Part 1
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BROOKS'S READERS THIRD YEAR
BY STRATTON D. BROOKS
SUPERINTENDENT OF SCHOOLS, BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS
NEW YORK ❖ CINCINNATI ❖ CHICAGO
AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. COPYRIGHT, 1907, TOKYO.
BROOKS'S READERS. THIRD YEAR.
CONTENTS
PAGE
The Magic Windows 11
The Land of Story Books _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 16
O Big, Round World _Alice C. D. Riley_ 18
A Wonderful Ball _Adapted_ 19
The Great, Wide World _William Brighty Rands_ 21
Flowers that Tell Time _Kate L. Brown_ 22
Dandelion _George Cooper_ 24
The Farmer's Wheat Field _W. E. Baldwin_ 25
The Song of the Wheat _Selected_ 27
The Song of the Mill Wheel _Selected_ 29
The Sky Bridge _Christina G. Rossetti_ 30
The Apple-tree Mother _Selected_ 31
The Diamond Dipper _An Old Legend_ 39
Beautiful Things _David Swing_ 43
My Country _Marie Zetterberg_ 44
My Own Land Forever _John G. Whittier_ 44
Home, Sweet Home _John Howard Payne_ 45
Verses for September, October, November 46 _Emily Dickinson, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, Dora Read Goodale_
An Autumn Riddle _Selected_ 48
Leaves at Play _Frank D. Sherman_ 48
Where Go the Boats _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 49
The Corn Song _John G. Whittier_ 50
Shapes of Leaves _Adapted_ 52
Dogs that almost Talk _Edith Carrington_ 56
A Little Girl's Fancies _Selected_ 60
A Boy's Wishes _William Allingham_ 61
Rollo and George _Jacob Abbott_ 62
The Farmer's Story _Jacob Abbott_ 64
The Dog and his Image _Æsop_ 68
Belling the Cat _Æsop_ 69
The Dog in the Manger _Æsop_ 70
A Wise Indian _Adapted_ 70
Clovernook 73
The Poet Sisters 76
Our Homestead _Phœbe Cary_ 78
Suppose _Phœbe Cary_ 79
November _Alice Cary_ 81
Columbus in the New World 82
Columbus returns to Spain 85
Columbus at the Court of Spain 87
The First Thanksgiving _Marian M. George_ 90
Thanksgiving Day _Lydia Maria Child_ 94
The Snow Baby _Josephine D. Peary_ 96
A Snow House _Adapted_ 101
The Northern Seas _William Howitt_ 104
Verses for December, January, February _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 106
Christmas Everywhere _Phillips Brooks_ 107
The Christmas Song _Selected_ 108
The New Year _Marie Zetterberg_ 110
How Plants Grow _Adapted_ 111
Talking in their Sleep _Edith M. Thomas_ 115
A Riddle _George Macdonald_ 116
Snowflakes _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 117
Fannie's Menagerie _"Rainbows for Children"_ 118
How Lambkin White was Saved 122
The Lamb _William Blake_ 129
The Necklace of Truth _Old Fairy Tales_ 130
Speak the Truth _Selected_ 135
Saint Valentine _Adapted_ 135
A Famous Old House 138
Hiawatha's Hunting _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 140
Longfellow with his Children _Adapted_ 143
Letter to a Little Girl _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 147
The Open Window _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 150
The Village Blacksmith _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 151
George Washington, the Young Surveyor 154 Surveying in the Wilderness 156
Abraham Lincoln _James Baldwin_ His New Home 158 His First Great Sorrow 163
Hana and Tora Their Home 167 Their Festival Days 173
Verses for March, April, May 178 _Dora R. Goodale, Thomas Bailey Aldrich_
An Easter Song _Mary A. Lathbury_ 179
The Song of the Poppy Seed _E. Nesbit_ 180
Clovers _Helena L. Jelliffe_ 181
Who Told the News? _Selected_ 182
Air _Worthington Hooker_ 183
The Unseen Giant 185
What Robin Told _George Cooper_ 190
A Bird's Education _Olive Thorne Miller_ 191
How Birds Learn to Sing _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 196
The Greatest of Beasts 197
The Story of Giant Sun _Mary Proctor_ 202
Summer Sun _Robert Louis Stevenson_ 205
The Story of Phaethon _Greek Myths_ 206
A Sunflower Story _Greek Myths_ 210
Wynken, Blynken, and Nod _Eugene Field_ 212
Rosa Bonheur _Adapted_ A Little Girl who Loved Animals 214 A Little Girl who Painted Animals 217 A Great Artist 220
When Benjamin Franklin was a Boy _Adapted_ 225
A Weaving Story _Adapted_ 229
America _Samuel Francis Smith_ 234
A Song for Flag Day _Lydia Coonley Ward_ 235
Verses for June, July, August 236
The Seasons. The Months 237
For the Girls _Charles Kingsley_ 238
For the Boys _Selected_ 238
What would I Do? _Selected_ 239
PRONOUNCING KEY AND WORD LIST 241
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The selections from the writings of Henry W. Longfellow, Thomas Bailey Aldrich, John G. Whittier, Frank Dempster Sherman, Olive Thorne Miller, Dora Read Goodale, Lucy Larcom, Alice and Phœbe Cary, are used by permission of and by special arrangements with Houghton, Mifflin & Co., the authorized publishers of the writings of these authors.
Special arrangements have also been made with the following publishers for permission to use selections from their publications: Little, Brown & Co. for a stanza from Emily Dickinson's poems; The Macmillan Company for "Clovers," copyright, 1902; Charles Scribner's Sons for "Wynken, Blynken, and Nod," by Eugene Field, and for a stanza from "Rhymes and Jingles," by Mary Mapes Dodge.
Acknowledgments are also due to Silver, Burdett & Company for "Flowers that tell Time" and "Maple Leaves," from _The Plant Baby and its Friends_, by Kate Louise Brown, copyright, 1897, and also for a selection from _Stories of Starland_; to the Century Company for "How Birds learn to Sing," by Mary Mapes Dodge, from _When Life is Young_; to F. A. Stokes Company for a selection from _The Snow Baby_, by Josephine D. Peary, copyright, 1901; to the Biglow & Main Company for "The Easter Song," from _Little Pilgrim Songs_; to A. Flanagan Company for "The First Thanksgiving," from _The Plan Book_; to James Baldwin for "Abraham Lincoln," from _Four Great Americans_; to Alice C. D. Riley and to Lydia A. C. Ward for selections from their writings.
Acknowledgments are due to Miss Frances Lilian Taylor of Galesburg, Illinois, and to Mr. W. J. Button of Chicago for valuable assistance rendered in choosing the selections comprised in this volume.
THE MAGIC WINDOWS
I
Did you ever hear of the Magic Windows? Those who look through them behold many strange and beautiful sights. If you will but make them your own, you may enter the fairyland of wonder and see all its rich treasures.
You ask me how you can do this? I will answer by telling you a story.
There was once a happy boy who played through the long summer days. And where he played the meadows were green, and the sky was blue, and the sunshine was bright.
On every side the flowers nodded like smiling playmates. Birds chirped to him from the bushes. The rabbits gave him a friendly look as they went leaping by. The squirrels watched him with bright eyes as they ran up and down the trees.
A little brook flowed through the meadows. On its sandy bed the happy boy found bright pebbles. His toy ships sailed proudly upon its waves or rested in the quiet harbors along its banks. Tiny fishes darted from their hiding places to eat the crumbs which he threw into the water.
"I wonder where the brook goes," said the happy boy. "I should like to follow it and see. How I wish the school bell would never call me from my play! I would rather sail my boat than learn to read, and I like the rabbits and squirrels better than my books."
II.
harbor magic curious spun crumbs delight slumber cubs
The little brook heard the boy's words as it went flowing by. On its way to the great river it ran through a forest where fairyland was hidden. There it told the fairies of the happy boy and of his wishes.
By and by the sun went down and playtime ended. Night came, and the Shut-eye train carried the boy far away to the Land of Slumber.
There a wise fairy met the happy boy. "Come with me," she said, "and I will let you look through Magic Windows into a land of wonders."
Through the Magic Windows the boy looked with delight. All the things that he had ever wished to see were before him. There were the hiding places of the wild birds. There were the animals that live in the fields and in the woods.
He could look into the birds' nests that hung on the tallest trees. He could peep into the holes where the squirrels kept their little ones.
He could see the mole digging long halls under ground. He could watch the spider as it spun the silk for its curious house.
Rabbits were hiding their young in the long grass, and little foxes were playing by their rocky dens.
He could even see the bear's cubs curled up like balls in the hollow trunks of trees.
III.
seal reindeer monkeys crept huge dashing elephants hollow
"Look to the north," said the fairy.
And then the happy boy looked away over the great round world. He saw strange lands and strange people. Far off in the north he could see the land of snow and ice. There were the homes of the seal, the reindeer, and the white bear.
Children dressed in fur crept out of snow houses. They went dashing over the snow in sleds drawn by dogs.
Again the happy boy looked, and the wonder lands of the south lay before him. Gay flowers blossomed everywhere. Bright-colored birds found a safe home in the great forest.
He could see the lion and his mate in their home. Hundreds of monkeys played in the branches of the trees. Tigers ran through the tall grass, and huge elephants pushed their way among the trees and bushes.
Once more the happy boy looked through the Magic Windows, and oh, how wonderful! He could see into fairy land where animals talk, and where the playthings are alive.
"Oh, kind fairy, let me stay here," said the happy boy. "I can not leave this land of wonders."
"Would you like to have the Magic Windows for your own?" asked the fairy. "Then listen well. When the school bell rings, it will call you to the land of books. Through the Magic Windows of your books you may see greater wonders than fairies can tell or fairy land can show."
Another day came with the rising sun. Once more the school bell rang. Gladly the happy boy left his play, for in his books he would find the Magic Windows.
THE LAND OF STORY BOOKS
At evening, when the lamp is lit, Around the fire my parents sit; They sit at home and talk and sing, And do not play at anything.
Now, with my little gun, I crawl, All in the dark along the wall, And follow round the forest track Away behind the sofa back.
There in the night, where none can spy, All in my hunter's camp I lie, And play at books that I have read. Till it is time to go to bed.
These are the hills, these are the woods, These are my starry solitudes; And there the river by whose brink The roaring lions come to drink.
I see the others far away, As if in firelit camp they lay, And I, like to an Indian scout, Around their party prowled about.
So, when my nurse comes in for me, Home I return across the sea, And go to bed with backward looks At my dear Land of Story Books. --ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
O, big round world, O, wide, wide world, How wonderful you are. Your oceans are so very deep, Your hills reach up so far; Down through your valleys wide and green, Such mighty rivers flow; Upon your great sky-reaching hills, Such giant forests grow.--ALICE C. D. RILEY.
By permission of John Church Company, owners of the copyright.
A WONDERFUL BALL
rough surface stretches drifts level islands feathery dreary
I have heard of a wonderful ball which floats in the sweet blue air, and has soft white clouds about it as it floats along.
There are many charming stories to be told about this wonderful ball. Some of them you shall hear.
It is so large that many houses are built upon it. Men and women live upon it, and little children can play upon its surface.
In some places it is soft and green, like the long meadows between the hills. In other parts there are trees for miles and miles on every side. All kinds of wild animals live in the great forests that grow on this wonderful ball.
Then again in some places it is steep and rough. And there are mountains so high that the snow lies upon their tops all the year around.
In other parts there are no hills at all, but level land, and quiet little ponds of blue water. There the white water lilies grow and fishes play among the lily stems.
Now, if we look on another side of the ball, we shall see no ponds, but something very dreary. A great plain of sand stretches away on every side. There are no trees, and the sunshine beats down upon the burning sand.
We look again, and we see a great body of water. Many islands are in the sea, and great ships sail upon it.
Look at one more side of this ball as it turns around. Jack Frost must have spent all his longest winter nights here. For see what a palace of ice he has built for himself.
How cold it looks! See the clear, blue ice, almost as blue as the sky. And look at the snow, drifts upon drifts, and the feathery flakes filling the air.
Now, what do you think of this ball, so white and cold, so warm and green, so dreary and rough, as it floats along in the sweet blue air, with the flocks of white clouds about it?
I will tell you one thing more. The wise men have said that this earth on which we live is just such a ball. We shall know more about this when we are older and wiser.
THE GREAT, WIDE WORLD
Great, wide, beautiful, wonderful world, With the wonderful water round you curled, And the wonderful grass upon your breast-- World, you are beautifully dressed.
The wonderful air is over me, And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree; It walks on the water, and whirls the mills, And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.
You friendly earth, how far do you go, With the wheat fields that nod and the rivers that flow, With cities and gardens, and cliffs and isles, And people upon you for thousands of miles? --WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS.
FLOWERS THAT TELL TIME
sign remained refreshing curls jolly nightgown clambered porch
Down in the grass plot of a pretty garden grew a little dandelion. He wore a green jacket, and his head was covered with sunny, yellow curls.
In the morning, he stood up boldly, lifting his jolly little face to catch the dewdrops. In this way he took his morning bath, and he found it very refreshing. At dusk he put on his green nightgown and went to bed very early.
The mothers said, as they called the children from their play, "See, there is the good dandelion! He knows when it is time to go to bed."
As the dandelion grew older, his yellow curls turned white. Then the children would blow--one, two, three times. If all the hairs blew away, it was a sign that mother wanted them at once.
If there were ten hairs left, the children said, "Mother wants us at ten o'clock." If but two hairs remained, they said, "Mother will look for us at two o'clock."
When the children awoke in the morning, they saw the morning-glory cups peeping in at the windows. "Six o'clock! Time to get up!" they said. "The morning glories are calling us."
Every afternoon the four-o'clocks bloomed. Their red and white flowers told the children that their father would soon be home.
In the evening the moon flowers unfolded their great white blossoms on the vines that clambered over the porch. "Now it is bedtime," said the children, "for the moon flowers are looking down at us."
All day long the time flowers, like our clocks, are telling us the time of day.
--KATE LOUISE BROWN.
DANDELION
Dandelion, dandelion, Where's your cup of gold? Where's your jacket green and trim That you wore of old? Then you nodded to the birds In a jaunty way, And you danced to every tune The breeze could play.
Dandelion, dandelion, Age comes creeping on, And your wig is snowy white, Golden locks are gone; But you've had a merry time Since your days began, And even now you're a cheery, Blithe old man. --GEORGE COOPER.
THE FARMER'S WHEAT FIELD
stalk threshed breeze flour plump healthy bearded grain forth neighbor thousand cheer
There was once a stalk of wheat that grew in the middle of a field. It was very tall and it lifted its head high and nodded in the wind.
All around it were a thousand other stalks not quite so tall. Every one was looking up at the sun and bowing to its neighbor, and saying, "Good morning."
"How bright and golden we are!" said the tall stalk; "and how beautiful we look, standing together like a great army of soldiers! The sun shines to cheer us. And when the gentle rains fall, how sweet and refreshing they are!"
"Yes, yes!" said the other stalks, waving back and forth in the morning breeze. "All the world is very kind to us. We have nothing to do but to live and grow and become bright and golden like the sun."
"Ah," said the tall stalk. "It is true that we must live and grow and become yellow and golden. But after that, there must be something else for us to do."
The very next day the farmer came into the fields to look at his wheat. He took some of the bearded heads and rubbed them between his hands. They were full of plump, round, golden grains.
"What fine flour these will make, and what good bread for little Alice," he said. "The wheat is fully ripe and it must be cut at once."
Then all the golden-headed stalks waved back and forth in the wind. "Now we understand it all," they whispered. "It is for the sake of the farmer's fair little girl that we are here.
"She must live and grow and be healthy and beautiful. There is nothing that can help her to do this so well as good bread made from the best of wheat."
Very soon the golden stalks were cut. The wheat was threshed and ground into the finest of flour. And then the flour was baked into fresh, white loaves of bread.
But little Alice did not know that her bread was made of the wheat that she had seen growing in the big field where the daisies bloomed.
--W. E. BALDWIN.
THE SONG OF THE WHEAT
Back of the bread is the snowy flour; Back of the flour is the mill; Back of the mill the growing wheat Nods on the breezy hill; Over the wheat is the glowing sun Ripening the heart of the grain; Above the sun is the gracious God, Sending the sunlight and rain.
THE SONG OF THE MILL WHEEL
Round and round it goes, As fast as water flows,-- The dripping, dropping, rolling wheel That turns the noisy, dusty mill. Round and round it goes, As fast as water flows.
Turning all the day, It never stops to play,-- The dripping, dropping, rolling wheel That keeps on grinding golden meal. Turning all the day, It never stops to play.
Sparkling in the sun, The merry waters run Upon the foaming, flashing wheel That laugheth loud, but worketh still. Sparkling in the sun, The merry waters run. --SELECTED.
Boats sail on the rivers, Ships sail on the seas, But the clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier far than these.
There are bridges on the rivers, As pretty as you please, But the bow that bridges heaven, And overtops the trees, And builds a bridge from earth to sky Is prettier far than these. Christina G. Rossetti.
THE APPLE-TREE MOTHER
I.
reason mischief pasture couch bitter exclaimed sloping steam
The old apple tree had stood in the corner of the pasture for so many years that no one could tell when it was planted.
It was a friendly old tree. Under its branches men and animals found pleasant shade. In the spring it gave blossoms to all that came, and in the fall it dropped apples at their feet.