Chapter 1

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The New McGuffey Fourth Reader, William H. McGuffey, Compiler

PREFACE

It is now nearly three quarters of a century since the appearance of the first edition of McGuffey's Readers, compiled by Dr. William H. McGuffey. Revisions have since been made from time to time as the advancement in educational theories and the changes in methods of teaching seemed to demand. No other school text- books have retained the popular favor so long or have exerted so general and so wholesome an influence as has this series of Readers.

In preparing the present revision the aim of thie compiler has been to introduce such new matter and methods as the experience and judgment of the best teachers have found most commendable and desirable. He has at the same time endeavored to preserve those essential features which have always distinguished the McGuffey Readers and have so largely contributed to their success. While the majority of the selections are new to the series, care has been taken to maintain the same high literary and ethical standard that has hitherto so distinctly characterized these books. Lessons inculcating kindness, courage, obedience, industry, thrift, true manliness, patriotism, and other duties and obligations form no small portion of the contents. Selections from the masterpieces of English literature include both the older classical productions, without which no school can be complete, and also choice extracts from many of the latest and most popular writers.

The Elocutionary Introduction, by Professor F. Townsend Southwick, presents in brief scope the most important rules for oral reading and those principles of the art that are most necessary for the pupils to master. The teacher should, at the very onset, become thoroughly familiar with the subjects here presented, and the pupils should be referred to this discussion of elocutionary principles as often as occasion may require.

The more difficult words are defined, and their pronunciation is indicated by diacritical marks. The object of this is to aid the pupil in the ready preparation of the reading lesson, and not to supply merely an exercise in the study of words. Short explanatory notes are given wherever required for a full understanding of the text. It is assumed, however, that the pupils have already a general knowledge of most of the subjects alluded to, or that they have ready access to the more common books of reference, and therefore only occasional notes of this character are necessary.

An alphabetical list of the authors of the various selections, together with the brief biographical and critical notes, is given as an appendix to the volume.

Acknowledgments are due to Messrs. Little, Brown & Co., Charles Scribner's Sons, the Century Company, and other publishers who generously permitted the use, in this series, of selections from their copyrighted works.

The selections from Hawthorne, Longfellow, Whittier, Emerson, and Lucy Larcom are used by special arrangement with and permission of Messrs. Houghton, Mifflin & Co., the authorized publishers of the writings of these authors.

CONTENTS

[The Elocutionary Introduction and pronunciation markups are omitted in the Project Gutenberg edition because of abundance of non-ascii characters.]

SELECTIONS FOR READING

Young Benjamin Franklin -- Nathaniel Hawthorne A Hard Word A Song -- James Whitcomb Riley The Journey of Life. An Allegory What I live for Try Again! -- Charlotte Elizabeth True Manliness The Miller of the Dee -- Charles Mackay A Boy on a Farm -- Charles Dudley Warner Meddlesome Mattie The Eagle The Old Eagle Tree -- John Todd A New Kind of Fun -- From the German Two Ways of telling a Story -- Henry K. Oliver The Blind Men and the Elephant -- John G. Saxe Harry's Riches A Happy New Year -- Margaret E. Sangster Jeanette and Jo -- Mary Mapes Dodge Watseka. An Indian Legend Harry and his Dog -- Mary Russell Milford Little Boy Blue -- Eugene Field If I were a Boy The Tempest -- James T. Fields The Right Way -- Frank R. Stockton An Adventure with Wolves The Old Oaken Bucket -- Samuel Woodworth The Farmer and the Fox -- James Anthony Frowde Hiawatha's Childhood -- H. W. Longfellow At Rugby School -- Thomas Hughes Somebody's Darling -- Marie La Coste The Captive -- John R. Musick The Star-Spangled Banner -- F. S. Key Our National Banner -- Edward Everett Burning the Fallow -- Susanna Moodie Piccola -- Celia L. Thaxter The Mountain and the Squirrel -- R. W. Emerson Srange Stories of Ants: White Ants -- Henry Drummond Red Ants -- Jules Michelet Dear Country Mine -- R. W. Gilder My Country The Four MacNicols -- William Black The Blue and the Gray -- Ellen H. Flagg The Captain's Feather -- Samuel M. Peck The Ride to London -- Charles Dickens The Planting of the Apple Tree -- W. C. Bryant The Apple -- John Burroughs The Bugle Song -- Alfred Tennyson The Story of Captain John Smith -- John Esten Cooke On the Banks of the Tennessee -- W. D. Gallagher Good Will -- J. T. Trowbridge The Good Reader A Legend of Bregenz -- Adelaide A. Procter The Golden Touch -- Nathaniel Hawthorne The Brook -- Alfred Tennyson The Sermon on the Mount -- Bible The Song of Steam -- G. W. Cutter The Gentle Hand -- T. S. Arthur Spring -- Henry Timrod Marion's Men -- William Gilmore Simms The Pied Piper of Hamelin -- Robert Browning

FOURTH READER

YOUNG BENJAMIN FRANKLIN.

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

When Benjamin Franklin was a boy he was very fond of fishing; and many of his leisure hours were spent on the margin of the mill pond catching flounders, perch, and eels that came up thither with the tide.

The place where Ben and his playmates did most of their fishing was a marshy spot on the outskirts of Boston. On the edge of the water there was a deep bed of clay, in which the boys were forced to stand while they caught their fish.

"This is very uncomfortable," said Ben Franklin one day to his comrades, while they were standing in the quagmire.

"So it is," said the other boys. "What a pity we have no better place to stand on!"

On the dry land, not far from the quagmire, there were at that time a great many large stones that had been brought there to be used in building the foundation of a new house. Ben mounted upon the highest of these stones.

"Boys," said he, "I have thought of a plan. You know what a plague it is to have to stand in the quagmire yonder. See, I am bedaubed to the knees, and you are all in the same plight.

"Now I propose that we build a wharf. You see these stones? The workmen mean to use them for building a house here. My plan is to take these same stones, carry them to the edge of the water, and build a wharf with them. What say you, lads? Shall we build the wharf?"

"Yes, yes," cried the boys; "let's set about it!"

It was agreed that they should all be on the spot that evening, and begin their grand public enterprise by moonlight.

Accordingly, at the appointed time, the boys met and eagerly began to remove the stones. They worked like a colony of ants, sometimes two or three of them taking hold of one stone; and at last they had carried them all away, and built their little wharf.

"Now, boys," cried Ben, when the job was done, "let's give three cheers, and go home to bed. To-morrow we may catch fish at our ease."

"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" shouted his comrades, and all scampered off home and to bed, to dream of to-morrow's sport.

In the morning the masons came to begin their work. But what was their surprise to find the stones all gone! The master mason, looking carefully on the ground, saw the tracks of many little feet, some with shoes and some barefoot. Following these to the water side, he soon found what had become of the missing building stones.

"Ah! I see what the mischief is," said he; "those little rascals who were here yesterday have stolen the stones to build a wharf with. And I must say that they understand their business well."

He was so angry that he at once went to make a complaint before the magistrate; and his Honor wrote an order to "take the bodies of Benjamin Franklin, and other evil-disposed persons," who had stolen a heap of stones.

If the owner of the stolen property had not been more merciful than the master mason, it might have gone hard with our friend Benjamin and his comrades. But, luckily for them, the gentleman had a respect for Ben's father, and, moreover, was pleased with the spirit of the whole affair. He therefore let the culprits off easily.

But the poor boys had to go through another trial, and receive sentence, and suffer punishment, too, from their own fathers. Many a rod was worn to the stump on that unlucky night. As for Ben, he was less afraid of a whipping than of his father's reproof. And, indeed, his father was very much disturbed.

"Benjamin, come hither," began Mr. Franklin in his usual stern and weighty tone. The boy approached and stood before his father's chair. "Benjamin," said his father, "what could induce you to take property which did not belong to you?"

"Why, father," replied Ben, hanging his head at first, but then lifting his eyes to Mr. Franklin's face, "if it had been merely for my own benefit, I never should have dreamed of it. But I knew that the wharf would be a public convenience. If the owner of the stones should build a house with them, nobody would enjoy any advantage but himself. Now, I made use of them in a way that was for the advantage of many persons."

"My son," said Mr. Franklin solemnly, "so far as it was in your power, you have done a greater harm to the public than to the owner of the stones. I do verily believe, Benjamin, that almost all the public and private misery of mankind arises from a neglect of this great truth,--that evil can produce only evil, that good ends must be wrought out by good means."

To the end of his life, Ben Franklin never forgot this conversation with his father; and we have reason to suppose, that, in most of his public and private career, he sought to act upon the principles which that good and wise man then taught him.

DEFINITIONS:--In defining words, that meaning is given which is appropriate to them in the connection in which they are used. The pupil should look in the dictionary for the meaning of all the others with which he is not perfectly familiar.

Quagmire, soft, wet, miry land. Outskirt, borders. Plague, bother, great trouble. Plight, condition. Wharf, a platform on the shore of a harbor, river, or lake, extending some way into the water. Comrades, companions, playfellows. Magistrate, an officer of the law, justice of the peace. Ringleader, the leader of several persons acting together. Culprits, wrong-doers. Solemnly, with great dignity. Induce, lead persuade. Benefit, profit, accomodation. Verily, truly.

EXERCISE.--Where is Boston? How long ago did Benjamin Franklin live? Learn all that you can about his life and work, and repeat it to the class at the next recitation.

A HARD WORD.

"P-o po, p-o po, Popo, c-a-t cat, Popocat--Oh dear, what a hard word! Let me see, Po-po-cat-e-petl. I can never pronounce it, I am sure. I wish they would not have such hard names in geography," said George Gould, quite out of patience. "Will you please tell me how to pronounce the name of this mountain, father?"

"Why, do you call that a hard word to pronounce, George? I know much harder words than that."

"Well, father this is the hardest word I ever saw," replied George. "I wish they had put the name into the volcano, and burned it up."

"I know how to pronounce it," said Jane. "It is Po-po' ca-ta'petl."

"Po-po' ca-ta'petl," said George, stopping at each syllable. "Well, it is not so very hard, after all; but I wish they would not have any long words, and then one could pronounce them easily enough."

"I do not think so," said his father. "Some of the hardest words I have ever seen are the shortest. I know one little word, with only two letters in it, that very few children, or men either, can always speak."

"Oh, I suppose it is borne French or German word; isn't it, father?"

"No: it is English; and you may think it strange, but it is just as hard to pronounce in one language as another."

"Only two letters! What can it be?" cried both the children.

"The hardest word," replied their father, "I have ever met with in any language--and I have learned several--is a little word of two letters--N-o, no."

"Now you are making fun of us!" cried the children: "that is one of the easiest words in the world." And, to prove that their father was mistaken, they both repeated, "N-o, no; n-o, no," a great many times.

"I am not joking in the least. I really think it is the hardest of all words. It may seem easy enough to you to-night, but perhaps you cannot pronounce it to-morrow."

"I can always say it, I know I can;" said George with much confidence--"NO! Why, it is as easy to say it as to breathe."

"Well, George, I hope you will always find it as easy to pronounce as you think it is now, and that you will be able to speak it when you ought to."

In the morning George went bravely to school, a little proud that he could pronounce so hard a word as "Popocatepetl." Not far frown the schoolhouse was a large pond of very deep water, where the boys used to skate and slide when it was frozen over.

Now, the night before, Jack Frost had been busy changing the surface of the pond into beautiful crystals of ice; and when the boys went to school in the morning they found the pond as smooth and clear as glass. The day was cold, and they thought that by noon the ice would be strong enough to skate upon.

As soon as school was dismissed the boys all ran to the pond,--some to try the ice, and others merely to see it.

"Come, George," said William Green; "now we shall have a glorious time sliding."

George hesitated, and said he did not believe it was strong enough, for it had been frozen over only one night.

"Oh, come on!" said another boy: "I know it is strong enough. I have known it to freeze over in one night, many a time, so it would bear: haven't you, John?"

"Yes," answered John Brown: "it did so one night last winter; and it wasn't so cold as it was last night, either."

But George still hesitated, for his father had forbidden him to go on the ice without special permission.

"I know why George won't go," said John; "he's afraid he might fall down and hurt himself."

"Or the ice might crack," said another; "and the noise would frighten him. Perhaps his mother might not like it."

"He's a coward, that's the reason he won't come."

George could stand this no longer, for he was rather proud of his courage. "I am not afraid," said he; and he ran to the pond, and was the first one on the ice. The boys enjoyed the sport very much, running and sliding, and trying to catch one another on its smooth surface.

More boys kept coming on as they saw the sport, and soon all thought of danger was forgotten. Then suddenly there was a loud cry, "The ice has broken! the ice has broken!" And sure enough, three of the boys had broken through, and were struggling in the water; and one of them was George.

The teacher had heard the noise, and was coming to call the boys from the ice just as they broke through. He tore some boards from a fence close by, and shoved them out on the ice until they came within reach of the boys in the water. After a while he succeeded in getting the three boys out of the water, but not until they were almost frozen.

George's father and mother were very much troubled when he was brought home, and they learned how narrowly he had escaped drowning. But they were so glad to know that. he was safe that they did not ask him any questions until he was warm and comfortable again. But in the evening, when they were all gathered together about the cheerful fire, his father asked him how he came to disobey his positive command.

George answered that he did not want to go on the ice, but the boys made him.

"How did they make you? Did they take hold of you, and drag you on?" asked his father.

"No," said George, "but they all wanted me to go."

"When they asked you, why didn't you say 'No'?"

"I was going to do so: but they called me a coward, and said I was afraid to go; and I couldn't stand that."

"And so," said his father, "you found it easier to disobey me, and run the risk of losing your life, than to say that little word you thought so easy last night. You could not say 'No.'"

George now began to see why this little word"No" was so hard to pronounce. It was not because it was so long, or composed of such difficult sounds; but because it often requires so much real courage to say it,--to say "No" when one is tempted to do wrong.

After that, whenever George was tempted to do wrong, he remembered his narrow escape from drowning, and the importance of the little word "No." The oftener he said it, the easier it became; and in time he could say it, when necessary, without much effort.

DEFINITIONS:--Popocatepetl, a volcano in Mexico (sometimes inaccurately pronounced po po cat' a petl). Prounounce, say distinctly. Syllable, one of the distinct parts of a word. Attracted, drawn. Hesitated, paused. Importance, value. Special, particular.

A SONG*

BY JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, There is ever a something sings alway: There's the song of the lark when the skies are clear, And the song of the thrush when the skies are gray. The sunshine showers across the grain, And the bluebird trills in the orchard tree; And in and out, when the eaves drip rain, The swallows are twittering carelessly.

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, Be the skies above or dark or fair; There is ever a song that our hearts may hear-- There is ever a song somewhere, my dear-- There is ever a song somewhere!

There is ever a song somewhere, my dear, In the midnight black or the midday blue: The robin pipes when the sun is here, And the cricket chirrups the whole night through; The buds may blow and the fruit may grow, And the autumn leaves drop crisp and sere: But whether the sun or the rain or the snow, There is ever a song somewhere, my dear.

* From "Afterwhiles." Copyright, 1887. By permission of the Bowen-Merrill Company, publishers; Indianapolis, Indiana.

THE JOURNEY OF LIFE.

AN ALLEGORY.

Once upon a time, a good many years ago, there was a traveler, and he set out upon a journey. It was a magic journey, and was to seem very long when he began it, and very short when he got halfway through.

He traveled along a rather dark path for some little time, without meeting anything, until at last he came to a beautiful child. So he said to the child, "What do you here?" And the child said, "I am always at play. Come and play with me."

So he played with the child the whole day long, and they were very merry. The sky was so blue, the sun was so bright, the water was so sparkling, the leaves were so green, the flowers were so lovely, and they heard so many singing birds, and saw so many butterflies, that everything was beautiful. This was in fine weather.

When it rained, they loved to watch the falling drops and smell the fresh scents. When it blew, it was delightful to listen to the wind, and fancy what it said, as it came rushing from its home, whistling and howling, and driving the clouds before it, bending the trees, rumbling in the chimneys, shaking the house and making the sea roar in fury.

But when it snowed, that was the best of all; for they liked nothing so well as to look up at the white flakes falling fast and thick, like down frown the breasts of millions of white birds, and to see how smooth and deep the drift was, and to listen to the hush upon the paths and roads.

But one day of a sudden the traveler lost the child. He called to him over and over again, but got no answer. So he went on for a little while without meeting anything, until at last he came to a handsome boy. He said to the boy, "What do you here?" And the boy said, "I am always learning. Come and learn with me."

So he learned with the boy about Jupiter and Juno, and the Greeks and Romans,--more than I could tell, or he either; for he soon forgot a great deal of it. But they were not always learning; they had the merriest games that ever were played.

They rowed upon the river in summer, and skated on the ice in winter; they were active afoot and active on horseback; at cricket, and all games of ball; at prisoner's base, hare-and-hounds, follow-my-leader, and more sports than I can think of: nobody could beat them. As to friends, they had such dear friends, and so many of them, that I want the time to reckon them up. They were all young, like the handsome boy, and were never to be strange to one another all their lives through.

Still, one day, in the midst of all these pleasures, the traveler lost the boy, as he had lost the child, and, after calling him in vain, went on upon his journey. So he went on for a while without seeing anything, until at last he came to a young man. He said to the young man, "What do you here?" And the young man said, "I am always in love. Come and love with me."

But the traveler lost the young man as he had lost the rest of his friends, and, after calling to him to come back, which he never did, went on upon his journey. At last he came to a middle-aged gentleman. So he said to him, "What are you doing here?" And his answer was, "I am always busy. Come and be busy with me."

The traveler began to be very busy with the gentleman, and they went on through the wood together. The whole journey was through a wood, only it had been open and green at first, like a wood in spring, and now began to be thick and dark, like a wood in summer; some of the little trees that had come out earliest were even turning brown.

The gentleman was not alone, but had a lady of about the same age with him, who was his wife; and they had children, who were with them too. They all went on together through the wood, cutting down the trees, and making a path among the branches, and carrying burdens and working hard.

Sometimes they came to a long green avenue that opened into deeper woods. Then they would hear a very distant little voice crying, "Father, father, I am another child! Stop for me!" And presently they would see a very little figure, growing larger as it came along, running to join them. When it came up, they all crowded round it, and kissed and welcomed it; and then they all went on together.

Sometimes they came to several avenues at once; and then they all stood still, and one of the children said, "Father, I am going to sea;" and another said, "Father, I am going to India;" and another, "Father, I am going to seek my fortune where I can;" and another, "Father, I am going to heaven."

So, with many tears at parting, they went, solitary, down those avenues, each child upon its way; and the child who went to heaven rose into the golden air and vanished.

Whenever these partings happened, the traveler looked at the gentleman, and saw him glance up at the sky above the trees, where the day was beginning to decline, and the sunset to come on. He saw, too, that his hair was turning gray. But they could never rest long, for they had their journey to perform, and it was necessary for them to be always busy.

At last, there had been so many partings that there were no children left, and only the traveler, the gentleman, and the lady went upon their way in company. And now the wood was yellow; and now brown; and the leaves, even of the forest trees, began to fall.

They came to an avenue that was darker than the rest, and were pressing forward on their journey without looking down it, when the lady stopped.

"My husband," said the lady, "I am called."

They listened, and they heard a voice a long way down the avenue say, "Mother, mother!"