Part 6
The woods were full of wild animals. It was easy for the boy and his father to kill plenty of game, and thus keep the family supplied with meat.
Lincoln, with chopping and hunting and trapping, was very busy. He had but little time to play. Since he had no playmates we do not know that he even wanted to play.
With his mother he read over and over the Bible stories which both of them loved so well. And, during the cold, stormy days, when he could not leave the camp, his mother taught him how to write.
In the spring the new house was built. It was only a log house, with one room below and a loft above. But it was so much better than the old cabin in Kentucky that it seemed like a palace.
The family moved into the new house before the floor was laid, or any door was hung at the doorway.
Then came the plowing and the planting and the hoeing. Everybody was busy from daylight to dark.
ABRAHAM LINCOLN
HIS FIRST GREAT SORROW
I.
silence postage autumn duties finished preacher sycamore comfort buried grieving minister feeble
The summer passed, and autumn came. Then the poor mother's strength gave out. She could no longer go about her household duties. She had to depend more and more upon the help that her children could give her.
At length she became too feeble to leave her bed. She called the boy to her side. She put her arm around him and said: "My boy, I shall very soon leave you. I know that you will always be good and kind to your sister and father. Try to live as I have taught you, and to love your heavenly Father."
Then she fell asleep, never to wake again on this earth.
Under a big sycamore tree, half a mile from the house, the neighbors dug the grave for the mother of Abraham Lincoln. And there they buried her in silence and in great sorrow.
In all that new country there was no church; and no minister could be found to speak words of comfort and hope to the grieving ones around the grave.
But the boy remembered a preacher whom they had known in Kentucky. The name of this preacher was David Elkin. If he would only come!
And so, after all was over, the lad sat down and wrote a letter to David Elkin. Abraham was only a child nine years old, but he believed that the good man would remember his mother, and come.
It was no easy task to write a letter. Paper and ink were not things of common use, as they are with us. A pen had to be made from the quill of a goose.
But at last the letter was finished and sent to Kentucky. How it was carried I do not know, for the mails were few in those days, and postage was very high.
II.
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Months passed. The leaves were again on the trees. The wild flowers were blossoming in the woods. At last the preacher came.
He had ridden a hundred miles on horseback. He had forded rivers and traveled through pathless woods. He had dared the dangers of the wild forest. And all in answer to the lad's letter.
He had no hope of reward save that which is given to every man who does his duty. He did not know that there would come a time when the greatest preachers in the world would envy him his sad task.
And now the friends and neighbors gathered again under the great sycamore tree. The funeral sermon was preached. Hymns were sung. A prayer was offered, and words of comfort were spoken.
From that time forward the mind of Abraham Lincoln was filled with high and noble thoughts. In his earliest childhood his mother had taught him to love truth and justice, to be honest and upright among men, and to honor God. These lessons he never forgot.
Long afterward, when the world had come to know him as a very great man, he said: "All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother."
--JAMES BALDWIN.
HANA AND TORA
THEIR HOME
I.
Tora Japan Japanese gowns Hana mirror carriage hastens
Hana is a little Japanese girl. Her name, in the language of Japan, means flower or blossom. If you should see her you would say that she is as beautiful as the gayest flower in the garden.
Tora is her brother and his name means tiger. He is called Tora because his father and mother wish him to be as strong and as brave as a tiger.
Hana and Tora live in one of the beautiful islands of Japan. Let us visit them in their home on the other side of the world.
We must cross the ocean to reach this far away land. So we go on board a great steamer and for days and days we sail over the sea.
At last we come to the city where our little friends live. We leave the ship and climb into a two-wheeled carriage which is drawn by a man. He runs along the street with our carriage almost as fast as a horse can trot.
How strange everything seems. The men, women, and children all wear gowns that look like dresses. They clatter along in wooden shoes, and they carry paper umbrellas. We ride through narrow streets. There are no sidewalks nor green lawns.
And now our carriage stops. We have come to the home of Hana and Tora. The front of the house is open like a doll's playhouse, and we can see through to the garden beyond.
How clean everything looks! The porch shines like a mirror. All the floors are covered with matting made of the whitest straw. Even the road in front of the house is swept.
We walk toward the house, and a little girl comes in from the garden. She has a clear yellow skin, bright black eyes, and smooth black hair. This is Hana, and she hastens to greet us.
She drops down on her knees, and bows so low that her head touches the matting. Her mother will soon be at home, Hana says, and she begs us to come in.
Does she ask us to take off our hats? Oh, no, she expects us to take off our shoes. The Japanese always leave their shoes outside when they go into a house.
Again and again the polite little girl bows her head to the floor as we enter. We sit down on the thick matting, for in the houses of Japan there are no chairs.
II.
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Little Hana looks like a butterfly in her loose dress embroidered all over with bright flowers. Her sleeves are very large, and a wide sash of soft red silk is tied around her waist.
And now Hana's mother returns, and Tora comes running in from his play. There are more bows and more greetings.
Tora is dressed in a plain blue gown very much like his sister's. Both the children have large pockets in their sleeves where they carry their playthings.
Our friends invite us to spend the night with them. We are very glad to do so. They take us to the parlor, which is at the back of the house.
It is now time for supper. A small table, about ten inches high, is placed before each person in the room. We sit on the floor as we eat. A little maidservant brings in cakes and candies shaped like flowers. She kneels and bows low as she hands them to us.
Next we have soup, which we drink from small bowls. Then come pickles and strange kinds of food that we have never before seen. Last of all rice is served from a large, round, wooden box, and we drink our tea from tiny cups.
There are no knives and no forks, and so we observe our Japanese friends as they eat with two long wooden sticks. Then we take our chop sticks and try to eat the rice as they do. Hana and Tora watch us, but they are too polite to smile.
After the supper is over, the grown people sit on the floor and talk to one another, or watch the children at their games. Hana and Tora play with small cards on which are printed the strange-looking letters of the Japanese alphabet.
And so the evening passes and bedtime comes. The little maidservant takes us upstairs. We see no beds, and we wonder where we shall sleep. But screens are soon drawn together, and a room is made for us.
Then the little maid slides back another screen, and there in the wall is a closet. Out of this she takes soft, thick quilts, and spreads them on the matting, one on top of another. For a pillow she brings each of us a small block of wood.
We do not like the wooden pillows, but we sleep soundly all night in our beds on the floor.
HANA AND TORA
THEIR FESTIVAL DAYS
I.
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A beautiful garden lies back of the house where Hana and Tora live.
In Japan the people love the flowering trees and plant them in their gardens. Now it is early springtime and the plum trees are just beginning to burst into bloom.
The children ask us to go with them and look for the first plum blossoms. The pink buds are pushing out of their brown coverings. "Oh, I am so glad!" Hana says. "Soon the peach trees will bloom, and then it will be time for the Doll Festival.
"How I wish I could show you my dolls! I have more than a hundred, but they are all packed away in the storehouse.
"Some of them are very old. They used to belong to my grandmother and to my great-grandmother. The doll I like best was given to me when I was a baby. It is as large as I am, and it can wear my clothes.
"When the Doll Festival comes I have a merry time. In the morning when I get up I find all my dolls waiting for me in the guest room.
"With them are doll houses, little tables, sets of dishes, and boxes full of pretty gowns and sashes. The first thing I do is to dress all the dolls in their best clothes.
"Of course they must have something to eat, for it is the Feast of Dolls.
"I make tea for them and put dishes of candy and cake and rice on their little tables. It is not polite to leave anything on one's plate, and so Tora and I have all the food that the dolls do not eat.
"For three whole days I can play with my dolls. Then I take off their beautiful clothes and put on their sleeping coats. My mother packs them in their boxes and stores them away for another year, until the Feast of Dolls comes again."
II.
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"Tora does not care for the Feast of Dolls, because that is a girls' festival. The Feast of Flags is the boys' day."
"Oh, yes," Tora says, "I think the Flag Festival is the very best day of the whole year. Then everybody flies kites and the boys have their feast.
"What fun it is to see the huge paper fishes flying over all the houses and gardens! Some of the fishes are as large as a man. They open their mouths and swim about in the air as if they were in the water. All day long they flap their fins and tails and rustle in the wind."
"But why are so many of your kites made like fishes?" we ask.
"Because there is one kind of fish in our country so strong and brave that he swims up stream and leaps the waterfalls," Tora answered. "So Japanese parents fly kites made like fishes to help their sons remember that they must struggle bravely to win success.
"There are many kinds of fish, my father says, that can float down the stream with the current; but there is only one fish that can swim up the stream and leap over a waterfall.
"We have many other kites too. Some of them are shaped like butterflies. Some are shaped like birds and they make a singing noise when the wind blows through them.
"On the morning of the Flag Festival I find all my toys in the guest room where Hana finds her dolls.
"Among my toys are wooden soldiers older than Hana's oldest dolls. My grandfather's grandfather used to play with them when he was a little boy.
"And there are banners and swords, and images of the famous generals of Japan dressed in splendid armor. My father always plays with me on the day of the Flag Festival, and he tells me about the brave soldiers of our country.
"In the evening the people light their prettiest paper lanterns, and hang them in the gardens and before every house and store.
"Sometimes my father takes me boat-riding, and the most beautiful sight of all is the river with the many colored lights twinkling from the boats."
Hana and Tora tell us about other great festivals of their country, and they invite us to visit them again at the time of the Feast of Cherry Blossoms.
* * * * *
A dip of the nose, A turn of the toes, A spread of the hand, A bend of the knees-- It takes all these To say "Good day" In chrysanthemum land So far away.
MARCH
In March come the March winds; They blow and they blow, They sweep up the brown leaves, That green ones may grow. --SELECTED.
APRIL
April, April, are you here? Oh! how fresh the wind is blowing! See! The sky is bright and clear; Oh! how green the grass is growing! --DORA REED GOODALE.
MAY
Robins in the tree top; Blossoms in the grass; Green things a-growing, Everywhere you pass; Sudden little breezes; Showers of silver dew; Black bough and bent twig Budding out anew. --T. B. ALDRICH.
EASTER SONG
TO BE MEMORIZED
Snowdrops! lift your timid heads, All the earth is waking; Field and forest, brown and dead, Into life are waking.
Lilies! lilies! Easter calls! Rise to meet the dawning Of the blessed light that falls Through the Easter morning.
Waken, sleeping butterflies, Burst your narrow prison! Spread your golden wings and rise, For the Lord is risen. --MARY A. LATHBURY.
_From "Little Pilgrim Songs." Used by permission of the Biglow & Main Co._
THE SONG OF THE POPPY SEED
TO BE MEMORIZED
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark? Here we lie cosily, close to each other; Hark to the song of the lark-- "Waken!" the lark says, "waken and dress you, Put on your green coats and gay, Blue sky will shine on you, sunshine caress you, Waken! 'tis morning--'tis May!"
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, What kind of flower will you be? I'll be a poppy--all white, like my mother, Do be a poppy like me. What! you're a sunflower? How I shall miss you, When you're grown golden and high! But I shall send all the bees up to kiss you, Little brown brother, good-by! --E. NESBIT.
CLOVERS
The clovers have no time to play: They feed the cows and make the hay,
And trim the lawns and help the bees, Until the sun sinks through the trees.
And then they lay aside their cares, And fold their hands to say their prayers,
And drop their tired little heads, And go to sleep in clover beds.
Then when the day dawns clear and blue They wake and wash their hands in dew;
And as the sun climbs up the sky They hold them up and let them dry;
And then to work the whole long day: For clovers have no time to play. --HELENA LEEMING JELLIFFE.
_Copyright, 1902, The Outlook Company._
WHO TOLD THE NEWS?
Oh, the sunshine told the bluebird, And the bluebird told the brook, That the dandelions were peeping From the woodland's sheltered nook; So the brook was blithe and happy, And it babbled all the way, As it ran to tell the river Of the coming of the May.
Then the river told the meadow, And the meadow told the bee, That the tender buds were swelling On the old horse-chestnut tree; And the bee shook off its torpor, And it spread each gauzy wing, As it flew to tell the flowers Of the coming of the spring.
AIR
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We say that a room with no furniture in it is empty. But this is not exactly true. There is one thing that the room is full of to its very top. It is something that you can not see. But it is as real a thing as the furniture. This thing is air.
If you take all of your books out of the box in which you keep them, you say there is nothing left in it. But the box is full of air. When you shut it up and put it away, you put away a box full of air. When the books were in it, it was full of books and air together. Now it is full of air alone.
The air is everywhere. It is always ready to go where there is a place for it. Every crack and crevice is filled with it.
You see a little boy playing with a ball. What is it that he is throwing against the wall? It is a rubber ball, you say. But is this all? Is there not something else besides the rubber?
Suppose that you prick a hole in the ball and squeeze it. It is now good for nothing. But the rubber is all there. Why is the ball good for nothing?
It is because the air which filled the ball and made it round has escaped. The ball is of no use unless you can keep it full of air.
Perhaps you think that air does not weigh anything. But it does weigh something, though very little, and its weight is well known.
You can not see air, but you can sometimes feel it. You can not feel it while it is still if you are still at the same time. You can feel it only when it is in motion. When the wind blows upon you, it is air in motion that you feel.
When you fan yourself, the air strikes upon your face, and you feel it. When there is a gust of wind, the air comes against you just as a wave of water does.
Sometimes we say the wind blows very hard or very strong. This is when the air moves very fast. When there is only a gentle breeze, the air is moving very slowly.
When the air moves very fast, it sometimes does a great deal of harm. It roots up trees and blows down houses.
The air is clear, like glass. That is, it lets you see through it. But when you look up through the air, you see that it is of a blue color. You call the blue air the sky. The sky is the blue air that surrounds the earth.
--WORTHINGTON HOOKER.
THE UNSEEN GIANT
I.
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There is a mighty giant in the world, who is as old as the earth itself. You have often heard his voice and felt his touch, but you have never seen his face.
When he is angry, all men fear, and all the beasts of the field seek their hiding places.
As he rages and whirls along his way, he tosses houses into the air as easily as a boy tosses a ball. He throws down great trees or pulls them up by the roots as he crashes through the forest.
Sometimes he flies out over the sea and chases the ships. He rolls great waves over their decks and drives the ships against the rocks to perish.
But he plays many a queer prank even in the midst of his anger. One day he lifted a schoolhouse, turned it around in the air, and set it down with the back of the house just where the front had been.
Once when he was tumbling down houses with a great racket, he found a baby in a cradle. Catching it up, he was off like a flash.
Where had he taken the baby? Would it ever be found alive? "Never," the people said. But just then a cry was heard, and there was the little child safe in the branches of a tree!
This giant meddles with everything within his reach. He knocks the apples off the trees before they are ripe. He tears the vines from the house, and picks the flowers from their stalks.
He is not always honest, for on washing days he often tries to steal the clothes from the line. He takes things which boys and girls leave in the yard, or on the doorstep.
Then the old giant goes whistling on his way to hide his stolen goods. Sometimes he throws them under the bushes, and sometimes he tosses them into the water.
II.
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The unseen giant is often kind and gentle. In the long, hot summer time he softly fans sick children, and helps them to become strong and well again.
When he wishes, he can be one of the greatest workers in the world. Sometimes he flies from town to town sweeping the streets. He draws water for thirsty cattle, and he grinds wheat and corn for any miller that asks his help.
Up and down the rivers, and over the sea, he works by day and by night, carrying people where they wish to go. Had it not been for him, neither Columbus nor the Pilgrims could have reached the shores of America.
He likes to play with boys and girls. Sometimes he is a little rough. But when there are kites to fly or boats to sail, he is the best playfellow that can be found.
The strong old giant is very fond of music, too. He loves to play on the horn, the bugle, and the flute. Sometimes you hear him whistling in the keyhole and singing in the chimney. Often he flies to the pine forests, where he makes the sweetest, saddest music you have ever heard.
Everything you have heard about this wonderful giant is true. And when you think of his name, you will remember many other things that he can do.
WHAT ROBIN TOLD
How do the robins build their nest? Robin Redbreast told me. First a wisp of amber hay In a pretty round they lay; Then some shreds of downy floss, Feathers too, and bits of moss, Woven with a sweet, sweet song, This way, that way, and across: That's what Robin told me.
Where do the robins hide their nest? Robin Redbreast told me. Up among the leaves so deep, Where the sunbeams rarely creep. Long before the winds are cold, Long before the leaves are gold, Bright-eyed stars will peep and see Baby robins one, two, three: That's what Robin told me. --GEORGE COOPER.
THE BIRD'S EDUCATION
I.
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The young bird needs to be educated just as a child needs to be, though not exactly in the same way.
After the young bird can fly, he needs to be taught to find his own food, and also where to sleep.
He needs to know the different calls and cries of his family, and what they all mean. He has to learn to fly, and he must learn to sing. Then he must learn what to be afraid of, and how to protect himself from his enemies. No doubt there are many lessons for him to learn that we do not know about.
If you watch little birds just out of the nest, you may see them being taught how to find their food.
The robin mother takes her little one to the ground and shows him where the worms live, and how to get them. The owl mother finds a mouse creeping about in the grass. She teaches the owlets how to pounce upon it by doing it herself before them.
The old swallow takes her young ones into the air and shows them how to catch little flies on the wing.
If you watch long enough, you may see the old bird, who is training a young one, fly away. She may leave the young one alone on a tree or on the ground and be gone a long time.
Before many minutes the little one will begin to call for food. But by and by, if nobody comes to feed him, he will look around for something to eat. Thus he will get his first lesson in finding food for himself.
Once I saw a woodpecker bring his little one to a fence close by some raspberry bushes. He fed the young bird two or three raspberries, and then quietly slipped away.
When the young bird began to feel hungry, he cried out; but nobody came. Then he looked over at the raspberries and tried to reach one. After trying three or four times he got one. Then how proud he was!