The Child's World: Third Reader
Chapter 7
Boy: Well, they are back again! Thanks to goodness, but none to you. What can you do?
KING: Pray excuse me for not doing any better, but you see, I am not used to work. I am the king.
BOY: I was a simpleton to trust you with the geese; but I am not such a simpleton as to believe that you are the king.
KING: Just as you will. You are a good lad. Here is another gold coin as a peace offering. Good-day.
BOY (_as king walks away_): He is a kind gentleman, whoever he may be; but take my word for it, he will never make a gooseherd.
--OLD TALE.
DONAL AND CONAL
I
There was once in old Ireland a very fine lad by the name of Donal. He was not only a very fine lad, but a very gay lad. He would go for miles to a party or a wedding; and he was always welcome, for Donal knew where to wear his smile. He wore it on his face instead of keeping it in his pocket.
The dearest wish of Donal's heart no one knew but himself. His soul was full of music, and he longed to have a violin.
One night Donal was going home through a dark forest when a storm came up. He found an old hollow tree and got inside of it to keep dry. Soon he fell asleep.
After a while Donal was awakened by a strange noise. He peeped out, and he saw a queer sight. The storm had passed, and the moon was shining. Many elves were dancing to strange music played by an old, old elf.
Such queer dancing it was! Donal crept out of the tree and drew nearer and nearer. Suddenly he laughed out loud and said, "Well, that's the worst dancing I have ever seen!"
The fairies were astonished and angry, and they all began to talk at the same time.
"We have a man among us!" cried one.
"Let us hang him!" cried another.
"Cut his head off!" cried a third.
But the queen stepped out among them and said, "Leave him to me."
Then she called Donal to her. Now Donal was a wee bit frightened, but he knew where to wear his smile, you remember. So he went up to the queen, smiling and bowing.
"You say our dancing is the worst you have ever seen," she said. "Now, show us that you can do better."
Donal smiled again and bowed low. Then he began to dance. Such dancing the elves had never seen! They clapped their hands and made him dance again and again. Finally, Donal was exhausted, and after making a low bow to the queen, sat down on the ground.
The fairies crowded around him.
"Give him our silver!" cried one.
"Make it gold!" cried another.
"Diamonds!" cried a third.
But the queen said, "Leave it to me."
She went up to the old, old elf who had been playing for the dance. Taking his violin from him, she gave it to Donal. You see, the queen knew the dearest wish of his heart.
Then Donal was a happy lad, indeed! He thanked the queen and went home playing on his new violin.
II
There lived near Donal's home a lad named Conal. He was not such a fine lad as Donal, nor such a gay one. He was a greedy lad, and the dearest wish of his heart was to be rich. And he did not know where to wear his smile. If he had one, he kept it in his pocket.
When Conal heard what had happened to Donal, he wished to know all about it. So he went to him and said, "Donal, man, how did you get that beautiful violin?"
Donal told the story backward and forward, and forward and backward, from beginning to end, until Conal knew it by heart.
Then Conal said to himself, "I will go to the hollow tree and dance for the elves; but I shall not be so foolish as Donal. I will take their gold and silver, and their diamonds, too."
That night Conal went to the hollow tree and waited until the elves appeared. Then he crept out and watched them dance. And he said, just as Donal had, "Well, that's the worst dancing I have ever seen!"
The fairies were astonished and angry again, and again they all began to talk at once.
"Another man among us!" cried one.
"Let us hang him!" cried another.
"Cut off his head!" cried a third.
But the queen said, "Leave it to me."
Then she called Conal to her. Now Conal did not know where to wear his smile, you remember; he always kept it in his pocket. So he went up to the queen with a very sour face.
The queen said to him, as she had to Donal, "You say our dancing is the worst you have ever seen. Now, show us that you can do better."
Conal began to dance, and he could dance well. The elves were delighted. They clapped their hands and asked him to dance again, but he said roughly, "No, that is enough. Do you expect me to dance all night?"
The elves were silent then, and the queen's face was stern. But she was a just queen, and she said, "You have danced well. Will you have some of our silver?"
"Yes," said Conal, without a word of thanks; and he filled his coat pockets.
"Will you have gold?" asked the queen.
"Yes," said Conal greedily, as he filled the pockets in his trousers.
"Will you have some of our diamonds?" the queen asked, and her face was dark with anger.
"Yes, yes," cried Conal.
"You shall not have them, you greedy lad!" cried the queen; "you shall have nothing."
Just then a cloud passed across the moon, and the elves vanished.
"Oh, well," said Conal, "I have the gold and silver."
He plunged his hands into his pockets and lo! the gold and silver had turned to stones. Then Conal went home a sadder and a wiser lad.
--IRISH TALE.
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.
Then 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.
Soon 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.
THE BIRDS OF KILLINGWORTH
I
It was spring. The apple trees and the cherry trees were pink and white with blossoms. They filled the air with fragrance. The maples were red, and on the oak and poplar the buds were swelling. The brooklets were rushing and leaping on toward the sea.
It was spring everywhere. The robin and the bluebird were piping sweetly in the blossoming orchard. The sparrows were chirping, and hungry crows were calling loudly for food. The farmers of Killingworth were plowing the fields, and the broken clods, too, told of spring.
A farmer heard the cawing of the crows and the song of the birds.
He said, "Did one ever see so many birds? Why, when we plant our seeds, these birds will take them all. When the fruit ripens, they will destroy it. I, for one, wish there were no birds, and I say kill them all."
Another farmer said, "Yes, let us call a meeting of the people of the village and decide what is to be done with the pests."
The meeting was called, and all came: the squire, the preacher, the teacher, and the farmers from the country round about.
Up rose the farmer who had said he wished there were no birds.
"Friends," he said, "the crows are about to take my field of corn. I put up scarecrows, but the birds fly by them and seem to laugh at them. The robins are as saucy as they can be. Soon they will eat all the cherries we have. I say kill all birds; they are a pest."
"So say I," said another farmer.
"And I," said another.
"And I," "And I," came from voices in every part of the hall.
The teacher arose and timidly said:
"My friends, you know not what you do. You would put to death the birds that make sweet music for us in our dark hours: the thrush, the oriole, the noisy jay, the bluebird, the meadow lark.
"You slay them all, and why? Because they scratch up a little handful of wheat or corn, while searching for worms or weevils.
"Do you never think who made them and who taught them their songs of love? Think of your woods and orchards without birds!
"And, friends, would you rather have insects in the hay? You call the birds thieves, but they guard your farms. They drive the enemy from your cornfields and from your harvests.
"Even the blackest of them, the crow, does good. He crushes the beetle and wages war on the slug and the snail.
"And, what is more, how can I teach your children gentleness and mercy when you contradict the very thing I teach?"
But the farmers only shook their heads and laughed. "What does the teacher know of such things?" they asked. And they passed a law to have the birds killed.
So the dreadful war on birds began. They fell down dead, with bloodstains on their breasts. Some fluttered, wounded, away from the sight of man, while the young died of starvation in the nests.
II
The summer came, and all the birds were dead. The days were like hot coals. In the orchards hundreds of caterpillars fed. In the fields and gardens hundreds of insects of every kind crawled, finding no foe to check them. At last the whole land was like a desert.
From the trees caterpillars dropped down upon the women's bonnets, and they screamed and ran. At every door, the women gathered and talked.
"What will become of us?" asked one. "The men were wrong,--something must be done."
"The teacher was right," said another.
At last, the farmers grew ashamed of having killed the birds. They met and did away with the wicked law, but it was too late.
Harvest time came, but there was no harvest. In many a home there was want and sorrow.
The next spring a strange sight was seen--a sight never seen before or since. Through the streets there went a wagon filled with great branches of trees. Upon them were hung cages of birds that were making sweet music.
From all the country round these birds had been brought by order of the farmers. The cages were opened, and once more the woods and fields were filled with the beautiful birds, who flew about singing their songs of joy. And again the harvests grew in the fields and filled to overflowing the farmers' barns.
--_Adapted from_ LONGFELLOW.
THE TRAILING ARBUTUS
I
Many, many moons ago, in a lodge in a forest, there lived an old man. His hair was white as the snowdrift. All the world was winter; snow and ice were everywhere, and the old man wore heavy furs.
The winds went wildly through the forest searching every bush and tree for birds to chill. The old man looked in vain in the deep snow for pieces of wood to keep up the fire in his lodge. Then he sat down by his dull and low fire.
Shaking and trembling he sat there, hearing nothing but the tempest as it roared through the forest, seeing nothing but the snowstorm as it whirled and hissed and drifted.
All the coals became white with ashes, and the fire was slowly dying. Suddenly the wind blew aside the door of the lodge, and there came in a most beautiful maiden.
Her cheeks were like the wild rose, her eyes were soft and glowed like the stars in springtime; and her hair was as brown as October's nuts.
Her dress was of ferns and sweet grasses, her moccasins were of white lilies, on her head was a wreath of wild flowers, and in her hands were beautiful blossoms. When she breathed, the air became warm and fragrant.
"Ah, my daughter," exclaimed the old man. "Happy are my eyes to see you. Sit here on the mat beside me; sit here by the dying embers. Tell me of your strange adventures, and I will tell you of my deeds of wonder."
From his pouch he drew his peace pipe, very old and strangely fashioned. He filled the pipe with bark of willow, and placed a burning coal upon it.
Then he said, "I am Manito, the Mighty. When I blow my breath about me, the rivers become motionless and the waters hard as stone."
The maiden smiling said, "When I blow my breath about me, flowers spring up over all the meadows. And all the rivers rush onward, singing songs of joy."
"When I shake my hoary tresses," said the old man, darkly frowning, "all the ground is covered with snow. All the leaves fade and wither."
"When I shake my flowing ringlets," said the maiden, "the warm rains fall over all the land."
Then proudly the old man replied, "When I walk through the forest, everything flees before me. The animals hide in their holes. The birds rise from the lakes and the marshes, and fly to distant regions."
Softly the maiden answered, "When I walk through the forest, all is bright and joyous. The animals come from their holes. The birds return to the lakes and marshes. The leaves come back to the trees. The plants lift up their heads to kiss the breezes. And where-ever my footsteps wander, all the meadows wave their blossoms, all the woodlands ring with music."
II
While they talked, the night departed. From his shining lodge of silver came the sun. The air was warm and pleasant; the streams began to murmur; the birds began to sing. And a scent of growing grasses was wafted through the lodge.
The old man's face dropped upon his breast, and he slept. Then the maiden saw more clearly the icy face before her--saw the icy face of winter.
Slowly she passed her hands above his head. Streams of water ran from his eyes, and his body shrunk and dwindled till it faded into the air--vanished into the earth--and his clothing turned to green leaves.
The maiden took from her bosom the most precious flowers. Kneeling upon the ground, she hid them all about among the leaves.
"I give you my most precious flowers and my sweetest breath," she said, "but all who would pluck you must do so upon bended knee."
Then the maiden moved away--through the forest and over the waking fields; and wherever she stepped, and nowhere else in all the land, grows the trailing arbutus.
--INDIAN LEGEND.
HIDDEN TREASURE
I
Once upon a time there was an old farmer named John Jacobs. He had heard that treasures were found in odd places. He thought and thought about such treasures until he could think of nothing else; and he spent all his time hunting for them. How he wished he could find a pot of gold!
One morning he arose with a bright face and said to his wife, "At last, Mary, I've found the treasure."
"No, I cannot believe it," she said.
"Yes," he answered; "at least it is as good as found. I am only waiting until I have my breakfast. Then I will go out and bring it in."
"Oh, how did you find it?" asked the wife.
"I was told about it in a dream," said he.
"Where is it?"
"Under a tree in our orchard," said John.
"Oh, John, let us hurry and get it."
So they went out together into the orchard.
"Which tree is it under?" asked the wife.
John scratched his head and looked silly.
"I really do not know," he said.
"Oh, you foolish man," said the wife. "Why didn't you take the trouble to notice?"
"I did notice," said he. "I saw the exact tree in my dream, but there are so many trees, here that I am confused. There is only one thing to do now. I must begin with the first tree and keep on digging until I come to the one with the treasure under it."
This made the wife lose all hope. There were eighty apple trees and a score of peach trees.
She sighed and said, "I suppose if you must, you must, but be careful not to cut any of the roots."
By this time John was in a very bad humor. He went to work saying, "What difference does it make if I cut all the roots? The whole orchard will not bear one bushel of good apples or peaches. I don't know why, for in father's time it bore wagonloads of choice fruit."
"Well, John," said his wife, "you know father used to give the trees a great deal of attention."
But John grumbled to himself as he went on with his digging. He dug three feet deep around the first tree, but no treasure was there. He went to the next tree, but found nothing; then to the next and the next, until he had dug around every tree in the orchard. He dug and dug, but no pot of gold did he find.
II
The neighbors thought that John was acting queerly. They told other people, who came to see what he was doing.
They would sit on the fence and make sly jokes about digging for hidden treasure. They called the orchard "Jacobs' folly."
Soon John did not like to be seen in the orchard. He did not like to meet his neighbors. They would laugh and say, "Well, John, how much money did you get from the holes?"
This made John angry. At last he said, "I will sell the place and move away."
"Oh, no," said the wife, "this has always been our home, and I cannot think of leaving it. Go and fill the holes; then the neighbors will stop laughing. Perhaps we shall have a little fruit this year, too. The heaps of earth have stood in wind and frost for months, and that will help the trees."
John did as his wife told him. He filled the holes with earth and smoothed it over as level as before. By and by everybody forgot "Jacobs' folly."
Soon the spring came. April was warm, and the trees burst into bloom.
"Mary," said John one bright spring day, "don't you think the blossoms are finer than usual this year?"
"Yes, they look as they did when your father was alive," said his wife.
By and by, the blooms fell, leaving a million little green apples and peaches. Summer passed and autumn followed. The branches of the old trees could hardly hold up all the fine fruit on them.
Now the neighbors came, not to make fun, but to praise. "How did you do it?" they asked.
"The trees were old and needed attention," said John. "By turning the soil and letting in the air, I gave them strength to bear fruit. I have found the treasure after all, and I have learned a lesson. Tilling the soil well is the way to get treasure from it."
--GRIMM.
THE LITTLE BROWN BROTHER
Little brown brother, oh! little brown brother, Are you awake in the dark? Here we lie cozily, 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!
--EMILY NESBIT.
HOW THE FLOWERS GROW
This is how the flowers grow; I have watched them and I know:
First, above the ground is seen A tiny blade of purest green, Reaching up and peeping forth East and west, and south and north.
Then the sunbeams find their way To the sleeping bud and say, "We are children of the sun Sent to wake thee, little one."
And the leaflet opening wide Shows the tiny bud inside, Peeping with half-opened eye On the bright and sunny sky.
Breezes from the west and south Lay their kisses on its mouth; Till the petals all are grown, And the bud's a flower blown.
--GABRIEL SETOUN.
WISE MEN OF GOTHAM
Once upon a time there were some wise men who lived in Gotham. Listen and you will hear how wise they were.
Twelve of these wise men went fishing one day. Some went into the stream and some stayed on dry ground. They caught many fish and had a good time.
As they came home, one of the men said, "We have risked much wading in that stream. I pray God no one of us is drowned."
"Why, one of us might be! Who knows?" cried another. "Let's see about it. Twelve of us went fishing this morning. We must count and see if twelve are returning."
So one man counted, "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven." And he did not count himself!
"Alas! One of us is drowned!" he cried.
"Woe be unto us! Let me count," said another. And he did not count himself.
"Alas! alas!" he wailed; "truly one of us is drowned!"
Then every man counted, and each one failed to count himself.
"Alas! alas!" they all cried; "one of us is drowned! Which one is it?"
They went back to the shore, and they looked up and down for him that was drowned. All the time they were lamenting loudly.
A courtier came riding by. "What are you seeking?" he asked, "and why are you so sorrowful?"
"Oh," said they, "this day we came to fish in the stream. There were twelve of us, but one is drowned."
"Why," said the courtier, "count yourselves and see how many there be."
Again they counted, and again each man failed to count himself.
"Well, this is sad," said the courtier, who saw how the mistake had been made. "What will you give me if I find the twelfth man?"
"Sir," cried all together, "you may have all the money we own."
"Give me the money," said the courtier.
Then he began to count. He gave the first man a whack over the shoulders and said, "There is one."
He gave the next a whack and said, "There is two." And so he counted until he came to the last man. He gave this one a sounding blow, saying, "And here is the twelfth."
"God bless you!" cried all the company. "You have found our neighbor."
--OLD ENGLISH STORY.
THE MILLER'S GUEST
I
A hunter who had ridden ahead in the chase was lost. The sun went down, and darkness fell upon the forest. The hunter blew his horn, but no answer came. What should he do?
At last he heard the sound of horse's hoofs. Some one was coming. Was it friend or foe? The hunter stood still, and soon a miller rode out into the moonlight.
"Pray, good fellow, be so kind as to tell me the way to Nottingham," said the hunter.
"Nottingham? Why should you be going to Nottingham? The king and his court are there. It is not a place for the like of you," replied the miller.
"Well, well, perhaps you are right, good miller," said the hunter. "And yet who knows? I'll wager that the king is no better man than I am. However, it is getting late, and lodging I must have. Will you give me shelter for the night?"
"Nay, nay, not so fast," said the miller. "Stand forth and let me see if you are a true man. Many thieves wear fine clothes these days."
The hunter stepped forward. "Well, and what do you think of me?" he asked gayly. "Will you not give a stranger lodging?"
"How do I know that you have one penny in your purse?" asked the miller. "You may carry your all on your back, for aught I know. I've heard of lords who are like that."
"True, good miller, but I have gold. If it be forty pence, I will pay it," said the hunter.
"If you are a true man, and have the pence, then lodging you may have. My good wife may not like it, but we'll see," said the miller.
"Good!" cried the hunter. "And here's my hand on it."
"Nay, nay, not so fast," replied the miller. "I must know you better before I shake hands. None but an honest man's hand will I take."
"Some day, my good miller," replied the hunter, "I hope to have you take my hand in yours. Proud will I be when the day comes."
II
And so to the miller's house they went. The miller again looked at the stranger and said, "I like his face well. He may stay with us, may he not, good wife?"
"Yes, he is a handsome youth, but it's best not to go too fast," said the good wife. "He may be a runaway servant. Let him show his passport, and all shall be well."
The hunter bowed low, and said, "I have no passport, good dame, and I never was any man's servant. I am but a poor courtier who has lost his way. Pray give me lodging for the night. Your kindness I will surely repay."
Then the wife whispered to the miller, "The youth is of good manners and to turn him out would be sin."
"Yea, a well-mannered youth--and one who knows his betters when he sees them," the miller replied. "Let the lad stay."
"Well, young man," said the wife, "you are welcome here; and well lodged you shall be, though I do say it myself. You shall have a fresh bed with good brown sheets."
"Aye," said the miller, "and you shall sleep with our own son Richard."
Then they all sat down to supper--such a supper: pudding, apple pie, and good things of all kinds. Then at a wink from the miller, the wife brought out a venison pasty.
"Eat!" said the miller. "This is dainty food."
"Faith!" cried the hunter, "I never before ate such meat."
"Pshaw!" said Richard. "We eat this every day."
"Every day? Where do you buy it?"
"Oh, never a penny pay we. In merry Sherwood Forest we find it. Now and then, you see, we make bold with the king's deer."
"Then I think that it is venison," said the hunter.
"To be sure. Any fool would know that," replied Richard; "but say nothing about it. We would not have the king hear of it."
"I'll keep your secret," said the hunter. "Don't fear. The king shall never know more than he knows now."
And so the evening passed merrily. It was late when the guest sought his bed, but right soundly did he sleep.
The next morning the miller, the good wife, and Richard came out to see the hunter on his way. Just then a party of nobles rode up.
"There's the king!" cried one.
"Pardon, your majesty!" cried another, and all fell upon their knees before the hunter.
The miller stood shaking and quaking, and for once his wife could not speak. The king, with a grave face, drew his sword, but not a word did he say.
The terrified miller threw himself at his ruler's feet, crying out for mercy. Again the sword was raised, and down it fell, but lightly, upon the miller's shoulder, and the king said:
"Your kind courtesy I will repay; so I here dub thee Knight. Rise, Sir John of Mansfield."
For many a day the miller and his wife told of the night the king spent with them. And for many a day the king told of the time he was taken for a thief and ate of his own deer in the miller's house.
--ENGLISH BALLAD (Adapted).
SADDLE TO RAGS
I
This story I'm going to sing, I hope it will give you content, Concerning a silly old man That was going to pay his rent, With a till-a-dill, till-a-dill-dill, Till-a-dill, dill-a-dill, dee, Sing fol-de-dill, dill-de-dill, dill, Fol-de-dill, dill-de-dill, dee.
A silly old man said to his wife one day, "Well, 'tis time I paid my rent. The landlord has been away for a year and a day, but now he is back, and I must pay for twelve months."
"Yes, it's twice forty pounds that is due, and it should be paid," said the good wife. "So much money in the house keeps me from sleeping at night."
"Well, I'll bridle old Tib, and away we shall go," said the old man. "Right glad I'll be, too, to be rid of the gold."
The silly old man bridled old Tib and saddled her too. And away they started. As he was jogging along, a stranger came riding up on a fine horse with fine saddle bags.
"Good morning, old man," said the stranger.
"Good morning," said the old man.
"How far are you going?"
"To tell the truth, kind sir, I am going just two miles," said the old man.
"And where are you going?" asked the stranger.
"I am going to pay my rent, kind sir," said the old man. "I am but a silly old man who farms a piece of ground. My rent for a half year is forty pounds; but my landlord has been away for a year, and now I owe him eighty pounds. Right glad I am to pay it."
"Eighty pounds! That is indeed a large sum," cried the stranger, "and you ought not to tell anybody you carry so much. There are many thieves about, and you might be robbed."
"Oh, never mind!" said the old man. "I do not fear thieves. My money is safe in my saddle bags, on which I ride."
So they rode along most pleasantly.
When they came to a thick wood, the stranger pulled out a pistol and said, "Stand still, and give me your money."
"Nay," said the old man. "The money is for my landlord. I will not give it to you."
"Your money or your life!"
"Well, if you will have it, you can go for it," cried the old man, as he threw his old saddle bags over a hedge.
The thief dismounted and said, "Stand here and hold my horse while I go over the hedge. You are silly, but surely you can do that."
The thief climbed through the hedge. When he was on the other side, the old man got on the thief's horse, and away he galloped.
"Stop, stop!" cried the thief. "And half of my share you shall have."
"Nay," cried the man. "I think I'll go on. I'd rather have what's in your bag."
And away he galloped, riding as he never rode before.
II
The thief thought there must be something in the old man's bags; so with his big rusty knife he chopped them into rags. But no money did he find, for the silly old man was not so silly as he seemed. His money was in his pocket.
The old man rode on to his landlord's home and paid his rent. Then he opened the thief's bag, which was glorious to behold. There were five hundred pounds in gold and silver.
"Where did you get the silver?" asked the landlord. "And where did you get the gold?"
"I met a proud fool on the way," said the old man with a laugh. "I swapped horses with him, and he gave me this to boot."
"Well, well! But you're too old to go about with so much money," said the landlord.
"Oh, I think no one would harm a silly old man like me," said the farmer, as he rode away.
The old man went home by a narrow lane, and there he spied Tib tied to a tree.
"The stranger did not like his trade, I fear," said he. "So I think I'll take Tib home."
The old man went home much richer than when he left. When she heard the story, the wife danced and sang for glee. "'Tis hard to fool my old man," said she.
--ENGLISH BALLAD (_Adapted_).
THE ROCK-A-BY LADY
The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street Comes stealing; comes creeping; The poppies they hang from her head to her feet, And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet-- She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet, When she findeth you sleeping!
There is one little dream of a beautiful drum-- "Rub-a-dub!" it goeth; There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum, And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come Of pop-guns that bang, and tin tops that hum, And a trumpet that bloweth!
And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams With laughter and singing; And boats go a-floating on silvery streams, And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams, And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams, The fairies go winging!
Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet? They'll come to you sleeping; So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet, For the Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street With poppies that hang from her head to her feet, Comes stealing; comes creeping.
--EUGENE FIELD.
THE SANDMAN
The rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down; And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. "White sand, white sand," he softly cries, And as he shakes his hand, Straightway there lies on babies' eyes His gift of shining sand. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, When he goes through the town.
From sunny beaches far away-- Yes, in another land-- He gathers up at break of day His store of shining sand. No tempests beat that shore remote, No ships may sail that way; His little boat alone may float Within that lovely bay. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, When he goes through the town.
He smiles to see the eyelids close Above the happy eyes; And every child right well he knows, Oh, he is very wise! But, if as he goes through the land, A naughty baby cries, His other hand takes dull gray sand To close the wakeful eyes. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, When he goes through the town.
So when you hear the sandman's song Sound through the twilight sweet, Be sure you do not keep him long A-waiting on the street. Lie softly down, dear little head, Rest quiet, busy hands, Till, by your bed his good-night said, He strews the shining sands. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, When he goes through the town.
--MARGARET VANDERGRIFT.
A DICTIONARY
To the Children: Below you will find the words in the Third Reader that you may not know the meaning of, or how to pronounce. Some words have more than one meaning. In looking for the meaning of a word, choose the meaning that best fits the sentence in which the word occurs.
ad ven ture: a bold undertaking. af fec tion: love. a gree ment: a bargain. al mond: a nut. am ber: of the color of amber-yellow. ap plaud ed: praised. ar bu tus: a trailing plant with small pinkish-white blossoms. A tri (Ah tree): a town in Italy. aught: anything.
Bau cis (Bor sis): a Greek woman. bel lows (lus): an instrument for blowing a fire, used by blacksmiths. bil low: a great wave. blithe (bl=ithe): joyous, glad. bred: brought up. bur dock: a coarse plant with bur-like heads. card: an instrument for combing cotton, wool, or flax. chase: hunt; pursuit. chris ten ing: naming a child at baptism. cliff: a high, steep face of rock. com rade (kom rad): a mate, a companion. Con al (C~on' al): an Irish lad. con ceit ed: proud, vain. con fess: to own; to admit. coun cil: a small body called together for a trial, or to decide a matter. court ier (court' yer): an attendant at the court of a prince. crime: a wicked act punishable by law. crouch: to stoop low.
dan ger: risk. de li cious: pleasing to the taste. de nied: disowned. depths: deep part of sea. de stroy: break up; kill. dis tress: suffering of mind. dock: a place between piers where vessels may anchor. Don al (D~on' al): an Irish lad. dor mouse (dor mous'): a small animal that looks like a squirrel. drought (drout): want of water. dub: call. dumps: low spirits.
eaves: overhanging lower edges of a roof. em bers: smouldering ashes. em per or: ruler of an empire. em press: wife of an emperor; a female ruler. en chant ed: bewitched. en e my: foe. es tab lish: to found. ex act ly: completely. ex haust ed: tired, worn out. ex tend ing: reaching.
fam ine: scarcity of food. fes ti val: a time of feasting. flax: a slender plant with blue flowers, used to make thread and cloth. fol ly: foolishness. foot man: a man servant. forge: a place with its furnace where metal is heated and hammered into different shapes. fra grance: sweetness. free dom: independence, liberty.
gauz y: like gauze, thin. Got ham (Got am): a village in Old England, commonly called G=o tham. grate ful: thankful. groom: a servant in charge of horses. guard: one that guards; a watch.
hail ing: calling. har bor: a protected body of water where vessels may anchor safely. haught y: proud. her ald: a messenger. Ho ang ti (H=o ~ang tee): an emperor of China. hoar y: white. horse-chest nut: a tree. hu man: like men. hu mor: mood, disposition.
in no cent: guiltless. in spect: examine. in stant ly: at once. in vent ed: made.
jest: joke. ju ni per: an evergreen, tree. jus tice: right treatment.
king dom: country belonging to king or queen. kirk: church. knight: a mounted man-at-arms.
lad en: loaded. la ment ed: wailed, wept. lin en: thread or cloth made of flax. lodge: dwelling place; wigwam. loom: a machine for weaving threads into cloth. lus cious: delicious.
Man i tou (too): a name given by the Indians to the "Great Spirit," or God. marsh es: swamps. mer cy: pity, kindness. min is ter: a pastor, a clergyman. mis for tune: bad fortune. moc ca sin: Indian shoes. moor: to secure in place, as a vessel: a great tract of waste land. moult ed: shed feathers.
no bles: lords. nurs er y: play room for children.
o blige: do a favor. o rang ou tang: a kind of ape. or der ly: regular; in order.
page: a youth training for knighthood. pas try (p=as): article of food made with crust of paste (or dough) as a pie. peas ant (p~es): a tiller of the soil. pe can: a kind of nut. Pe kin duck: a large, creamy white duck. pest: a nuisance. Phi le mon (F=i l=e' mon): a Greek peasant. pil lar: a support. pin ing: drooping; longing. pound: a piece of English money, equal to about $5.00 in United States money. prai rie: an extensive tract of level or rolling land.
rag ing: furious, violent. rec og nized: known. re flec tion: image. ref uge: shelter. re fused: declined to do. reign ing (rain): ruling. re mote: distant. rest less: eager for change, discontented; unquiet. re store: to return, to give back. roe buck: male deer. runt: an animal unusually small of its kind.
sad dle bags: a pair of pouches attached to a saddle, used to carry small articles. Salis bur y (Sauls): a town in North Carolina. sav age: wild, untamed. scare crow: an object set up to scare crows and other birds away from crops. score: the number twenty. serv ice: benefit, favor. shek el: ancient coin. shreds: strips, fragments. Si ling (Se): a Chinese empress. sim ple ton: a foolish person. six pence: six pennies--about twelve cents in United States money. squire: a justice of the peace. state ly: dignified, majestic. stat ues: likeness of a human being cut out of stone. steeped: soaked. striv ing: laboring, endeavoring. stub ble: stumps of grain left in ground, as after reaping.
tab lets: a flat piece on which to write. tasks: work, undertaking. tem pest: storm. tem ple: a kind of church. thriv ing: prospering, succeeding. tid ings: news. till ing: cultivating. tim id ly: shyly. tink er ing: mending. tithing man (t=ith): officer who enforced good behavior. tor por: numbness, dullness. tread: step. tri als: efforts, attempts. troop: an armed force.
u su al: ordinary, common.
vain: proud, conceited; to no purpose. van ished: disappeared. ven i son (ven' z'n): flesh of deer. vic to ry: triumph. vol un teer: one who offers himself for a service.
wa ger (wa jer): bet. wages: carries on. wand: a small stick. width: breadth. wig wam: Indian tent. wis dom: learning, knowledge.
yarn: thread.
Zeus (Z=us): a Greek god.
WORD LIST
This list contains the words in the Child's World Third Reader, except those already used in the earlier books of this series, and a few that present no difficulty in spelling, pronunciation or meaning.
9 Greece Philemon Baucis unhappy hives
10 gathered couple Zeus beggars
11 attend footsore herbs although pitcher
13 disappeared homeward
14 feeble linden
15 treasure lucky Iris precious
16 messenger swift-footed Mercury awakened
17 hereafter honest upright
18 blossoms luscious harsh
19 hues frolic glistened wrestled scurried
21 fluttered speckled tender
22 parents moment remained praised
25 zigzag remote comrade blithe amber billows stubble bracing
26 plantation spindle
28 woven loom ruffles
29 England buttonholes
30 shepherd shearers
32 dyers
33 colored plaid
34 Hoangti emperor China Si-ling empress suddenly
35 cocoons
37 dainty linen
38 frightful steeped
39 suffered aprons
40 shreds pulp glorious surprise verses
41 isles thousands prayers
42 Hillmen housewife bargains
43 saucepan aye sixpence tinkering
44 refused muttered vexed chimney
45 scoured spoiled exclaimed
46 shelter Dormouse lest
47 gracious lamented invented
48 Atri heralds ye complaint message
49 guilty
50 arousing justice
51 steed undertone jest
52 applauded
53 savage
54 dragged judge prison
55 denied wisdom
56 labor honeycomb
57 artists extending poets affection well-deserved
59 dreadful worry horrid notice
62 business
65 perfectly breath
67 Epaminondas granny
75 service
76 obliged gently
77 tremendous marvelous
78 forbid allow
81 caramels almond pecan taffy
82 except Christ
84 Pedro altar distress
86 stately haughty
88 musician
90 family scare pantry
94 chocolate
95 whiskers danger
101 huddled wailed usual faint
102 cheerful pardon
104 chorus shriller chubby bundled
106 furniture mirror reflection
108 disgusted
110 satisfied oiling
111 bow-legged conceited
112 remarked width
113 clattering astonished
114 fault recognized
115 shekels
116 impossible caliph
117 courtier presence refused
119 companion
120 razors agreement
121 instantly
122 cozy drowsy
124 Puritans Sabbath
125 Indians worship
126 sermon minister
127 tithingman peppermint
130 freedom regular Vermont able-bodied Americans volunteers
131 inspect
133 victory
134 president Salisbury
135 impatient governor
138 delicious heartily
139 murmuring papoose prairie Manitou
140 drought council
142 declared sleek
144 resin selfish
147 mentioned loose
149 hominy sharpened
154 establish harbor moored orderly
155 nursery scattered
156 famine Orang-outang
157 journey magic
160 refuge grateful restore innocent
161 favorite whirlwind
162 kingdom confess rejoicing
163 penniless simpleton nevertheless
164 destroy human
165 enchanted tablets
166 performs princesses
167 collected pearls
168 depths exactly syrup
172 christening godmothers
174 nightingale spitefully
175 grieve vanished misfortune
177 embroidering departed royal
178 reigning peasant determined guards motionless
179 statues
181 canals burdocks
182 parson cheated
186 miserable moor
189 terror cruel
190 clumsy matters
192 glossy moulted naked
193 horrible sky-rocket
195 strength turtle dove
196 Russian
199 juniper
201 trespass-money
202 mischief damages ringleader
205 gooseherd excuse
206 Ireland
208 exhausted diamonds
211 trousers greedily
212 torpor gauzy
213 fragrance Killing-worth
214 squire timidly
215 oriole weevils enemy contradict
216 starvation caterpillars foe
218 arbutus tempest
219 moccasins embers adventures
220 hoary joyous marshes ringlets
221 shrunk bosom scent
223 treasures
224 confused humor score
225 attention folly
227 million tilling
228 caress
229 leaflet petals
230 Gotham woe
223 Nottingham wager
234 aught lodging
235 passport youth servant
236 venison pasty Sherwood
237 majesty terrified
246 straightway beaches
248 twilight strews