Third Reader: The Alexandra Readers
Part 1
THE ALEXANDRA READERS
THIRD READER
BY
W. A. McINTYRE, B.A., LL.D.
PRINCIPAL, NORMAL SCHOOL, WINNIPEG
JOHN DEARNESS, M.A.
VICE-PRINCIPAL, NORMAL SCHOOL, LONDON
AND
JOHN C. SAUL, M.A.
AUTHORIZED BY THE DEPARTMENTS OF EDUCATION FOR USE IN THE SCHOOLS OF ALBERTA AND SASKATCHEWAN
PRICE 45 CENTS
TORONTO MORANG EDUCATIONAL COMPANY LIMITED 1908
COPYRIGHT BY MORANG EDUCATIONAL COMPANY LIMITED 1908
COPYRIGHT IN GREAT BRITAIN
CONTENTS
PAGE
_Canada! Maple Land!_ 9
The Shoemaker and the Elves _Jacob Grimm_ 10
_Song of the Golden Sea_ _Jean Blewett_ 13
_Work_ _Mary N. Prescott_ 14
Fortune and the Beggar _Ivan Kriloff_ 15
_The Sprite_ Frederick George Scott 17
A Crust of Bread _Selected_ 19
_Two Surprises_ _Anonymous_ 23
The Rich Man and the Cobbler _Jean de la Fontaine_ 25
_The Drought_ _R. K. Kernighan_ 30
_The Eagle_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ 31
The Golden Windows _Laura E. Richards_ 32
_A Song of Seasons_ _Elizabeth Roberts Macdonald_ 36
A Miser’s Treasure _Grace H. Kupfer_ 38
_Drifted out to Sea_ _Rosa Hartwick Thorpe_ 42
The Daisy and the Lark _Hans Christian Andersen_ 44
_The Splendor of the Days_ _Jean Blewett_ 48
_Before the Rain_ _Thomas Bailey Aldrich_ 49
Webster and the Woodchuck _Selected_ 50
_The Fairies of Caldon Low_ _Mary Howitt_ 53
The Last Lesson in French _Alphonse Daudet_ 57
_The Brook Song_ _James Whitcomb Riley_ 62
_The Better Land_ _Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 63
Cædmon _Grace H. Kupfer_ 65
_The Bluebell_ _Anonymous_ 67
_Lullaby of an Infant Chief_ _Sir Walter Scott_ 69
The Minstrel’s Song _Maude Lindsay_ 69
_The Use of Flowers_ _Mary Howitt_ 74
_The Miller of the Dee_ _Charles Mackay_ 76
The Story of Moween _Selected_ 77
_A Hindu Fable_ _John Godfrey Saxe_ 81
The Boy Musician _Bertha Leary Saunders_ 83
_The Sparrows_ _Celia Thaxter_ 87
_The Time and the Deed_ _Jean Blewett_ 90
The Flax _Hans Christian Andersen_ 91
_Jeannette and Jo_ _Mary Mapes Dodge_ 96
The Maid of Orleans _Maude Barrow Dutton_ 98
_Birds_ _Eliza Cook_ 102
_The Owl_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ 103
Iktomi and the Coyote _Zitkala-S̈a_ 104
_Golden Rod_ _Frank Dempster Sherman_ 108
_November_ _Helen Hunt Jackson_ 109
Sir Edwin Landseer _Selected_ 110
_The Two Church Builders_ _John Godfrey Saxe_ 115
How Siegfried made the Sword _Selected_ 118
_Grass and Roses_ _James Freeman Clarke_ 123
_The Wounded Curlew_ _Celia Thaxter_ 124
The Gold and Silver Shield _Selected_ 125
_The White-throat Sparrow_ _Sir James D. Edgar_ 128
_The Sandpiper_ _Celia Thaxter_ 129
Crœsus _James Baldwin_ 131
_The Frost Spirit_ _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 135
_A Song of the Sleigh_ _James T. Fields_ 137
The Christmas Dinner _Charles Dickens_ 138
_Christmas Song_ _Phillips Brooks_ 144
Bergetta’s Misfortune _Celia Thaxter_ 146
_Storm Song_ _Bayard Taylor_ 150
_A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea_ _Allan Cunningham_ 152
The Indians _Selected_ 153
_Speak Gently_ _David Bates_ 157
_Daybreak_ _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 158
The Choice of Hercules _James Baldwin_ 159
_The Walker of the Snow_ _Charles Dawson Shanly_ 162
The Frog Travellers _William Elliot Griffis_ 165
_The Three Bells_ _John Greenleaf Whittier_ 169
How the Indian Knew _Selected_ 171
_Hohenlinden_ _Thomas Campbell_ 172
_The Clouds_ _Archibald Lampman_ 174
Shoeing _Estelle M. Hurll_ 175
_The Village Blacksmith_ _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 179
The Search for a Western Sea _Helen Palk_ 181
_The Moss Rose_ _F. A. Krummacher_ 185
_Woodman, Spare that Tree!_ _George P. Morris_ 186
Dick Whittington _Selected_ 187
_Somebody’s Mother_ _Anonymous_ 195
_The Lord is my Shepherd_ _The Book of Psalms_ 197
Black Beauty’s Breaking In _Anna Sewell_ 198
_The Door of Spring_ _Ethelwyn Wetherald_ 204
_The Crocus’s Song_ _Hannah Flagg Gould_ 206
A Sound Opinion _Selected_ 207
_The Soldier’s Dream_ _Thomas Campbell_ 211
_March of the Men of Harlech_ _William Duthie_ 212
Hugh John Smith becomes a Soldier _Samuel R. Crockett_ 213
_England’s Dead_ _Felicia Dorothea Hemans_ 219
A Child’s Dream of a Star _Charles Dickens_ 221
_Excelsior_ _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 226
The Sentinel’s Pouch _Selected_ 228
_The Milkmaid_ _Jeffreys Taylor_ 232
Tom, the Water-baby _Charles Kingsley_ 234
_An April Day_ _Caroline Bowles Southey_ 241
_Pussy Willow_ _Anonymous_ 243
Laura Secord _Helen Palk_ 244
_The Maple Leaf Forever_ _Alexander Muir_ 249
_The Colors of the Flag_ _Frederick George Scott_ 250
How the Mountain was Clad _Björnstjerne Björnson_ 252
_Lucy Gray_ _William Wordsworth_ 256
Beautiful Joe _Marshall Saunders_ 259
_Somebody’s Darling_ _Marie Lacoste_ 267
_Home, Sweet Home_ _John Howard Payne_ 269
The Beavers _Julia Augusta Schwartz_ 270
_The Brook_ _Alfred, Lord Tennyson_ 276
The Little Postboy _Bayard Taylor_ 278
_Hiawatha’s Friends_ _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 288
The White Ship _Charles Dickens_ 295
_The Arab and his Steed_ _Caroline Norton_ 299
A Bridge of Monkeys _Mayne Reid_ 303
_We are Seven_ _William Wordsworth_ 306
The Mirror _From the Japanese_ 309
_The Wreck of the Hesperus_ _Henry Wadsworth Longfellow_ 314
The Black Douglas _Sir Walter Scott_ 318
_Bruce and the Spider_ _Eliza Cook_ 322
The Old Man of the Meadow _Julia MacNair Wright_ 325
_John Gilpin_ _William Cowper_ 329
A Forest Fire _Susannah Moodie_ 340
_The Horses of Gravelotte_ _Gerok_ 344
_Four-leaf Clovers_ _Ella Higginson_ 346
Aladdin _Arabian Nights’ Entertainment_ 347
_The Rapid_ _Charles Sangster_ 357
_Long Life_ _Horatio Bonar_ 358
Little Daffydowndilly _Nathaniel Hawthorne_ 359
_The Earth is the Lord’s_ _The Book of Psalms_ 369
_The Singing Leaves_ _James Russell Lowell_ 370
The Clocks of Rondaine _Frank R. Stockton_ 374
_The Camel’s Nose_ _Lydia Huntley Sigourney_ 384
_Lord Ullin’s Daughter_ _Thomas Campbell_ 385
_God Save the King_ 388
THIRD READER
CANADA! MAPLE LAND!
Canada! Maple land! Land of great mountains! Lake-land and River-land! Land ’twixt the seas! Grant us, God, hearts that are large as our heritage, Spirits as free as the breeze!
Grant us Thy fear that we walk in humility-- Fear that is reverent--not fear that is base; Grant to us righteousness, wisdom, prosperity, Peace--if unstained by disgrace.
Grant us Thy love and the love of our country; Grant us Thy strength, for our strength’s in Thy name; Shield us from danger, from every adversity, Shield us, O Father, from shame!
Last born of Nations! the offspring of freedom! Heir to wide prairies, thick forests, red gold! God grant us wisdom to value our birthright, Courage to guard what we hold!
THE SHOEMAKER AND THE ELVES
There was once an honest shoemaker who worked very hard at his trade; yet through no fault of his own he grew poorer and poorer. At last he had only just enough leather left to make one pair of shoes. In the evening he cut out the leather so as to be ready to make the shoes the next day.
He rose early in the morning, and went to his bench. But what did he see? There stood the pair of shoes, already made. The poor man could hardly believe his eyes, and he did not know what to think. He took the shoes in his hand to look at them closely. Every stitch was in its right place. A finer piece of work was never seen.
Very soon a customer came, and the shoes pleased him so well that he willingly paid a higher price than usual for them. The shoemaker now had enough money to buy leather for two pairs of shoes. In the evening he cut them out with great care, and went to bed early so that he might be up in good time the next day. But he was saved all trouble; for when he rose in the morning, two pairs of well-made shoes stood in a row upon his bench.
Presently in came customers, who paid him a high price for the shoes, and with the money that he received, he bought enough leather to make four pairs of shoes. Again he cut the work out overnight and again he found it finished in the morning. The shoemaker’s good fortune continued. All the shoes he cut out in the day were finished at night. The good man rose early, and he was busy every moment of the day. Every pair found ready sale. “Never did shoes wear so long,” said the buyers.
One evening, about Christmas time, the shoemaker said to his wife, “Let us watch to-night and see who it is that does this work for us.” So they left a light burning and hid themselves behind a curtain which hung in the corner of the room. As soon as it was midnight there came two little dwarfs. They sat down upon the shoemaker’s bench, and began to work with their tiny fingers, stitching and rapping and tapping away. Never had the good shoemaker and his wife seen such rapid work. The elves did not stop till the task was quite finished, and the shoes stood ready for use upon the table. This was long before daybreak, and then they bustled away as quick as lightning.
The next day the shoemaker’s wife said to her husband: “These little folks have made us rich, and we ought to be thankful to them and do them a service in return. They must be cold, for they have nothing on their backs to keep them warm. I shall make each of them a suit of clothes, and you shall make some shoes for them.”
This the shoemaker was very glad to do. When the little suits and the new shoes were finished, they were laid on the bench instead of the usual work. Again the good people hid themselves in the corner of the room to watch. About midnight the elves appeared. When they found the neat little garments waiting for them, they showed the greatest delight. They dressed in a moment, and jumped and capered and sprang about until they danced out of the door and over the green.
Never were they seen again, but everything went well with the shoemaker and his wife from that time forward as long as they lived.--JACOB GRIMM.
* * * * *
I am only one; But still I am one. I cannot do everything; But still I can do something. And because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.
SONG OF THE GOLDEN SEA
Sing, ye ripening fields of wheat, Sing to the breezes passing by, Sing your jubilant song and sweet, Sing to the earth, the air, the sky!
Earth that held thee and skies that kissed Morning and noon and night for long, Sun and rain and dew and mist, All that has made you glad and strong!
The harvest fields of the far, far west Stretch out a shimmering sea of gold! Every ripple upon its breast Sings peace, and plenty and wealth untold!
Far as the eye can reach it goes, Farther yet, ’till there seems no end, Under a sky where blue and rose With the gold and turquoise softly blend.
Here, where sweep the prairies lone, Broad and beautiful in God’s eyes, Here in this young land, all our own, The garner-house of the old world lies.
--JEAN BLEWETT.
_From “The Cornflower and Other Poems,” by permission._
WORK
Sweet wind, fair wind, where have you been? “I’ve been sweeping the cobwebs out of the sky; I’ve been grinding a grist in the mill hard by; I’ve been laughing at work while others sigh; Let those laugh who win!”
Sweet rain, soft rain, what are you doing? “I’m urging the corn to fill out its cells; I’m helping the lily to fashion its bells; I’m swelling the torrent and brimming the wells; Is that worth pursuing?”
Redbreast, redbreast, what have you done? “I’ve been watching the nest where my fledglings lie; I’ve sung them to sleep with a lullaby; By and by I shall teach them to fly, Up and away, every one!”
Honeybee, honeybee, where are you going? “To fill my basket with precious pelf; To toil for my neighbor as well as myself; To find out the sweetest flower that grows, Be it a thistle or be it a rose,-- A secret worth the knowing!”
--MARY N. PRESCOTT.
FORTUNE AND THE BEGGAR
One day a ragged beggar was creeping along from house to house. He carried an old wallet in his hand, and was asking at every door for a few cents to buy something to eat. As he was grumbling at his lot, he kept wondering why it was that people who had so much money were never satisfied, but were always wanting more.
“Here,” said he, “is the master of this house--I know him well. He was always a good business man, and he made himself wondrously rich a long time ago. Had he been wise he would have stopped then. He would have turned over his business to some one else, and then he could have spent the rest of his life in ease. But what did he do instead? He began building ships and sending them to sea to trade with foreign lands. He thought he would get mountains of gold.
“But there were great storms on the water; his ships were wrecked, and his riches were swallowed up by the waves. Now his hopes all lie at the bottom of the sea, and his great wealth has vanished like the dreams of a night. There are many such cases. Men seem never to be satisfied unless they can gain the whole world. As for me, if I had only enough to eat and to wear I would not wish anything more.”
Just at that moment Fortune came down the street. She saw the beggar and stopped. She said to him: “Listen! I have long desired to help you. Hold your wallet and I shall pour this gold into it. But I shall pour only on this condition: All that falls into the wallet shall be pure gold, but every piece that falls upon the ground shall become dust. Do you understand?”
“Oh, yes, I understand,” said the beggar.
“Then have a care,” said Fortune. “Your wallet is old; so do not load it too heavily.”
The beggar was so glad that he could hardly wait. He quickly opened his wallet, and a stream of yellow dollars was poured into it. The wallet soon began to grow heavy.
“Is that enough?” asked Fortune.
“Not yet.”
“Isn’t it cracking?”
“Never fear.”
The beggar’s hands began to tremble. Ah, if the golden stream would only pour forever!
“You are the richest man in the world now!”
“Just a little more,” said the beggar; “add just a handful or two.”
“There, it’s full. The wallet will burst.”
“But it will hold a little more, just a little more!”
Another piece was added and the wallet split. The treasure fell upon the ground and was turned to dust. Fortune had vanished.
The beggar had now nothing but his empty wallet, and it was torn from top to bottom. He was as poor as before.
--_From the Russian of_ IVAN KRILOFF.
THE SPRITE
A little sprite sat on a moonbeam When the night was waning away, And over the world to the eastwards Had spread the first flush of the day. The moonbeam was cold and slippery, And a fat little fairy was he; Around him the white clouds were sleeping, And under him slumbered the sea.
Then the old moon looked out of her left eye, And laughed when she thought of the fun, For she knew that the moonbeam he sat on Would soon melt away in the sun; So she gave a slight shrug of her shoulder, And winked at a bright little star-- The moon was remarkably knowing, As old people always are.
“Great madam,” then answered the fairy, “No doubt you are mightily wise, And know possibly more than another Of the ins and the outs of the skies. But to think that we don’t in our own way An interest in sky-things take Is a common and fatal blunder That sometimes you great ones make.
“For I’ve looked up from under the heather, And watched you night after night, And marked your silent motion And the fall of your silvery light. I have seen you grow larger and larger, I have watched you fade away; I have seen you turn pale as a snowdrop At the sudden approach of day.
“So don’t think for a moment, great madam, Though a poor little body I be, That I haven’t my senses about me, Or am going to drop into the sea. I have had what you only could give me-- A pleasant night ride in the sky; But a new power arises to eastwards, So, useless old lady, good-by.”
He whistled a low, sweet whistle, And up from the earth so dark, With its wings bespangled with dewdrops, There bounded a merry lark. He’s mounted the tiny singer And soared through the heavens away, With his face all aglow in the morning, And a song for the rising day.
--FREDERICK GEORGE SCOTT.
A CRUST OF BREAD
The boy was lying under a big shady tree eating a large crust of bread. He had been romping with his dog in the garden, enjoying the sweet flowers and the bright sunshine. Now he rested in the cool shade of the apple-tree with the dog curled up at his feet. The birds were warbling their gayest songs in the topmost branches, and the leaves cast their dancing shadows on the soft carpet of green below.
As the dog was fast asleep, the boy had no one with whom to play. Just then a lady, beautifully dressed and holding a wand in her hand, stood before him. She smiled, and then placed her wand on the crust of bread, after which she at once vanished. She had no sooner gone than the boy rubbed his eyes in wonder, for the crust of bread was talking in a gentle voice.
“Would you like to hear my story?” it said. The boy nodded his head, as if to say yes, and the crust began:--
“Once upon a time I was a little baby seed. I lived in a large home called a granary. In this home were many other baby seeds just like me. No one could tell one from the other, as we all belonged to the same family and looked so much alike. We lived there very quietly until one day my sister cried, ‘Hark! do you hear that noise? The mice are coming!’ Then she told us the mice were fond of little grains of wheat, and that if they were to eat us we would never grow to be like our mother. We heard them many times after that, but we never saw them.
“One day a farmer came and put us into a large sack. It was so dark in the sack, and we lay so very near together that I thought we should smother. Soon I felt myself sliding. I tried to cling to the sack, but the other grains in their rush to the sunlight took me along with them. In our wild race we ran into a tube, and, going faster and faster, we soon fell into the seed-drill.
“Then I felt myself sliding again, for the seed-drill was moving forward. I could hear the driver call out in loud tones to the horses, ‘Get up!’ and round and round went the big wheels of the drill. All at once I went under cover in the rich ground. At first I did not like to be shut in from the sunlight. But one day when I heard the crows, I was glad that I was under the coverlet of the ground. I heard their cry of ‘Caw, caw,’ and how frightened I was! I knew that the crows were near, and that they liked the little baby wheat grains. This made me thank the farmer and Mother Nature for giving me such a good home. The crows could not find me, and by and by they flew away.
“Mother Nature now warmed me, and the rains fed me. I went to sleep, but one bright morning I awoke. The rain had been tapping on our great brown house, telling us to awake from our nap. I had grown so large while sleeping that my brown coat burst open. The sun had warmed my bed. I put a little white rootlet out and sent it down into the ground. The gentle spring breeze and the warm days brought my first blade into the sunlight above the ground, and peeping out I was glad to see everything growing fresh and green. I could see the tender sprouting grass and the opening buds. I could hear the bluebird’s song and the robin’s warble. I could smell the balmy air of spring.
“Mother Nature sent her children every day to help me. The rain came through the soil, and brought me food and drink. The sun fairies warmed my sprouting leaves, and the wind brought me fresh air. In June I wore a dainty green dress of slender, graceful leaves. As my sisters and I stood in the great field on the plain, and were wafted to and fro by the winds, we looked like the waves of the rolling deep.
“So I grew and grew, and one morning after the dew had given me my cool bath, and the sun fairies had dried my leaves, the south wind whispered her song to me, and I found myself a full-grown plant. I was proud of my spikelets of flowers, and now could wave with my sisters in the rolling seas of wheat. Down at the base of our little spikelets were seed cups in which slept the little baby seeds. The wind rocked them to sleep, and, sleeping, they grew to the full-sized wheat grain.