftly that he appeared to wink with
  his legs, and came upon his feet again without a stagger.

  When the clock struck eleven this domestic ball broke up.
  Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig took their stations one on either
  side of the door, and shaking hands with every person               20
  individually as he or she went out, wished him or her a
  Merry Christmas. When everybody had retired but the
  two apprentices they did the same to them; and thus the
  cheerful voices died away and the lads were left to their
  beds--which were under a counter in the back shop.                  25

                                       --_A Christmas Carol._

         1. _A Christmas Carol_ is a story everybody should
         read and re-read. Why do you think it is so
         popular? What is there about this selection that is
         likable? How does it reflect the joy of the
         Christmas season?

         2. List the books you know that Dickens wrote.
         Which have you read? Find some interesting facts
         about Dickens's life and report these to the class.



  JEAN VALJEAN MEETS THE BISHOP

  BY VICTOR HUGO

         Victor Hugo (1802-1885), poet, dramatist, and
         novelist, dominated the literature of France during
         the nineteenth century. His novel, _Les
         Misérables_, written in 1862, during Hugo's long
         political exile, exemplifies his extensive
         knowledge of the deplorable conditions of life in
         France at that time, his understanding of the human
         heart, and his marvelous literary ability.

         In the following extract from _Les Misérables_, the
         most famous character of the book, Jean Valjean, an
         ex-convict, takes his first step toward final
         regeneration by meeting Bishop D. The Bishop, known
         also as Monseigneur Welcome, voluntarily lived a
         simple and austere life with his sister and old
         housekeeper, but had humored his one weakness by
         retaining his table silver and handsome silver
         candlesticks.

         Valjean is speaking to the Bishop at the beginning
         of the extract.


  "You! Listen! I am Jean Valjean, the galley slave.
  I was nineteen years in prison. Four days ago
  they let me out and I started for Pontarlier. I have been
  tramping for four days since I left Toulon, and to-day I
  walked twelve leagues. When I came into the town this                5
  evening I went to the inn, but because of my yellow passport
  that I had shown at the police office, they drove me
  out. Then I went to the other inn and the landlord said
  to me, 'Off with you!' Everywhere it was the same;
  no one would have anything to do with me. Even the                  10
  jailer of the prison would not take me in. So I was lying
  on a stone in the square, when a good woman came along
  and she said to me, pointing to this place, 'Knock there.
  They will take you in.' What is this? Is it an inn? I
  have money--all that I earned in the prison for nineteen
  years--109 francs and 15 sous. I will pay. I am terribly
  tired and almost famished. Will you let me stay here?"

  "Madame Magloire," said the Bishop to his aged housekeeper,
  "you will please lay another place for supper."                      5

  Jean Valjean shuffled to the table where the lamp stood.
  He took a large yellow paper from his pocket and unfolded
  it. "Wait," he said, "You don't seem to understand. I
  am a galley slave, a convict, just from prison. This is
  my yellow passport which makes everyone drive me away.              10
  You must read it. I can read it myself; I learned to
  read in the prison, where they have a class for those that
  want to learn. This is what it says on my yellow paper:
  'Jean Valjean, a liberated convict, has been nineteen years
  at the galleys. Five years for burglary, fourteen years             15
  for having tried four times to escape. A very dangerous
  man.' Now, will you turn me away like all the others,
  or will you give me food and a bed? Perhaps you have
  a stable?"

  "Madame Magloire," said the Bishop, "kindly put clean               20
  sheets on our extra bed in the alcove."

  Madame Magloire left the room at once to carry out
  these instructions. The Bishop turned to the ex-convict,
  saying, "Draw a chair to the fire, sir, we shall eat presently.
  Your bed will be prepared while we are at supper."                  25

       *       *       *       *       *

  After bidding good-night to his sister and Madame Magloire,
  the Bishop took one of the silver candlesticks and
  handing the other to his guest, Jean Valjean, he said, "I
  will conduct you to your room, sir. I trust you will have
  a good night's rest. To-morrow morning, before you leave,           30
  you will drink a glass of milk from our cow."

  As the cathedral bell struck two, Jean Valjean awoke.
  The strange sensation of sleeping in a comfortable bed once
  more, after nineteen years of life in the galleys, disturbed
  his sleep. His first weariness had worn off after a few
  hours of deep sleep. After looking into the darkness                 5
  about him, he tried to sleep again. When many agitating
  sensations have filled a man's day, and still preoccupy his
  mind, he may fall asleep once, but he cannot go to sleep a
  second time. So sleep had come to Jean Valjean, but would
  not return to him, and he lay awake thinking.                       10

  His mind was filled with troubled ideas, which seemed
  to float in a kind of obscurity. His old recollections and
  recent experiences became confused, lost their identity,
  grew out of proportion, dwindled, then disappeared entirely,
  all in a distressing vagueness. But one thought persistently        15
  returned, to the exclusion of all the others. It was this:
  the six silver forks and spoons and the handsome silver
  ladle were in the next room, only a few yards from him. He
  had seen Madame Magloire put them into a small cupboard
  in the adjoining room, on the right as you came from                20
  the dining room. It was fine, old silver--the ladle alone
  must be worth at least 200 francs, which was twice as
  much as he had earned during his nineteen years in the
  galleys.

  For one hour his mind was occupied with this absorbing              25
  theme--weighing, wavering, even struggling. Suddenly
  at the stroke of three, he sat upright, reached out for his
  knapsack, which he had thrown into a corner, and found
  himself, to his surprise, seated on the edge of the bed. He
  sat thus for a while, deep in thought; then stooped, took           30
  off his shoes; then once more resumed his thoughts, sitting
  motionless. During this period, he again had the sensation
  of all his old and new experiences crossing and recrossing
  each other in his mind and weighing upon him. He was
  thinking of an old companion of the galleys, recalling his
  queer mannerisms, when the clock struck the quarter or
  half hour, seeming to call to him "To work!"                         5

  He stood up and listened. The house was absolutely
  silent. He tiptoed to the window and looked out. The
  wind was driving heavy clouds across a full moon, producing
  alternate light and darkness, within and without. Jean
  Valjean examined the window; it was closed by a small peg,          10
  had no bars, and looked upon the little garden. He opened
  it, but closed it again promptly upon the sharp cold wind
  that entered. A study of the garden showed it to be inclosed
  by a low whitewashed wall, and a view of treetops
  at regular intervals beyond indicated a public walk.                15

  This study being completed, Jean Valjean returned to
  the alcove, drew from his knapsack an iron bar which he
  placed on the bed, put his shoes in a compartment of his
  knapsack, which he then lifted to his shoulders, drew his
  cap down over his eyes, took his stick from the corner, and         20
  finally returning to the bed, took up the article which he
  had laid there.

       *       *       *       *       *

  At sunrise the following morning, the Bishop was walking
  as usual in his little garden, when Madame Magloire
  came hurrying toward him in the greatest excitement.                25

  "Monseigneur," she exclaimed, "all our table silver is
  stolen and the man is gone."

  Just then, glancing at the corner of the garden, she saw
  that the coping of the wall had been broken away.

  "Look at the wall! He must have climbed over into the               30
  lane! And all our silver stolen! What a crime!"

  After a moment's silence, the Bishop said earnestly to
  Madame Magloire,

  "As a matter of fact, was the silver really ours?"

  The old housekeeper stood speechless. The Bishop
  continued,                                                           5

  "It was wrong of me to keep that silver; it belonged
  rightfully to the poor. And that man was a poor man,
  surely."

  "Oh, Monseigneur!" murmured Madame Magloire,
  "neither Mademoiselle your sister, nor I, care about the            10
  silver. It was only for you. What will Monseigneur eat
  with now?"

  "Are not pewter forks and spoons to be had?" said the
  Bishop.

  "Pewter smells," said Madame Magloire.                              15

  "Then iron?" continued the Bishop.

  "Iron has a bad taste," and Madame Magloire grimaced
  expressively.

  "That still leaves wood," exclaimed the Bishop triumphantly.
  Later, at breakfast, the Bishop jokingly commented                  20
  to his silent sister and grumbling housekeeper, that
  for a breakfast of bread and milk even a wooden fork was
  unnecessary.

  "Just think of it," muttered Madame Magloire as she
  trotted back and forth between the dining room and kitchen,         25
  "to take in a convict like that, and let him eat and sleep
  with decent people. It's lucky that he didn't do worse
  than steal. It terrifies one just to think of what might have
  happened."

  At the moment that the Bishop and his sister were                   30
  leaving the table, there was a knock at the door.

  "Enter," said the Bishop.

  The door opened, and there appeared three gendarmes
  holding a man by the collar. The man was Jean Valjean.
  The leader of the party, a corporal, saluted the Bishop.

  "Monseigneur," he began.

  Jean Valjean looked up, dazed.                                       5

  "Monseigneur!" he muttered, "then this is not an inn.
  He is not just a priest!"

  "Silence," commanded the corporal. "This is Monseigneur
  the Bishop."

  The aged Bishop was making his way to Jean Valjean as               10
  rapidly as he could.

  "Ah, here you are again," he said, "I am glad to see
  you. You know I gave you the candlesticks, too. Why
  did you not take them? They are worth at least 200
  francs. You should have taken them along with the plate             15
  silver."

  Words cannot describe the expression in the eyes of Jean
  Valjean as he gazed at the Bishop.

  "Then, Monseigneur, what this man says is true?" asked
  the corporal. "He looked as if he was escaping from somewhere,      20
  so we arrested him. And then we found this silver
  plate upon him."

  "And then," interrupted the Bishop, "he explained, of
  course, that an old priest at whose house he stayed last
  night gave him the plate? I see. And you brought him                25
  back. You were wrong."

  "Then we are to let him go?" asked the corporal.

  "Certainly," replied the Bishop.

  Jean Valjean was released. He staggered back.

  "Is it true that I am free?" he murmured weakly.                    30

  "Yes, of course. And my friend," the Bishop continued,
  "take the candlesticks with you this time."

  Going to the mantelpiece, he took down the two candlesticks
  and brought them to Jean Valjean. The two
  women watched, speechless, but made no sign of dissent.
  Jean Valjean was trembling; he took the candlesticks
  mechanically, as if in a dream.                                      5

  "Depart in peace," said the Bishop, "and, by the way,
  when you come again, enter by the front door; it is only
  latched."

  Turning to the gendarmes, he said, "Gentlemen, it is
  unnecessary for you to remain."                                     10

  The gendarmes retired.

  Jean Valjean seemed unable to recover his senses; he
  felt himself about to faint, when the Bishop approached
  and said to him, in a very low voice,

  "Remember always, my friend, that I have your promise               15
  to use this money to become an honest man."

  Jean Valjean, unconscious of having made a promise of
  any kind, remained silent.

  With great solemnity, the Bishop continued, in a low
  but firm voice:                                                     20

  "Jean Valjean, henceforth you belong only to good.
  Your soul I have bought and herewith I banish from it all
  black thoughts and the spirit of Evil, and give it to Good."

                                          --_Les Misérables._

         1. Who are the two characters that come into
         contact here? Tell what each is like. What, in a
         way, does each represent?

         2. Did Valjean have any intention of robbing anyone
         when he asked for lodging? Was Valjean accountable
         for the theft? Discuss fully.

         3. Where is the point of highest dramatic interest?
         If you were painting a scene from the selection,
         which would you select?

         4. Explain why the Bishop did what he did in the
         final scene.



  A VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT

  BY JONATHAN SWIFT

         The adventures of Captain Lemuel Gulliver, as told
         by Swift in _Gulliver's Travels_, have been read
         with delight for two hundred years. Gulliver first
         lands in Lilliput and has thrilling adventures
         among the little people. Then he visits
         Brobdingnag, the land of giants. His third voyage
         takes him to Laputa, where he sees the
         philosophers; and on the fourth he visits the land
         of the Houyhnhnms. The last two voyages are not so
         entertaining as the first two, which are classics.


  We set sail from Bristol May 4th, 1699, and our voyage
  at first was very prosperous. It would not be
  proper, for some reasons, to trouble the reader with the
  particulars of our adventures in those seas; let it suffice to
  inform him that in our passage from thence to the East               5
  Indies we were driven by a violent storm to the northwest
  of Van Diemen's Land. By an observation we found ourselves
  in the latitude of thirty degrees, two minutes, south.
  Twelve of our crew were dead by immoderate labor and ill
  food, and the rest were in a very weak condition.                   10

  On the fifth of November, which was the beginning of
  summer in those parts, the weather being very hazy, the
  seamen spied a rock within half a cable's length of the ship;
  but the wind was so strong that we were driven directly
  upon it and immediately split. Six of the crew, of whom             15
  I was one, having let down the boat into the sea, made a
  shift to get clear of the ship and the rock. We rowed, by
  my computation, about three leagues, till we were able to
  work no longer, being already spent with labor while we
  were in the ship. We therefore trusted ourselves to the
  mercy of the waves, and in about half an hour the boat
  was overset by a sudden flurry from the north. What
  became of my companions in the boat, as well as those
  who escaped on the rock or were left in the vessel, I cannot         5
  tell; but conclude they were all lost.

  For my own part I swam as fortune directed me, and was
  pushed forward by wind and tide. I often let my legs
  drop, and could feel no bottom; but when I was almost
  gone, and able to struggle no longer, I found myself within         10
  my depth, and by this time the storm was much abated.
  The declivity was so small that I walked near a mile before
  I got to the shore, which I reached, as I conjectured, at about
  eight o'clock in the evening. I then advanced forward near
  half a mile, but could not discover any sign of houses or           15
  inhabitants; at least I was in so weak a condition that I
  did not observe them. I was extremely tired, and with
  that, and the heat of the weather, and about half a pint
  of brandy that I drank as I left the ship, I found myself
  much inclined to sleep. I lay down on the grass, which was          20
  very short and soft, where I slept sounder than ever I
  remember to have done in my life, and, as I reckoned, above
  nine hours; for when I awaked it was just daylight. I
  attempted to rise, but was not able to stir; for as I happened
  to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs were strongly           25
  fastened on each side to the ground; and my hair, which
  was long and thick, tied down in the same manner. I likewise
  felt several slender ligatures across my body, from my
  armpits to my thighs. I could only look upwards, the
  sun began to grow hot, and the light offended my eyes.              30
  I heard a confused noise about me, but in the posture in
  which I lay, I could see nothing except the sky.

  In a little time I felt something alive moving on my
  left leg, which advancing gently forward over my breast,
  came almost up to my chin, when bending mine eyes downward
  as much as I could I perceived it to be a human creature
  not six inches high, with a bow and arrow in his                     5
  hands, and a quiver at his back. In the meantime I
  felt at least forty more of the same kind (as I conjectured)
  following the first. I was in the utmost astonishment, and
  roared so loud that they all ran back in a fright; and some
  of them, as I was afterwards told, were hurt with the falls         10
  they got by leaping from my sides upon the ground. However
  they soon returned, and one of them, who ventured
  so far as to get a full sight of my face, lifting up his hands
  and eyes by way of admiration, cried out in a shrill but
  distinct voice, "_Hekinah degul_"; and others repeated the     15
  same words several times, but I then knew not what they
  meant. I lay all this while, as the reader may believe, in
  great uneasiness.

  At length, struggling to get loose, I had the fortune to
  break the strings and wrench out the pegs that fastened             20
  my left arm to the ground; for, by lifting it up to my face,
  I discovered the methods they had taken to bind me; and,
  at the same time, with a violent pull which gave me
  excessive pain, I a little loosened the strings that tied down
  my hair on the left side, so that I was just able to turn my        25
  head about two inches; but the creatures ran off a second
  time, before I could seize them, whereupon there was a
  great shout in a very shrill accent, and after it ceased I
  heard one of them cry aloud, "_Tolgo phonac_," when in an
  instant I felt above a hundred arrows discharged on my              30
  left hand, which pricked me like so many needles; and,
  besides, they shot another flight into the air, as we do bombs
  in Europe, whereof many, I suppose, fell on my body
  (though I felt them not) and some on my face, which I
  immediately covered with my left hand. When this shower
  was over, I fell a groaning with grief and pain; and then
  striving again to get loose, they discharged another volley          5
  larger than the first, and some of them attempted with
  spears to stick me in the sides; but, by good luck, I had
  on me a buff jerkin, which they could not pierce.

  I thought it the most prudent method to lie still, and
  my design was to continue so till night, when my left hand          10
  being already loose I could easily free myself. And as for
  the inhabitants, I had reason to believe I might be a match
  for the greatest armies they could bring against me, if
  they were all of the same size with him that I saw. But
  fortune disposed otherwise of me. When the people                   15
  observed I was quiet, they discharged no more arrows;
  but by the noise I heard I knew their numbers increased;
  and about four yards from me, over against my right ear,
  I heard a knocking for above an hour, like that of people at
  work; when, turning my head that way as well as the pegs            20
  and strings would permit me, I saw a stage erected about a
  foot and a half from the ground, capable of holding four
  of the inhabitants, with two or three ladders to mount it,
  from whence one of them, who seemed to be a person of
  quality, made me a long speech, whereof I understood not            25
  one syllable. But I should have mentioned that before
  the principal person began his oration he cried out three
  times, "_Langro dehlsan_" (these words and the former were
  afterwards repeated and explained to me), whereupon immediately
  about fifty of the inhabitants came and cut the                     30
  strings that fastened the left side of my head, which gave
  me the liberty of turning it to the right and of observing
  the person and gesture of him that was to speak. He
  appeared to be of a middle age, and taller than any of
  the other three who attended him, whereof one was a
  page that held up his train, and seemed to be somewhat
  longer than my middle finger; the other two stood one                5
  on each side to support him. He acted every part of an
  orator, and I could observe many periods of threatenings,
  and others of promises, pity, and kindness. I answered
  in a few words, but in the most submissive manner, lifting
  up my left hand and both mine eyes to the sun, as                   10
  calling him for a witness: and being almost famished
  with hunger, having not eaten a morsel for some hours before
  I left the ship, I found the demands of nature so
  strong upon me that I could not forbear showing my
  impatience (perhaps against the strict rules of decency)            15
  by putting my finger frequently on my mouth, to signify
  that I wanted food. The _hurgo_ (for so they call a
  great lord, as I afterwards learned) understood me very
  well.

  He descended from the stage, and commanded that                     20
  several ladders should be applied to my side on which above
  a hundred of the inhabitants mounted, and walked toward
  my mouth, laden with baskets full of meat, which had been
  provided and sent thither by the king's orders upon the
  first intelligence he received of me. I observed there was          25
  the flesh of several animals, but could not distinguish
  them by the taste. There were shoulders, legs, and loins,
  shaped like those of mutton, and very well dressed, but
  smaller than the wings of a lark. I ate them by two or
  three at a mouthful, and took three loaves at a time about          30
  the bigness of musket bullets. They supplied me as fast
  as they could, showing a thousand marks of wonder and
  astonishment at my bulk and appetite. I then made another
  sign that I wanted drink. They found by my eating
  that a small quantity would not suffice me, and, being a most
  ingenious people, they flung up with great dexterity one of
  their largest hogsheads; then rolled it toward my hand,              5
  and beat out the top; I drank it off at a draft, which I
  might well do, for it did not hold half a pint and tasted
  like a small wine of Burgundy, but much more delicious.
  They brought me a second hogshead, which I drank in the
  same manner and made signs for more, but they had none              10
  to give me. When I had performed these wonders they
  shouted for joy, and danced upon my breast, repeating
  several times, as they did at first, "_Hekinah degul_."
  They made me a sign that I should throw down the two
  hogsheads, but first warning the people below to stand out          15
  of the way, crying aloud, "_Borach mivola_"; and when they
  saw the vessels in the air, there was an universal shout of
  "_Hekinah degul_." I confess I was often tempted, while
  they were passing backward and forward on my body, to
  seize forty or fifty of the first that came in my reach, and        20
  dash them against the ground. But the remembrance of
  what I had felt, which probably might not be the worst
  they could do, and the promise of honor I made them, for
  so I interpreted my submissive behavior, soon drove out
  these imaginations. Besides, I now considered myself as             25
  bound by the laws of hospitality to a people who had treated
  me with so much expense and magnificence. However,
  in my thoughts I could not sufficiently wonder at the intrepidity
  of these diminutive mortals, who durst venture to
  mount and walk upon my body, while one of my hands was              30
  at liberty, without trembling at the very sight of so prodigious
  a creature as I must appear to them.

  After some time, when they observed that I made no more
  demand for meat, there appeared before me a person of
  high rank from His Imperial Majesty. His Excellency having
  mounted on the small of my right leg, advanced forward,
  up to my face, with about a dozen of his retinue, and                5
  producing his credentials under the signet royal, which he
  applied close to mine eyes, spoke about ten minutes,
  without any signs of anger, but with a kind of determinate
  resolution, often pointing forward, which, as I afterward
  found, was toward the capital city, about half a mile distant,      10
  whither it was agreed by His Majesty in council that
  I must be conveyed. I answered in a few words, but to
  no purpose, and made a sign with my hand that was loose,
  putting it to the other (but over His Excellency's head
  for fear of hurting him or his train) and then to my own head       15
  and body, to signify that I desired my liberty. It appeared
  that he understood me well enough, for he shook his head by
  way of disapprobation, and held his hand in a posture to show
  that I must be carried as a prisoner. However, he made
  other signs to let me understand that I should have meat and        20
  drink enough, and very good treatment: whereupon I
  once more thought of attempting to break my bonds, but
  again, when I felt the smart of their arrows upon my face
  and hands, which were all in blisters, and many of the darts
  still sticking in them, and observing likewise that the             25
  number of my enemies increased, I gave tokens to let them
  know that they might do with me what they pleased. Upon
  this the _hurgo_ and his train withdrew with much civility
  and cheerful countenances.

  Soon after I heard a general shout, with frequent repetition        30
  of the words "_Peplom selan_," and I felt great
  numbers of the people on my left side relaxing the cords to
  such a degree that I was able to turn upon my right. But
  before this they had daubed my face and both my hands
  with a sort of ointment very pleasant to the smell, which in
  a few minutes removed all the smart of their arrows.
  These circumstances, added to the refreshment I had                  5
  received by their victuals and drink, which were very
  nourishing, disposed me to sleep. I slept about eight hours
  as I was afterward assured; and it was no wonder, for the
  physicians, by the emperor's order, had mingled a sleeping
  potion in the hogsheads of wine.                                    10

  It seems that upon the first moment I was discovered
  sleeping on the ground after my landing, the emperor
  had early notice of it by an express, and determined in
  council that I should be tied in the manner I have related
  (which was done in the night while I slept), that plenty of         15
  meat and drink should be sent to me, and a machine
  prepared to carry me to the capital city.

  This resolution perhaps may appear very bold and
  dangerous, and I am confident would not be imitated by
  any prince in Europe on the like occasion; however, in              20
  my opinion it was extremely prudent as well as generous.
  For supposing these people had endeavored to kill me with
  their spears and arrows while I was asleep, I should certainly
  have awaked with the first sense of smart, which
  might so far have roused my rage and strength as to have            25
  enabled me to break the strings wherewith I was tied;
  after which, as they were not able to make resistance,
  so they could expect no mercy.

  These people are most excellent mathematicians, and
  arrived to a great perfection in mechanics by the countenance       30
  and encouragement of the emperor, who is a renowned
  patron of learning. This prince hath several
  machines fixed on wheels for the carriage of trees and other
  great weights. He often builds his largest men of war,
  whereof some are nine feet long, in the woods where the
  timber grows, and has them carried on these engines three
  or four hundred yards to the sea. Five hundred carpenters            5
  and engineers were immediately set at work to prepare the
  greatest engine they had. It was a frame of wood raised
  three inches from the ground, about seven feet long and
  four wide, moving upon twenty-two wheels. The shout
  I heard was upon the arrival of this engine, which it seems         10
  set out in four hours after my landing. It was brought
  parallel to me as I lay. But the principal difficulty was to
  raise and place me in this vehicle. Eighty poles, each of
  one foot high, were erected for this purpose, and very strong
  cords of the bigness of packthread were fastened by hooks           15
  to many bandages, which the workmen had girt round my
  neck, my hands, my body, and my legs. Nine hundred of
  the strongest men were employed to draw up these cords
  by many pulleys fastened on the poles, and thus in less
  than three hours, I was raised and flung into the engine,           20
  and there tied fast. All this I was told, for while the whole
  operation was performing, I lay in a profound sleep, by
  the force of that soporiferous medicine infused into my
  liquor. Fifteen hundred of the emperor's largest horses,
  each about four inches and a half high, were employed to            25
  draw me toward the metropolis, which, as I said, was
  half a mile distant.

  About four hours after we began our journey, I awaked
  by a very ridiculous accident; for the carriage being stopped
  a while to adjust something that was out of order, two or           30
  three of the young natives had the curiosity to see how I
  looked when I was asleep; they climbed up into the engine,
  and advancing very softly to my face, one of them, an
  officer in the guards, put the sharp end of his half-pike
  a good way into my left nostril, which tickled my nose like
  a straw, and made me sneeze violently; whereupon they
  stole off unperceived, and it was three weeks before I knew          5
  the cause of my awaking so suddenly. We made a long
  march the remaining part of that day, and rested that
  night with five hundred guards on each side of me, half
  with torches, and half with bows and arrows, ready to
  shoot me if I should offer to stir. The next morning at             10
  sunrise we continued our march, and arrived within two
  hundred yards of the city gates about noon. The emperor
  and all his court came out to meet us, but his great
  officers would by no means suffer His Majesty to endanger
  his person by mounting on my body.                                  15

  At the place where the carriage stopped, there stood an
  ancient temple, esteemed to be the largest in the whole
  kingdom, which having been polluted some years before by
  an unnatural murder, was, according to the zeal of those
  people, looked on as profane, and therefore had been applied        20
  to common use, and all the ornaments and furniture carried
  away. In this edifice it was determined I should lodge.
  The great gate fronting to the north was about four feet
  high, and almost two feet wide, through which I could easily
  creep. On each side of the gate was a small window, not             25
  above six inches from the ground; into that on the left side
  the king's smiths conveyed fourscore and eleven chains,
  like those that hang to a lady's watch in Europe, and almost
  as large, which were locked to my left leg with six and
  thirty padlocks. Over against this temple, on the other side        30
  of the great highway, at twenty foot distance, there was a
  turret at least five foot high. Here the emperor ascended
  with at least twenty lords of his court, to have an opportunity
  of viewing me, as I was told, for I could not see
  them. It was reckoned that above an hundred thousand
  inhabitants came out of the town upon the same errand;
  and in spite of my guards, I believe there could not be fewer        5
  than ten thousand, at several times, who mounted upon my
  body by the help of ladders. But a proclamation was soon
  issued to forbid it upon pain of death. When the workmen
  found that it was impossible for me to break loose, they
  cut all the strings that bound me; whereupon I rose up              10
  with as melancholy a disposition as ever I had in my life.
  But the noise and astonishment of the people at seeing me
  rise and walk are not to be expressed. The chains that
  held my left leg were about two yards long, and gave me
  not only the liberty of walking backwards and forwards in           15
  a semicircle, but being fixed within four inches of the gate,
  allowed me to creep in, and lie at full length in the temple.

                                       --_Gulliver's Travels._

         1. Relate briefly what happened to Gulliver after
         he landed on Lilliput. What devices does Swift use
         to make this story appear real.

         2. Do the little people act exactly like people of
         our own kind?

         3. Swift was a master satirist; that is, he was
         constantly ridiculing people, things, or customs.
         Do you find any trace of satire in this selection?

         4. Pronounce, define, and use in sentences:
                      prosperous
                      league
                      inhabitant
                      pulley
                      perceived
                      violent
                      forty
                      soporiferous
                      syllable
                      morsel
                      dexterity
                      metropolis
                      intrepidity
                      diminutive
                      parallel
                      hospitality

         5. Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) was born and educated
         in Dublin, Ireland. Most of his manhood was spent
         in that country, where he figured prominently in
         political and religious affairs. In 1713 he was
         made dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral, Dublin.



  THE STRUGGLE IN THE ARENA

  BY HENRYK SIENKIEWICZ

         Nero was the emperor of Rome, A. D. 54-68. He was a
         wicked tyrant among whose crimes are the death of
         his first wife, the death of his own mother, and
         the murder of a second wife. Two thirds of the city
         of Rome was burned, and the emperor has been
         accused of having had the fire set so he could
         enjoy the sight. Be that as it may, Nero laid the
         blame on the Christians whom he persecuted. They
         were thrown into prison, fed to wild beasts in the
         arena, and burned on poles. Among the captives were
         the maid Lygia, and her faithful guard, Ursus.
         Vinicius, Lygia's lover, belonged to the Roman
         nobility. He had once tried to seize Lygia, but
         Ursus had foiled his plan by killing the attendant,
         Croton.


  The prefect of the city waved a red handkerchief, the
  hinges opposite Cæsar's podium creaked, and out of
  the dark gully came Ursus into the brightly lighted arena.

  The giant blinked, dazed evidently by the glitter of the
  arena; then he pushed into the center, gazing around as              5
  if to see what he had to meet. It was known to all the
  Augustans and to most of the spectators that he was the
  man who had stifled Croton; hence at sight of him a
  murmur passed along every bench. In Rome there was
  no lack of gladiators larger by far than the common                 10
  measure of man, but Roman eyes had never seen the like
  of Ursus. Cassius, standing in Cæsar's podium, seemed
  puny compared with that Lygian.

  Senators, vestals, Cæsar, the Augustans, and the people
  gazed with the delight of experts at his mighty limbs as            15
  large as tree trunks, at his breast as large as two shields
  joined together, and his arms of a Hercules. The murmur
  rose every instant. For those multitudes there could be
  no higher pleasure than to look at those muscles in play
  in the exertion of a struggle. The murmur rose to shouts,
  and eager questions were put: Where did the people live              5
  who could produce such a giant?

  He stood there, in the middle of the amphitheater, naked,
  more like a stone colossus than a man, with a collected
  expression, and at the same time the sad look of a barbarian;
  and while surveying the empty arena, he gazed                       10
  wonderingly with his blue childlike eyes, now at the spectators,
  now at Cæsar, now at the grating of the cunicula,
  whence, as he thought, his executioners would come.

  At that moment when he stepped into the arena his
  simple heart was beating for the last time with the hope            15
  that perhaps a cross was waiting for him; but when he
  saw neither the cross nor the hole in which it might be put,
  he thought that he was unworthy of such favor--that he
  would find death in another way, and surely from wild
  beasts. He was unarmed, and had determined to die as                20
  became a confessor of the "Lamb," peacefully and patiently.
  Meanwhile he wished to pray once more to the
  Savior; so he knelt on the arena, joined his hands, and
  raised his eyes toward the stars which were glittering in the
  lofty opening of the amphitheater.                                  25

  That act displeased the crowds. They had had enough
  of those Christians who died like sheep. They understood
  that if the giant would not defend himself the spectacle
  would be a failure. Here and there hisses were heard.
  Some began to cry for scourgers, whose office it was to             30
  lash combatants unwilling to fight. But soon all had
  grown silent, for no one knew what was waiting for the
  giant, nor whether he would not be ready to struggle when
  he met death eye to eye.

  In fact, they had not long to wait. Suddenly the shrill
  sound of brazen trumpets was heard, and at that signal a
  grating opposite Cæsar's podium was opened, and into the             5
  arena rushed, amid shouts of beast keepers, an enormous
  German aurochs, bearing on his head the naked body of a
  woman.

  "Lygia! Lygia!" cried Vinicius.

  Then he seized his hair near the temples, squirmed like a           10
  man who feels a sharp dart in his body, and began to
  repeat in hoarse accents:

  "I believe! I believe! O Christ, a miracle!"

  And he did not even feel that Petronius covered his
  head that moment with the toga. It seemed to him that               15
  death or pain had closed his eyes. He did not look, he did
  not see. The feeling of some awful emptiness possessed him.
  In his head there remained not a thought; his lips merely
  repeated, as if in madness,

  "I believe! I believe! I believe!"                                  20

  This time the amphitheater was silent. The Augustans
  rose in their places, as one man, for in the arena something
  uncommon had happened. That Lygian, obedient and
  ready to die, when he saw his queen on the horns of the
  wild beast sprang up as if touched by living fire, and              25
  bending forward he ran at the raging animal.

  From all breasts a sudden cry of amazement was heard,
  after which came deep silence.

  The Lygian fell on the raging bull in a twinkle, and seized
  him by the horns.                                                   30

  "Look!" cried Petronius, snatching the toga from the
  head of Vinicius.

  The latter rose; his face was as pale as linen, and he looked
  into the arena with a glassy, vacant stare.

  All breasts ceased to breathe. In the amphitheater a fly
  might be heard on the wing. People could not believe their
  own eyes. Since Rome was Rome, no one had seen such a                5
  spectacle.

  The Lygian held the wild beast by the horns. The man's
  feet sank in the sand to his ankles, his back was bent like a
  drawn bow, his head was hidden between his shoulders, on
  his arms the muscles came out so that the skin almost               10
  burst from their pressure; but he had stopped the bull in
  his tracks. And the man and the beast remained so still
  that the spectators thought themselves looking at a picture
  showing a deed of Hercules or Theseus, or a group hewn
  from stone.                                                         15

  But in that apparent repose there was a tremendous
  exertion of two struggling forces. The bull sank his feet
  as well as did the man in the sand, and his dark, shaggy
  body was curved so that it seemed a gigantic ball.
  Which of the two would fail first, which would fall first,--that    20
  was the question for those spectators enamored of such
  struggles; a question which at that moment meant more
  for them than their own fate, than all Rome and its lordship
  over the world.

  That Lygian was in their eyes then a demigod worthy of              25
  honor and statues. Cæsar himself stood up as well as
  others. He and Tigellinus, hearing of the man's strength,
  had arranged this spectacle purposely, and said to each
  other with a jeer, "Let that slayer of Croton kill the
  bull which we choose for him"; so they looked now with              30
  amazement at that picture as if not believing that it
  could be real.

  In the amphitheater were men who had raised their
  arms and remained in that posture. Sweat covered the
  faces of others, as if they themselves were struggling with
  the beast. In the Circus nothing was heard save the
  sound of flame in the lamps, and the crackle of bits of coal         5
  as they dropped from the torches. Their voices died on
  the lips of the spectators, but their hearts were beating
  in their breasts as if to split them. It seemed to all that
  the struggle was lasting for ages. But the man and the
  beast continued on in their monstrous exertion; one                 10
  might have said that they were planted in the earth.

  Meanwhile a dull roar resembling a groan was heard from
  the arena, after which a brief shout was wrested from every
  breast, and again there was silence. People thought
  themselves dreaming till the enormous head of the bull              15
  began to turn in the iron hands of the barbarian. The
  face, neck, and arms of the Lygian grew purple; his back
  bent still more. It was clear that he was rallying the
  remnant of his superhuman strength, but that he could
  not last long.                                                      20

  Duller and duller, hoarser and hoarser, more and more
  painful grew the groan of the bull as it mingled with the
  whistling breath from the breast of the giant. The head of
  the beast turned more and more, and from his jaws came a
  long, foaming tongue.                                               25

  A moment more, and to the ears of spectators sitting
  nearer came as it were the crack of breaking bones; then the
  beast rolled on the earth with his neck twisted in death.

  The giant removed in a twinkle the ropes from the horns
  of the bull, and, raising the maiden, began to breathe              30
  hurriedly. His face became pale, his hair stuck together
  from sweat, his shoulders and arms seemed flooded with
  water. For a moment he stood as if only half conscious;
  then he raised his eyes and looked at the spectators.

  The amphitheater had gone wild.

  The walls of the building were trembling from the roar of
  tens of thousands of people. Since the beginning of spectacles       5
  there was no memory of such excitement. Those
  who were sitting on the highest rows came down, crowding
  in the passages between benches to look more nearly at the
  strong man. Everywhere were heard cries for mercy,
  passionate and persistent, which soon turned into one               10
  unbroken thunder. That giant had become dear to those
  people enamored of physical strength; he was the first
  personage in Rome.

  He understood that the multitudes were striving to grant
  him his life and restore him his freedom, but clearly his           15
  thought was not on himself alone. He looked around
  awhile; then approached Cæsar's podium, and holding
  the body of the maiden on his outstretched arms, raised his
  eyes with entreaty, as if to say,

  "Have mercy on her! Save the maiden. I did that for                 20
  her sake!"

  The spectators understood perfectly what he wanted.
  At sight of the unconscious maiden, who near the enormous
  Lygian seemed a child, emotion seized the multitude of
  senators and knights. Her slender form, as white as if              25
  chiseled from alabaster, her fainting, the dreadful danger
  from which the giant had freed her, and finally her beauty
  and attachment had moved every heart. Some thought
  the man a father begging mercy for his child. Pity burst
  forth suddenly, like a flame. They had had blood, death,            30
  and torture in sufficiency. Voices choked with tears began
  to entreat mercy for both.

  Meanwhile, Ursus, holding the girl in his arms, moved
  around the arena, and with his eyes and with motions begged
  her life for her. Now Vinicius started up from his seat,
  sprang over the barrier which separated the front places
  from the arena, and, running to Lygia, covered her naked             5
  body with his toga.

  Then he tore apart the tunic on his breast, laid bare the
  scars left by wounds received in the Armenian war, and
  stretched out his hands to the audience.

  Then the enthusiasm of the multitude passed everything              10
  seen in a circus before. The crowd stamped and howled.
  Voices calling for mercy grew simply terrible. People not
  only took the part of the athlete, but rose in defense of the
  soldier, the maiden, their love. Thousands of spectators
  turned to Cæsar with flashes of anger in their eyes and with        15
  clinched fists.

  But Cæsar halted and hesitated. Against Vinicius he
  had no hatred indeed, and the death of Lygia did not
  concern him; but he preferred to see the body of the maiden
  rent by the horns of the bull or torn by the claws of beasts.       20
  His cruelty, his deformed imagination and deformed desires,
  found a kind of delight in such spectacles. And now the
  people wanted to rob him. Hence anger appeared on his
  bloated face. Self-love also would not let him yield to the
  wish of the multitude, and still he did not dare to oppose          25
  it, through his inborn cowardice.

  So he gazed around to see if, among the Augustans at
  least, he could not find fingers turned down in sign of death.
  But Petronius held up his hand, and looked almost challengingly
  into Nero's face. Vestinius, superstitious but                      30
  inclined to enthusiasm, a man who feared ghosts but not
  the living, gave a sign for mercy also.

  Then Nero turned to the place where command over the
  pretorians was held by the stern Subrius Flavius, hitherto
  devoted with whole soul to him, and saw something unusual.
  The face of the old tribune was stern, but covered with
  tears, and he was holding his hand up in sign of mercy.              5

  Now rage began to possess the multitude. Dust rose
  from beneath the stamping feet, and filled the amphitheater.
  In the midst of shouts were heard cries: "Ahenobarbus!
  Matricide! Incendiary!"

  Nero was alarmed. The people were absolute lords in the             10
  Circus. He wanted their favor on his side against the
  senate and the patricians, and especially after the burning
  of Rome he strove by all means to win it, and turn their
  anger against the Christians. He understood, besides,
  that to oppose longer was simply dangerous. A disturbance           15
  begun in the Circus might seize the whole city, and have
  results incalculable. And seeing everywhere frowning brows,
  moved faces, and eyes fixed on him, he gave the sign for
  mercy.

                                             --_Quo Vadis._

         1. At about what time is this story laid? Where?
         Compare its setting with that of "The Lists at
         Ashby," page 363.

         2. Who are the chief characters? What was the
         general situation with respect to the Christians?

         3. Did Ursus know what he was to confront when he
         entered the arena? Why did he expect to be
         crucified?

         4. Relate what took place in the arena.

         5. Explain: podium, Hercules, colossus, superhuman,
         barbarian; line 13, page 407; lines 8-9, page 412.

         6. Sienkiewicz (shĕn-kyā´vĭch) is a famous
         Polish novelist (1846-1916). His best known novel
         is _Quo Vadis_ ("Whither goest thou?").

         (From Jeremiah Curtin's translation of _Quo Vadis_,
         copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.)



  POLONIUS'S ADVICE TO HIS SON

  BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

         Memorize a goodly passage from this, and interpret
         the meaning of your selection to the class.


                                There; my blessing with thee!
      And these few precepts in thy memory
      See thou character. Give thy thoughts no tongue,
      Nor any unproportion'd thought his act.
      Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar.                        5
      Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
      Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
      But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
      Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade. Beware
      Of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in,                        10
      Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee.
      Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice;
      Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
      Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
      But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy;                    15
      For the apparel oft proclaims the man,
      And they in France of the best rank and station
      Are most select and generous, chief in that.
      Neither a borrower nor a lender be;
      For loan oft loses both itself and friend,                      20
      And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
      This above all; to thine own self be true,
      And it must follow, as the night the day,
      Thou canst not then be false to any man.

                                                    --_Hamlet._

         1. Spend at least one recitation discussing the
         life and works of Shakespeare. Bring to class some
         interesting accounts of him or his plays.



  MERCY

  BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE

         Antonio, a merchant-shipper of Venice, has met with
         financial losses. Shylock, his grasping creditor
         and competitor, demands in court the fulfillment of
         Antonio's bond, which states that Antonio has
         forfeited a pound of his own flesh to Shylock.
         Portia, a young woman who plays the part of
         attorney for Antonio, makes the following appeal to
         Shylock for mercy.


      The quality of mercy is not strain'd;
      It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
      Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest;
      It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.
      'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes                      5
      The throned monarch better than his crown;
      His scepter shows the force of temporal power,
      The attribute to awe and majesty,
      Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings;
      But mercy is above this scepter'd sway;                         10
      It is enthroned in the hearts of kings,
      It is an attribute to God himself;
      And earthly power doth then show likest God's
      When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
      Though justice be thy plea, consider this,--                    15
      That, in the course of justice, none of us
      Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy,
      And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
      The deeds of mercy.

                           --_The Merchant of Venice._

         1. Read this extract line by line, and interpret
         its meaning. Then read the whole of it aloud as
         Portia spoke it.



  GOOD BOOKS YOU SHOULD KNOW


  The following list of book titles suggests some good
  library browsing for you. Try reading one good
  book a week outside of school hours. Aside from the
  immediate pleasure and knowledge derived, you will thus
  establish an invaluable habit and set up for yourself
  standards of literary judgment.

  Alcott's _Eight Cousins_
  Aldrich's _Story of a Bad Boy_
  Baldwin's _Discovery of the Old Northwest_
  Baldwin's _Fifty Famous Rides and Riders_
  Baldwin's _Old Greek Stories_
  Brown's _Rab and his Friends_
  Bunyan's _Pilgrim's Progress_
  Burnett's _Secret Garden_
  Burroughs's _Bird Stories_
  Burroughs's _Squirrels and Other Fur-Bearers_
  Clemens's _Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_
  Clemens's _Adventures of Tom Sawyer_
  Clemens's _Prince and the Pauper_
  Clemens's _Roughing It_
  Cooke's _Stories of the Old Dominion_
  Cooper's _Deerslayer_
  Cooper's _Pathfinder_
  Cooper's _Spy_
  Dana's _Two Years before the Mast_
  Dickens's _Child's History of England_
  Dickens's _Christmas Carol_
  Dickens's _Cricket on the Hearth_
  Dickens's _Nicholas Nickleby_
  Dickens's _Pickwick Papers_
  Garland's _Boy Life on the Prairie_
  Guerber's _Myths and Legends of the Middle Ages_
  Hill's _On the Trail of Washington_
  Holland's _Historic Boyhoods_
  Holland's _Historic Girlhoods_
  Howells's _Stories of Ohio_
  Hughes's _Tom Brown at Rugby_
  Irving's _Sketch Book_
  Kipling's _Captains Courageous_
  Kipling's _Jungle Books_
  Lamb's _Tales from Shakespeare_
  London's _Call of the Wild_
  Longfellow's _Courtship of Miles Standish_
  Lucas's _Slowcoach_
  Mabie's _Book of Christmas_
  Mabie's _Book of Old English Ballads_
  Mabie's _Famous Stories Every Child should Know_
  Marden's _Stories from Life_
  Ollivant's _Bob, Son of Battle_
  Pyle's _Men of Iron_
  Roosevelt's _Stories of the Great West_
  Scott's _Ivanhoe_
  Scott's _Quentin Durward_
  Seton's _Trail of the Sandhill Stag_
  Stevenson's _Kidnapped_
  Stevenson's _Master of Ballantrae_
  Stevenson's _Travels with a Donkey_
  Stockton's _Stories of New Jersey_
  Swift's _Gulliver's Travels_
  Tarkington's _Penrod_
  Thompson's _Stories of Indiana_
  Warner's _Being a Boy_
  Whitehead's _Standard Bearer_
  Wiggin's _Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm_
  Yonge's _Book of Golden Deeds_

         *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Obvious punctuation errors repaired.

Page 15, "occured" changed to "occurred" (Lincoln's assasination
occurred)





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