Chapter 9

King James had not told any one the names of the men who were to rule over the settlement. The paper containing their names was sealed up in a box which was not to be opened until the ships reached the end of their voyage. But the time had now come: the box was opened, and the name of John Smith was found among those who were to be councilors.

The colonists soon saw that Smith had more sense and energy than all the rest. He was the real leader. Nobody had any respect for the councilors, who were a poor set at the best. They passed their time in eating and drinking and idleness. They had seen little of the Indians, and very foolishly seemed to care nothing about them. Besides this, but very little was done toward raising corn for food. Smith knew that the woods were full of Indians, and also that the food in the ships would not last always. He, therefore, set out with a few men to visit the king of the Indian tribes, who lived some distance farther up the river.

The name of the Indian king was Powhatan, and he ruled over all the Indians in eastern Virginia. He received Captain Smith with great show of kindness, and the two talked together by means of signs; but Smith saw at once that he had a cunning enemy to deal with.

Having finished his visit, Captain Smith and his men rowed back down the river; but when they reached Jamestown they found that some Indians had made an attack upon the place. No doubt but that Powhatan had sent them as soon as he knew that Smith was not there. One of the settlers had been killed by an arrow, and several had been wounded. But a cannon shot had been fired from one of the ships, and as it crashed through the woods the frightened Indians fled and did not return.

IV.

King James had ordered that the country of Virginia should be explored, and in the fall, Smith, with a few men, set out for this purpose. As they were rowing up the Chickehominy River some Indians came down to the bank and made signs of friendship. They told Smith that if he wanted a smaller boat to go up higher they would give him one, and also guides to show him the way.

Smith accepted the offer, and the canoe was brought. He got into it with one of his men and some Indians; and then, ordering the rest of his men not to leave the big boat nor to go ashore during his absence, he set off in his canoe to explore the river higher up. He was hardly out of sight when the men disobeyed him and went on shore. The Indians attacked them suddenly, driving them back to the boat, and taking one of them prisoner. Then they hastened up the river after Smith.

They soon overtook him; for, after going some distance, he had stopped and landed, and, taking one of the Indian guides with him, he had set out on foot to look at the country.

He was going through the woods with his guide when a flight of arrows came from behind some trees, and the Indians rushed upon him. He was, indeed, in great danger. He fired his gun at the Indians, and this frightened them so much that he might have escaped had he not run into a swamp. The ground was so soft that before he knew it he sank to his waist. The Indians then rushed quickly upon him and took him prisoner.

Things now seemed hopeless. He was in the hands of his enemies, and had very little doubt that they would put him to death. He tried what he could do with their chief. It chanced that he had a small pocket compass with him, and this he explained to the chief, and made a present of it to him. By this means he gained some time, and also the favor of the chief. When, at last, the warriors bound him to a tree and bent their bows to shoot him, the chief came forward, waving the compass, and ordered them to stop.

After this he was carried through many Indian villages, and was at last led before Powhatan, their king. His case was soon decided. The Indians hated the whites, and now that they had their leader in their hands they resolved to put him to death. A large stone was brought in and Smith's head was laid upon it. Then, at an order from the king, a tall savage raised a club to beat out his brains. In a moment the club would have fallen, and Smith would have died; but a kind Providence watched over him.

An Indian girl, twelve or thirteen years old, sprang toward him. From her dress, it was plain that she was a princess. The large feather in her black hair was like that worn by Powhatan, and her moccasins were embroidered like the old king's. On her arms were bracelets of shells, and from her shoulders fell a robe of doeskin, covered with the feathers of birds, and lined with down from the breasts of wild pigeons.

This girl was Pocahontas, the favorite daughter of the old king. She was filled with pity for the poor prisoner, and ran and threw her arms about him, looking up to her father as she did so. The heavy club did not fall. The blow would have killed Pocahontas, as Smith's head was clasped to her breast; and Powhatan ordered that the prisoner's life should be spared. He was, therefore, unbound, and Powhatan soon showed him that he had nothing to fear. In a few days he was allowed to go back to Jamestown.

Captain Smith had many other adventures while he was in Virginia, but at last a painful accident changed all his plans. As he was rowing down James River one day some powder in his boat took fire, and he was terribly burned. His clothes were all in flames, and he jumped into the water in order to put out the fire. But he was so overcome by the pain that he could not swim, and he was almost drowned before his men could help him back into the boat.

There was no surgeon in Jamestown to dress his wounds, and he made up his mind to go to England and find one. A ship was about ready to sail, and he at once took passage for home.

That was the last that was seen of John Smith in Virginia. He had come over in the spring of 1607, and he went back in the autumn of 1609. It seems a very short time--not three years in all; but in this time he had laid, broad and deep, the foundations of the Commonwealth of Virginia.

--From "Stories of the Old Dominion."

DEFINITIONS:--Venison, the flesh of deer. Ducats, gold coins worth nearly seven dollars each. Tymor, a Turkish officer. Flail, a wooden club used for beating out grains

EXERCISE.--On the map trace John Smith's various journeys in Europe. Find England, Holland, the English Channel, France, Marseilles, the Mediterranean Sea, Rome, Nice, Egypt, Austria, Transylvania, Turkey, Constantinople, Sea of Azov, Russia, Paris, Spain, London. Trace the course of John Smith's first voyage to America. Find the West Indies, Florida, the Carolinas, Chesapeake Bay, James River, Chickahominy River.

ON THE BANKS OF THE TENNESSEE.

BY WILLIAM D. GALLAGHER.

I sit by the open window, And look to the hills away, Over beautiful undulations That glow with the flowers of May; And as the lights and the shadows With the passing moments change, Comes many a scene of beauty Within my vision's range. But there is not one among them That is half so dear to me As an old log cabin I think of, On the banks of the Tennessee.

Now up from the rolling meadows, And down from the hilltops now, Fresh breezes steal in at my window, And sweetly fan my brow; And the sounds that they gather and bring me. From rivulet, meadow, and hill, Come in with a touching cadence, And my throbbing bosom fill; But the dearest thoughts thus wakened, And in tears brought back to me, Cluster 'round that old log cabin On the banks of the Tennessee.

To many a fond remembrance My thoughts are backward cast, As I sit by the open window And recall the faded past; For all along the windings Of the ever moving years Lie wrecks of hope and of purpose, That I now behold through tears; And, of all of them, the saddest That is thus brought back to me Makes holy that old log cabin On the banks of the Tennessee.

Glad voices now greet me daily, Sweet faces I oft behold, Yet I sit by the open window, And dream of the times of old-- Of a voice that on earth is silent, Of a face that is seen no more, Of a spirit that faltered not ever In the struggles of days now o'er; And a beautiful grave comes pictured For ever and ever to me, From a knoll near that old log cabin On the banks of the Tennessee.

DEFINITIONS:--Undulations, wavelike motion. Rivulet, a small stream. Knoll, a round-topped hill of medium height.

EXERCISE.--On the map, trace the course of the Tennessee River.

GOOD WILL.

BY JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE.

I suppose you all, my boys, are looking for some sort of success in life; it is right that you should; but what are your notions of success? To get rich as soon as possible, without regard to the means by which your wealth is acquired?

There is no true success in that: when you have gained millions, you may yet be poorer than when you had nothing; and it is that same reckless ambition which has brought many a bright and capable boy, not to great estate at last, but to miserable failure and disgrace; not to a palace, but to a prison.

Wealth rightly got and rightly used, rational enjoyment, power, fame,--these are all worthy objects of ambition; but they are not the highest objects, and you may acquire them all without achieving true success. But if, whatever you seek, you put good will into all your actions, you are sure of the best success at last; for whatever else you gain or miss, you are building up a noble and beautiful character, which is not only the best of possessions in this world, but also is about all you can expect to take with you into the next.

I say, good will in all your actions. You are not simply to be kind and helpful to others; but, whatever you do, give honest, earnest purpose to it. Thomas is put by his parents to learn a business. But Thomas does not like to apply himself very closely. "What's the use?" he says. "I'm not paid much, and I'm not going to work much. I'll get along just as easily as I can, and have as good times as I can."

So he shirks his tasks; and instead of thinking about his employer's interests, or his own self-improvement, gives his mind to trifles,--often to evil things, which in their ruinous effects upon his life are not trifles. As soon as he is free from his daily duties, he is off with his companions, having what they call a good time; his heart is with them even while his hands are employed in the shop or store.

He does nothing thoroughly well,--not at all for want of talent, but solely for lack of good will. He is not preparing himself to be one of those efficient clerks or workmen who are always in demand, and who receive the highest wages.

There is a class of people who are the pest of every community--workmen who do not know their trade, men of business ignorant of the first principles of business. They can never be relied upon to do well anything they undertake. They are always making blunders which other people have to suffer for, and which react upon themselves. They are always getting out of employment, and failing in business.

To make up for what they lack in knowledge and thoroughness, they often resort to trick and fraud, and become not merely contemptible, but criminal. Thomas is preparing himself to be one of this class. You cannot, boys, expect to raise a good crop from evil seed.

By Thomas's side works another boy, whom we will call James,--a lad of only ordinary capacity, very likely. If Thomas and all the other boys did their best, there would be but small chance for James ever to become eminent. But he has something better than talent: he brings good will to his work. Whatever he learns, he learns so well that it becomes a part of himself.

His employers find that they can depend upon him. Customers soon learn to like and trust him. By diligence, self-culture, good habits, cheerful and kindly conduct, he is laying the foundation of a generous manhood and a genuine success.

In short, boys, by slighting your tasks you hurt yourself more than you wrong your employer. By honest service you benefit yourself more than you help him. If you were aiming at mere worldly advancement only, I should still say that good will was the very best investment you could make in business.

By cheating a customer, you gain only a temporary and unreal advantage. By serving him with right good will,--doing by him as you would be done by,--you not only secure his confidence, but also his good will in return. But this is a sordid consideration conspired with the inward satisfaction, the glow and expansion of soul which attend a good action done for itself alone. If I were to sum up all I have to say to you in one last word of love and counsel, that one word should be--Good will.

DEFINITIONS:--Character, the sum of qualities which distinguishes one person from another. Purpose, intention, aim. Principles, fixed rules. Capacity, ability, the power of receiving ideas. Sordid, base, meanly avaricious.

EXERCISE.--What is meant by the phrase "to apply himself," in the fourth paragraph? What is meant by "a generous manhood," tenth paragraph? By "expansion of soul," twelfth paragraph? Tell what is meant by "good will," as taught by this lesson.

THE GOOD READER.

It is told of Frederick the Great, King of Prussia, that, as he was seated one day in his private room, a written petition was brought to him with the request that it should be immediately read. The king had just returned from hunting, and the glare of the sun, or some other cause, had so dazzled his eyes that he found it difficult to make out a single word of the writing.

His private secretary happened to be absent, and the soldier who brought the petition could not read. There was a page, or favorite boy-servant, waiting in the hall, and upon him the king called. The page was a son of one of the noblemen of the court, but proved to be a very poor reader.

In the first place, he did not articulate distinctly. He huddled his words together in the utterance, as if they were syllables of one long word, which he must get through with as speedily as possible. His pronunciation was bad, and he did not modulate his voice so as to bring out the meaning of what he read. Every sentence was uttered with a dismal monotony of voice, as if it did not differ in any respect from that which preceded it.

"Stop!" said the king, impatiently. "Is it an auctioneer's list of goods to be sold that you are hurrying over? Send your companion to me." Another page who stood at the door now entered, and to him the king gave the petition. The second page began by hemming and clearing his throat in such an affected manner that the king jokingly asked him if he had not slept in the public garden, with the gate open, the night before.

The second page had a good share of self-conceit, however, and so was not greatly confused by the king's jest. He determined that he would avoid the mistake which his comrade had made. So he commenced reading the petition slowly and with great formality, emphasizing every word, and prolonging the articulation of every syllable. But his manner was so tedious that the king cried out, "Stop! are you reciting a lesson in the elementary sounds? Out of the room! But no--stay! Send me that little girl who is sitting there by the fountain."

The girl thus pointed out by the king was a daughter of one of the laborers employed by the royal gardener; and she had come to help her father weed the flower beds. It chanced that, like many of the poor people in Prussia, she had received a good education. She was somewhat alarmed when she found herself in the king's presence, but took courage when the king told her that he only wanted her to read for him, as his eyes were weak.

Now, Ernestine (for this was the name of the little girl) was fond of reading aloud, and often many of the neighbors would assemble at her father's house to hear her; those who could not read themselves would come to her, also, with their letters from distant friends or children, and she thus formed the habit of reading various sorts of handwriting promptly and well.

The king gave her the petition, and she rapidly glanced through the opening lines to get some idea of what it was about. As she read, her eyes began to glisten and her breast to heave. "What is the matter?" asked the king; "don't you know how to read?" "Oh, yes, sire" she replied, addressing him with the title usually applied to him; "I will now read it, if you please."

The two pages were about to leave the room. "Remain," said the king. The little girl began to read the petition. It was from a poor widow, whose only son had been drafted to serve in the army, although his health was delicate and his pursuits had been such as to unfit him for military life. His father had been killed in battle, and the son had a strong desire to become a portrait painter.

The writer told her story in a simple, concise manner, that carried to the heart a belief of its truth: and Ernestine read it with so much feeling, and with an articulation so just, in tones so pure and distinct, that when she had finished, the king, into whose eyes the tears had started, exclaimed, "Oh! now I understand what it is all about; but I might never have known, certainly I never should have felt, its meaning had I trusted to these young gentlemen, whom I now dismiss from my service for one year, advising them to occupy the time in learning to read."

"As for you, my young lady," continued the king, "I know you will ask no better reward for your trouble than the pleasure of carrying to this poor widow my order for her son's immediate discharge. Let me see if you can write as well as you can read. Take this pen, and write as I dictate." He then dictated an order, which Ernestine wrote, and he signed. Calling one of his guards, he bade him go with the girl and see that the order was obeyed.

How much happiness was Ernestine the means of bestowing through her good elocution, united to the happy circumstance that brought it to the knowledge of the king! First there were her poor neighbors, to whom she could give instruction and entertainment. Then there was the poor widow who sent the petition, and who not only regained her son, but received through Ernestine an order for him to paint the king's likeness; so that the poor boy soon rose to great distinction, and had more orders than he could attend to. Words could not express his gratitude, and that of his mother, to the little girl.

And Ernestine had, moreover, the satisfaction of aiding her father to rise in the world, so that he became the king's chief gardener. The king did not forget her, but had her well educated at his own expense. As for the two pages, she was indirectly the means of doing them good, also; for, ashamed of their bad reading, they commenced studying in earnest, till they overcame the faults that had offended the king. Both finally rose to distinction; and they owed their advancement in life chiefly to their good elocution.

DEFINITIONS:--Petition, a formal request. Articulate, to utter the elementary sounds. Modulate, to vary or inflect. Monotony, lack of variety. Affected, unnatural and silly.

A LEGEND OF BREGENZ.

BY ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER.

Girt round with rugged mountains The fair Lake Constance lies; In her blue heart reflected, Shine back the starry skies;

And, watching each white cloudlet Float silently and slow, You think a piece of Heaven Lies on our earth below!

Midnight is there: and Silence, Enthroned in Heaven, looks down Upon her own calm mirror, Upon a sleeping town:

For Bregenz, that quaint city Upon the Tyrol shore, Has stood above Lake Constance A thousand years and more.

Her battlements and towers, From off their rocky steep, Have cast their trembling shadow For ages on the deep.

Mountain and lake and valley A sacred legend know, Of how the town was saved one night Three hundred years ago.

Far from her home and kindred A Tyrol maid had fled, To serve in the Swiss valleys, And toil for daily bread;

And every year that fleeted So silently and fast Seemed to bear farther from her The memory of the Past.

She spoke no more of Bregenz With longing and with tears; Her Tyrol home seemed faded In a deep mist of years;

Yet, when her master's children Would clustering round her stand She sang them ancient ballads Of her own native land;

And when at morn and evening She knelt before God's throne, The accents of her childhood Rose to her lips alone.

And so she dwelt: the valley More peaceful year by year; When suddenly strange portents Of some great deed seemed near.

One day, out in the meadow, With strangers from the town Some secret plan discussing, The men walked up and down.

At eve they all assembled; Then care and doubt were fled; With jovial laugh they feasted: The board was nobly spread.

The elder of the village Rose up, his glass in hand, And cried, "We drink the downfall Of an accursed land!

"The night is growing darker; Ere one more day is flown, Bregenz, our foeman's stronghold, Bregenz shall be our own!"

The women shrank in terror (Yet Pride, too, had her part), But one poor Tyrol maiden Felt death within her heart.

Nothing she heard around her (Though shouts rang forth again); Gone were the green Swiss valleys, The pasture and the plain;

Before her eyes one vision, And in her heart one cry That said, "Go forth! save Bregenz, And then, if need be, die!"

With trembling haste and breathless, With noiseless step she sped; Horses and weary cattle Were standing in the shed;

She loosed the strong white charger That fed from out her hand; She mounted, and she turned his head Toward her native land.

Out--out into the darkness-- Faster, and still more fast;-- The smooth grass flies behind her, The chestnut wood is past;

She looks up; clouds are heavy; Why is her steed so slow?-- Scarcely the wind beside them Can pass them as they go.

"Faster!" she cries, "oh, faster!" Eleven the church bells chime; "O God," she cries, "help Bregenz, And bring me there in time!"

But louder than bells' ringing, Or lowing of the kine, Grows nearer in the midnight The rushing of the Rhine.

She strives to pierce the blackness, And looser throws the rein; Her steed must breast the waters That dash above his mane.

How gallantly, how nobly, He struggles through the foam! And see--in the far distance Shine out the lights of home!

Up the steep bank he bears her, And now they rush again Toward the heights of Bregenz That tower above the plain.

They reach the gates of Bregenz Just as the midnight rings, And out come serf and soldier To meet the news she brings.

Bregenz is saved! Ere daylight Her battlements are manned; Defiance greets the army That marches on the land.

Three hundred years are vanished, And yet upon the hill An old stone gateway rises To do her honor still.

And there, when Bregenz women Sit spinning in the shade, They see in quaint old carving The Charger and the Maid.

And when, to guard old Bregenz By gateway, street, and tower, The warder paces all night long And calls each passing hour,

"Nine," "ten," "eleven," he cries aloud, And then (oh, crown of fame!), When midnight pauses in the skies, He calls the maiden's name!

DEFINITIONS:--Fleeted, passed quickly. Portents, signs, indications. Jovial, joyful, gladsome. Board, dinner table. Charger, a horse for battle or parade. Serf, slave, serving man.

EXERCISE.--On the map of Europe, find Lake Constance, Tyrol, Bregenz. What are the mountains called which surround Lake Constance? Where is the Rhine?

THE GOLDEN TOUCH.

BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.

I.