Chapter 5
NATURE--HUMOR--HOME AND COUNTRY
Better--a thousand times better--than all the material wealth the world can give is the love for the best books.
THE WORLD OF NATURE
A FORWARD LOOK
If we have eyes to see, the world of Nature is a fairyland. Further on in this book you will read how Aladdin--a boy who was led by a magician to a cave in which were all kinds of wonderful objects--came upon a garden underground wherein grew trees filled with extraordinary fruit. "Each tree bore fruit of a different color," we are told: "The white were pearls; the sparkling were diamonds; the deep red were rubies; the green, emeralds; the blue, turquoises."
Now with this compare a story about a great American author, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Emerson loved all the forms of Nature. He wrote of the bee, of the wild flowers, of the storm, of the snowbird, and of running waters. And in talking of the magic of a river he reminds us of Aladdin's fairy fruits:
"I see thy brimming, eddying stream And thy enchantment, For thou changest every rock in thy bed Into a gem. All is opal and agate, And at will thou pavest with diamonds."
Now we may suppose that Aladdin often waded through the brook and noticed the shining pebbles and heard the tinkling music of the water as it rippled over stones in the stream. He noticed the pebbles, but did not look at them. He heard the murmur of the waters, but he did not listen. But when the magician uttered his magic words, and the earth opened, and Aladdin saw a little ladder leading down into a deep cave, and in that cave found curious trees bearing curious fruits, he was so surprised that he looked more closely, and all that he saw was full of wonder. Now the poet is like the magician. His words open the door of enchantment for us if we care to enter.
For the poets have been lovers of Nature, and they help us to see the beauty that lies about us. One of them calls the stars "the forget-me-nots of the angels." Another writes of the song of the brook as it goes dancing and singing down into the river, until we hear the music of the waters in the melody of the poet's verse. Through such stories and poems of animals and birds and flowers and of the seasons of the year as you will find in the following pages, your magic glass of reading will open up the fairyland of Nature.
For magic wonders are not limited to the fairylands that we read about in the Arabian Nights or in the tales of Cinderella or of the Sleeping Beauty. There is the enchantment which put the princess and all her household to sleep for a hundred years until the prince came to release them. There is also the enchantment of the frost, that stills all the life of brook and lake and river, and holds the outdoor world in deep sleep until the breath of spring comes and releases the prisoners. There is the enchantment which Aladdin controlled by his lamp and his ring, so that at his bidding giant figures appeared to do his will; there is also the enchantment of the snow, of the fire, of the lightning, of the storm; or there is the equally marvelous enchantment by which the rose unfolds from the bud, the apple grows from the blossom, and the robin from the tiny blue egg. Only we must see and listen when the magicians lead us to the fairy world of Nature. Aladdin had passed the entrance to the magic cave a hundred times and had seen nothing. So men pass the fields and see nothing but the corn and the wheat and the cotton, and in the autumn they see the harvesters gathering the crops of the fields. But the poet looks on these same fields and gathers another crop from them, and this he puts into a song, and this song opens for us the world of Nature.
ANIMALS
TURK, THE FAITHFUL
Samuel White Baker
TURK'S FAILURE
When I was a boy, my grandfather frequently told a story concerning a dog which he knew, as an example of true fidelity. This animal was a mastiff that belonged to a friend, Mr. Prideaux, to whom it was a constant companion. Whenever Mr. Prideaux went out for a walk, Turk was sure to be near his heels. Street dogs would bark and snarl at the giant as his massive form attracted their attention, but Turk seldom noticed them. At night he slept outside his master's door, and no sentry could be more alert upon his watch than the faithful dog.
One day Mr. Prideaux had a dinner party. The dog Turk was present, and stretched his huge form upon the hearthrug. It was a cold night in winter, and Mr. Prideaux's friends after dinner began to discuss the subject of dogs. Almost every person had an anecdote to relate, and my own grandfather, being present, had no doubt added his mite to the collection, when Turk suddenly awoke from a sound sleep, and having stretched himself, walked up to his master's side and rested his large head upon the table. "Ha, ha, Turk!" exclaimed Mr. Prideaux, "you must have heard our arguments about the dogs, so you have put in an appearance."
"And a magnificent animal he is!" remarked my grandfather; "but although a mastiff is the largest of dogs, I do not think it is as sensible as many others."
"As a rule you are right," replied his master, "because they are generally chained up as watch-dogs, and have not the intimate association with human beings which is so great an advantage to house-dogs; but Turk has been my constant companion from the first month of his life, and his intelligence is very remarkable. He understands most things that I say, if they are connected with himself; he will often lie upon the rug with his large eyes fixed upon me, and he will frequently become aware that I wish to go out; at such times he will fetch my hat, cane, or gloves, whichever may be at hand, and wait for me at the front door. He will take a letter to several houses of my acquaintance, and wait for a reply; and he can perform a variety of actions that would imply a share of reason seldom possessed by other dogs."
A smile upon several faces was at once noticed by Mr. Prideaux, who immediately took a guinea from his pocket, and said to his dog, "Here, Turk! They won't believe in you! Take this guinea to No.--Street, to Mr.--, and bring me a receipt."
The dog wagged his huge tail with pleasure, and the guinea having been placed in his mouth, he hastened toward the door; this being opened, he was admitted through the front entrance to the street. It was a miserable night.
The wind was blowing the sleet and rain against the windows, and the gutters were running with muddy water; nevertheless, Turk had started upon his mission in the howling gale, while the front door was once more closed against the blast.
The party were comfortably seated around the fire, much interested in the success or failure of the dog's adventure.
"How long will it be before we may expect Turk's return?" inquired a guest.
"The house to which I have sent him is about a mile and a half distant; therefore, if there is no delay when he barks for admission at the door, and my friend is not absent from home, he should return in about three-quarters of an hour with a receipt. If, on the other hand, he cannot gain admission, he may wait for any length of time," replied his master.
Some among the company supported the dog's chances of success, while others were against him. The evening wore away; the allotted time was exceeded, and a whole hour had passed, but no dog had returned. Nevertheless, his master was still hopeful.
"I must tell you," said Mr. Prideaux, "that Turk frequently carries notes for me, and as he knows the house well, he certainly will not make a mistake; perhaps my friend may be dining out, in which case, Turk will probably wait for a longer time."
Two hours passed; the storm was raging. Mr. Prideaux himself went to the front door, which flew open before a fierce gust the instant that the lock was turned. The gutters were clogged with masses of half-melted snow. "Poor Turk!" muttered his master, "this is indeed a wretched night for you. Perhaps they have kept you in the warm kitchen, and will not allow you to return in such fearful weather."
When Mr. Prideaux returned to his guests, he could not conceal his disappointment. "Ha!" exclaimed one, "with a guinea in his mouth, he has probably gone into some house of entertainment where dogs are supplied with dinner and a warm bed, instead of shivering in a winter's gale!" Jokes were made at the absent dog's expense, but his master was anxious and annoyed. Poor Turk's reputation had suffered severely.
It was long past midnight; the guests had departed, the storm was raging, and violent gusts occasionally shook the house. Mr. Prideaux was alone in his study, and he poked the fire until it blazed and roared up the chimney. "What can have become of that dog?" exclaimed his master to himself, now really anxious; "I hope they kept him; most likely they would not send him back upon such a dreadful night."
Mr. Prideaux's study was close to the front door, and his attention was suddenly directed to a violent shaking and scratching. In an instant he ran into the hall and unlocked the entrance door. A mass of filth and mud entered. This was Turk!
The dog was shivering with wet and cold. His usually clean coat was thick with mire, as though he had been dragged through deep mud. He wagged his tail when he heard his master's voice, but appeared dejected and ill. The dog was taken downstairs, and immediately placed in a large tub of hot water, in which he was accustomed to be bathed. It was now discovered that in addition to mud and dirt, which almost concealed his coat, he was besmeared with blood! Mr. Prideaux sponged his favorite with warm water, and, to his surprise, he saw wounds of a serious nature; the dog's throat was badly torn, his back and breast were deeply bitten, and there could be no doubt that he had been worried by a pack of dogs.
He was now washed clean, and was being rubbed dry with a thick towel while he stood upon a blanket before the fire. "Why, Turk, old boy, what has been the matter? Tell us all about it, poor old man!" exclaimed his master.
The dog was now thoroughly warmed and he panted with the heat of the kitchen fire; he opened his mouth, and the guinea which he had received in trust dropped on the kitchen floor!
"There is some mystery in this," said Mr. Prideaux, "which I will try to discover tomorrow. He has been set upon by strange dogs, and rather than lose the guinea, he has allowed himself to be half killed without once opening his mouth in self-defense! Poor Turk!" continued his master, "you must have lost your way old man, in the darkness and storm; most likely confused after the unequal fight. What an example you have given us in being faithful to a trust!"
Turk was wonderfully better after his warm bath. He lapped up a large bowl of good thick soup mixed with bread, and in half an hour was comfortably asleep upon his thick rug by his master's bedroom door.
THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED
Upon the following morning the storm had cleared away, and a bright sky had succeeded to the gloom of the preceding night. Immediately after breakfast Mr. Prideaux, accompanied by his dog (which was, although rather stiff, not much the worse for the rough treatment he had received), started for a walk toward the house to which he had directed Turk upon the previous evening. He was anxious to discover whether his friend had been absent, as he believed that the dog might have been waiting for admittance, and had been perhaps attacked by some dogs in the neighborhood.
The master and Turk had walked for nearly a mile, and had just turned the corner of a street, when, as they passed a butcher's shop, a large brindled mastiff rushed from the shop-door and flew at Turk.
"Call your dog off!" shouted Mr. Prideaux to the butcher, who watched the attack with impudent satisfaction. "Call him off, or my dog will kill him!" continued Mr. Prideaux.
The usually docile Turk had rushed to meet his assailant with a fury that was extraordinary. With a growl like that of a lion he quickly seized his foe by the throat, and in a fierce struggle of only a few seconds he threw the brindled dog upon his back. It was in vain that Mr. Prideaux tried to call him off; he never for an instant relaxed his hold, but with the strength of a wild beast of prey Turk shook the head of the butcher's dog to the right and left. The butcher attempted to interfere and lashed him with a huge whip. "Stand clear! fair play! Don't you strike my dog!" shouted Mr. Prideaux. "Your dog was the first to attack!" Mr. Prideaux seized Turk by his collar, while the butcher was endeavoring to release his dog from the deadly grip. At length Mr. Prideaux's voice and action appeared for a moment to create a calm, and he held back his dog. Turk's flanks were heaving with the intense exertion and excitement of the fight, and he strained to escape from his master's hold to attack once more his enemy. At length, by kind words and the caress of the well-known hand, his fury was calmed down.
"Well, that's the most curious adventure I've ever had with a dog!" exclaimed the butcher who was now completely crestfallen. "Why, that's the very dog! That's the very dog that came by my shop late last night in the howling storm, and my dog Tiger went at him and tousled him up completely. I never saw such a cowardly cur; he wouldn't show any fight, although he was pretty near as big as a donkey; and there my dog Tiger nearly ate half of him, and dragged the other half about the gutter, till he looked more like an old door-mat than dog; and I thought he must have killed him; and here he comes out as fresh as paint today."
"What do you say?" asked Mr. Prideaux. "Was it your dog that worried my poor dog last night when he was upon a message of trust? My friend, let me inform you of the fact that my dog had a guinea in his mouth to carry to my friend, and rather than drop it, he allowed himself to be half killed by your savage Tiger. Today he has proved his courage, and your dog has discovered his mistake. This is the guinea that he dropped from his mouth when he returned to me after midnight, beaten and distressed!" said Mr. Prideaux, much excited. "Here, Turk, old boy, take the guinea again, and come along with me! You have had your revenge, and have given us all a lesson." His master gave him the guinea in his mouth, and they continued their walk.
It appeared, upon Mr. Prideaux's arrival at his friend's house, that Turk had never been there; probably after his defeat he had become so confused that he lost his way in the heavy storm, and had at length regained the road home some time after midnight, in the condition already described.
How to Gain the Full Benefit from Your Reading
The reading of this story, besides giving you pleasure, has no doubt given you a new idea of the faithfulness often shown by dogs. But if you are to get the full benefit from any story or poem in this Reader, you will need to pause long enough to notice certain things that will give you a better understanding of it.
The Crystal Glass, A Forward Look, and A Backward Look.
First, you should read and discuss in class "The Crystal Glass" and study the Table of Contents, to gain a general idea of the book as a whole. Next, you should notice that each story and poem is a part of some special group that treats of some one big idea--such as Nature, Home and Country, etc. Each selection will have a fuller meaning for you if you understand how it helps to bring out the big idea of this group. Before reading the stories in any group you should read and discuss in class the "Forward Look" (see page 19) that precedes them. And after you have read all the selections in a group, you will enjoy a pleasant class period discussing the "Backward Look"--taking stock, as it were, of the joy and benefit gained from your reading.
In addition, each selection is followed by Notes and Questions that contain some or all of the following features: Biography. First, it is always desirable to learn something about the author. When you read, for example, that Samuel White Baker gave the best years of his life to a study of animals, you feel that his story of the dog's faithfulness is well worth reading. Discussion. Next, if you will read the story so carefully that you can answer the questions given under the topic Discussion, you will probably find it easier to understand certain incidents. For example, you hear much about the word "service" in the different wars in which American soldiers have served their country so nobly. But perhaps when you think of the answer to the third question you will see more clearly than before that "service" and "faithfulness" are qualities that are shown not only on the battlefield but in humble walks of life--sometimes even by animals. Glossary. One of the benefits that should result from reading is the learning of new words. At the end of the Discussion you will find a list of words, the meaning of which you are to look up in the Glossary, and a second list that you should find out how to pronounce. Many of these words you may feel certain you know how to pronounce correctly. But perhaps you have been mispronouncing some of them. Look up in the glossary the words listed under question 9, and you may find that you have been mispronouncing calm, hearth, or extraordinary. When you are looking up words in the pronunciation lists, be sure that you understand the meaning, also. Besides the individual words that you do not understand, you will sometimes read a phrase, or group of words, used in some special sense. The most striking are listed under the topic Phrases for Study. Look them up in the Glossary, for you will often find the hardest passage of the reading lesson made easy by the explanation of a single phrase.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Samuel White Baker (1821-1893) was an English engineer and author. At the age of twenty-four he went to Ceylon, where he soon became known as an explorer and hunter of big game. With his wife he later explored the region of the Nile River. He is the author of True Tales for My Grandsons, from which "Turk, the Faithful Dog" is taken.
Discussion. 1. How does this story prove the intelligence of Turk? 2. How does it prove his fidelity? 3. Here are two qualities that every man should desire to possess; do you think many men, set upon by robbers, would act as bravely and as faithfully as Turk? Give reasons for your answer. 4. What do you know of the author? 5. Class readings: The conversation between Mr. Prideaux and the butcher, (2 pupils). 6. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story in your own words, using these topics: (a) Turk's adventure; (b) how the mystery was explained. 7. You will enjoy reading "Cap, the Red Cross Dog" (in Stories for Children, Faulkner). 8. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: alert; mission; dejected; besmeared; brindled; docile; relaxed; crestfallen. 9. Pronounce: hearthrug; anecdote; guinea; toward; extraordinary; calm.
Phrases for Study:
intimate association, of a serious nature, imply a share of reason, received in trust, supported the dog's chances, succeeded to the gloom.
OUR UNINVITED GUEST
Ernest Harold Baynes
"Jimmy," our young black bear, was known to every child in the neighborhood. If a children's vote had been taken for the most popular animal in the county, I believe that Jimmy would have been unanimously elected. If the grown people had held the election, however, it is certain that there would have been some votes against him. For example, when Mr. W--, one of our neighbors, came home very late one night, got into bed in the dark, and unwittingly kicked a bear cub that had climbed in at a window earlier in the evening, of course he had his toes nipped. That man would never have voted for Jimmy.
Neither would the farmer's wife he met one evening coming from the barn with a pail of new milk. The weather was warm, Jimmy was thirsty, and he was particularly fond of new milk. So he stood on his hind legs, threw his arms around the pail, and sucked up half the contents before the good woman had recovered from her astonishment. But with the children he was a great favorite. He was one of them, and they understood him. Like them he was full of fun and mischief, and he would play as long as anyone cared to play with him.
One Christmas we gave a children's party, and perhaps a score of girls and boys came to spend the evening. As it was not possible to make Jimmy understand about the party, he went to bed early, as usual, and was asleep in his own den under the porch long before the first guests arrived. He was not forgotten by his little friends, however, and "Where's Jimmy?" was the first question asked by almost every child as he came in. But there was so much to chatter about, and there were so many games to play, that absent comrades--even Jimmy--were soon out of mind.
At last supper was ready, and all the children trooped into the dining-room and took their places at the long table.
For a little while everyone was so busy that there was little to be heard except the clatter of forks and spoons and plates. I stood at the end of the room, enjoying the fun. For the moment, my eyes were on a small boy who seemed to be enjoying himself even more than the rest. He was making more noise than anyone else, and at the same time performing remarkable sleight-of-mouth tricks with a large piece of cake and a plate of ice cream. Suddenly, I saw his face change. His laugh was cut in two, his smile faded, the remains of the cake fell to his plate, and a spoonful of ice cream, on its way to his open mouth, remained suspended in the air. He was facing a window, and as I followed his gaze, I saw a hairy black face, with a tawny muzzle and a pair of small shining black eyes, looking eagerly into the room. It was the bear cub, whose slumbers had been disturbed by the noise, and who had come to see what it was all about.
In an instant the room was in an uproar. All the children left the table at once, and crowded around the window yelling--"Jimmy!" "It's Jimmy!" "Let him in!" "Don't you do it!" "Keep him out!" "Open the window!" "Give him some cake!" One little boy, with a piece of cake in his hand, raised the window just a little. That was enough for Jimmy; he thrust his strong muzzle under the sash, raised it with one jerk of his head, and came tumbling into the room. How those children yelled and scattered! While they all thought it good fun to have the cub at the party, none of them knew just what he would do, and some; especially among the younger ones, were decidedly nervous. A small girl hid behind the window curtains, two little boys scurried upstairs and peeped through the banisters, and another, by means of a chair, scrambled to the top of a sideboard. But Jimmy had his own ideas about a party. His first interest was in the supper table. Standing up on his hind legs, he placed his forepaws on the cloth. Just in front of him was a plate with some apple jelly on it. One sweep of his long tongue and the plate was almost as clean as if it had been washed. A dish of blancmange was the next to be gobbled up, and then a boy rather bolder than the rest made an attempt to save the cake. He seized the intruder by the skin of his neck, but except for a loud, grumbling protest, the bear paid no attention to him. He walked right along, pulling the boy with him, and one slice of cake after another disappeared down the black throat. The little girl behind the curtains, seeing that Jimmy did not intend to hurt anyone, came from her hiding place to try to help the boy who was holding him. Now this little girl had been eating strawberry jam, and as little girls sometimes do, had left some of it on her lips. The moment she touched him, Jimmy turned, and seeing and smelling the jam, he caught the child in his short forearms, and in spite of her screams, licked her face all over before letting her go. Then he reached for the sugar basin, lifted it from the table with his paws, and sat down on his haunches to devour the contents.
By this time the children who had been nervous were quite at their ease again, and gathered round to see him eat the sugar. In a few moments he had satisfied his hunger, and was ready to play. First of all he acted as if he had lost his wits; or as if he wanted to "show off," which is about the same thing. He rolled over on his back, turned somersaults, and batted the chairs and the table legs with his paws. The children got down on the floor to romp with him, and together they had a merry time.
When they were all upon their feet again, Jimmy arose and stood perfectly straight on his hind legs. Then he picked out a girl about his own height and took a step toward her, raising his paws as though inviting her to a boxing match. The girl accepted the challenge, and as she was strong, she held her own very well for a time. But as Jimmy warmed up to his work, he became very rough and swung his heavy paws as hard as he could. At last he gave his playmate a stinging slap on the side of her face, and she decided not to play any more. And as I thought that Jimmy had had about enough fun for one evening, I opened the door, and he galloped off to his den under the porch.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Ernest Harold Baynes (1868-1925), the naturalist-author, lived in Meriden, New Hampshire. He was the author of the interesting book Wild Bird Guests, and of "Our Animal Allies" (in Harper's Magazine, January, 1921). During the World War I Mr. Baynes was in France, studying the part that birds and animals played in helping to win the war. Wherever he went he organized bird clubs, in order to protect our wild birds.
Discussion. 1. Why was Jimmy not popular with the farmer's wife? 2. Why do you think the children liked the bear? 3. Do you think they would have enjoyed the party more, or less, if there had been no "uninvited guest"? 4. Class readings: The description of the supper, page 31, line 7, to page 32, line 26. 5. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story of the "uninvited guest," using these topics: (a) the bear and how he was liked; (b) the bear's actions at the children's party; (c) the boxing match. 6. You will find interesting stories in Bear Stories Retold from St. Nicholas, Carter, and in The Biography of a Grizzly, Seton. 7. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: unanimously; unwittingly; sleight-of-mouth; tawny; muzzle; intruder. Pronounce: blancmange; haunches.
HUNTING THE AMERICAN BUFFALO
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
In the fall of 1889 I heard that a very few bison were still left around the head of Wisdom River. Thither I went and hunted faithfully; there was plenty of game of other kinds, but of bison not a trace did we see. Nevertheless, a few days later that same year I came across these great wild cattle at a time when I had no idea of seeing them.
It was, as nearly as we could tell, in Idaho, just south of the Montana boundary line, and some twenty-five miles west of the line of Wyoming. We were camped high among the mountains, with a small pack train. On the day in question we had gone out to find moose, but had seen no sign of them, and had then begun to climb over the higher peaks with an idea of getting sheep. The old hunter who was with me was, very fortunately, suffering from rheumatism, and he therefore carried a long staff instead of his rifle; I say fortunately, for if he had carried his rifle, it would have been impossible to stop his firing at such game as bison, nor would he have spared the cows and calves.
About the middle of the afternoon we crossed a low, rocky ridge, and saw at our feet a basin, or round valley, of singular beauty. Its walls were formed by steep mountains. At its upper end lay a small lake, bordered on one side by a meadow of emerald green. The lake's other side marked the edge of the frowning pine forest which filled the rest of the valley. Beyond the lake the ground rose in a pass much frequented by game in bygone days, their trails lying along it in thick zigzags, each gradually fading out after a few hundred yards, and then starting again in a little different place, as game trails so often seem to do.
We bent our steps toward these trails, and no sooner had we reached the first than the old hunter bent over it with a sharp exclamation of wonder. There in the dust, apparently but a few hours old, were the hoof-marks of a small band of bison. They were headed toward the lake. There had been half a dozen animals in the party; one a big bull, and two calves.
We immediately turned and followed the trail. It led down to the little lake, where the beasts had spread and grazed on the tender, green blades, and had drunk their fill. The footprints then came together again, showing where the animals had gathered and walked off in single file to the forest. Evidently they had come to the pool in the early morning, and after drinking and feeding had moved into the forest to find some spot for their noontide rest.
It was a very still day, and there were nearly three hours of daylight left. Without a word my silent companion, who had been scanning the whole country with hawk-eyed eagerness, took the trail, motioning me to follow. In a moment we entered the woods, breathing a sigh of relief as we did so; for while in the meadow we could never tell that the buffalo might not see us, if they happened to be lying in some place with a commanding lookout.
It was not very long before we struck the day-beds, which were made on a knoll, where the forest was open, and where there was much down timber. After leaving the day-beds the animals had at first fed separately around the grassy base and sides of the knoll, and had then made off in their usual single file, going straight to a small pool in the forest. After drinking they had left this pool and traveled down toward the mouth of the basin, the trail leading along the sides of the steep hill, which were dotted by open glades. Here we moved with caution, for the sign had grown very fresh, and the animals had once more scattered and begun feeding. When the trail led across the glades, we usually skirted them so as to keep in the timber.
At last, on nearing the edge of one of these glades, we saw a movement among the young trees on the other side, not fifty yards away. Peering through some thick evergreen bushes, we speedily made out three bison, a cow, a calf, and a yearling, grazing greedily on the other side of the glade. Soon another cow and calf stepped out after them. I did not wish to shoot, waiting for the appearance of the big bull which I knew was accompanying them.
So for several minutes I watched the great, clumsy, shaggy beasts, as they grazed in the open glade. Mixed with the eager excitement of the hunter was a certain half-melancholy feeling as I gazed on these bison, themselves part of the last remnant of a nearly vanished race. Few, indeed, are the men who now have, or evermore shall have, the chance of seeing the mightiest of American beasts in all his wild vigor.
At last, when I had begun to grow very anxious lest the others should take alarm, the bull likewise appeared on the edge of the glade, and stood with outstretched head, scratching his throat against a young tree, which shook violently. I aimed low, behind his shoulder, and pulled the trigger. At the crack of the rifle all the bison turned and raced off at headlong speed. The fringe of young pines beyond and below the glade cracked and swayed as if a whirlwind were passing, and in another moment the bison reached the top of a steep incline, thickly strewn with boulders and dead reckless speed; the timber. Down this they plunged with surefootedness was a marvel. A column of dust obscured their passage, and under its cover they disappeared in the forest; but the trail of the bull was marked by splashes of frothy blood, and we followed it at a trot. Fifty yards beyond the border of the forest we found the black body stretched motionless. He was a splendid old bull, still in his full vigor, with large, sharp horns, and heavy mane and glossy coat; and I felt the most exulting pride as I handled and examined him; for I had procured a trophy such as can fall henceforth to few hunters indeed.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), twenty-sixth President of the United States, was born in New York City. As a boy he was frail of body, but overcame this handicap by regular exercise and outdoor life. He was always interested in animals and birds and particularly in hunting game in the western plains and mountains. In 1884 Roosevelt bought two cattle ranches in North Dakota, where for two years he lived and entered actively into western life and spirit. Two of the books in which he has recorded his western experience: The Deer Family and The Wilderness Hunter, from the latter of which "Hunting the American Buffalo" is taken.
Discussion. 1. What makes this story "exciting," or "thrilling"? 2. How does the writer let you know his feelings? 3. What proof of Roosevelt's good sportsmanship is found in the second paragraph on page 34? 4. Class reading: From page 35, line 3, to page 36, line 13. 5. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story briefly, using these topics: (a) the discovery; (b) the pursuit; (c) the first view; (d) the end of the story. 6. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: day-beds; glade; skirted; yearling; trophy. 7. Pronounce: bison; boundary; frequented; knoll; melancholy; remnant; incline; strewn.
Phrases for Study pack train, hawk-eyed eagerness, frowning pine forest, commanding lookout, much frequented, down timber, thick zigzags, obscured their passage.
BIRDS AND THEIR SONGS
THE BIRDS AND I
Liberty H. Bailey
The springtime belongs to the birds and me. We own it. We know when the mayflowers and the buttercups bloom. We know when the first frogs peep. We watch the awakening of the woods. We are wet by the warm April showers. We go where we will, and we are companions. Every tree and brook and blade of grass is ours; and our hearts are full of song.
There are boys who kill the birds, and girls who want to catch them and put them into cages, and there are others who steal their eggs. The birds are not partners with them; they are only servants. Birds, like people, sing for their friends, not for their masters. I am sure that one cannot think much of the springtime and the flowers if his heart is always set upon killing or catching something. We are happy when we are free, and so are the birds.
The birds and I get acquainted all over again every spring. They have seen strange lands in the winter, and all the brooks and woods have been covered with snow. So we run and romp together, and find all the nooks and crannies which we had half-forgotten since October. The birds remember the old places. The wrens pull the sticks from the old hollow rail and seem to be wild with joy to see the place again. They must be the same wrens that were here last year, for strangers could not make so much fuss over an old rail. The bluebirds and wrens look into every crack and corner for a place in which to build, and the robins and chirping-sparrows explore every tree in the old orchard.
If the birds want to live with us, we should encourage them. The first thing to do is to leave them alone. Let them be as free from danger and fear as you and I. Take the hammer off the old gun, give pussy so much to eat that she will not care to hunt for birds, and keep away the boys who steal eggs and who carry sling-shots and throw stones. Plant trees and bushes about the borders of the place, and let some of them, at least, grow into tangles; then, even in the back yard, the wary catbird may make its home.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Liberty Hyde Bailey (1858-1954) has written many books on Nature and outdoor life. He was chairman of the Commission on Country Life, appointed by Roosevelt.
Discussion. 1. Why does the author say that the springtime belongs to "the birds and me"? 2. When may we say the birds are our partners and when our servants? 3. What different ways of dealing with birds are spoken of? Which way does the writer prefer? 4. How may you encourage the birds to live near you? 5. What do you gain if you persuade them to do this? Find an answer to this question in the poems that follow. 6. What birds come to trees near your home? 7. How are birds helpful to men? 8. You will find interesting stories and pictures of birds in The Burgess Bird Book for Children, Burgess. 9. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: acquainted; explore; wary. 10. Pronounce: partners; again.
THE BROWN THRUSH
Lucy LARCOM
There's a merry brown thrush sitting up in a tree-- He's singing to me! he's singing to me! And what does he say, little girl, little boy? "Oh, the world's running over with joy! Don't you hear? Don't you see? Hush! Look! In my tree I'm as happy as happy can be!"
And the brown thrush keeps singing--"A nest do you see, And five eggs, hid by me in the juniper-tree? Don't meddle! don't touch! little girl, little boy, Or the world will lose some of its joy. Now I'm glad! Now I'm free! And I always shall be, If you never bring sorrow to me."
So the merry brown thrush sings away in the tree, To you and to me, to you and to me; And he sings all the day, little girl, little boy-- "Oh, the world's running over with joy; But long it won't be, Don't you know, don't you see, Unless we're as good as can be?"
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Lucy Larcom (1826-1893) was the daughter of a sea captain. During twenty years of teaching school, she wrote many charming poems for children.
Discussion. 1. Who is supposed to be speaking in the first two lines? 2. Who asks the question in the third line? 3. Who answers the question? 4. Find the answer to the question in the first stanza. 5. Why is the little bird so happy? 6. What will make him unhappy? 7. How can you help to make the world "run over with joy"? 8. You will enjoy hearing "Songs of Our Native Birds" and "How Birds Sing", Victor records by Kellogg.
SING ON, BLITHE BIRD
WILLIAM MOTHERWELL
I've plucked the berry from the bush, the brown nut from the tree, But heart of happy little bird ne'er broken was by me. I saw them in their curious nests, close couching, slyly peer With their wild eyes, like glittering beads, to note if harm were near; I passed them by, and blessed them all; I felt that it was good To leave unmoved the creatures small whose home was in the wood.
And here, even now, above my head, a lusty rogue doth sing; He pecks his swelling breast and neck, and trims his little wing. He will not fly; he knows full well, while chirping on that spray, I would not harm him for a world, or interrupt his lay. Sing on, sing on, blithe bird! and fill my heart with summer gladness; It has been aching many a day with measures full of sadness!
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. William Motherwell (1797-1835), a Scotch poet and journalist, was born in Glasgow, where he lived and died. In 1830 he became editor of the Glasgow Courier. He wrote a volume of local ballads, and many of his poems were published in the magazines and newspapers.
Discussion. 1. To what does the poet compare the eyes of birds? 2. Find the lines that tell why the bird is not afraid of the poet. 3. How do you think the birds know their friends? 4. What happiness does the poet get because of his kindness to the birds? 5. Read the lines that another poet who loved birds has written about his love for them:
"He prayeth well who loveth well Both man and bird and beast.
"He prayeth best who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all."
6. You will find helpful suggestions in the illustrated Farmers' Bulletins, Bird Houses and How to Build Them, and How to Attract Birds, sent free by the Department of Agriculture, Washington, DC. 7. In the Forward Look, on pages 19 and 20, you were told that the poets and wise story writers of Nature help us to see the beauty that lies in the great outdoor world. Mention instances of help that you have received from the stories and poems you have read in this group. 8. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: glittering; trims; spray; blithe; measures.
Phrases for Study: close couching, lusty rogue, note if harm were near, knows full well, leave unmoved, interrupt his lay.
THE VIOLET AND THE BEE
John Bannister Tabb
"And pray, who are you?" Said the Violet blue To the Bee, with surprise, At his wonderful size, In her eyeglass of dew. "I, madam," quoth he, "Am a publican Bee, Collecting the tax Of honey and wax. Have you nothing for me?"
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Reverend John B. Tabb (1845-1909), a Southern poet, was born near Richmond, Virginia. All his life he was interested in birds, flowers, and outdoor life. When the Civil War began, he joined the Southern army, although he was a mere lad of sixteen. After the war he became a clergyman and a teacher.
Discussion. 1. What did the Violet ask the Bee? 2. What surprised the Violet? 3. What is the Violet's "eyeglass of dew"? 4. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: quoth; publican; tax.
FOUR-LEAF CLOVERS
Ella Higginson
I know a place where the sun is like gold, And the cherry blooms burst with snow; And down underneath is the loveliest nook, Where the four-leaf clovers grow.
One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith, And one is for love, you know; But God put another in for luck-- If you search, you will find where they grow.
But you must have hope, and you must have faith; You must love and be strong; and so, If you work, if you wait, you will find the place Where the four-leaf clovers grow.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Ella Higginson (1862-1940), an American writer, lived in Bellingham, on Puget Sound, Washington. She won a prize of five hundred dollars, offered by a magazine for the best short story.
Discussion. 1. To whom is the four-leaf clover supposed to bring good luck? 2. Which do you think will give greater happiness, to learn something by hard work or to gain it by chance? Why do you think so? 3. What does the poem say we must have? 4. What does the poem say we must do? 5. If we have all these things and do all these things, shall we need to hunt for the four-leaf clover to bring us good fortune? Why? 6. Commit the poem to memory.
JACK IN THE PULPIT
Clara Smith
Jack in the pulpit Preaches today, Under the green trees Just over the way. Squirrel and song-sparrow, High on their perch, Hear the sweet lily-bells Ringing to church. Come hear what his reverence Rises to say In his low, painted pulpit This calm Sabbath day.
Meek-faced anemones, Drooping and sad; Great yellow violets, Smiling out glad; Buttercups' faces, Beaming and bright; Clovers with bonnets, Some red and some white; Daisies, their white fingers Half-clasped in prayer; Dandelions, proud of The gold of their hair; Innocents, children Guileless and frail,
Meek little faces Upturned and pale; Wildwood geraniums, All in their best, Languidly leaning, In purple gauze dressed-- All are assembled This sweet Sabbath day To hear what the priest In his pulpit will say.
So much for the preacher; The sermon comes next-- Shall we tell how he preached it And where was his text? Alas! like too many Grown-up folks who play At worship in churches Man-builded today, We heard not the preacher Expound or discuss; But we looked at the people And they looked at us. We saw all their dresses-- Their colors and shapes, The trim of their bonnets; The cut of their capes; We heard the wind-organ, The bee, and the bird, But of Jack in the pulpit We heard not a word!
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Clara Smith is not a well-known writer, but her poem, "Jack in the Pulpit," is full of beauty. The rhythm is as pleasing as the picture is charming.
Discussion. 1. What time of year is described in this poem? 2. Who make up the congregation when Jack in the pulpit preaches? 3. How does the poet make the flowers seem like people? 4. How many of the flowers described in this poem are familiar to you? 5. Which flower is most beautifully described? Find the lines that give the description. 6. Why are we not told about the sermon? 7. What was the congregation doing during the sermon? 8. What did they see? What did they hear? 9. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: drooping; beaming; gauze; assembled; text; worship; expound. 10. Pronounce: anemones; guileless; languidly.
Phrases for Study: his reverence, all in their best, painted pulpit, man-builded today.
SEPTEMBER
Helen Hunt Jackson
The goldenrod is yellow; The corn is turning brown; The trees in apple orchards With fruit are bending down.
The gentian's bluest fringes Are curling in the sun; In dusky pods the milkweed Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest In every meadow-nook; And asters by the brookside Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning The grapes' sweet odors rise; At noon the roads all flutter With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather, And autumn's best of cheer.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Helen Hunt Jackson (1831-1885) was an American poet and novelist. She was born in Amherst, Massachusetts, where her father was a professor in Amherst College, but she spent much of her life in California. She married a banker in Colorado Springs, Colorado, where she lived for a few years. Her poems are very beautiful, and "September" and "October's Bright Blue Weather" are especially good pictures of these autumn months. Every child should know these poems by heart.
Discussion. 1. What is meant by the harvest of the sedges? 2. How are the "asters in the brook" made? 3. Which lines in the last stanza tell us what September brings? 4. What things mentioned in this poem have you seen? 5. Read again what is said on pages 19 and 20 about the poet as a magician; what beauty of Nature does the poet show you in the following lines?
"And asters by the brookside Make asters in the brook."
6. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: sedges; flaunt; flutter. 7. Pronounce: gentian; dusky.
Phrases for Study: dusky pods, lovely tokens, hidden silk has spun, best of cheer.
OCTOBER'S BRIGHT BLUE WEATHER
Helen Hunt Jackson
O sun and skies and clouds of June And flowers of June together, Ye cannot rival for one hour October's bright blue weather;
When loud the bumblebee makes haste, Belated, thriftless vagrant, And goldenrod is dying fast, And lanes with grapes are fragrant;
When gentians roll their fringes tight, To save them for the morning, And chestnuts fall from satin burs Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie In piles like jewels shining, And redder still on old stone walls Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things Their white-winged seeds are sowing, And in the fields, still green and fair, Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks In idle, golden freighting, Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunt By twos and twos together, And count like misers hour by hour October's bright blue weather.
O sun and skies and flowers of June, Count all your boasts together, Love loveth best of all the year October's bright blue weather.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
For Biography see above.
Discussion. 1. What comparison is made in the first stanza between June and October? 2. Why is the bumblebee described as "loud"? 3. Compare the description of the goldenrod in this poem with the description of the goldenrod in "September." 4. Compare the description of the apples in this poem with the description of the apples in "September." 5. Find the line that tells why the "gentians roll their fringes tight." 6. What is the color of the woodbine leaves? 7. What are the "wayside things" usually called? 8. What do good comrades like to do in October? 9. Why are we sorry to have October go? 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: fragrant; twining; aftermath; haunts. 11. Pronounce: rival; vagrant; freighting.
Phrases for Study: rival for one hour, hush of woods, belated, thriftless vagrant, count like misers, satin burs, count all your boasts, idle, golden freighting.
NOVEMBER
Alice Cary
The leaves are fading and falling; The winds are rough and wild; The birds have ceased their calling-- But let me tell you, my child,
Though day by day, as it closes, Doth darker and colder grow, The roots of the bright red roses Will keep alive in the snow.
And when the winter is over, The boughs will get new leaves, The quail come back to the clover, And the swallow back to the eaves.
The robin will wear on his bosom A vest that is bright and new, And the loveliest wayside blossom Will shine with the sun and dew.
The leaves today are whirling; The brooks are all dry and dumb-- But let me tell you, my darling, The spring will be sure to come.
There must be rough, cold weather, And winds and rains so wild; Not all good things together Come to us here, my child.
So, when some dear joy loses Its beauteous summer glow, Think how the roots of the roses Are kept alive in the snow.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Alice Cary (1820-1871), an American poet, was born in Cincinnati. She and her sister, Phoebe, wrote many beautiful poems and sketches. They removed to New York City and lived together there. "November" is one of Alice Cary's most widely known poems.
Discussion. 1. What signs of autumn are mentioned in the first stanza? 2. What signs of the coming winter are mentioned in the second stanza? 3. Where have the birds gone? 4. What is meant by the word "here" in line 4, above? 5. Why are the brooks "dry and dumb" in November? 6. Is this true in all parts of the country? 7. What are we told about the spring in "October's Bright Blue Weather"? 8. What will happen when the winter is over? 9. Where does the swallow build his nest? 10. What wonder of Nature, about which you read in A Forward Look, above, does the second stanza tell you? 11. How can the snow help keep the roots alive? 12. In what stanza is this thought repeated? 13. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: fading; quail; eaves.
Phrases for Study: ceased their calling, wayside blossom, vest that is bright, beauteous summer glow.
TODAY
Thomas Carlyle
Lo, here hath been dawning Another blue day; Think, wilt thou let it Slip useless away?
Out of Eternity This new day is born; Into Eternity, At night, will return.
Behold it aforetime No eye ever did; So soon it forever From all eyes is hid.
Here hath been dawning Another blue day; Think, wilt thou let it Slip useless away?
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881) was a great Scotch writer of essays and history. He lived in Edinburgh, and later in London.
Discussion. 1. Find the lines that explain why the day is called a "new day." 2. Find the lines which remind us that the day will pass quickly. 3. The poet tells us in the first stanza to "think"; what does he want us to think about? 4. Find the same lines in another stanza. Why did the poet repeat these words? 5. Read the short story that follows, and tell whether Titus and the poet have the same, idea of a "useless" day.
The Roman Emperor, Titus, won the love of all his people by his kindness and generosity to those who were in trouble. One night at supper, remembering that he had not helped anyone that day, he exclaimed, "My friends, I have lost a day!"
Phrases for Study: behold it aforetime blue day.
THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES
Francis Bourdillon
The night has a thousand eyes, And the day but one; Yet the light of the bright world dies With the dying sun.
The mind has a thousand eyes, And the heart but one; Yet the light of a whole life dies When love is done.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Francis William Bourdillon (1852-1921) an English poet, lived at Buddington, England. He attended college at Oxford. Few poets have written more beautiful lines than his "The Night Has a Thousand Eyes."
Discussion. 1. What are the eyes of the night? 2. What is the eye of the day? 3. How many eyes does the poet say the mind has? 4. How many eyes does he say the heart has? 5. In which line are we told what the eye of the heart is? 6. In A Forward Look, above, you read that the poet is a magician whose words open for us the fairyland of Nature; what have the words of this poet done for you? 7. Memorize the poem.
A BACKWARD LOOK
As you look backward over the animal stories you have read in this group, which did you enjoy most? Which story would be the most interesting to tell to a younger brother or sister? Which do you like better, stories in which animals are the actors, or stories about the hunting of animals?
Which one of the poems about birds has lines in it that sound like the bird's song? Which author makes you feel most keenly his love for birds? Which one tells you of pleasures that birds enjoy? Make a program for Arbor and Bird Day from selections found or suggested in this group.
In the "Notes and Questions" you have found a number of suggestions for outside reading. Did you find in the school library or public library any of the books that are mentioned in the different biographies? In your class, who has read Baker's True Tales for My Grandsons, or other selections mentioned in the biographies or elsewhere? What progress have you made in silent reading?
If you were making a blackboard calendar for each of the months--September, October, and November--what stanzas in each of the three poems on these months would give you ideas for decoration? Select a stanza from these poems as a motto for each of your calendars. November teaches Alice Caw a truth which she passes on to us; what is this truth?
On pages 19 and 20 you read that the world of Nature is a fairyland, and that the poets help us to see the beauty that lies about us. Perhaps now when you look up into a starry sky you say to yourself almost without thinking, "The night has a thousand eyes--" What other poems have revealed beauties of Nature to you?
A FORWARD LOOK
Here is matter for your entertainment. Several interesting persons will appear and will show you that a small part of the joy of reading consists in the merry tales that you may find in books. One of the English poets somewhere calls upon the spirits of fun and joy, a cheerful nymph and her companions, to drive dull care away. This poet, John Milton by name, wrote many poems and prose works on very serious matters. He lived in a serious time, the time when many Englishmen were leaving their native country and emigrating to America in order that they might find a freedom that was denied to them at home.
But even under these circumstances, sympathizing with those who went into exile for freedom, and studying night and day how he could himself advance the cause of liberty, John Milton was too great a man to believe that life is altogether serious and earnest. Humor and jesting and wholesome fun have a part in every life; they are no more to be neglected than the spices in a Thanksgiving pie. So the poet called upon the cheerful nymph and her attendants to help him see the brighter side of life; the fun that there is in foolishness, and the health that comes with a hearty laugh. Here is what he wrote:
"Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity,
Come, and trip it, as you go, On the light, fantastic toe."
Now let us imagine that we, also, are inviting these kindly spirits of Mirth. Our lives are serious, too. We have arithmetic to learn, or we have a composition to write. People expect us to do all sorts of things that take our time, and of course we want to do these things. But here comes Laughter holding both his sides, a fat old gentleman who makes you feel merry the moment you set eyes on him. And Father Laughter first introduces the Baron Munchausen, who will tell some of his marvelous experiences. We are not compelled to believe all of them. Perhaps Father Laughter wanted to take a sly dig or two at the yarns some travelers tell when they get home. By this means the story illustrates one of the great sources of humor--monstrous exaggeration. It also shows what a foolish thing it is to be a boaster. Most people, at one time or another, are tempted to brag about their deeds, their possessions, or their smartness. If they would only think of Baron Munchausen, they would flee from this temptation.
After this comes a story about the blind men and the elephant. Here Father Laughter gets his way with you by making you see how absurd were the guesses about the elephant made by men who knew only the animal's trunk, or his tusks, or his tail. And here, too, after you have laughed heartily at the foolish fellows who were so positive that they knew everything when they knew nothing, you begin to see the danger in what are called "snap judgments." "Look at these ridiculous fellows," says Father Laughter, "and consider how silly it is to jump to a conclusion unless you have all the facts."
You will agree that Father Laughter's next performer, Darius Green, is especially interesting in these days when men fly across the Atlantic or from New York to San Francisco. Darius seems to have been the first "bird-man," and though he was absurd enough, he reminds one of the fact that many useful inventions that now add to our comfort were prepared for by men who seemed to their friends and acquaintances crazy enough.
But this is introduction a-plenty; there's really no need to keep you any longer from getting acquainted with Father Laughter and the antics he likes to play.
ADVENTURES OF BARON MUNCHAUSEN
R. E. Raspe
The Savage Boar
Baron Munchausen had feasted his friends right well, and after supper he leaned back in his chair and said, "So you want me to tell you of my adventures in the past." His guests eagerly urged him on, and he began his story.
Once, when I was returning from a hunt, with an empty gun (having used all my ammunition), a raging wild boar rushed at me. Well, you know how unpleasant such an encounter may be, so I am sure none of you will think me a coward for hastily climbing the nearest tree; it was a young birch which could hardly bear my weight. The boar made a dash for the tree, but was a moment too late, for I had just drawn my legs out of his reach. But so violent was his rush that his tusks went through the trunk of the tree and projected an inch through the other side. I slid down the tree, picked up a stone the size of my fist, and riveted down the projecting points of the tusks. You can imagine what a narrow escape I had when I tell you that the beast weighed five tons--a good deal for a wild boar."
A Narrow Escape
"At another time, when I was hunting in Ceylon, I was terrified to see a gigantic lion approaching, with the evident intention of devouring me. My gun was only loaded with bird-shot, and I had no other about me. The savage animal shook his head several times, uttered a loud roar, and prepared to spring. I turned to flee, and--my flesh creeps even now at the recollection of it--there, on the bank of a river that lay behind me, was a huge crocodile with his terrible jaws open ready to swallow me!
"Imagine, gentlemen, the horror of my situation--before me the lion, behind me the crocodile, on my left a rushing torrent, and on the right an abyss full of poisonous snakes! I gave myself up for lost, and fell to the ground in an almost fainting condition, expecting nothing better than to meet with a horrible death from one or the other of these terrible animals.
"After waiting a few seconds I heard a violent noise, different from any that had fallen on my ears before. I ventured to raise my head, and what do you think had happened?
"The lion had, in his eagerness, jumped clean over me into the crocodile's jaws; the head of the one stuck in the throat of the other, and they were struggling to free themselves. I quickly sprang to my feet, drew out my hunting-knife, and with one blow severed the lion's head. Then, with the butt-end of my gun, I rammed the head farther into the throat of the crocodile, and destroyed him by suffocation. The hide of the crocodile, which was exactly forty feet in length, I had stuffed, and it now forms one of the chief attractions in the museum at Amsterdam, where the superintendent relates the story to all spectators, with harrowing additions.
"One of these is that the lion jumped right through the crocodile, but as soon as the head appeared, Monsieur the Famous Baron (as he is pleased to call me) cut it off, and three feet of the crocodile's tail as well, whereupon the crocodile turned round, snatched the knife out of my hand, and swallowed it so greedily that it pierced his heart and killed him!
"I need not tell you how annoyed I was by these exaggerations. In this age of doubt people who do not know me might possibly be led to disbelieve the real facts when they are mixed up with such absurd inventions.
HOW THE BARON SAVED GIBRALTAR
"Some years later I made a voyage to Gibraltar to visit my old friend, General Elliott. He received me with joy and took me for a stroll along the ramparts to examine the operations of the enemy. I had brought with me an excellent telescope, which I had purchased in Rome. Looking through it, I saw that the enemy were about to discharge a thirty-six pound cannon at the very spot where we were standing. I rushed toward our nearest cannon, a forty-eight pounder, and placed it exactly facing that of the enemy. I watched carefully till I saw the Spanish gunner apply a match to the touchhole, and then I, too, gave the word 'Fire.'
"Both reports rang out at the same instant, and the two cannon balls met halfway with amazing force. Ours, being the heavier, caused the enemy's ball to recoil with such violence as to kill the man who had discharged it; it then passed through the masts of three ships which lay in a line behind each other, and flew across the Straits of Gibraltar some miles into Africa. Our own ball, after repelling the other, proceeded on its way, dismounted the very cannon which had just been used against us, and forced it into the hold of the ship, where it fell with so much force as to break its way through the bottom. The ship immediately filled and sank, with about a thousand Spanish sailors and a large number of soldiers on board, who were all drowned.
"You can see for yourselves that this strange tale must be true, however improbable it sounds, or else how could it possibly have happened?"
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
A long time ago a book called The Travels of Baron Munchausen was written by Rudolph Erich Raspe. The tales told in this book were so extravagant that the name Munchausen is often applied to boasters. The author pretends that the stories are all strictly true.
Discussion. 1. What extravagant statements do you find in the story "The Savage Boar"? In "A Narrow Escape"? In "How the Baron Saved Gibraltar"? 2. Which of the incidents mentioned do you think is the most ridiculous? 3. What do you think of the proof given by the author to prove the truthfulness of the last story? 4. Which of the sources of humor mentioned on page 58 does this story illustrate? 5. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: boar; encounter; tusks; riveted; gigantic; abyss; severed; whereupon; exaggerations; ramparts; touchhole; recoil; repelling; dismounted; hold. 6. Pronounce: Munchausen; projected; harrowing; Monsieur.
Phrases for Study
evident intention, age of doubt, horror of my situation, absurd inventions, gave myself up for lost, operations of the enemy, harrowing additions, Straits of Gibraltar.
THE BLIND MEN AND THE ELEPHANT
John G. Saxe
It was six men of Indostan, To learning much inclined Who went to see the elephant (Though all of them were blind), That each by observation Might satisfy his mind.
The first approached the elephant, And happening to fall Against his broad and sturdy side, At once began to bawl: "God bless me! but the elephant Is very like a wall!"
The second, feeling of the tusk, Cried, "Ho! what have we here So very round and smooth and sharp? To me 'tis mighty clear This wonder of an elephant Is very like a spear!"
The third approached the animal, And happening to take The squirming trunk within his hands Thus boldly up and spake: "I see," quoth he, "the elephant Is very like a snake!"
The fourth reached out his eager hand, And felt about the knee. "What most this wondrous beast is like Is mighty plain," quoth he; "'Tis clear enough the elephant Is very like a tree!"
The fifth, who chanced to touch the ear, Said: "E'en the blindest man Can tell what this resembles most; Deny the fact who can, This marvel of an elephant Is very like a fan!"
The sixth no sooner had begun About the beast to grope, Than, seizing on the swinging tail, That fell within his scope, "I see," quoth he, "the elephant Is very like a rope!"
And so these men of Indostan Disputed loud and long, Each in his own opinion Exceeding stiff and strong, Though each was partly in the right, And all were in the wrong!
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. John Godfrey Saxe (1816-1887), an American poet, was born in Vermont. He is best known by his humorous poems, of which "The Blind Men and the Elephant" is most widely read.
Discussion. 1. How could blind men "see" the elephant? 2. To what did each compare the elephant? 3. Explain the comparison each made. 4. Why is comparison a common way of describing objects? 5. Point out instances of its use by other authors in this book. 6. Why were these blind men all "in the wrong"? 7. How far was each "in the right"? 8. What makes this poem humorous? 9. What may we learn from this story? 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: learning; observation; approached; bawl; wonder; resembles; marvel; grope; disputed; stiff. 11. Pronounce: sturdy; wondrous; scope.
Phrases for Study
much inclined, eager hand, satisfy his mind, within his scope.
DARIUS GREEN AND HIS FLYING-MACHINE
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 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-- 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; 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, each bright as a bean, And a freckled nose that grew between, 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, Working his face as he worked the wings, Arid 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 his squinting eyes 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, Excepting Daedalus of yore And his son Icarus, who wore Upon their backs Those wings of wax He had read of in the old almanacs. Darius was clearly of the opinion That the air is also man's dominion, And that, with paddle or fin or pinion, We soon or late Shall navigate 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.
"Birds can fly, An' why can't I? Must we give in," Says he with a grin, "'T the bluebird an' phoebe Are smarter'n we be? 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! Er prove't the bat Has 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, Fer to git a livin' with, more'n to me; Ain't my business Importanter'n his'n is? That Icarus Was a silly cuss-- 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."
And he said to himself, as he tinkered and planned: "But I ain't goin' to show my hand To mummies that never can understand The fust idee that's big an' grand. They'd 'a' laft an' made fun O' Creation itself afore 'twas done!" So he kept his secret from all the rest, 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; 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; 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 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 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; 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! And whenever at work he happened to spy At chink or crevice a blinking eye, He let a dipper of water fly. "Take that! an' ef ever ye get a peep, Guess ye'll ketch a weasel asleep!" And he sings as he locks His big strong box: "The weasel's head is small an' trim, An' he is leetle an' long an' slim, An' quick of motion an' nimble of limb, An' ef yeou'll be Advised by me, Keep wide awake when ye're ketchin' him!"
So day after day He stitched and tinkered and hammered 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, 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 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, I'll hev full swing For to try the thing, An' practyse a leetle on the wing."
"Ain't goin' to see the celebration?" Says Brother Nate. "No; botheration! 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! Shouldn't wonder 'f yeou might see me, though, 'Long 'bout noon, ef I git red O' this jumpin', thumpin' pain 'n my head."
For all the while to himself he said: "I'll 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, And 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 stan' on the steeple; I'll flop up to winders an' scare the people!
I'll light on the libbe'ty-pole, an' crow; An' I'll say to the gawpin' fools below, 'What world's this 'ere That I've come near?' Fer I'll make 'em believe I'm a chap f'm the moon! An' I'll try a race 'ith their ol' bulloon." He crept from his bed; And, seeing the others were gone, he said, "I'm a gittin' over the cold 'n my head." 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 on airth is he up to, hey?" "Don'o'--the' 's suthin' er other to pay, Er he wouldn't 'a' stayed to hum today." 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. Le's hurry back an' hide in the barn, An' pay him fer tellin' us that yarn!" "Agreed!" Through the orchard they creep back, Along by the fences, behind the stack, 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 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, "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, 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 the lid they carried they called a shield; And, thus accoutered, they took the field, 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, 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! 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! He's riggin' a spring-board over the sill! Stop laffin', Solomon! Burke, keep still! He's a climbin' out now--of all the things! What's he got on? I van, it's wings! An' that 'tother thing? I yum, it's a tail! An' there he sets like a hawk on a rail! Steppin' careful, he travels the length Of his spring-board, and teeters to try its strength. Now he stretches his wings, like a monstrous bat; Peeks over his shoulder, this way an' that, 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! Jimminy! what a jump! Flop--flop--an' plump To the ground with a thump! Flutt'rin' an' flound'rin', all in a lump!"
As a demon is hurled by an angel's spear, 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, In a wonderful whirl of tangled strings, Broken braces and broken springs, Broken tail and broken wings, Shooting-stars, and various things! 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, "Say, D'rius! how de yeou like flyin'?" Slowly, ruefully, where he lay, Darius just turned and looked that way, As he stanched his sorrowful nose with his cuff. "Wal, I like flyin' well enough," He said; "but the' ain't sich a thunderin' 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.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. John Townsend Trowbridge (1827-1916), an American writer, lived in Cambridge. He and Lucy Larcom were for a time editors of Our Young Folks' Magazine. Trowbridge first saw a flying-machine sixty years after he wrote "Darius Green and His Flying-Machine." He was then eighty-three years old.
Discussion. 1. What did Darius Green believe that men would soon be able to do? 2. What did Darius determine to use as material for his machine? 3. Why did he not tell his brothers what he was trying to do? 4. When did he plan to try his machine? 5. Find the lines that tell what he imagined he would do. 6. Find the lines that tell what he really did. 7. What did he say was the unpleasant part of flying? 8. Mention some inventions that people once thought were as impossible as the boys thought this flying-machine was. 9. Mention some inventors at whom people once laughed but who are now honored. 10. In what way does the author make his story humorous? 11. Notice Darius's language on pages 67 and 68. The writer shows by such words that Darius was not a well-educated boy; are persons often judged by the way they talk? 12. In Wildman's Famous Leaders of Industry, you will find interesting facts about Orville and Wilbur Wright..You will enjoy reading The Boys' Airplane Book, Collins. 13, Report any current news on airplane development, airplane mail routes, etc., that you can find. 14. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: soaring; lank; gimlet; yore; pinion; tinkered; mummies; quirk; smirk; crevice; weasel; cunning; ancient; helm; ruefully. 15. Pronounce: Darius; aspiring; genius; awry; grimace; droll; Daedalus; Icarus; almanacs; phoebe; calked; breeches; accoutered; pagans; jaunty; stanched.
Phrases for Study
aspiring genius, like a Turk, riveted his attention, knights of old, Daedalus of yore, thus accoutered, man's dominion, plagued the realm, navigate the azure, his proper sphere, beat us holler, stick to your sphere.
BIRTHDAY GREETINGS C. L. DODGSON ("Lewis Carroll") Christ Church, Oxford October 13, 1875
My Dear Gertrude:
I never give birthday presents, but you see I do sometimes write a birthday letter; so, as I've just arrived here, I am writing this to wish you many and many a happy return of your birthday tomorrow. I will drink your health, if only I can remember, and if you don't mind--but perhaps you object? You see, if I were to sit by you at breakfast, and to drink your tea, you wouldn't like that, would you? You would say "Boo! hoo! Here's Mr. Dodgson's drunk all my tea, and I haven't any left!" So I am very much afraid, next time Sybil looks for you, she'll find you sitting by the sad sea-wave, and crying "Boo! hoo! Here's Mr. Dodgson has drunk my health, and I haven't got any left!" And how it will puzzle Dr. Maund, when he is sent for to see you! "My dear Madam, I'm very sorry to say your little girl has got no health at all! I never saw such a thing in my life!" "Oh, I can easily explain it!" your mother will say. "You see she would go and make friends with a strange gentleman, and yesterday he drank her health!" "Well, Mrs. Chataway," he will say, "the only way to cure her is to wait till his next birthday, and then for her to drink his health."
And then we shall have changed healths. I wonder how you'll like mine! Oh, Gertrude, I wish you wouldn't talk such nonsense!
Your loving friend,
LEWIS CARROLL
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832-1898), better known by his pen name, "Lewis Carroll," was an English author. He was the son of a clergyman. For four years he attended the famous school at Rugby, after which he entered college at Oxford. He became an excellent scholar and mathematician and was appointed a lecturer on mathematics at Oxford University, a position that he held for many years. His keen sympathy with the imagination of children and their sense of fun led him to tell of the adventures of Alice, in a book called Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. This book made Lewis Carroll's name famous. His delightful humor is well illustrated in his letter of "Birthday Greetings" to Gertrude Chataway.
Discussion. 1. What is usually meant by "drink your health"? 2. What play on the meaning of these words gives a humorous turn to them? 3. What remedy does the author suggest the doctor will prescribe for Gertrude? 4. What does the author call this humor? 5. The author was a serious man, yet he believed in the value of wholesome fun; of what great poet did you read, on page 57, who also believed in the value of a hearty laugh?
Phrases for Study
many a happy return, sad sea-wave.
THE WIND AND THE MOON
GEORGE MACDONALD
Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out. You stare in the air Like a ghost in a chair, Always looking what I am about. I hate to be watched; I will blow you out."
The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon. So, deep on a heap Of clouds, to sleep Down lay the Wind, and slumbered soon-- Muttering low. "I've done for that Moon."
He turned in his bed; she was there again. On high in the sky, With her one ghost eye, The Moon shone white and alive and plain. Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim. "With my sledge and my wedge I have knocked off her edge. If only I blow right fierce and grim, The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread. "One puff more's enough To blow her to snuff! One good puff more where the last was bred, And glimmer, glimmer glum will go the thread."
He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone; In the air nowhere Was a moonbeam bare; Far off and harmless the shy stars shone; Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
The Wind he took to his revels once more: On down, in town, Like a merry-mad clown, He leaped and hallooed with whistle and roar-- "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more.
He flew in a rage--he danced and blew; But in vain was the pain Of his bursting brain; For still the broader the moon-scrap grew, The broader he swelled his big cheeks and blew.
Slowly she grew--till she filled the night, And shone on her throne In the sky alone, A matchless, wonderful, silvery light, Radiant and lovely, the queen of the night.
Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I With my breath, good faith, I blew her to death-- First blew her away right out of the sky-- Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair, For, high in the sky, With her one white eye, Motionless, miles above the air, She had never heard the great Wind blare.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. George Macdonald (1824-1905), a Scotch poet, wrote many entertaining poems and stories for children. "The Wind and the Moon" is a good illustration of the fact that he knew how to interest boys and girls.
Discussion. 1. Why did the wind want to blow out the moon? 2. What natural changes in the shape of the moon take place each month? 3. What really caused it to disappear? 4. What did the wind do when he thought he had succeeded? 5. Find the lines that tell how the wind felt when he saw the moon grow broader and bigger. 6. Find the lines which tell that the moon did not know that the wind was blowing. 7. What qualities does this story give to the wind? 8. Do you know any person who has these qualities? 9. The poet aims in this poem to amuse us; by what means does he do this? 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: muttering; sledge; wedge; grim; matchless; blare. 11. Pronounce: revels; hallooed; radiant.
Phrases for Study
thinned to a thread, took to his revels, where the last was bred, filled the night.
STORIES IN LIGHTER VEIN
A BACKWARD LOOK
Why is it good for us, even in the midst of serious work, to read humorous stories from time to time? An interesting anecdote is told of Abraham Lincoln that shows how he would have answered this question. One day when the Civil War was at its height, President Lincoln opened his cabinet meeting by saying, "Gentlemen, I am going to read you something that will make you laugh." He then read a chapter from a humorous book, laughing heartily as he read. When he saw that none of the members of his cabinet joined in the laughter, he said with a sigh, "Gentlemen, why don't you laugh? With the fearful strain that is put on me day and night, if I did not laugh once in a while I should die; and you need this medicine as much as I do," What did you read in the Forward Look on page 57 about another serious-minded man who believed that wholesome humor is a "medicine"?
Which selection in this group gave you the heartiest laugh? Often some sensible truth is taught through a little nonsense; of which selections is this particularly true? It is interesting to stop for a moment and think just why certain stories make us laugh. One story is humorous because of its wild exaggeration; another because it makes us see how ridiculous it is to be a boaster or to be conceited or to jump at conclusions; and still another because it has an interesting little play upon words. What is the source of humor in "The Savage Boar"; "A Narrow Escape"; "How the Baron Saved Gibraltar"; "The Blind Men and the Elephant"; "Birthday Greetings"; "The Wind and the Moon"?
How does the present-day newspaper furnish fun for its readers? Which newspaper cartoons do you look at regularly, and which are your favorites? Bring to class examples of cartoons, and then divide the collection into three groups--those that you think drive home a truth; those that you think are funny and clever; and those that you think are merely silly. Prepare an exhibit for "Cartoon Day" in your school, selecting the material from these examples. Clip and bring to class newspaper jokes that you and your family particularly enjoyed. Recommend to your classmates humorous stories that you have read in The Junior Red Cross News, Life, St. Nicholas, The Youth's Companion, or in some other magazine.
In previous pages you have found occasional suggestions for problems similar to those of the preceding paragraph. Like suggestions will be found later in the book. The working out of these problems and reporting on them in class will add greatly to the value and pleasure of your reading.
Some of these suggested problems are: (a) Silent Reading--Making a report showing comparisons month by month of individual and class progress in silent reading; (b) Books I Have Read--Reviewing a favorite book, giving title, author, time and scene of story, principal characters, and a brief outline of the story, with readings of the selected passages that will give your classmates most pleasure; (c) Magazine Reading--Reporting monthly on current numbers of magazines, telling your classmates what you have found that is interesting; in this way you will help each other to become acquainted with a number of magazines; (d) Newspaper Reading--Reporting current events, and showing in the newspapers that you read the place of general news, of editorials, society news, sports, the joke column, cartoons, advertisements, etc.; (e) Dramatizing--Planning and presenting before your class some selection or some incident from a selection that you think will make an interesting play; (f) Good Citizenship--Making a list of the suggestions you find in this Reader that help you to be a useful home-member and a good citizen, and preparing a program from selections in this book for "Citizenship Day" in your school.
Which of the problems that you have worked out did you find most interesting?
HOME AND COUNTRY
A Forward Look
One of the most famous stories in American literature tells about a man who spoke of his country with sneers and insults and acted in such a way that he was forbidden ever to set foot on American soil again. So he became a wanderer. He saw how men from other countries looked upon their homelands with pride and affection, and how his countrymen loved America better even than their lives. He came to be known as "the man without a country," and he lived a wretched and lonely life. At last he came to the hour of death, and he wrote these words for all Americans to think about if the temptation should ever come to speak scornfully of their country:
"If you are ever tempted to say a word or to do a thing that shall put a bar between you and your country, pray God in his mercy to take you that instant home to his own heaven. Stick by your family, boy; forget you have a self, while you do everything for them. Think of your home, boy; write and send, and talk about it. Let it be nearer and nearer to your thoughts, the farther you have to travel from it; and rush back to it when you are free. And for your country, boy"--and the words rattled in his throat--"and for that flag"--and he pointed to the ship--"never dream a dream but of serving her as she bids you, though the service carry you through a thousand hells. No matter what happens to you, no matter who flatters you or who abuses you, never look to another flag, never let a night pass but you pray God to bless that flag. Remember, boy, that behind all these men you have to do with, behind officers, and government, and people even, there is the Country Herself, your Country, and that you belong to Her as you belong to your mother. Stand by Her, boy, as you would stand by your mother."
Such was the dying message of "the man without a country" to the Americans of his time; such is his message to us. When we were at war, it was to be expected that all men would answer the call of patriotism. But now that peace has come, it is not so easy to forget self in a loyalty to our country and its flag. It is easy to be on guard when we know that an armed enemy is close by; it is not easy when the enemy is hidden, and the guns are silent. These hidden enemies of our country do not fight in armies; they are the bad citizens who are scattered about; often you do not realize who they are.
Generally these bad citizens, who are enemies of our country, possess one or all of the following characteristics:
In the first place, they have no love for home and its festivals. Now, our nation is a collection of homes. The government was formed to protect these homes. The good citizen is a lover of his native soil, a lover of his home, a lover of Thanksgiving and Independence Day and Christmas. These festivals bind men more closely together, make them one, join them to their native land. But there are many bad citizens, enemies of America, who seek to destroy these influences that lead men to work together to make the community a better place in which to live.
Second, the history of the United States, the stories of the founding of our nation, the stories about our flag and its defenders, have no interest for these bad citizens. You remember how mother used to tell you stories about when she was a little girl, and how these stories made you love her the more. It is the same with the stories about the days when our country was young: how the young George Washington showed the kind of man he was, or how the young Abraham Lincoln struggled to fit himself to become a leader of men. Through these stories we learn what the flag really means and what it has cost, and we love our country as we love our mother. But the enemy, the bad citizen, laughs at these things. He just thinks of himself. He thinks he has a right to do as he likes because this is, he says, "a free country." He doesn't think that he owes anything to Washington and Jefferson and Lincoln, or to those who kept the flag at the masthead when it was in peril.
And the third test of a man's loyalty to our country is met only if he has the true feeling of democracy in his heart. This feeling of democracy means service, willingness to help others. The man or woman who thinks only of his own good time or his own fortune is a bad citizen.
You see, it is this way. In olden times men had no part in the government unless they were born into a high place in society. The ordinary man did as he was told, went to the wars at the king's pleasure, and paid taxes that often took all he could save. He had little opportunity to make money or collect property. If he did, very probably the king would hear of it and would take away from him all that he had saved. But America was founded with a different idea of these matters. Here men got together and set up the kind of government they wished. They taxed themselves in order to support this government. They worked together to drive away hostile Indians, to kill wild beasts, to conquer the forests, to plant their crops, to make their lives safe and happy. In this cooperation, or working together, in government and in all the ways of living we find the spirit of democracy.
This spirit has made America what it is today. It has opened up farms, built railways and ships and great industries, built also mighty cities, and made laws for the protection of property and life. All this men have done through the cooperation that means democracy.
If any man thinks that this freedom gives him the right to trample on others, he is no better than one of the wicked kings of former times. If he thinks that under this freedom he may devote himself wholly to the selfish gain of wealth without giving a share of his money, his time, and his skill to making his community a better place to live in and his nation stronger and more secure, he cheats his fellows, because he takes, without making any return, the blessings that the founders and defenders of the Republic established with their lives.
In the old stories the youth who was ready to be made a knight had to do certain things. He had to take the vow of knighthood, that he would lead a pure and blameless life. He had to render a service to someone in distress. And he had to watch, his arms beside him, through a night.
You boys and girls, lovers of America, her defenders if need be, her guardians in the years to come, must also watch by your arms. These arms are not guns and bayonets; they belong to your heart and mind. They are three in number: the love of home, the inheritance of freedom, and the will to work with others. The first is a foundation to make strong your heart; the second is a bulwark to make safe your life; the third is a sword wherewith to slay the enemies of the Republic.
This foundation in the love of home, this bulwark of our inheritance of freedom, and this sword of unselfish service are subjects often dealt with by great writers. In the pages that follow you will find pieces selected in order to bring out these ideas. You should read each of these selections not only for itself but also as a member of the group to which it belongs; and you should try to get the central idea that unites all the pieces that make up the group. Thus, little by little, you will come to see how your joy in Thanksgiving, the thrill that Old Glory can give you, and the service that you can render to someone else, are all related to each other. To defend home and country by being a good citizen is to be your mission in life. It is more important than a successful career, or than great personal happiness. For both your career and your happiness will depend upon the way in which you, and the other boys and girls of America, thousands upon thousands, keep watch by these arms, keep faith with home and country.
HOME AND ITS FESTIVALS
HOME, SWEET HOME
John Howard Payne
'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home! A charm from the sky seems to hallow us there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home! There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!
An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain; Oh! give me my lonely thatched cottage again! The birds, singing gayly, that came at my call-- Give me them--and the peace of mind dearer than all! Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home! There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!
How sweet 'tis to sit 'neath a fond father's smile, And the cares of a mother to soothe and beguile! Let others delight mid new pleasures to roam, But give me, oh, give me, the pleasures of home! Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home! There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!
To thee I'll return, overburdened with care; The heart's dearest solace will smile on me there; No more from that cottage again will I roam; Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home. Home, Home, sweet, sweet Home! There's no place like Home! there's no place like Home!
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. John Howard Payne (1792-1852) was born in New York City. He became an actor and also a writer of plays and operas. He died at Tunis, Africa, to which place he had been sent as United States consul. When Jenny Lind, the celebrated Swedish singer, visited the United States in 1850, she sang in Washington before a large audience. John Howard Payne sat in one of the boxes, and at the close of her wonderful concert the singer turned toward the box in which the poet sat, and sang "Home, Sweet Home" with so much sweetness and power that many of the audience cried like children.
Discussion. 1. What words in the first stanza are repeated in the refrain, or chorus? 2. What is it that the poet says "hallows," or blesses, us when we are in our homes? 3. With what word in the second stanza is "cottage" contrasted? 4. What does the second stanza tell us that the poet had at home and missed afterwards? 5. What is it that really makes home beautiful? 6. What great service do our mothers perform? 7. What does page 84 tell you of the value the love of home is to a nation? 8. Explain the expression "splendor dazzles in vain". 9. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: humble; hallow; charm; fond; soothe; beguile; roam. 10. Pronounce: exile; solace.
THE GRAPEVINE SWING
SAMUEL MINTURN PECK
When I was a boy on the old plantation, Down by the deep bayou-- The fairest spot of all creation Under the arching blue-- When the wind came over the cotton and corn, To the long, slim loop I'd spring With brown feet bare, and a hat-brim torn, And swing in the grapevine swing.
Swinging in the grapevine swing, Laughing where the wild birds sing, I dream and sigh For the days gone by, Swinging in the grapevine swing.
Out--o'er the water lilies bonny and bright Back--to the moss-green trees; I shouted and laughed with a heart as light As a wild rose tossed by the breeze. The mocking bird joined in my reckless glee; I longed for no angel's wing; I was just as near heaven as I wanted to be Swinging in the grapevine swing.
Swinging in the grapevine swing, Laughing where the wild birds sing-- Oh, to be a boy With a heart full of joy, Swinging in the grapevine swing!
I'm weary at noon, I'm weary at night, I'm fretted and sore of heart, And care is sowing my locks with white As I wend through the fevered mart. I'm tired of the world with its pride and pomp, And fame seems a worthless thing. I'd barter it all for one day's romp, And a swing in the grapevine swing.
Swinging in the grapevine swing, Laughing where the wild birds sing-- I would I were away From the world today, Swinging in the grapevine swing.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Samuel Minturn Peck (1854-1886) is a native of the South. He was born in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and spent most of his early years in that city. He was gifted in music and became an excellent amateur pianist. His published works include Cap and Bells, Rhymes and Roses, and Rings and Love-Knots, from which "The Grapevine Swing," one of his most musical poems, is taken.
Discussion. 1. Why does the poet call the old plantation "The fairest spot of all creation"? 2. What does he mean by "the long, slim loop"? 3. For what "days gone by" does the poet sigh? 4. What picture do lines 6, 7, and 8, page 89, give you? 5. What tells you that the swing was near the bayou? 6. What is compared to the wild rose? 7. Why do you think the poet would "barter it all for one day's romp"? 8. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: creation; bonny; reckless; fretted; wend; pomp; fame. 9. Pronounce: bayou; arching; laughing.
Phrases for Study
arching blue, care is sowing, moss-green trees, fevered mart, sore of heart, barter it all.
LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF
SIR WALTER SCOTT
O hush thee, my babie! thy sire was a knight, Thy mother a lady, both lovely and bright; The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see, They are all belonging, dear babie, to thee.
O fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows; It calls but the warders that guard thy repose; Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.
O hush thee, my babie! the time soon will come When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum; Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may, For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) was born in Scotland. He was a famous novelist and poet. When a child, he learned the Scottish legends and ballads, and later he wove them into his writings. Discussion. 1. What things mentioned in the first stanza show that the baby has great possessions? 2. How would the warders protect the baby? 3. What word could be used instead of "blades"? 4. What will this baby have to do when he becomes a man? 5. What will the trumpet and drum mean to him then? 6. How could you tell that this baby lived a long time ago? 7. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: sire; knight; lady; glens; towers.
Phrases for Study
calls but the warders, sleep shall be broken, guard thy repose, strife comes with manhood.
THE FIRST THANKSGIVING DAY
MARGARET JUNKIN PRESTON
"And now," said the Governor, gazing abroad on the piled-up store Of the sheaves that dotted the clearings and covered the meadows o'er, "'Tis meet that we render praises because of this yield of grain; 'Tis meet that the Lord of the harvest be thanked for his sun and rain.
"And, therefore, I, William Bradford (by the grace of God today, And the franchise of this good people), Governor of Plymouth, say, Through virtue of vested power--ye shall gather with one accord, And hold, in the month of November, thanksgiving unto the Lord.
"He hath granted us peace and plenty, and the quiet we've sought so long; He hath thwarted the wily savage, and kept him from wrack and wrong; And unto our feast the Sachem shall be bidden, that he may know We worship his own Great Spirit, who maketh the harvests grow.
"So shoulder your matchlocks, masters--there is hunting of all degrees; And, fishermen, take your tackle, and scour for spoils the seas; And, maidens and dames of Plymouth, your delicate crafts employ To honor our First Thanksgiving, and make it a feast of joy!
"We fail of the fruits and dainties--we fail of the old home cheer; Ah, these are the lightest losses, mayhap, that befall us here; But see, in our open clearings, how golden the melons lie; Enrich them with sweets and spices, and give us the pumpkin-pie!"
So, bravely the preparations went on for the autumn feast; The deer and the bear were slaughtered; wild game from the greatest to least Was heaped in the colony cabins; brown home-brew served for wine, And the plum and the grape of the forest, for orange and peach and pine.
At length came the day appointed; the snow had begun to fall, But the clang from the meeting-house belfry rang merrily over all, And summoned the folk Of Plymouth, who hastened with glad accord To listen to Elder Brewster as he fervently thanked the Lord.
In his seat sate Governor Bradford; men, matrons, and maidens fair, Miles Standish and all his soldiers, with corselet and sword, were there; And sobbing and tears and gladness had each in its turn the sway, For the grave of the sweet Rose Standish o'ershadowed Thanksgiving Day.
And when Massasoit, the Sachem, sate down with his hundred braves, And ate of the varied riches of gardens and woods and waves, And looked on the granaried harvest--with a blow on his brawny chest, He muttered, "The good Great Spirit loves his white children best!"
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biographical and Historical Note. Margaret J. Preston (1820-1897) was one of the leading poets of the South. She wrote many poems and sketches. "The First Thanksgiving Day" gives a good picture of the life in the old Pilgrim days.
The Pilgrims landed at Plymouth December 21, 1620. During the long, hard winter fifty-one of the one hundred Pilgrims died, among them being Rose Standish, wife of Captain Miles Standish. As soon as spring came, the colonists planted their fields, and by the end of summer a plentiful harvest was gathered in. When provisions and fuel had been laid in for the winter, Governor Bradford appointed a day of thanksgiving. Venison, wild fowl, and fish were easy to obtain. We are told, "there was great store of wild turkeys, of which they took many." For three days a great feast was spread, and Massasoit, the Indian Sachem, or chief, and many of his people enjoyed it with the colonists.
Discussion. 1. When did the events related in this story take place? 2. Who was the governor of Plymouth at this time? 3. What proclamation did he make? 4. What did the governor say that God had done for the colony? 5. Who did he say should be invited to the feast? 6. What meat did the Pilgrims have at their first Thanksgiving dinner? 7. What fruits did they have for the feast? 8. What fruit is meant by "pine" in line 12, page 93? 9. What did the colonists do "with glad accord" before they sat down to their feast? 10. Find the lines that tell what Massasoit said when he ate of the feast. 11. Why is it a good thing for America to have a day set apart each year for us to give thanks for our blessings? 12. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: store; sheaves; clearings; wrack; dames; mayhap; befall; slaughtered; appointed; summoned; fervently; sate; braves; brawny. 13. Pronounce: therefore; franchise; wily; Sachem, pumpkin; matrons; corselet; Massasoit; granaried.
Phrases for Study
'tis meet, scour for spoils, franchise of this good people, delicate crafts employ, virtue of vested power, fail of the fruits, with one accord, home-brew served for wine, thwarted the wily savage, each in its turn the sway, Great Spirit, o'ershadowed Thanksgiving Day, shoulder your matchlocks, of all degrees, varied riches.
A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS
CLEMENT C. MOORE
'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse. The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugarplums danced through their heads; And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap--
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash; The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave a luster of midday to objects below; When what to my wondering eyes should appear But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!-- To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, Now, dash away, dash away, dash away, all!" As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, So, up to the housetop the coursers they flew, With a sleigh full of toys--and St. Nicholas, too. And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound; He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot. A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face, and a little round belly That shook when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump--a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye and a twist of his head Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose, And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight, "Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Clement C. Moore (1779-1863) was am American poet and author. He lived in New York City, where for many years he was engaged in educational work.
Discussion. 1. What picture do the first eight lines of this poem give you? 2. Does this picture seem real to you? 3. Of what were the children dreaming? 4. What word do you use instead of sugarplums? 5. What picture do you find in lines 7-10, page 96? 6 What is the next picture? Find the lines that make it. 7. To what is the swiftness of the reindeer compared? 8. What words show how lightly the reindeer flew through the air? 9. Find the lines that picture St. Nicholas after he came down the chimney. 10. Which of all the pictures in the entire poem can you see most distinctly? 11. Which do you like best? 12. What did you read in "A Forward Look," pages 83-86, about the value of the home festivals? What does a love of these festivals do for us? What should we lose if we did not celebrate them? 13. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: clatter; coursers; hurricane; obstacle; twinkling; tarnished; encircled; elf. 14. Pronounce: miniature; tiny; chimney; droll.
OUR COUNTRY AND ITS FLAG
THE LAND OF LIBERTY
(AUTHOR UNKNOWN)
I love my country's pine-clad hills, Her thousand bright and gushing rills, Her sunshine and her storms; Her rough and rugged rocks, that rear Their hoary heads high in the air In wild, fantastic forms.
I love her rivers, deep and wide, Those mighty streams that seaward glide To seek the ocean's breast; Her smiling fields, her pleasant vales, Her shady dells, her flow'ry dales, The haunts of peaceful rest.
I love her forests, dark and lone, For there the wild bird's merry tone I hear from morn till night; And there are lovelier flowers, I ween, Than e'er in Eastern lands were seen, In varied colors bright.
Her forests and her valleys fair, Her flowers that scent the morning air-- All have their charms for me; But more I love my country's name, Those words that echo deathless fame, "The Land of Liberty."
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Discussion. 1. What parts of our country are noted for pine forests? 2. What things about America call forth the love of the poet? 3. Does he have all parts of America in mind, or some part that he knows well? 4. What name does he give America? Why does this "echo deathless fame"? 5. Name one of the "mighty streams that seaward glide." 6. What does the poet say makes the forests beautiful? 7. This poem is similar in many ways to the national hymn, "America." Compare it with the words of the hymn in as many ways as you can. 8. Commit to memory the last three lines of the poem. 9. Why is our country called "The Land of Liberty"? 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: gushing; rills; rugged; rear; vales; dells; lone; ween. 11. Pronounce: hoary; fantastic; haunts; echo.
Phrases for Study
pine-clad hills, smiling fields, fantastic forms, flow'ry dales, seaward glide, Eastern lands, ocean's breast, deathless fame.
THE FLAG OF OUR COUNTRY
Charles Sumner
There is the national flag. He must be cold indeed who can look upon its folds, rippling in the breeze, without pride of country. If he be in a foreign land, the flag is companionship and country itself, with all its endearments. Its highest beauty is in what it symbolizes. It is because it represents all, that all gaze at it with delight and reverence.
It is a piece of bunting lifted in the air; but it speaks sublimely, and every part has a voice. Its stripes of alternate red and white proclaim the original union of thirteen states to maintain the Declaration of Independence. Its stars of white on a field of blue proclaim that union of states constituting our national constellation, which receives a new star with every new state. The two together signify union past and present.
The very colors have a language which was officially recognized by our fathers. White is for purity, red for valor, blue for justice; and all together, bunting, stripes, stars, and colors, blazing in the sky, make the flag of our country to be cherished by all our hearts, to be upheld by all our hands.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Charles Sumner (1811-1874), an American statesman and orator, was born in Boston, Massachusetts. He became United States senator in 1851. "The Flag of Our Country" is taken from an address delivered in 1867 at Cooper Institute in New York.
Discussion. 1. Each paragraph in this selection has a separate message. Does the first paragraph fit America only, or could an Englishman say the same thing about his national flag, and a Frenchman of his? What then is the thing that any flag represents to the citizen of the country to which he belongs? 2. What facts peculiar to America does the second paragraph give you? 3. How many stripes has the flag? 4. How many stars were in the first American flag? How many are there now? 5. What is meant by "union past and present"? 6. "White is for purity"--in what way does this express the ideals of the founders of our country? 7. Do you know the rules for the raising and lowering of the flag? 8. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: rippling; reverence; bunting; proclaim; original; maintain; constituting; valor; cherished. 9. Pronounce: symbolizes; sublimely; alternate; constellation.
Phrases for Study
he must be cold, national constellation, all its endearments, signify union, speaks sublimely, officially recognized, every part has a voice, blazing in the sky.
THE NAME OF OLD GLORY
1898
James Whitcomb Riley
I
Old Glory! say, who, By the ships and the crew, And the long, blended ranks of the gray and the blue,-- Who gave you, Old Glory, the name that you bear With such pride everywhere As you cast yourself free to the rapturous air And leap out full-length, as we're wanting you to?-- Who gave you that name, with the ring of the same, And the honor and fame so becoming to you?-- Your stripes stroked in ripples of white and of red, With your stars at their glittering best overhead-- By day or by night Their delightfulest light Laughing down from their little square heaven of blue!-- Who gave you the name of Old Glory?--say, who-- Who gave you the name of Old Glory? The old banner lifted, and altering then In vague lisps and whispers fell silent again.
II
Old Glory,--speak out!--we are asking about How you happened to "favor" a name, so to say, That sounds so familiar and careless and gay As we cheer it and shout in our wild breezy way-- We--the crowd, every man of us, calling you that-- We--Tom, Dick, and Harry--each swinging his hat And hurrahing "Old Glory!" like you were our kin, When--Lord!--we all know we're as common as sin! And yet it just seems like you humor us all And waft us your thanks, as we hail you and fall Into line, with you over us, waving us on Where our glorified, sanctified betters have gone,-- And this is the reason we're wanting to know-- (And we're wanting it so!-- Where our own fathers went we are willing to go.)-- Who gave you the name of Old Glory--O-ho!-- Who gave you the name of Old Glory? The old flag unfurled with a billowy thrill For an instant, then wistfully sighed and was still.
III
Old Glory: the story we're wanting to hear Is what the plain facts of your christening were,-- For your name--just to hear it. Repeat it, and cheer it, 's a tang to the spirit As salty as a tear;-- And seeing you fly, and the boys marching by, There's a shout in the throat and a blur in the eye And an aching to live for you always--or die, If, dying, we still keep you waving on high. And so, by our love For you, floating above, And the sears of all wars and the sorrows thereof, Who gave you the name of Old Glory, and why Are we thrilled at the name of Old Glory? Then the old banner leaped, like a sail in the blast, And fluttered an audible answer at last.--
IV
And it spake, with a shake of the voice, and it said:-- By the driven snow-white and the living blood-red Of my bars, and their heaven of stars overhead-- By the symbol conjoined of them all, skyward cast, As I float from the steeple, or flap at the mast, Or droop o'er the sod where the long grasses nod,-- My name is as old as the glory of God. ...So I came by the name of Old Glory.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. James Whitcomb Riley (1852-1916) was a native of Indiana. Most of his life was spent in Indianapolis, where he lived on the quiet Lockerbie Street which he celebrated in one of his poems. He is called "The Hoosier Poet." He wrote several volumes of poems, the first being The Old Swimmin' Hole and 'Leven More Poems. The school children of Indiana celebrated Riley's birthday on October 7, 1911, and have each year since made this a festival day.
Discussion. Because of the many figurative expressions used in this selection it should be read and studied in class.
THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER
FRANCIS SCOTT KEY
O say, can you see, by the dawn's early light, What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming; And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there; O say, does that Star-Spangled Banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On that shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, now conceals, now discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam-- In full glory reflected now shines in the stream; 'Tis the Star-Spangled Banner; O long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
And where are the foes who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution. No refuge could save the hireling and slave From the terror of flight, or the gloom of the grave; And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph doth wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
O thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war desolation; Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation! Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, And this be our motto, "In God is our trust"; And the Star-Spangled Banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biographical and Historical Note. Francis Scott Key (1780-1843), a native of Maryland, was a lawyer and poet. His patriotic poem, "The Star-Spangled Banner," which has become a national song, made him famous.
The incidents referred to in this poem occurred during the War of 1812. In August, 1814, a strong force of British entered Washington and burned the Capitol, the White House, and many other public buildings. On September 13, the British admiral moved his fleet into position to attack Fort McHenry, near Baltimore. The bombardment of the fort lasted all night, but the fort was so bravely defended that the flag was still floating over it when morning came.
Just before the bombardment began, Francis Scott Key was sent to the admiral's frigate to arrange for an exchange of prisoners, and was told to wait until the bombardment was over. All night he watched the fort, and by the first rays of morning light he saw he Stars and Stripes still waving. Then, in his joy and pride, he wrote the stirring words of the song which is now known and loved by all Americans--"The Star-Spangled Banner."
Discussion. 1. What lines in the poem are explained by the historical note above? 2. The poem expresses the love and reverence felt by patriots when the flag is endangered by the attacks of armed men in war. What is said on page 84 about the danger to our country in a time of peace? From what people? Can you do anything to prevent this danger? 3. Where was the reflection of the flag seen? 4. What is the meaning of "thus" in line 1, page 105? 5. What land is the "heav'n-rescued land"? 6. What does the poet mean when he speaks of the "Power that hath made and preserved us a nation," line 4, page 105? 7. Find the words that must be our country's motto. 8. Do you think this national song cheered the American soldiers in the recent World War? 9. Explain why you think the picture on page 98 aptly illustrates "Our Country and Its Flag." 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: dawn; gleaming; host; discloses; beam; triumph. 11. Pronounce: haughty; vauntingly; pollution; hireling; desolation.
Phrases for Study
proudly we hailed, fitfully blows, gallantly streaming, catches the gleam, Star-Spangled, full glory reflected, mists of the deep, havoc of war, dread silence reposes, foul footsteps' pollution.
THE BOYHOOD OF LINCOLN
ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS
The future president of the United States was eight years old when he spent the winter with his father, mother, and sister in the "half-faced camp" on Little Pigeon Creek. It was indeed rough living in the Lincoln home on Little Pigeon Creek. When he was "good and ready," the father, Thomas Lincoln, set about building a better shelter for his family than the forlorn "half-faced camp." The new building was not such a great improvement, but it was more like a house. It was a rough cabin of logs, without door, window, or floor. But it seemed so much better than the shanty in which they had been living that Abraham felt quite princely.
His life was lonely enough in that wilderness; but, before many months, he had company. His Uncle and Aunt Sparrow and his boy cousin, Dennis Hanks came from Kentucky to try their luck in Indiana. Abraham's father gave them the old "half-faced camp" as a home, and so the Lincolns had near neighbors.
But before the winter set in, there came sad days to both houses. A terrible sickness--what we call an epidemic--visited that section of Indiana. Many people died from it, and among these were first, Uncle and Aunt Sparrow, and then Mrs. Lincoln, the mother of Abraham.
It was a poor kind of housekeeping they had in that shiftless home on Little Pigeon Creek after the mother of the home had been taken away. Sarah, the eldest child, was only twelve; Abraham was but ten, and little Dennis Hanks was eight. Sarah tried to keep house; and her father, in his careless way, tried to help her. But about all they could do was to keep from going hungry. Deer-meat broiled on the coals of the wood-fire, ash-cakes made of cornmeal, with now and then a slab of pork, was their only bill of fare. About all the pleasure Abraham found when he was not trying to keep from being cold and hungry, was in his books.
How many do you think he had? Just three: the Bible, Aesop's Fables, and The Pilgrim's Progress. Think of that, you boys and girls who have more books than you can read, and for whom the printing presses are always hard at work. The boy knew these three books almost by heart. He could repeat whole chapters of the Bible, many parts of The Pilgrim's Progress, and every one of Aesop's Fables; and he never forgot them.
Thomas Lincoln knew that the uncomfortable state of affairs in his log cabin could not long continue, or his home, such as it was, would go to ruin. So one day he bade the children good-by and told them he was going back to Kentucky on a visit. He was away for three weeks; but when he returned from his Kentucky visit in December, 1819, he brought back a new wife to look after his home and be a mother to his motherless children.
Mrs. Lincoln seemed to take an especial liking to the little ten-year-old Abraham. She saw something in the boy that made her feel sure that a little guidance would do wonders for him. Having first made him clean and comfortable, she next made him intelligent, bright, and good. She managed to send him to school for a few months. The little log schoolhouse, close to the meeting-house, to which the traveling schoolmaster would come to give four weeks' schooling, was scarcely high enough for a man to stand straight in; it had holes for windows and greased paper to take the place of glass. But in such a place Abraham Lincoln "got his schooling" for a few weeks only in "reading, writing, and ciphering"; here he was again and again head of his class; and here he "spelled down" all the big boys and girls in the exciting contests called "spelling matches."
He became a great reader. He read every book and newspaper he could get hold of, and if he came across anything in his reading that he wished to remember, he would copy it on a shingle, because writing paper was scarce, and either learn it by heart or hide the shingle away until he could get some paper to copy it on.
Lamps and candles were almost unknown in his home, and Abraham, flat on his stomach, would often do his reading, writing, and ciphering in the firelight, as it flashed and flickered on the big hearth of his log-cabin home.
One day Abraham found that a man for whom he sometimes worked owned a copy of Weems's Life of Washington. This was a famous book in its day. Abraham borrowed it at once. When he was not reading it, he put it away on a shelf--a clapboard resting on wooden pins. There was a big crack between the log behind the shelf, and one rainy day the Life of Washington fell into the crack and was soaked almost into pulp. Young Abraham went at once to the owner of the book and, after telling him of the accident promised to "work the book out."
The old farmer kept him so strictly to his promise that he made him "pull fodder" for the cattle three days as payment for the book. And that is the way that Abraham Lincoln bought his first book. For he dried the Life of Washington and put it in his "library." What boy or girl of today would like to buy books at such a price?
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Elbridge S. Brooks (1846-1902) was a native of Massachusetts. He was always interested in stories of history, for his mother descended from the Monroes, who fought bravely at Lexington. He was for a time one of the editors of St. Nicholas.
Discussion. 1. What were the hardships suffered by the young Lincoln in the Indiana wilderness? 2. What do you learn about Lincoln's reading? About his school life? 3. What was the first book Lincoln owned, and how did he get it? 4. What do you suppose Lincoln learned from the life of Washington? 5. How did Lincoln fix in his memory things that he wished to remember? 6. What characteristics of the boy help to explain why he afterwards became such a great man? 7. You will enjoy reading The True Story of Lincoln, from which this selection is taken. 8. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: forlorn; shanty; princely; wilderness; epidemic; shiftless; ash-cakes; slab; guidance; ciphering; clapboard; pulp. 9. Pronounce: Aesop; bade.
Phrases for Study
half-faced camp, spelled down, uncomfortable state, work the book out, traveling schoolmaster, pull fodder.
WASHINGTON WITH GENERAL BRADDOCK
ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS
The King of England and his advisers determined to make a stand in America against the French. So they sent over two regiments of British troops under command of a brave soldier whose name was Braddock, and told him to get what help he could in Virginia and drive out the French.
General Braddock came to Virginia with his splendid-looking fighting men. When he had studied the situation there, one of the first things he did was to ask Colonel George Washington of Mount Vernon to come with him as one of his chief assistants. Washington at once accepted. He saw that now the King of England "meant business," and that if General Braddock were as wise as he was brave, the trouble in the Ohio country might be speedily ended and the French driven out.
But when he had joined General Braddock, he discovered that that brave but obstinate leader thought that battles were to be fought in America just the same as in Europe, and that soldiers could be marched against such forest-fighters as the French and Indians as if they were going on a parade. Washington did all he could to advise caution. It was of no use, however. General Braddock said that he was a soldier and knew how to fight, and that he did not wish for any advice from these Americans who had never seen a real battle.
At last everything was ready, and in July, 1755, the army, led by General Braddock, marched off to attack Fort Duquesne, which the French had built at Pittsburgh.
Washington had worked so hard to get things ready that he was sick in bed with fever when the soldiers started; but, without waiting to get well, he hurried after them and caught up with them on the ninth of July, at a ford on the Monongahela, fifteen miles from Fort Duquesne.
The British troops, in full uniform, and in regular order as if they were to drill before the King, marched straight on in splendid array. Washington thought it the most beautiful show he had ever seen; but he said to the general: "Do not let the soldiers march into the woods like that. The Frenchmen and the Indians may even now be hiding behind the trees ready to shoot us down. Let me send some men ahead to see where they are, and let some of our Virginians who are used to fighting in the forest go before to clear them away." But General Braddock told him to mind his own business, and marched on as gallantly as ever.
Suddenly, just as they reached a narrow part of the road, where the woods were all about them, the Frenchmen and Indians who were waiting for them behind the great trees and underbrush opened fire upon the British troops, and there came just such a dreadful time as Washington had feared. But even now Braddock would not give in. His soldiers must fight as they had been drilled to fight in Europe; and when the Virginians who were with him tried to fight as they had been accustomed to, he called them cowards and ordered them to form in line.
It was all over very soon. The British soldiers, fired upon from all sides and scarcely able to see where their enemies were, became frightened, huddled together, and made all the better marks for the bullets of the French and Indians hiding among the trees and bushes. Then General Braddock fell from his horse, mortally wounded; his splendidly-drilled redcoats broke into panic, turned, and ran away; and only the coolness of Washington and the Virginia forest-fighters who were with him saved the entire army from being cut to pieces.
Washington fought like a hero. Two horses that he rode were killed while he kept in the saddle; his coat was shot through and through, and it seemed as if he would be killed any moment. But he kept on fighting, caring nothing for danger. He tried to turn back the fleeing British troops; he tried to bring back the cannon, and, when the gunners ran away, he leaped from his horse and aimed and fired the cannon himself. Then with his Virginians, that Braddock had so despised as soldiers, he protected the rear of the retreating army, carried off the dying general and, cool and collected in the midst of all the terrible things that were happening, saved the British army from slaughter, buried poor General Braddock in the Virginia woods, and finally brought back to the settlements what was left of that splendid army of the King. He was the only man in all that time of disaster who came out of the fight with glory and renown.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Discussion. 1. Tell what you can of the contest for territory in America between the French and the English. 2. Who was General Braddock and for what was he sent to America? 3. Compare Washington and General Braddock in as many ways as you can. 4. Why did Washington do all he could to help General Braddock in spite of the fact that he knew Braddock was not acting wisely? 5. How did Washington gain glory from the engagement? 6. What are you told on page 84 about the value to us of studying the lives of great Americans? What do you owe to Washington and Lincoln? 7. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: advisers; situation; caution; ford; array; gallantly; huddled; collected; disaster; renown. 8. Pronounce: Duquesne; Monongahela; mortally; wounded.
SERVICE
SOMEBODY'S MOTHER
(AUTHOR UNKNOWN)
The woman was old and ragged and gray And bent with the chill of the winter's day. The street was wet with the recent snow, And the woman's feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long Alone, uncared for, amid the throng Of human beings who passed her by, Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and shout. Glad in the freedom of "school let out," Came the boys like a flock of sheep, Hailing the snow piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray Hastened the children on their way, Nor offered a helping hand to her, So meek, so timid, afraid to stir, Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merry troop, The gayest laddie of all the group; He paused beside her and whispered low, "I'll help you across if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm She placed, and so, without hurt or harm, He guided her trembling feet along, Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went, His young heart happy and well content. "She's somebody's mother, boys, you know, For all she's aged and poor and slow;
"And I hope some fellow will lend a hand To help my mother, you understand, If ever she's poor and old and gray, When her own dear boy is far away."
And "somebody's mother" bowed low her head In her home that night, and the prayer she said Was, "God be kind to the noble boy Who is somebody's son and pride and joy."
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Discussion. 1. Here is a story about a boy who saw a chance to do a service and did it; how was he different from his companions? 2. What were they interested in? 3. Wasn't he also eager to do what they did? 4. Why did he stop and help the old woman? 5. How did the woman feel toward the boy? 6. How do you think his own mother would have felt if she had seen him? 7. Why is this incident a splendid example of service? How was this boy doing his part as a good citizen?
THE LEAK IN THE DIKE
PHOEBE CARY
The good dame looked from her cottage At the close of the pleasant day, And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play: "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me; And take these cakes I made for him-- They are hot and smoking yet; You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set."
And Peter left the brother With whom all day he had played, And the sister who had watched their sports In the willow's tender shade; And told them they'd see him back before They saw a star in sight, Though he wouldn't be afraid to go In the very darkest night! For he was a brave, bright fellow With eye and conscience clear; He could do whatever a boy might do, And he had not learned to fear.
And now with his face all glowing And eyes as bright as the day With the thoughts of his pleasant errand, He trudged along the way; And soon his joyous prattle Made glad a lonesome place-- Alas! if only the blind old man Could have seen that happy face! Yet he somehow caught the brightness Which his voice and presence lent; And he felt the sunshine come and go As Peter came and went.
And now as the day was sinking, And the winds began to rise, The mother looked from her door again, Shading her anxious eyes, And saw the shadows deepen And birds to their homes come back, But never a sign of Peter Along the level track. But she said: "He will come at morning, So I need not fret or grieve-- Though it isn't like my boy at all To stay without my leave."
But where was the child delaying? On the homeward way was he; And across the dike while the sun was up An hour above the sea; He was stopping now to gather flowers, Now listening to the sound, As the angry waters dashed themselves Against their narrow bound. "Ah! well for us," said Peter, "That the gates are good and strong, And my father tends them carefully, Or they would not hold you long! You're a wicked sea," said Peter; "I know why you fret and chafe; You would like to spoil our land and homes; But our sluices keep you safe."
But hark! through the noise of waters Comes a low, clear, trickling sound; And the child's face pales with terror, And his blossoms drop to the ground. He is up the bank in a moment And, stealing through the sand He sees a stream not yet so large As his slender childish hand. 'Tis a leak in the dike! He is but a boy, Unused to fearful scenes; But, young as he is, he has learned to know The dreadful thing that means.
A leak in the dike! The stoutest heart Grows faint that cry to hear. And the bravest man in all the land Turns white with mortal fear, For he knows the smallest leak may grow To a flood in a single night; And he knows the strength of the cruel sea When loosed in its angry might.
And the boy! he has seen the danger And, shouting a wild alarm, He forces back the weight of the sea With the strength of his single arm! He listens for the joyful sound Of a footstep passing nigh; And lays his ear to the ground, to catch The answer to his cry. And he hears the rough winds blowing, And the waters rise and fall, But never an answer comes to him Save the echo of his call.
So, faintly calling and crying Till the sun is under the sea, Crying and moaning till the stars Come out for company, He thinks of his brother and sister, Asleep in their safe warm bed; He thinks of his father and mother, Of himself as dying--and dead; And of how, when the night is over, They must come and find him at last; But he never thinks he can leave the place Where duty holds him fast.
The good dame in the cottage Is up and astir with the light, For the thought of her little Peter Has been with her all the night. And now she watches the pathway, As yester eve she had done; But what does she see so strange and black Against the rising sun? Her neighbors are bearing between them Something straight to her door; Her child is coming home, but not As he ever came before!
"He is dead!" she cries; "thy darling!" And the startled father hears, And comes and looks the way she looks, And fears the thing she fears; Till a glad shout from the bearers Thrills the stricken man and wife-- "Give thanks, for your son has saved our land, And God has saved his life!" So, there in the morning sunshine They knelt about the boy; And every head was bared and bent In tearful, reverent joy.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Phoebe Cary (1824-1871) was an American poet. She was born in Cincinnati and lived with her sister, Alice, in New York City. She wrote many poems of beauty and charm, but none is more widely read than "The Leak in the Dike." Note. A large part of Holland consists of meadow-land so low and flat that the sea would overflow it during high tide if it were not protected, partly by natural sand hills but more by a wonderful system of diking. The dikes are long mounds, or thick walls, of earth and stone, broad at the base and gradual in slope.
Discussion. 1. What purpose do the dikes of Holland serve? 2. There were no Boy Scouts in those days, but here is a story of a boy who would have been a good member of the Scouts. Why? 3. What service did Peter's mother call him to render? 4. Had he done such things before? 5. How did the blind man think of Peter? 6. How did Peter find the danger? 7. What would many boys have done? 8. How did he stop the leak in the dike? 9. What would have happened if he had grown afraid, or tired? 10. Peter saw a duty to be performed and was brave enough to do it, though it was not easy, and might have cost him his life. What were the results of his quick wit and courage? 11. How was Peter doing his part as a good citizen? 12. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: prattle; presence; anxious; trickling; stoutest; save; astir; yester; stricken. 13. Pronounce: chafe; sluices; loosed.
Phrases for Study
narrow bound, sun is under the sea, mortal fear, duty holds him fast.
CASABLANCA
FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS
The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead.
Yet, beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm-- A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike, form.
The flames rolled on--he would not go Without his father's word; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard.
He called aloud: "Say, father, say If yet my task is done!" He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son.
"Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone!" And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on.
Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death In still, yet brave, despair;
And shouted but once more aloud, "My father! must I stay?" While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.
They wrapped the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child Like banners in the sky.
There came a burst of thunder sound-- The boy--oh! where was he? Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea-- With mast, and helm, and pennon fair. That well had borne their part; But the noblest thing which perished there Was that young, faithful heart!
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biographical and Historical Note. Felicia Hemans, (1793-1835), an English poet, was born in Liverpool, but spent much of her life in North Wales. "Casabianca" and "The Landing of the Pilgrims" are her best known poems. The hero of this poem was the son of Louis Casabianca, the captain of L'Orient, the flagship of the fleet that carried Napoleon Bonaparte and his army to Egypt. The incident narrated in this poem occurred during the Battle of the Nile. The powder magazine exploded, the ship was burned, and the captain, and his son perished. Discussion. 1. How did it happen that the boy was alone on the "burning deck"? 2. Find two lines in the third stanza that tell how the boy showed his faithfulness and his "heroic blood." 3. Why is his father called the "chieftain"? 4. What did the boy ask his father? 5. Why did he remain in such great danger when he might have saved himself? 6. What was it that "wrapped the ship in splendor wild"? 7. What made the "burst of thunder sound"? 8. What things are mentioned as fragments which "strewed the sea"? 9. Why is it good for us to read such a poem as this? 10. What service did Casabianca do for all of us? 11. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: chieftain; unconscious; booming; despair; fragments; pennon. 12. Pronounce: heroic; shroud; helm.
Phrases for Study
born to rule the storm, wreathing fires, heroic blood, splendor wild, lone post of death, borne their part.
TUBAL CAIN
Charles MacKay
Old Tubal Cain was a man of might In the days when the earth was young; By the fierce red light of his furnace bright The strokes of his hammer rung; And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear. Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers, As he fashioned the sword and spear. And he sang, "Hurrah for my handiwork! Hurrah for the spear and sword! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well! For he shall be king and lord."
To Tubal Cain came many a one. As he wrought by his roaring fire. And each one prayed for a strong steel blade, As the crown of his desire; And he made them weapons, sharp and strong, Till they shouted loud in glee. And gave him gifts of pearls and gold, And spoils of forest free. And they sang, "Hurrah for Tubal Cain, Who hath given us strength anew! Hurrah for the smith! hurrah for the fire! And hurrah for the metal true!"
But a sudden change came o'er his heart Ere the setting of the sun, And Tubal Cain was filled with pain For the evil he had done. He saw that men, with rage and hate, Made war upon their kind; That the land was red with the blood they shed In their lust for carnage, blind. And he said, "Alas, that ever I made, Or that skill of mine should plan, The spear and the sword for men whose joy Is to slay their fellow-man!"
And for many a day old Tubal Cain Sat brooding o'er his woe; And his hand forbore to smite the ore, And his furnace smoldered low; But he rose at last with a cheerful face And a bright, courageous eye, And bared his strong right arm for work, While the quick flames mounted high; And he sang, "Hurrah for my handiwork!" And the red sparks lit the air-- "Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made"-- And he fashioned the first plowshare.
And men, taught wisdom from the past, In friendship joined their hands, Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, And plowed the willing lands; And sang, "Hurrah for Tubal Cain! Our stanch good friend is he.
And, for the plowshare and the plow, To him our praise shall be. But, while oppression lifts its head, Or a tyrant would be lord, Though we may thank him for the plow, We'll not forget the sword."
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Charles Mackay (1814-1889) was a Scotch poet. For some years he was editor of the Glasgow Argus, and afterwards he became editor of the Illustrated London News. During the Civil War he was the special correspondent of the London Times at New York. He wrote many poems of interest to young people. Historical Note. Tubal Cain was one of the sons of Lamech, a descendant of Cain. He was an "instructor of every artificer in brass and iron," that is, he was the first smith. All that we really know of his history is given in the fourth chapter of Genesis. Discussion. 1. What did Tubal Cain first make on his forge? 2. Why did he think that his work was good? 3. What did men say about him? 4. How did Tubal Cain feel when he saw what men were doing with the products of his forge? 5. What did he do then? 6. What made his face "cheerful" at last? 7. Is it better to make instruments of war or tools for industry? 8. Why was Tubal Cain happy when he made plows? 9. Was he working for money, or for service? 10. Explain the last four lines. 11. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: fashioned; handiwork; wrought; anew; lust; brooding; forbore; plowshare. 12. Pronounce: hurrah; wield; carnage; smoldered; stanch.
Phrases for Study
man of might, smite the ore, earth was young, taught wisdom from the past, crown of his desire, spoils of forest free, willing lands, metal true, oppression lifts its head, upon their kind, tyrant would be lord, whose joy is to slay.
THE INCHCAPE ROCK
ROBERT SOUTHEY
No stir in the air, no stir in the sea; The ship was still as she could be; Her sails from Heaven received no motion; Her keel was steady in the ocean.
Without either sign or sound of their shock, The waves flowed over the Inchcape Rock; So little they rose, so little they fell, They did not move the Inchcape Bell.
The holy Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung.
When the rock was hid by the surge's swell, The mariners heard the warning bell; And then they knew the perilous rock And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok.
The sun in heaven was shining gay; All things were joyful on that day; The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled around, And there was joyance in their sound.
The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen, A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralph the Rover walked his deck, And he fixed his eye on the darker speck.
He felt the cheering power of spring; It made him whistle, it made him sing; His heart was mirthful to excess, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.
His eye was on the Inchcape float; Quoth he, "My men, put out the boat And row me to the Inchcape Rock, And I'll plague the Abbot of Aberbrothok."
The boat is lowered, the boatmen row, And to the Inchcape Rock they go; Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, And he cut the bell from the Inchcape float.
Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound; The bubbles rose and burst around; Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Rock Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok!"
Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away; He scoured the seas for many a day; And now grown rich with plundered store, He steers his course for Scotland's shore.
So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky They cannot see the sun on high; The wind hath blown a gale all day; At evening it hath died away.
On the deck the Rover takes his stand; So dark it is they see no land. Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon, For there is dawn of the rising moon."
"Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar? For methinks we should be near the shore." "Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell."
They hear no sound; the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen, they drift along Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock-- "O Christ! it is the Inchcape Rock!"
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biographical and Historical Note. Robert Southey (1774-1843) was an English poet. From 1813 until his death he was Poet Laureate of England. Bell Rock, or Inchcape, is a reef of red sandstone near the Firth of Tay, on the east coast of Scotland. At the time of the spring tides part of the reef is uncovered to the height of four feet. Because so many vessels were wrecked upon these rocks the Abbot of Aberbrothok is said to have placed a bell there, "fixed upon a tree or timber, which rang continually, being moved by the sea."
Discussion. 1. What picture do you see when you read the first stanza? The second stanza? 2. This story tells about a man who failed. You have read about Peter's heroism and the lives he saved, about the service a schoolboy rendered to a poor old woman, about a blacksmith who joyously made the tools by which men raised fruit and grain for food, and about a boy who was faithful to orders, even though it cost his life. Here you see how men sometimes try to make of no effect all the good deeds that others perform. 3. The Abbot of Aberbrothok was a man who lived up to the ideal of service; how did he do this, and why did men bless him? 4. Ralph the Rover was a pirate; why did he destroy the bell? 5. All the others in the stories you have read, boys and men, thought less of themselves than of others; of what did Ralph think? 6. Is a merchant who raises the price of food as high as he can, who makes huge profits while others suffer or starve, any better than Ralph the Rover? 7. What test of loyalty to our country, would prove such a man to be a "bad citizen"? 8. Ralph was a free man--what did "liberty" mean to him? 9. What happened to Ralph the Rover? 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: keel; abbot; perilous; joyance; breakers; methinks. 11. Pronounce: buoy; mariners; excess; scoured.
Phrases for Study
sound of their shock, mirthful to excess, surge's swell, plague the Abbot, cheering power of spring, plundered store.
MY BOYHOOD ON THE PRAIRIE
HAMLIN GARLAND
The cabin faced a level plain with no tree in sight. A mile away to the west stood a low stone house, and immediately in front of us opened a half-section of unfenced sod. To the north, as far as I could see, the land billowed like a russet ocean, with scarcely a roof to fleck its lonely spread. I cannot say that I liked or disliked it. I merely marveled at it; and while I wandered about the yard, the hired man scorched some cornmeal mush in a skillet, and this, with some butter and gingerbread, made up my first breakfast in Mitchell County.
For a few days my brother and I had little to do other than to keep the cattle from straying, and we used our leisure in becoming acquainted with the region round about.
To the south the sections were nearly all settled upon, for in that direction lay the county town; but to the north and on into Minnesota rolled the unplowed sod, the feeding ground of the cattle, the home of foxes and wolves, and to the west, just beyond the highest ridges, we loved to think the bison might still be seen.
The cabin on this rented farm was a mere shanty, a shell of pine boards, which needed reinforcing to make it habitable, and one day my father said, "Well, Hamlin, I guess you'll have to run the plow-team this fall. I must help neighbor Button reinforce the house, and I can't afford to hire another man."
This seemed a fine commission for a lad of ten, and I drove my horses into the field that first morning with a manly pride which added an inch to my stature. I took my initial "round" at a "land" which stretched from one side of the quarter section to the other, in confident mood. I was grown up!
But alas! My sense of elation did not last long. To guide a team for a few minutes as an experiment was one thing--to plow all day like a hired hand was another. It was not a chore; it was a job. It meant moving to and fro hour after hour, day after day, with no one to talk to but the horses. It meant trudging eight or nine miles in the forenoon and as many more in the afternoon, with less than an hour off at noon. It meant dragging the heavy implement around the corners, and it meant also many shipwrecks; for the thick, wet stubble often threw the share completely out of the ground, making it necessary for me to halt the team and jerk the heavy plow backward for a new start.
Although strong and active, I was rather short, even for a ten-year-old, and to reach the plow handles I was obliged to lift my hands above my shoulders; and so with the guiding lines crossed over my back and my worn straw hat bobbing just above the cross-brace I must have made a comical figure. At any rate nothing like it had been seen in the neighborhood; and the people on the road to town, looking across the field, laughed and called to me, and neighbor Button said to my father in my hearing, "That chap's too young to run a plow," a judgment which pleased and flattered me greatly.
Harriet cheered me by running out occasionally to meet me as I turned the nearest corner, and sometimes Frank consented to go all the way around, chatting breathlessly as he trotted along behind. At other times he brought me a cookie and a glass of milk, a deed which helped to shorten the forenoon. And yet plowing became tedious.
The flies were savage, especially in the middle of the day, and the horses, tortured by their lances, drove badly, twisting and turning in their rage. Their tails were continually getting over the lines, and in stopping to kick their tormentors they often got astride the traces, and in other ways made trouble for me. Only in the early morning or when the sun sank low at night were they able to move quietly along their way.
The soil was the kind my father had been seeking, a smooth, dark, sandy loam, which made it possible for a lad to do the work of a man. Often the share would go the entire "round" without striking a root or a pebble as big as a walnut, the steel running steadily with a crisp, crunching, ripping sound which I rather liked to hear. In truth, the work would have been quite tolerable had it not been so long drawn out. Ten hours of it, even on a fine day, made about twice too many for a boy.
Meanwhile I cheered myself in every imaginable way. I whistled. I sang. I studied the clouds. I gnawed the beautiful red skin from the seed vessels which hung upon the wild rose bushes, and I counted the prairie chickens as they began to come together in winter flocks, running through the stubble in search of food. I stopped now and again to examine the lizards unhoused by the share, and I measured the little granaries of wheat which the mice and gophers had deposited deep under the ground, storehouses which the plow had violated. My eyes dwelt enviously upon the sailing hawk and on the passing of ducks. The occasional shadowy figure of a prairie wolf made me wish for Uncle David and his rifle.
On certain days nothing could cheer me. When the bitter wind blew from the north, and the sky was filled with wild geese racing southward with swiftly-hurrying clouds, winter seemed about to spring upon me. The horses' tails streamed in the wind. Flurries of snow covered me with clinging flakes, and the mud "gummed" my boots and trouser legs, clogging my steps. At such times I suffered from cold and loneliness--all sense of being a man evaporated. I was just a little boy, longing for the leisure of boyhood.
Day after day, through the month of October and deep into November, I followed that team, turning over two acres of stubble each day. I would not believe this without proof, but it is true! At last it grew so cold that in the early morning everything was white with frost, and I was obliged to put one hand in my pocket to keep it warm, while holding the plow with the other; but I didn't mind this so much, for it hinted at the close of autumn. I've no doubt facing the wind in this way was excellent discipline, but I didn't think it necessary then, and my heart was sometimes bitter and rebellious.
My father did not intend to be severe. As he had always been an early riser and a busy toiler, it seemed perfectly natural and good discipline that his sons should also plow and husk corn at ten years of age. He often told of beginning life as a "bound boy" at nine, and these stories helped me to perform my own tasks without whining.
At last there came a morning when by striking my heel upon the ground I convinced my boss that the soil was frozen. "All right," he said; "you may lay off this forenoon."
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. Hamlin Garland (1860-1940) was born in Wisconsin. His father was a farmer-pioneer, who was always eager to be on the border line of the farming country; consequently, he moved from Wisconsin to Minnesota, from Minnesota to Iowa, and from Iowa to Dakota. The hope of cheaper land, better soil, and bigger crops led him on. When Hamlin Garland turned his attention to literature, he decided to write truthfully of the western farmer's life and its great hardships in pioneer days, as well as its hopes and joys. In A Son of the Middle Border, an autobiography, from which "My Boyhood on the Prairie" is taken, he has given a most interesting record of experiences in the development of the Middle West. Mitchell County, where this scene is laid, is in Iowa.
Discussion. 1. Describe the boy's new home. 2. What work did the boy have to do? 3. In what spirit did he start the plowing? 4. Why did his "sense of elation" soon disappear? 5. Was his task harder than that of Peter or of the boy who helped "Somebody's Mother"? 6. Must a boy do some marvelous thing to be a hero? 7. How did the boy try to keep himself in good cheer? 8. In The World of Nature, A Forward Look you are told that if you have eyes to see, "the world of Nature is a fairyland." Why do you think this boy had "eyes to see"? Find your answer by reading the last two lines on page 131 and the first ten lines on page 132. 9. What made him wish for freedom? 10. Class reading: Page 131, line 8, to the end of the story. 11. Outline for testing silent reading. Tell the story briefly, using these topics: (a) the region and the cabin; (b) what plowing meant to a boy; (c) how the boy was cheered. 12. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: marveled; scorched; skillet; ridges; reinforcing; habitable; commission; stature; implement; stubble; share; cross-brace; judgment; tormentors; tolerable; unhoused; deposited; clog ging; evaporated. 13. Pronounce: chore; tedious; loam; imaginable; gopher; leisure.
Phrases for Study
billowed like a russet ocean, guiding lines, fleck its lonely spread, tortured by their lances, county town, astride the traces, initial round, go the entire round, confident mood, plow had violated, sense of elation, bound boy.
WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE
GEORGE P. MORRIS
Woodman, spare that tree! Touch not a single bough; In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand; Thy ax shall harm it not;
That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea-- And wouldst thou hack it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties; Oh, spare that aged oak Now towering to the skies.
When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy, Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand-- Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand!
My heart-strings round thee cling, Close as thy bark, old friend! Here shall the wild-bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot; While I've a hand to save, Thy ax shall harm it not.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
Biography. George P. Morris (1802-1864) was born in Philadelphia. He was an editor and a poet and was connected with a number of newspapers in New York City.
Discussion. 1. To whom is the poet speaking in these verses? 2. What does he wish to prevent? 3. Why is the tree dear to him? 4. Whom does he remember seeing under the tree? 5. What did they do there? 6. How will the poet protect the tree? 7. How does the American Forestry Association protect trees? 8. Why should trees be cared for and protected? 9. Why do we celebrate Arbor Day? 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: forefather; renown; towering; heart-strings.
Phrases for Study
near his cot, earth-bound ties, forbear thy stroke, storm still brave.
THE AMERICAN BOY
THEODORE ROOSEVELT
What we have a right to expect of the American boy is that he shall turn out to be a good American man. Now the chances are strong that he won't be much of a man unless he is a good deal of a boy. He must not be a coward or a weakling, a bully, a shirk, or a prig. He must work hard and play hard. He must be clean-minded and clean lived, and able to hold his own against all comers. It is only on these conditions that he will grow into the kind of American man of whom America can be really proud.
No boy can afford to neglect his work, and, with a boy, work as a rule means study. A boy should work, and should work hard, at his lessons--in the first place, for the sake of what he will learn, and in the next place, for the sake of the effect upon his own character of resolutely settling down to learn it. Shiftlessness, slackness, indifference in studying are almost certain to mean inability to get on in other walks of life. I do not believe in mischief-doing in school hours, or in the kind of animal spirits that results in making bad scholars; and I believe that those boys who take part in rough, hard play outside of school will not find any need for horseplay in school. While they study they should study just as hard as they play football. It is wise to obey the homely old adage, "Work while you work; play while you play."
A boy needs both physical and moral courage. Neither can take the place of the other. A coward who will take a blow without returning it is a contemptible creature; but, after all, he is hardly as contemptible as the boy who dares not stand up for what he deems right against the sneers of his companions who are themselves wrong. There is no need to be a prig. There is no need for a boy to preach about his own conduct and virtue. If he does, he will make himself ridiculous. But there is need that he should practice decency; that he should be clean and straight, honest and truthful, gentle and tender, as well as brave.
The boy can best become a good man by being a good boy--not a goody-goody boy, but just a plain good boy. "Good," in the largest sense, should include whatever is fine, straightforward, clean, brave, and manly. The best boys I know--the best men I know--are good at their studies or their business, fearless and stalwart, hated and feared by all that is wicked, incapable of submitting to wrong-doing, and equally incapable of being aught but tender to the weak and helpless. A healthy-minded boy should feel hearty contempt for the coward, and even more hearty indignation for the boy who bullies girls or small boys, or tortures animals.
Of course the effect that a thoroughly manly, thoroughly straight and upright boy can have upon the companions of his own age, and upon those who are younger, is incalculable. He cannot do good work if he is not strong and does not try with his whole heart and soul to count in any contest; and his strength will be a curse to himself and to everyone else if he does not have thorough command over himself and over his own evil passions, and if he does not use his strength on the side of decency, justice, and fair dealing.
In short, in life, as in a football game, the principle to follow is: Hit the line hard; don't foul and don't shirk, but hit the line hard! --Abridged.
NOTES AND QUESTIONS
For Biography, see page 37. Discussion. 1. This selection sums up all the stories of service that you have been reading. You will get most out of it if you will think back over these stories and use them as illustrations of what Mr. Roosevelt tells you is his ideal of the American boy. What examples, in these stories, can you find to illustrate the sentence, "He must not be a coward or a weakling.... He must work hard and play hard"? 2. Illustrate, from the story of Lincoln, what Mr. Roosevelt says about study. What was Lincoln's attitude toward study? What is yours? Did Lincoln's studies have the effect on his character that Mr. Roosevelt speaks about? 3. What story illustrates the sentence, "There is need that he should practice decency; that he should be clean and straight, honest and truthful, gentle and tender, as well as brave"? 4. How does the story about life on the prairie illustrate the paragraph that begins, "The boy can best become a good man by being a good boy"? What is the difference between being "a good boy" and "a goodygoody boy"? 5. Was Ralph the Rover a brave man or a coward? 6. Apply the principle stated by Mr. Roosevelt at the end of the selection to the story about Washington and Braddock. To the story about the boy on the prairie. 7. Can you relate an instance in which a manly boy had a good influence upon another boy or Upon his companions? 8. Do you think the football slogan given in the last sentence on page 137 is a good principle of life? Memorize the slogan. 9. This selection is taken from The Strenuous Life; it first appeared in St. Nicholas, May, 1900. 10. Find in the Glossary the meaning of: shirk; prig; resolutely; indifference; inability; horseplay; deems; indignation; bullies. 11. Pronounce: adage; neither; contemptible; ridiculous; stalwart; incapable; aught; incalculable.
Phrases for Study
against all comers, physical and moral courage, walks of life, practice decency, animal spirits, in the largest sense, homely old adage, aught but tender.
HOME AND COUNTRY
A BACKWARD LOOK
As you gazed through your Crystal Glass of Reading at the selections in Part I, you saw reflected now pictures of home and now again a picture of that early Thanksgiving Day when Pilgrim and Indian sat down together to the "varied riches of gardens and woods and waves." When you heard Massasoit say at the feast, "The Good Spirit loves His white children best," you wondered about the truth of his statement and, as you thought about it, perhaps Abraham Lincoln came to mind; what do you think Lincoln, if he had been alive at that time, might have answered the Indian chief? The poems about home might be called memory-pictures of home; why do you think older people remember with so much fondness their childhood homes? Imagine yourself telling your grandchildren about the home of your youth and about your home pleasures; what things would you mention? Why is it a good thing for a nation to have its people love their homes and the festival days like Christmas and Thanksgiving?
And now a turn of the Crystal Glass reveals a glorious flag, floating protectingly over us. How you love to look upon its starry folds; when statesmen and poets tell you of the meaning of Old Glory you realize that there is good reason for your pride and your love. What did Charles Sumner tell you about the meaning of the stars and the stripes and the colors of the Flag? What did James Whitcomb Riley tell you about how Old Glow got its name? What were the circumstances under which Francis Scott Key wrote "The Star-Spangled Banner"? What are some of the things you can do to show your respect for the Flag? What are some of the things you remember about Lincoln's boyhood? How does his method of memorizing com-pare with yours? The young George Washington showed remarkable bravery as Braddock's chief assistant; what other fine quality did he show? How may these stories about Washington and Lincoln help you to be a worthy citizen of the country they helped to found and preserve?
We admire all people who are helpful to others, but when in giving service, some forget about themselves and even sacrifice themselves for others, we regard these as heroes. Peter, in "The Leak in the Dike," and the boy in "Somebody's Mother" forgot about themselves in their service to others; one disregarded danger to himself, and the other the possible jeers of his playmates; do you know of any instances of service in your school? It is fine to serve obediently under the command of superiors as did the young Casabianca, but it is even finer to think quickly in an emergency and to do what should be done when there is no one at hand to give orders. Who gave Peter his orders? Tubal Cain belongs to a group of men who have served their fellow men by useful inventions; mention some other inventors and tell how they have helped mankind. Hamlin Garland gave you a glimpse of the pioneer's service to our country; what names of pioneers in your locality are honored for their service in the early days? What ideas of being useful home-members did you get from Hamlin Garland and Theodore Roosevelt? How does the habit of being useful in the home fit one for being a good citizen? American boys and girls have many opportunities for service in the home, in the school, and in their other relations; have you done any piece of service, in an organized way, in your school? Does your school belong to the Junior Red Cross, and does it try' to follow the motto, "Go forth to serve"?
When you look back upon all that you have read of home and country, you no doubt come to the conclusion that "the man without a country" summed it all up when he said, "Stick to your family... Think of your home... And for your country and for your Flag, never dream but of serving her."
From selections found in this book prepare a program for Washington's birthday.