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PEIItll Entered, according to Act of Parliament, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture, in the year of our Lord 1883, by Thomas Nelson and Sons, and James Campbell and Son, Toronto. r^Q'afc MM PREFACE. -♦♦- When the Third Book has been reached, the pupil may be presumed capable of enjoying the delightful lyric poetry in which English Literature abounds, and to which so many of the finest minds have contributed. The literarv form is often easier than that of a prose narrative ; it is, moreover, pecul- iarly adapted for expressive reading and recitation. The literary ascent can be made so gradual that, before he is con- scious of intellectual effort, the young student has come into the immediate i)resence of the loftiest peaks of that grand and majestic literature which is the pride and the glory of the whole English-speaking race. In our selections, we have ranged over the poets and the prose writers of three centuries,- -from the era of Shakspeare and Herrick to the era of Tennyson and Rossetti, of Emerson and Longfellow. The selections, by their freshness, will, it is hoped, yield a grateful relief to teachers wearied by long years of monotonous repetition. The cultivation of children's fancy, though not actually formulated as part of school-training, has of late years been most strenuously promoted by delightful gift-books and illus- IV PREFACE. It I trated annuals. It were full time that this hurtful distinction betweon reading-books and gift-books disappeared; and that in their reading-books children were sup])lied with those airy forms and fancies for which their minds hunger. The world is growing older and growing wiser ; even in strict scientific resc arch we have come all at once to discover the vast conse- quence of owning an active imagination ! In Northern Europe all this is well understood. A tender care for the old folk-tales has yielded all round the shores of the Baltic and in the ad- joining lands a wealth of the most graceful and wholesome flowers. In gathering for this volume a few blossoms from this beautiful flora, we have taken Krilof to represent Russia ; Topelius, Finland; Gustafsson, Sweden; Bjornson, Norway; and Andersen, Denmark. The winter stories and amusements of Northern Europe vividly picture our Canadian home-life ; and, when gentler airs are stirring, the glowing tints and the resinous fragrance of the Baltic forests are once more unmis- takably those of our noble pine-woods. We have not slighted our native Indian folk-lore, which was with loving care collected by Schoolcraft and his romantic Indian bride ; and which so soon afterward.^ yielded to Long- fellow his Hiawatha. Nor have we forgotten our young Canadian Literature; from Sangster, Heavysege, and others, we have thankfully gathered graceful and fragrant blossoms. Toronto, 1st June 1SS2. :2>y;-^ V ^^lii niiy^ 4'^^ " r rt ii'J' .• CONTENTS. Note.— Poetical Selections are indicated by Italics. !:Part IHirst. is romantic id to Long- Invitation, Spring-Time in Canada, Jack in the Pulpit, .., Pluck: An East Indian Fable, ... The Cock and the Goose, ... Lines from Horatius, Dogs, ^ Answer to a Child's Question, The Three Fishers; Th e Sparroiv's Nest, The Pike, The Miller, Thanhaifinnfi Hfimn, The Happy Bear Family, The Countryman and the Lawyer, The Fisherman's S'ln;/, The Sditl of A[ttHir, ... Hospice of St. Bernard, Lilies from " The Excursion,'" The Red Rirer Voijaiieur, ... Hawaiian Sports, (j'randpapn, ... The Traveller's Return, The Burning of the Goliath, ThaVs not the Way at Sea, Rhyme of the Rail, Gertrude's Bird , Charles Sangstvr, Major W. F. Ihdlcr, ... J. G. Whittier, ( From the Spanish of ''* Ftrnan \ Cahallero," ... Lord Macntday, S. T. Coleridge, Charles Kingslcy, Mary Howitt, Krdof, Krilof, Robert Herrick, Lifeofa Bear,... cl or ace Smith, ... Rev. J. M. Neale, Rogers, Rev. Hvgh Matmdlan, Wdlinm Wordsworth, J G. Whittbr, Lady Brossey, Mr*. Craik, RJ)ert Sovthey, Dean Stavley, ... Miss Hnvergal, J. G. Saxe, ( Based on Thorpe's Mythology of \ Scandinavia, 9 10 12 14 15 15 16 18 18 20 21 22 23 24 27 29 30 31 33 34 30 39 40 41 42 44 45 vi CONTENTS. The Apolofff/, R. W. Emerson, 4& The Kiwifisher, Mnrii Hoiritt, ... 47 The Woodpecker, Thomas Moore, 48 Boy Farmer in America, .. Charles D. Warner, ... 49 The Old Farm Gate, Eliza Cook, 53 The Minnows with Silver Tails, Jein Ingelow, ... 50 Gather Ye Rosebuds, Robiirt Herrick, 59 The Inj Green, Charh'i Dickens, (50 Composure, Robert, Lord Lt/tton, ... CI The Unknown Paradise, .. ( From the Swedish of Richard \ Gusto fsson, 62 FarewcU to Srothtnd, Thomas Prinqle, 65 Home, Sweet Home, John Howard Payne, ... 60 My Boyhood, Hugh Miller, ... 67 A Child's Ecenirifj Prayer, S. T. Coleridge, 68- T L T ^'dxi ^cconl). Floio Gently, Sweet Afton, Sad and Sweet, Eleventh Labor of Hercules, May, ... The Origin of the Robin, Canadian Boat Sony, Shooting Rapids, The Rapid, The Men of Old, The Last Old English King, Nif/ht in the Desert, ... To a Batterfiy, The Irish Emigrant, En(//and, Bee-Keeping, Voices of Past Years, Sowintf and Reaping, Headless Horseman of Slee >y Hollow, To a Child Embracing his Mother, The Homes of England, The Indian's Faith, A Buffalo Hunt, Pleasures, A Rill from the Town Pump, The Barn Elves, Quails, "Gray Eagle " and his Five Brothers, Lines from Shakspeare's Macbeth, Killarnej' Glencoe, The Dog at his Master's Grave, ... A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea, ... Pitcher Plant, Robert Burns, ... 69 Aubrey de Vere, 70' ; B.G.Niebuhr, 71 ' N. P. Willis, 73 1 Schoolcraft's Indian LegeMs, 74 Thomas Moore, 76 Rev. Prinripal Grant, 79 )j Charles Sniigster, 80 '< Lord Houghton, 81 1 Charles D icke )iSj 82 M Robert Southey, 84 '1 William Wordswortli, 85 1 Lady Duff erin, 86 1 William Shakspeare, 87 1 Nelsons' Readers, 88 '"i Rev. E. Hartley Dewart, D.D., 90 1 A. A. Procter, 92 i Washington Irving, 93 1 Thomas Hood, ... 97 i Mrs. Hemans, ... 98 ^ Thomas D'A rcy M'Gee, 100 W. H. Kingston, 101 Robert Burns, ... 103 Nathaniel Hawthorne, 104 F. H. Knatchbidl-Hugessen, . . . 108 '^'.- Mary Howitt, ... 112 Schoolcraft's Indian Legends, 114 118 Lord Macaulay, 119 Lord Macaulay, 120 ■' Mrs. Sigoumey, 121 4 Allan Cunningham, ... 123 W. S. Harris in " Christian ■1 Monthly," 124 1 CONTENTS. Vll The Midninht Wwd, On Find'inj a Small Fly Crashed in a Book, The Blue Bird, Lines on the Blue Bird, Self-Help, The Heritw/r, The Twenty-thii-d Psahu, ll'ilUam MothcntrU, . > C. (Tennyson) Turner,. Alexander Wilson, Alexander Wilson, lle.v. C. H. Spurgeon, . J.R.Lowell, ... Joseph Addison, 125 120 120 128 130 130 132 3Part ^71' hi vll. The Happy Valley, Home ThoKf/htsfrum Abroad, To the Graxshoppei' and the Cricket, The word " Kmd," The Open Window, The Heights oi Abraham, A Student of the Olden 'Time, Manitoba Then and Now, Mcf/ Merrilees, A Camel in Love, . . . Lines from John Gilpin, Flitjht of the W Id Geese, The Rapids, The Tree, River.s, The Brook, Moses at the Fair, Converse in Paradise, Children, Child and Boatman, The Country Suriieon, The Heroine of Verchk'es, The Storm, Ye Mariners of England, . . . The Castle-Fairy of Osterode, Soldier, Rest, Rule, Britannia, Hiawatha, the Mischief-Maker, The Owl, A Nif/ht Scene, Boyhood of President Lincoln, The AnejcVs Whisper, The Geysers of California, Moose-Hunting in Canada, Death of the Flowers, The A utum n Forest, Rocked in the Cradle of the Deep, SamxielJohnson , 133 Rvhert Brov:ni))g, 135 ct. Leigh HiDit, 130 Anhhialiop Trench, 137 H. W. Longfellow, 138 Archer's History of Can ((da, .. 139 Thomas Bailey Aldrich, 143 Rev. Principal Bryce, ... 144 John Keats, I4r. Lieidenant-Colonel Burnahy, .. 140 William Cowj)cr, 147 Th omas D'A rey M'Gee, 148 J. B. Gough, ... 149 Bjorvstjerne BjUrnson, 153 John Tyndall. ... 154 Alfred Tennyson, 150 Oliver Goldsm ith. 158 John Milton ... 101 Wa Iter Sa cage Land or, 162 Jean Ingelow, 163 Isa (Cra ig) Ktwx, 164 Francis Parkman, 165 Mrs. Augusta Webster, 168 Thomas Campbell, 168 Mrs. Lauder, ... 170 Sir Walter Scott, 173 James Thomson, 175 Schoolcraft's Indian Legends, 176 Henry B. Hirst, 181 Dean Alford, ... 182 Frederick Sherlock, 183 Samuel Lovrr, 185 ( Rev. Hxigh Joluiston's Narrativt \ of Rev. Dr. Punshon's Visit, 186 Lord Dunraren, 188 William Cidlen Bryant, 191 Dnra Read Goodalc, ... 193 Mrs. Willard, 193 • • • 7111 CONTENTS. ^nrt fourth. Red Lances in the Sky, Frozen Voices, The Old Man's Dream, Gulliver Among the Giants, Htniie, The First Snow-fall, Sonnet — Canadian Winter Night, The Snow Man, Winter, Clouds, The Evenin// Cloud, Summer and. Winter, A True Captain of Industry, Prehistoric Man, Sonnet LX XI., Remember, Death of Sir Robert Peel, Victoria's Tears, The Execution of Mary (Jueen of ] Scots, j The Sleigh Bells, Sonnet, A Journey Across the Desert, . . . The Turf sh(dl be my Frafirant Shrine, Gibraltar, Lines from a Southern Night, Charming of the Wolves, Canada's Heritage, ... England in 1(585, A Christinas Card 'for a Child, The Good Time Coming, The Snowball Battle, j The Pine, A. Night in a Church Spire, Revolutions, ... New Year's Chimes, Vocabulary of the More Difficult Words, The Marquis of Lome, ... 195 Joseph A dcliso n. .. 108 Oliver Wendell Holmes .. 199 Dean Swift, .. L'Ol James Monicjotnery, ... .. -203 James Russell Loxvdl, . . -204 Ch arles Heavy sege .. 205 Hans Christian Andersen .. 206 William Shakspeare, .. 211 John Rnskin, ... . 212 John Wilson, ... .. 213 Percy Bysshe Shelley, . . . .. 214 Goldimn Smith, . . .. 215 Dr Daniel Wilson, ... .. 217 William Shakspeare, .. 219 Christina G. Rossetti, . . . .. 219 Her Majesty Queen Victoria, .. 220 Elizabeth (Barrett) Browning, 222 Charles Dickens, .. 223 Mrs. Susanna Moodie, .. 225 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, 226 Alexander William Kinglake, 227 Thomas Moore, .. 231 Count von Moltke, .. 232 .Matthew Arnold, .. 233 W. H. Kingston, .. 234 The Earl of Duffer in, ... .. 236 Lord Macaiday, .. 238 Theodore Watts, .. 241 Charles Mackay, .. 242 From the Swedish of Za ,ch. Topelius, .. 243 John Rxiskin, ... .. 249 Richard Gustafsso n, ... ... 250 Matthew Arnold, ... 260 Alfred Tennyson, ... 261 263 i\ -**«t^ es ersen 'idoria, roionivg, e, ongfellow, Cinglake, of Zach. 195 198 199 •_'01 203 •J04 •205 206 211 212 213 214 215 217 219 219 220 222 223 225 226 227 231 232 233 234 236 238 241 242 243 249 250 260 261 263 On, come away to the grave old woods Ere the skies are tinged with light, Ere the slumbering leaves of the gloomy trees Have thrown off the mists of Night; Ere the birds are up. Or the floweret's cup Is drained of its freshening dew Or the bubbling rill Kissing the hill Breaks on the distant view : Oh, such is the hour To feel the power Of the quiet, grave old woods ! Then, while sluggards dream Of some dismal theme. Let us stroll. With prayerful soul, Through the depths of the grave old woods. i ! I .. I THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Oh, come away to the bright old woods, As the sun ascends the skies, While the birdlings sing their morning hymns, And each leaf in the grove replies ; When the golden-zoned bee Flies from flower to tree Seeking sweets for its honeyed cell, And the voice of Praise Sounds its varied lays From • ie depths of each quiet dell : Oh, such is the hour To feel the power Of the magic bright old woods ! Then, while sluggards dream Of some trifling theme, Let us stroll, AVitli studious soul, Through the depths of the bright old woods. An riv W] we SPRING-TIME IN CANADA. Major W. F. Butler (b. 1838). When the young trees begin to open their leafy lids after the long sleej) of Winter, they do it quickly. The snow is not all gone before the maple-trees are all green — the maple, that most beautiful of trees ! Well has Canada made the sym})ol of her new nationality that tree whose green gives the S|)iing its earliest freshness, whose Autumn dying tints are richer than the clouds of sunset, whose life-stream is sweeter than honey, and whose branches are drowny through the long summer with the scent and the hum of bee and flower ! Still, the long line of the Canadas admits of a varied Spring. When the trees are green at Lake St. Clair, they are scarcely budding at Kingston, they are leafless at Montreal, and Quebec is white with snow. Even between Montreal and Quebec — a short night's steaming — there exists a difference of ten days in the opening of the Summer. But late as comes the Summer to Quebec, it comes in its loveliest and most enticing form, I THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. U oods. r leafv lids ickly. The all green — has Canada tree whose se Autumn iset, wliose ranches are nt and the he Canadas 'e o;reen at Kingston, white with I — a short en days in he Summer icing form, as though it wished to atone for its long delay in banish- ing from buch a landscape the cold tyranny of AVinter. And with wiiat loveliness does the whole face of plain, river, lake, and mountain turn from the iron clasp of icy Winter to kiss the balmy lips of returning Summer, and to welcome his b dal gifts of sun and shower! The trees open their leafy lids to look at him — the brooks and stream- lets break forth into songs of gladness — " the birch-tree," as the old Saxon said, " becomes beautiful in its branches, and rustles sweetly in its leafy summit, moved to and fro by the breath of heaven " — the lakes uncover their sweet faces, and their mimic shores steal down in quiet evenings to l)atl'.e themselves in the transparent waters — far into the depilis of the great forest speeds the glad message of returning glory ; and gi-aceful fern, and soft velvet moss, and white wax-like lily peep forth to cover rock and fallen tree and wreck of last year's Autumn in one great sea of foliage. Tlun'e are many landscapes wliich can never be painted, })h()tograplied, or described, but which the mind carries away instinctively, to look at again and again in after-time — these are the celebrated vie'>,s of tli<' world, and they are not easy to hnd. From the Queen's Kam- part, in the Citadel of Quebec, the eye swee[)s over a greater diversity of landscape than is probaltly to be found in any one spot in the universe. Blue mountains, far- stretching river, foaming cascade, the white sails of ocean ships, tlie black trunks of many-sized guns, the pointed roofs, i\\(' white village nestling amidst its fields of gr(>en, the great isle"^ in mid-channel, the manv shades of color from df'cp blue pine-wood to yellowing corn-held — in what other spot on the Earth's broad bosom lie groupe ^- H 11 !l iiii'f ^ le ^^x> THIRD BOOK OF REJlVyo LESSONS. m; [fi .J^^^a* m-; K!'«-. S~v €# 'V :a )L. ■■■■ .^ m ^ DOGS. Dogs are found in all parts of the world in which man has made^ for himself a home. They are of all sizes, from the Newfoundland, as big as a sheep, down to the little lap- dog, N^hich is as small as a kitten. Some c^ogs have smooth, close hair, as the greyliound ; some have rough, shaggy hair, as the terrier ; and some have soft, flowing hair, as the spaniel. Dogs are put to different uses. Some are best fitted for guarding houses and shops. Collie dogs assist the shepherd to drive his sheep from place to place. They guard them from danger, and find any that may have strayed from tlie flock. Some are trained to go out with hunters and sportsmen, to find out th.e game, to run it down and capture it, or to fetch it after it has been killed. In some countries dogs are employed as beasts of burden. They draw small carts and sledges expressly con- structed for them. Briti hurt dog. fear Tl] herd unde of hi a frie I aroui Th 1 light, and h liares some Th. remai or be right 1 houm and for t»; Th. He i^ powei fightii Spj They feet I They field-£ '' i THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 17 ►arts of las made^ are of all id, as big ittle lap- a kitten. ose hair, e rough, md some spaniel. jnt uses. guarding )gs assist eep from rd them hat may Some hunters le game, it, or to led. In loyed as LW small ly con- The Newfoundland is a noble-looking animal, often standing thirty inches in height. His limbs are large and strong, and his hair is rough and curly. In Newfound- land, his native country, he is employed in drawing carts and sledges laden with wood and fish. He is very fond of water ; and his toes being half-webbed, he is a very good swimmer. A great many persons have been saved from drowning by this noble creature. The mastift* is the largest and the most powerful of British dogs. He is mild and gentle, and will not willingly hurt a weaker or a smaller animxtl. He is the best watch- dog. When defending his master's goods, he does not fear to attack either man or beast. The sheep-dog is noted for his intelligence. The shep- herd treats him as a companion ; and the dog learns to understand his master's orders, and to obey even a motion of his hand. The sheep look upon a well-trained dog as a friend, and, when threatened by any danger, they gather around him for protection. The greyhound is noted for his speed. His body is light, his nose sharply ])ointed, his chest deep and broad, and his legs are long and slender. He is used in hunting liares. He foliovrs them by sight, and not by scent as some other dogs do. The bloodhound is of a reddish or brown color. He is remarkable for his keen scent. Once on the track of man or beast, he keeps on his course, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left. In former times, the blood- hound was used for the purpose of tracking sheep stealers and other criminals ; also, in America and the West Indies, for tracking slaves Avho had run away from their masters. The bull-dog is noted for his couraii^e and fierceness. He is not afraid to attack any animal, however large or powerful. He was at one time used in the cruel sport of fighting with bulls, called bull-baiting. Spaniels, or Spanish dogs, are all handsome animals. They have long silky hair, drooping ears, bushy tails, and feet partly webbed. They are nearly all good swimmers. They are divided into hunting-dogs and toy-dogs. The Hekl-spaniel is very fond of going out with his master to V-' 18 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. !|! ( !i I I ! ! I ;il ! I i l> 'I look for game. The water-spaniel is a strong swimmer and diver, and is very useful in fetching c-ut of the water game that has been shot. The St. Bernard dog, sometimes called tlie Alpine spaniel, is as Ip.rge as a mastitf. This dog is trained to go out in search of travellers who have lost their way in snow- storms on the Alps. St. Bernard is the name of the monastery where these dogs are kept. It is built at the summit of a lofty mountain-pass in Switzerland. ANSWER TO A CHILD'S QUESTION. S. T. Coleridge (1772-1834). Do you ask what the birds say ? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet, and thrush, say, " I love and I love ! " In the winter they are silent — the wind is so stronii". What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm weather, And sin^inof, and loving — all come back tojjether. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings ; and for ever sings he — " I love my love, and my love loves me ! " THE THREE FISHERS. Charles Kingslf.y (1819-1875). Three fishers went sailing out into the west — Out into the west, as the sun went down ; Each thought on the woman who loved him the best, And the children stood watching them out of the town : For men must work, and women must weep. And there's little to earn, and many to keep. Though the harbor -bar be moaning."^ Tliree wives sat up in the light-house tower, And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down; * Though a dangerous storm is rising iff- ■;:■.< ^ n THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. of the water They looked at the squall, and they looked at tlie shower, And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown : But men must work, and w^omen must weep, Though storms be sudden, and waters deep. And the harbor-bar be moaning. Three corpses lie out on the shining sands. In the morning gleam, as the tide goes down ; And the women are weeping, and wringing their hands, For those who w^ill never come home to the town : For men must work, and women must weej), And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleej). And good-bye to the bar and its moaning. S0 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ill 'II n 1 iii^ll Iil:| \ THE SPARROW'S NEST. Mary Howitt (b. 1804). Wliat a medley thing it is I never saw a nest like this, — Not neatly wove, with tender care, Of silvery moss and shining hair ; But put together, odds and ends. Picked up from enemies and friends See ! bits of thread, and bits of rag, Just like a little rubbish-bag. Here is a scrap of red and brown. Like the old washerwoman's gown ; And here is muslin, pink and green, And bits of calico between. THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 81 See ! hair of dog and fur of cat, And rovings of a worsted mat, And shreds of silk, and many a featlier. Compacted cunningly together ! With the Birds- I THE PIKE. Ivan Andrikvitch Kuilof (17G8-1844). [Under cover of this fable Krilof Hatirized the administration of justice hi Russia.] An appeal to justice was made against the Pike, on the ground that it had rendered the pond uninhabitable. A whole cart-load of proofs were tendered as evidence ; and the culprit, as was beseeming, was brought into court in a large tub. The judges were assembled not far off, having been sent to graze in a neighboring field. Their names are still preserved in the archives. There were two Donkeys, a couple of old Horses, and two or three Goats. The Fox also was added to their number, as assessor, in order that the business might be carried on under com- petent supervision. Now, popular report said that the Pike used to supply the table of the Fox with fish. However this might be, there was no partiality among the judges ; and it must also be stated that it was impossible to conceal the Pike's roguery in the affair in question. So there was no help for it. Sentence was passed, condemning the Pike to an ignominious punishment. In order to frighten others, it was to be hung from a tree. " Respected judges," thus did the Fox begin to s])eak, langing is a trifle. I should have liked to liave sentenced the culprit to such a pfinishment as has never been seen here among us. In order that rogues may in future live in fear, and run a terrible risk, I would drown it in the river." " Excellent ! " cry the judges, and unanimously accept the proposition. So the Pike was flung — into the river. Fables: Ed. Rai.ston. (( THIRD BOOK OF RE A DIN J LESSONS. f i \\ . :l il THE MILLEK/ The water began to dribble away through a miller's clam. At first there would have been no great harm done, if he had taken the matter in hand. But why should he? Our miller does not think of troubling himself. The leak becomes worse every day, and the water pours out as if from a tap. "Hallo, miller! don't stand gaping there! It's time you should set your wits to work." But the miller says, — "Harm's a long way off. I don't require an ocean of water, and my mill is rich enough in it for all my time." He sleeps ; but meantime the water goes on running in torrents. And see ! harm is here now in full force. The millstone stands still ; the mill will not work. Our miller bestirs himself, groans, troubles himself, and thinks how he can keep the waters back. While he is here on the dam, examining the leak, he observes his fowls coming to drink at the river. You stupid, good-for-nothing birds!" he cries. "I don't know where I'm to get water, even when you are out of the question ; and here you come and drink the little that remains." So he begins pelting them with faggots. What good did he do himself by this 1 Without a fowl left, or a drop of water, he returned home. I have sometimes remarked that there are many pro- prietors of this kind — and this little fable was composed as a present for them — who do not grudge thousands spent on follies, but who think that they maintain domestic economy by collecting their candle ends, and are ready to quarrel with their servants about them. With such economy, is it strange that houses rapidly fall utterly to pieces? Krilof: i^afe^es.- ^ti. Ralston. * It is said that Krilof's o^vn ideas of economy were for the most part of the very kind he satirizes here. I, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 23 re for the most A THANKSGIVING HYMN. RoBEUT Heurick (1591-1G74). fHi'rricU's lyrics are nmch admired for their quaint simi)licity. Ho liere duscribos liis vicarage at Prior Deau in Devoasliire.J Lord, thou hast given me a cell Wherein to dwell ; A little house, whose humble roof Is weather-proof. Under the spars of which I lie Both soft and dry ; Where thou, my chamber soft to ward,* Hast set a guard Of harmless thoughts, to watch and keep Me while I sleep. Low is my porch as is my fate, Both void of state ; And yet the threshold of my door Is worn by the poor. Who hither come and freely get Good words or meat. Like as my parlor, so my hall And kitchen 's small ; A little buttery, and therein A little bin ; — Some little sticks of thorn or brier Make me a fire. Close by whose living coal I sit And glow like it. Lord, I confess, too, when I dine The pulse is thine, And all those other bits that be There placed by thee, — The worts, the purslane, and the mess Of water-cress. * To protect my cosy bed-room. i*if' '-^ifitmm ^i! |i 1 HI ti i tili 24 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. HAPPY BEAR FAMILY. Mrs. Bear mildly suggested that she felt rather hungry; "and," she added, "the trees in the forest will be full of those young green shoots that are so sweet at this time of year : do fetch some before the sun gets hot." This reminded Mr. Bear that he was hungry too; but of course, like tbe good bear that he was, he forgot himself while thinking of his dear wife, and bidding her to stay at home that day and teach the young ones to crawl about and get accustomed to the day- light, he started oti" in search of food. When she was left alone, Mrs. Bear em- ployed some time in "Nvell licking the young ones all over several times. Certainly they could not want it, for she had already brushed them up more than once that morning, and they were as smooth and ;s'. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 25 w tliat she felt d, " the trees those young at this time the sun gets that he was lie good bear ile thinking 'V to stay at 3ung ones to to the day- food. rs. Bear em- g the young rtainly they lad ah'eady once that smootli and '4 J 1 ■i d m sleek as any young bears that ever were seen ; but no doubt she hoped, by giving so much care to their coats while they were young, that she should make them take a pride in their appearance, and grow up tidy and well- conducted bears. She felt quite contented with them at last, and getting up, walked round the cave several times, and sat down near the door. It was not long before the biggest and strongest young bear, whose name was Martin, missed his mother, and set up a dismal howl ; and, \/hen she answered him from a distance, he did his best to follow her ; and what a funny little thing he looked, tumbling over every two steps he took, and making him- self quite tired with his efforts to run and jump ; and the little one, called Basil, looked just as queer. At last they found their mother, and, tired out with so much exertion, were soon fast asleep. ''Ah,' said Mrs. Bear to herself, " they will want enough teaching before they can climb mountains.' And watching them stretched at full length by her side, she almost forgot she was hungry. The sound of the rustling trees and a bright sunbeam that came in on her through the door reminded her of Mr. Bear, and she went out to look if she could see him coming. How lovelv all the mountain looked on that bright spring morning ! Below her, the trees so green, and many of them covered with sweet-scented blossom; and above, all the snow still unmelted and glittering in the morning suidight, so that the glare almost blinded her. She sat looking for him a long while, but Mr. Bear did not appear; and, hungry and disappointed at having to wait so long for her breakfast, she began to feel very cross, and to walk slowly up and down the flat ledge of rock that served them for dining-parlor and «; THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 35 Tlie KiHoke of the liuntiim-lodffcs Of the wild Assiniboins ! Droarily blows the north wind From the land of ice and snow ; The eyes that look are wearv, And heavy the hands that row. And with one foot on the water, And one upon the shore, The Ancrel of Shadow iiives warnin£C That day shall be no more. Is it the clang of wild -^eese ? Is it the Indian's yell That lends to the voice of the north wind The tone of a far-oft' bell ? The voyageur smiles as he listens To the sound that grows apace ; ^Yell he knows the vesper ringing Of the bells of St. Boniface, — The bells of the Roman Mission, That call from their turrets twain To the boatmen on the river, To the hunter on the plain. Even so in our mortal journey The bitter north winds blow ; And thus upon life's Red River Our hearts as oarsmen row. And when the Angel of Shadow Rests his feet on wave and shore ; And our eyes grow dim with watching, And our hearts faint at the oar ; Happy is he who heareth The signal of his release In the bells of the Holy City, The chimes of eternal peace ! • (!•■ - -' I, i-' J . 36 THIRD BOOK OF nEADING LESSONS. HAWAIIAN SPORTS. Lady Brassey. The natives have many games of which tliey are very fond, and whicli they play with great skill, including spear- throwing; transfixing an object with a dart; kona, an elab- orate kind of draughts; and tcdu, which consists in hiding a small stone under one of five pieces of cloth placed in front of the players. One hides the stone, and the others have to guess where it is ; and it generally happens that, however dexterously the hider may put his arm beneath the cloth, and dodge about from one piece to anotlier, a clever player will be able to tell, by the movement of the •muscles of the upper part of his arm, when his fingers re- lax their hold of the stone. Another game, called paructy is very like the Canadian sport of " tobogganing," only that it is carried on on the grass instead of on the snow. The performers stand bolt upright on a narrow plank, turned up in front, and steered with a sort of long paddle. They go to the top of a hill or a mountain, and rush down the steep, grassy, sunburnt slopes at a tremendous pace, keep- ing their balance in a wonderful manner. There is also a very popular amusement, caliod pahe, requiring a specially prepared smooth floor, along which the javelins of the players glide like snakes. On the same floor they also play at another game, called maita, or uru maita. Two sticks, only a few inches -i^art, are stuck into the ground, and at a distance of thirty or forty yards the players strive to throw a stone between them. The uru which they use for the purpose is a hard circular stone, three or four inches in diameter, and an inch in thickness at the edge, but thicker in the middle. With bows and arrows thev are as clever as all savaofes, and wonderfully good shots, attempting many wonderful feats. They are swift as deer, when they choose, though somewhat lazy and indolent. All the kings and chiefs have been special adepts in the invigorating pastime of surf-swimming, and the present king's sisters are considered first-rate hands at it. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 37 The performers begin by swiiiiniing out into tlie bay, .and diving under the huge Pacific rollers, pushing their surf-boards — flat pieces of wood, about four feet long by two wide — edgewise before them. For the return journey they select a large wa\'e ; and then, either sitting, kneeling, or standing on their boards, rush in shorewards, with the sjieed of a race-horse, on the curling crest of the monster, enveloped in foam and spray, and holding on, as it were, by the milk-white manes of their furious coursers. It looked a most enjoyable amusement; and I should think that, to a powerful swimmer, with plenty of pluck, the feat is not difficult of accomplishment. The natives here are almost amphibious. They played all sorts of tricks in the water, some of the performers being quite tiny boys. Four strong rowers took a whale-boat out into the worst surf, and then, steering her by means of a large oar, brought her safely back to the shore on the top of a huge wave We next went to a pretty garden which we had seen on the night of our arrival, and, tying up our horses outside, walked across it to the banks !'i >i. m ■I:: ■1' m 38 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. m ii '1 '1 ^i R . of the river. Here we found a large party assembled, watching half the population of Hilo disporting them- selves in, upon, and beneath the water. They climbed the almost perpendicular rocks on the opposite side ot the stream; took headers and footers and siders from any height under five-and-t wen ty feet; divod, swam in every conceivable attitude, and without any apparent exertion, deep under the water, or upon its surface. But all this was only a preparation for the special sight we had come to see. Two natives were to jump from a i)reci- pice, one hundred feet high, into the river below, clear- ing on their way a rock which projected some twenty feet from the face of the cliff, at about the same dis- tance from the summit. The two men, tall, strong, and sinewy, suddenly appeared against the sky-line, far above our heads, their long hair bound back by a wreath of leaves and flowers, while another garland encircled their waists. Having measured their distance with an eagle's glance, they disappeared from our sight, in order to take a run and acquire the necessary impetus. Every breath was lield for a moment, till one of the men reappeared, took a bound from the edge of the rock, turned over in mid-air, and disappeared feet foremost into the pool beneath, to emerge almost immediately, and to climb the sunny bank as quietly as if he had done nothing very wonderful. His companion followed; and then the two clambered up to the twenty-feet projection, to clear which they had had to take such a run the first time, and once more plunged into the pool below. The feat was of course an easier one than the first ; but still a leap of eighty feet is no light matter. A third native, who joined them in this exploit, gave one quite a turn as he twisted in his downward jump ; but he also alighted in the water feet foremost, and bobbed up again directly, like a cork. He was quite a young man, and we afterwards heard that he had broken several ribs not more than a year ago, and had been laid up for six months in the hospital. a Voyage in the " Sunbeam.'' * * The name of Sir Thomas Brassey'a steam-yacht. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 39 GRANDPAPA. Mrs. Craik (Miss Mulock)— b. 182G. Grandpapa's hair is very white, And grandpapa walks but slow ; He likes to sit still in his easy-chair, While the children come and go. " Hush ! play quietly," says mamma : "Let nobody trouble dear grandpapa." Grandpapa's hand is thin and weak, It has worked hard all his days : A strong right hand, and an honest hand, That has won all good men's praise. " Kiss it tenderly," says mamma : *' Let every one honor grandpapa.' Grandpapa's eyes are growing dim : They have looked on sorrow and death ; But the love-light never went out of them, Nor the courage and the faith. " You children, all of you," says mamma, ** Have need to look up to dear grandpai)a." m k'i. 40 THIRD BOOK OF READIJSlG LESSONS. Grandpapa's years are wearing few, But he leaves a blessing behind — A good life lived, and a good fight fought, True heart and equal mind. , *' Remember, my children," says mamma, " You bear the name of your grandpapa." THE TRAVELLER'S RETURN. Robert SouTHEY (1774-1843.) Sweet to the morning traveller The song amid the sky, Where, twinkling in the dewy light. The skylark soars on high. And cheering to the traveller The gales that round him play When faint and heavily he drags Along his noontide way. And when beneath the unclouded sun Full wearily toils ho. The flowing water makes to him A soothing melody. And when the evening light decays, And all is cali-i around. There is sweet music to his ear In the distant sheep-bell's sound. But oh ! of all delightful sounds Of evening or of morn, Tlip sweetest is the voice of love That welco?iies his return. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 41 THE BURNING OF THE "GOLIATH." {December 22, 1S75.) Dean Stanley (1S15-1881). Let me give you an example of self-denial which comes from near home. I will speak to you of what has been done by little boys of seven, of eight, of twelve, of thirteen ; — little English boys, and English boys with very few advantages of birth ; not brought up, as most of you are, in quiet, orderly homes, but taken from the London work-houses. I will speak to you of what such little boys have done, not fifteen hundred, or even two hundred years ago, but last week — last Wednesday, on the river Thames. Do you know of whom I am thinking? I am thinking of the little boys, nearly five hundred, who were taken from different work-houses in London, and put to school to be trained as sailors on board the ship which was called after the name of the giant whom David slew — the training-ship Goliath. About eight o'clock on Wednesday morning that great ship suddenly caught fire, from the upsetting of a can of oil in the lamp-room. It was hardly daylight. In a very few minutes the ship was on fire from one end to the other, and the fire-bell rang to call the boys to their posts. What did they do 1 Think of the sudden surprise, the sudden danger — the flames rushing all around them, and the dark cold water below them ! Did they cry, or scream, or fly about in confusion 1 Ko ; they ran each to his proper place. They had been trained to do that — they knew that it was their duty ; and no one forgot himself — no one lost his presence of mind. They all, as the captain said, "behaved like men." Then, when it was found impossible to save the ship, those who could swim jumped into the water by order of the captain, and swam for their lives. Some, also at his command, got into a boat ; and then, when the sheets of flame and the (.-louds of smoke came pouring out of the shij), the smaller boys for a moment were frightened, and wanted to j)ush away. Ki I : I 42 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. But tliere was one amono: them — the little mate : Ins name was William Bolton : we are proud that lie came from Westminster : a quiet boy, much loved by his com- rades — who had the sense and the couraixc to say, " No ; we must stay and help those that are still in the ship." He kept the barge alongside the ship as long as possible, and was thus the means of savins: more than one hundred lives ! Tliere were others who were still in the ship while the flames went on spreading. They were standing by the good captain, who had been so kind to them all, and whom they all loved so much. In that dreadful crisis they thought more of him than of themselves. One threw his arms round his neck and said, " You'll be burnt, captain;" and another said, "Save yourself before the rest." But the captain gave them the best of all lessons for that moment. He said, "That's not the way at sea, my boys." He meant to say — and they quite understood what he meant — that the way at sea is to prepare for danger before- hand, to meet it manfully when it comes, and to look at the safety, not of oneself, but of others. The captain had not only learned that good old way himself, but he also knew how to teach it to the boys under his charge. ** THAT'S NOT THE WAY AT SEA!" Miss Havergal (183G-1879). [This poem is founded on Ca])tain Bourchier's courageous rei)ly, when told to s;ivo himself during the burning of the trahiing-ship Goliath^ described in last lesson. Owing to the excellent discipline which the ca])tain had established, and to the courage of the boys, only twelve lives wore lost out of the crew of live hundred.] He stood upon the fiery deck, Our captain kind and brave ; He would not leave the burning wreck While there was one to save. We wanted him to go before, And we would follow fast ; W<' could not bear to leave him there Beside the blazing mabt. THIRD BOOK OF EEADING LESSONS. 43 " ifc stood xtpon thefierij devk." But his voice rang out with a cheery shout, And noble words s})oke he — "That's not the way at sea, my boys ; That's not the m ay at sea ! " 80 each one did as he was bid, And into the boats we passed ; Whih? closer came the scorching tlame, And our captain was the last. Yet once again he dju-cd his life, One little lad to save ; I "J m r Wf li: l\ h; 1 44 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Then we pulled to shore from the Ijlaze and roar, With our captain kind and brave. In the face of Death, with its fierv breath. He had stood, and so would we ; For tliat's the way at sea, my boys, For that's the way at sea ! Now let the noble words resound, , And echo far and free. Wherever English hearts are found, On English shore or sea. The iron nerve of duty, joined With golden vein of love, Can dare to do, and dare to wait, With courage from above. Our captain's shout among the flames A watchword long shall be — "' That's not the way at sea, my boys; That's not the way at sea ! " Singing through the forest?. Rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, Rumbhn^ over bridges, Whizzing throu^fh the mountains, Buzzmg o'er the vale, — Bless me I this is pleasant, Kidinff on the Rail ! RHYME OF THE RAIL.* J. G. Saxe (b. 181G). High and lowly peojile, Birds of every feather. On a common level Travelling together I Gentleman in shorts. Looming very tall ; Gentleman at large, Talking verv small : Gentleman m tights, With a loose-ish mien ; Gentleman in graj', Looking rather green. Men of different " stations " In the eye of Fame, Here are very quickly Coming to the same. Gentleman quite old, J- sking for the news ; Gentleman in black, In a fit of blues ; Gentleman in claret, Sol dr as a vicar ; Gentleman in tweed, Dreadfully in liquor ! itc * * Singing through the forests, Rattling over ridges, Shooting under arches, Rumbling over bridges, Whizzing through the moun- Buzzing o'er the vale, — [tains, Bless me ! this is pleasant, Riding on the Rail ! * These punning verses will strongly recall to the teacher's memory Hood's witty ballads. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. GERTRUDE'S BIRD, (Based on a Norse Lcrjcnd.^ 45 In Norway, as in Canada, you may often see a woodpecker that is dressed in a red hood and a black gown. The Norwegians call this woodpecker Gertrude's Bird. There is a very old story which tells us that two pilgrims were tired and hungry from their long journey, and they came to the house of a woman named Gertrude, and begged for a cake. She took a little dough and set it to bake, but in the oven it swelled to such a size that it com- pletely filled a large pan. Grudging this cake as too much for alms, Gertrude took a smaller bit of dough and again put it into the oven ; but this cake swelled up to the same size as the first. Retail) ing this cake also for herself, Gertrude took a very small morsel of dough; but once more the cake became as large as those that had gone before. She then said to the two i)ilgrims, " You must go without alms, for all my cakes are too large for you.'' Then the pilgrims were wroth, and one of them said, " Because thou gavest the needy no alms out of thine increased store, thou shalt bo changed into a little bird : thou shalt henceforth seek thy dry food between the wood and bark of trees, and shalt quench thy thirst only when the rain falls." Hardly were these words spoken when Gertrude m"-^ ••^U^\v^^ 1^1 46 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. '':* J i|!i was changed into a woodpecker, though still wearing the red hood she had on when the pilgrims came to her door. As she flew up through the kitchen chimney, the nice gown she had on, and was so proud of, was blackened by the soot; and ever since Gertrude's Bird has had to wear a black gown, though sometimes you see her gown tucked up and showing a white skirt beneath. You may often hear her knock at the bark houses of the beetles as the pilgrims knocked at her door ; and, in her thirst, she often cries aloud for rain. Based on TnoRrE's Mijtholopy of Scandinavia. THE APOLOGY. Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882). Think me not unkind and rude That I walk alone in grove and glen ; I go to the God of the wood To fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth, that I Fold my arms beside the brook ; Each cloud that floated in the sky Writes a letter :n my book. Chide me not, laborious band. For the idle flowers I brought ; Every aster in my hand Goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery But 'tis figured in the flowers ; Was never secret history But birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field Homeward brought the oxen strong ; A second crop thy acres yield. Which I gather in a song. ■ i Hi THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 47 ring the ler door, the nice :ened by to wear 1 tucked \j often s as the he often iinavia. i; .^a. ^fe ^-Mi). -/33 - THE KINGFISHER. - ^s=- Mary Howitt (b. 1804). For the handsome kingfisher go not to the tree, — t - No bird of the field or the forest is he ; In the dry riven rock he did never abide, And not on the brown heath all barren and wide. He lives where the fresh sparkling waters are fiowinpf ; Where the tall, heavy typha and loose-strife arc growing ; By the bright little streams, that all joyfully run Awhile in the shadow and then in the sun. He lives in a hole that is quite to his mind, With the green mossy hazel roots firmly cntAvinod ; Where the dark alder-bough waves gracefully o'er, And the sword-flag and arrow-head grow at his door. II ! ■ i\ I Ui I [ ii ! ': 48 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSOXS. wm There busily, busily, all the day long. He seeks for small fishes the shallows among ; For he builds his nest of the pearly fish bone,* Deep, deep in the bank, far-retired and alone. With the Birds. THE WOODPECKER. Thomas Moore (1779-1852). TThe following lines were written in 1804, during Moore's three months' visit to Canada.] I knew by the smoke, that so gracefully curled Above the green elms, that a cottage w^as near; And I said, *' If there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that was humble might hope for it here! " It was noon, and on flowers that languished around In silence reposed the voluptuous bee ; Every leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech-troe. * A very old poetic fiction. The kingfisher's nest is built of loose grass and a few feathers. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 49 '>- ^n;irr 52 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. he is altogether such a mass of dirt, stickiness, and sweet- ness, that his own mother wouldn't know him. He likes, with the hired man, to boil eggs in the hot 5ap ; he likes to roast potatoes in the ashes ; and he would live in the camp day and night if he were permitted. Some of the hired men sleep in the shanty and keep the fire blazing all night. To sleep there with them, and awake in the night and hear the wind in the trees, and see the sparks fly up to the sky, is a perfect realization of all the ' dventures he has ever read. He tells the other boys, afterwards, that he heard something in the night that sounded very much like a bear. The hired man says tliat he was very much scared by the hooting of an owl. The great occasions for the boy, though, are the times of ''sugaring off." Sometimes this used to be done in the eveniD!>", and it was made the excuse for a frolic in the camp. The neighbors were invited, and, sometimes, even the pretty girls from the village, who filled all the woods with their sweet voices and merry laughter, and little affectations of fright. The white snow still lies on all the ground except the warm spot about the camp. The tree branches all show distinct! V in the liijht of the tire, which sends its ruddy glare rai' into the darkness, and lights up the shanty, the hogsheads, the buckets under the trees, and the group about the boiling settles, until the scene is like something taken out of a fairy play. At these sugar parties, every one was expected to eat as much sugar as possible ; and those who are practised in it can eat a great deal. It is a peculiarity about eating warm maple-sugar, that, though you may eat so much of it one day as to be sick and loathe the thought of it, you will want it the nexl day more than ever. At the "sugaring off" they used to pour the hot sugar upon the snow, where it congealed into a sort of wax, without crystallizing ; which, I suppose, is the most delicious substance that was ever invented ; but it takes long to eat it. If one should close his teeth firmly on a ball of it, he would be unable to open his mouth until it THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 53 dissolved. The sensation, while it is melting, is very pleasant, but one cannot talk. The boy used to make a big lump of wax and give it to the dog, who seized it with great avidity and closed his jaws on it, as dogs will on anything. It was funny, the next moment, to see the expression of perfect surprise on the dog's face, when he found that he could not open his jaws. He shook his head, — he sat down in despair, — he ran round in a circle, — he dashed into the woods and back again. He did everything except climb a tree, and howl. It would have been such a relief to him if he could have howled, but that was the one thing he could not do. THE OLD FARM-GATE. Eliza Cook (b. 1818). [The old wooden farm-gate has been done away with, and a new and trim iron one has taken its j^lace. Lut the poetess likes not the change. The old gate was associated in her mind with many hai)i)y scenes and memories. It was the place where the children j.layed and swung, the trysting-place of the lovers, the meeting-place of the village politicians ; and its removal darkens the picture in which she has most delight.] Where, where is the gate that once served to divide The elm-shaded lane from the dusty road-side? I like not this barrier gaily bedight. With its glittering latch and its trellis of white. It is seemly, I own — yet, oh ! dearer by far Were the red-rusted hinge and the weather war] )ed bar. Here are fashion and form of a modernized date, But I'd rather have looked on the Old Farm-gate. "Twas here that the urchins would gather to play In the shadows of twilight, or sunny mid-day ; For the stream runninc: nigli, and the liillocks of sand. Were temptations no dirt-loving rogue could withstand. But to swing on the gate-rails, to clamber and ride, Was the utmost of pleasure, of glory, arid pride ; And the car of the victor, or carriage of state. Never carried such hearts as the Old Farm-L'ate. ll 311 '* i M III 1 54 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. III 'Twas here that the miller's son paced to and fro, AYhen the moon was above and the glow-worms below ; Now pensively leaning, now twirling his stick. While the moments grew long and his heart-throbs grow quick. "^Vliy, why did he linger so restlessly there, With church-going vestment and sprucely-combed hair? THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 55 i )low ; )bs grew hair ? He loved, oh ! he loved, and had promised to wait For the one he adored at the Old Farm -gate. 'Twas here that the gray-headed gossips would meet , And the falling of markets, or goodness of wheat — This field lying fallow — that heifer just bought — Were favorite themes for discussion and thought. The merits and faults of a neighbor just dead — The hopes of a couple about to be wed — The Parliament doings — the Bill, and Debate — Were all canvassed and weighed at the Old Farm-gate. 'Twas over that gate I taught Pincher "^ to bound With the strength of a steed and the grace of a hound. The beagle might hunt, and the spaniel might swim, But none could leap over that postern like him. When Dobbin f was saddled for mirth-making trip. And the quickly-pulled willow-branch served for a whip, ^.pite of lugging and tugging, he'd stand for his freight, While I climbed on his back from the Old Farm-gate. 'Tis well to pass portals where pleasure and fame May come winging our moments and gilding our name ; But give me the joy and the freshness of mind. When, away on some sport, the old gate slammed behind : I've listened to music, but none that could speak In such tones to my heart as that teeth-setting creak That broke on my ear when the night had worn late, And the dear ones came home through the Old Farm-gate. Oh ! fair is the barrier taking its place. But it darkens a picture my soul longed to trace. I sighed to behold the rough staple and hasp, And the rails that my growing hand } scarcely could clasp. Oh ! how strangely the warm spirit grudges to part With the commonest relic once linked to tln^ heart ; And the brightest of fortune, the kindliest fate. Would not banish my love for the Old Farm-gate. * Name of a dog. + Name of a horse. X The rails that, when a child, I could scarcely clasp. r ■i ■ ii ■ J, 'IM . •56 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. Jean Ingelow (b. 1830). There Avas a cuckoo-clock lian^finir in Tom Turner's cot- tage. When it struck one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a saucepan off the fire, from which came a very savory smell. " If father doesn't come soon," she observed, " the apple- dumpling will be too much done." *' There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming round by the wood, and now he's going over the bridge. — O father ! make haste and have r-; me apple-dumpling." " Tom," said his wife as he came near, " art tired to- day?" " Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench in the shadow of the thatch. *' Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife. " What's the matter?" " Matter ! " repeated Tom ; " is anything the matter ? The matter is this, mother, that I'm a miserable hard- worked slave ;" and he clapped his hands upon his knees, and uttered in a deep voice, which frightened the children, " a miserable slave ! " " Bless us !" said the wife, but could not make out what he meant. "A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and . always have been." "Always have been!" said his wife; "why, father, I thoudit thou used to sav at the election time that thou o V wast a free-born Briton." " Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up rather sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit or the smell of the dinner that made him do it has not been ascertained, but it is certain that he walked into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens, and then took a tolerable share in demolishing the apple-dumpling. When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife said to him, " I hope thou and thy master haven't had words to-day." fi THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 57 s. ler's cot- baby in tn which be apple- 1 coming n'idoje. — ing. tired to- mself on ' What's matter ? le hard- s knees, hildren, >ut what " and ither, I lat thou Id Tom, force of |o it has :ed into took a I, Tom's haven't *' We've had no words," said Tom impatiently ; " but I'm sick of being at another man's beck and call. It's ' Tom, do this,' and 'Tom, do that/ and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday morning till Saturday night. I was thinking, as I walked over to Squire Morton's to ask for the turnip seed for master — I was thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a poor working-man after all. In short, I'm a slave, and my spirit won't stand it." So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his wife thought he was going back to his work as usual ; but she was mistaken. He walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the border of a little tinkling stream, he sat down and began to brood over his griovarcos. "Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself; "it's much pleasanter sitting here in the shade than broiling over celery trenches, and thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see 'em starve. A very hard lot it is to be a working-man." "Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his great surprise, saw a small man, about the size of his own baby, sitting composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green — green hat, green coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled very much as he looked at Tom and smiled. — " Servant, sir," said Tom, edging himself a little further off. — " Miserable slave," said the small man, " art thou so far lost to the noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere stranger as thy master?" — "Who are you?" said Tom, "and how dare you call me a slave?" — " Tom," said the small man with a knowing look, "don't speak roughly. Keep your rough words for your wife, my man ; she is bound to bear them — what else is Siie for, in fact ] " "I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," inteiTupted Tom, shortly. — "Tom, I'm your friend ; I think I can help you out of your difficulty. Every minnow in this stream — they are very scarce, mind you — has a silver tail." — "You don't say so?" exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide: "fishing for niinnows, and being one's own master, would be much pleasanter than the sort of life I ve been i.; 58 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Mi l! \m , leading this many a clay." — "Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do you," said the man in green. ''Farewell ; I wish you joy in your freedom." So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream full of joy and pride. He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity of bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer. The next day he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows. But of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with silver tails. They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles as a hare ; — what a life they led him ! They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite out of the water and dart down the stream again like little silver arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry. He came home late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in his pocket, each with a silver tail. "But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed, " though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever, yet I certainly am free ; no man can order me about now." This went on for a whole week. He worked very hard ; but, on Saturday afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows. But, after all, his fish were really great curiosities ; and, when he had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in all lights, praised their perfections, and taken im- mense pains to conceal his impatience and ill temper, he at length contrived to sell them all, and got exactly four- teen shillings for them, and no more. " Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to him- self, " I've found out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing it, — that every one of those customers of yours was your master just the same. Why ! you were at the beck of every man, woman, and child that came near you ; obliged to be in a good temper, too, which was very aggravating." " True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path ; " I knew you were a man of sense. Look you, you it iret as to mu" said in your Tom on He went •tunity of ly longer. went in he world, Is. They ioubles as then, just ,s sure of and dart s. Miles He came ivith only lil. lay down id I have no man ry hard ; fourteen les ; and, et them aken im- mper, he tly four- to him- ind your ours was beck of obliged vating." p in his ou, you THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 59 are all working-men, and you must all please your cus- tomers. Your master was your customer ; what he bought of you was your work. Well, you must let the work be such as will please the customer." — "All working-men? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking the four- teen shillings in his hand. " Is my master a working-man; and has he a master of his own? Nonsense !'* — **No non- sense at all : he works with his head, keeps his books, and manages his great works. He has many masters ; else why was he nearly ruined last year?" — " He was nearly ruined because he made some new-fangled kinds of patterns at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom. — " Well, in a way of speaking, then, he works to please his masters, poor fellow ! He is, as one may say, a fellow- servant, and plagued with very awkward masters. So I should not mind his being my master, and I'd go and tell him so; I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not been able to better yourself, and you have no objection now to dig up the asparagus bed." So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had earned, got his old master to take him back, and kept a profound secret his adventures with the man in green and the fish with the silver tails. GATHER YE ROSE-BUDS. Robert Herrick (1591-1G74). Gather ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying ; And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dvincj. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, The nearer he's a-setting. That age is best that is the first. When youth and blood are warmer ; But being spent, the worse and worst Times still succeed the former. 60 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS- ( : ,'■-' ^"5 Oil, a dainty plant is the iv}^ green, y^- That creepetli o'er ruins old ; H^"T^^ right choice food are his meals, I ween. In his cell so lone and cold. The walls must be crumbled, the stones decayed, To pleasure f his dainty whim ; And the mould'ring dust that years have made Is a merry meal for him. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings, And a stanch old heart has he ; * In chapter vi. of the Pickwick Papers this song is recited, at Mr. Snodgrass' request, by the benevolent bald-headed old clergyman of Dingley Dell. t Humor. • f THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 61 i^N. Sl^ y^^■' .Di 9^ 4C 'Wii 1, I ween, ecayed, mad3 igs, , cat Mr. yman oi' How closely he twineth, how tight he clings To his friend, the huge oak-tree ! And slyly he traileth along the ground, And his leaves he gently waves, And he joyously twines and hugs around The rich mould of dead men's graves. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. Whole ages have fled, and their works decayed, And nations scattered been. But the stout old ivy shall never fade From its hale and hearty gi'een. The brave old plant in its lonely days Shall fatten upon the past, Foi the stateliest building man can raise Is the ivy's food at last. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green. Pickivick Papers COMPOSURE. Robert Lord Lytton ("Owen Meredith")— b. 1831. Seaward from east to west a liver rolled. Majestic as the sun whose course it followed, Filling with liquid quiet of clear cold The depths its hushed waves hollowed. No wrinkle ruffled that serene expanse. Till, perched atiptoe on its placid path, A tiny rock the surface pierced by chance; Whereat it foamed with wrath. Over the depths, indifferent, smooth of pace, The current with continuous calm had crossed j Yet, lo ! a little pin-scratch in the face — All its repose was lost ! 62 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS, \ 1 I ■ THE UNKNOWN PARADISE. [I'rom the Swedish of Richard Gustafsson. ) Harold, a little lad, was lolling one day on the beach, gazing at the sea, whose gentle waves rippled to his feet. He had recently read about sunny climes, where the vine hangs in garlands between the trees, where oranges and lemons grow amongst the green foliage, where fragrant blossoms deck the mountains, and where the sky is of an inexpressibly deep blue. " Oh, I wish I were there !" sighed little Harold ; and his heart longed to fly away. He was seated close to the water, and his eyes looked towards the south. Then all at once he saw a white shape, that soared above the sea. It ap- proached the shore, and Harold beheld at last a large white swan, which floated down through the air to where he sat. " I can see by your eyes that you are dreaming of the land I come from," said the swan. " Yes, yes, I long to see that beautiful land in the south !*' cried Harold ; and he asked the swan to fly away with him, and take him there. r ! beach, liis feet. \\e vine ;es and [ragrant of an and liis water, |at once It ap- white he sat. of the louth!'' bh him, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 63 " My road does not lie that way ; hui: now," said the swan, " if you place yourself on ni) back, I will show you another paradise, of which I have been dreaming, far away from the myrtle groves and palm trees.'' " How I should like to see it I " " Well, then, come with me ! " And Harold at once seated himself on the swan's back^ and soon they were both soaring high up in the air. " Put your arms round my neck, and look carefully around ; for now I will fly low, along the earth, that you may see all the beautiful sights as we pass on our way." And Harold saw vast fields of growing corn undulating in the wind, extending so far that one could not see where they began or where they ended. Many church spires pointed to heaven, and handsome homesteads were scat- tered everywhere over the land. Sombre woods of fir and pine trees whispered below them ; and down in the dells were little streams of clear blue water, that sometimes expanded into small lakes, round which graceful young birch trees clustered. "What is that yonder that glimmers from afar, as if it were a vast plain of silver ? " " That is the queen of the lakes ! " answered the swan ; and when they flew across it, Harold heard the rippling of the waves as they were dancing around the island that lay in the midst of it, like a bathing nymph, clad in the verdure of tarly spring. They soared onward over immense forests and fertile plains ; and not before they had reached the shore of the lake with the thousand islands did the swan lower his flight to the earth. " Here we will rest during the night,'' said the swan ; — *• but why is it that you have tears glistening in your eyes 1 " *' I shed tears for very joy of the beautiful things I have seen to-day ! " said Harold ; " I had never even dreamed of anything so glorious." "To-morrow I will show you still more of my paradise." And then they fell asleep together on their soft mossy bed ; and Harold dreamed during the night that he wt 5 in the land of the golden orange groves, but that he, like the 64 THIRD BOOK OF READING LLSSOXS. li ■'; swan, longed for the paradise of birchen-girdled lakes. When at last he awakened, the sun had long risen, and their airy voyage commenced anew. Now by degrees the mountains on their road became more stupendous, and the forests more impenetrable. Broad rivers rushed forth into the valleys, and foaming cataracts precipitated themselves from rock to rock. A white light glimmered suddenly against the horizon. " Is it a flock of swans coming there 1 " Harold asked. *' No, it is the snowy mountain tops." Plarold gazed and gazed around him, and his heart throbbed with increased love for this paradise which he had not known, though so near his home. And he kissed and patted the swan that had brought him to see all this. Time was fleeting rapidly, but Harold thought they had been a long time on their journey, and so he said, *' Is not the day waning towards night ] " **0h! it is night now." *' But the sun shines still 1 " *' Yes ! thus is the summer night of my paradise." *' Now I should like to know the name of the beautiful country you have shown to me." " Oh, dear child, it is your own country — your own beloved Sweden !* I, like you, was born in this land, and therefore I love its valleys far more than the gorgeous plains of sunny climes. And now, when I have given you a view of all that is beautiful in this country, you must also love it with your whole heart." " Oh, yes, yes ! " little Harold called out, and he would have liked to press the whole country to his throbbing heart. He gathered flowers on the hills and meadows, and kissed them with delisfht, and tumbled about in merrv sport in the gladness of his heart that he had learned to love his own beautiful country. Chit-Chat by Puck : Ed. Albert Alberg. * In Canada, we too have "the wild swan," "the thousand islands," "the birchen-girdled lakes," "the deep forests," "the broad rivers," " the foaming cataracts;" and in the far north we have even the midnight sun. fi 1 ; led lakes, risen, and id became :)enetrable. d foaming rock. A zon. d asked. his heart which he 1 he kissed ;ee all this. ) they had d, '' Is not use." beautiful -your own land, and gorgeous given you must also he would throbbing idows, and in merrv «r' learned to Alberg. thousand I" the broad have even THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 65 V.-. FAREWELL TO SCOTLAND Thomas Pringle (178y-l.S34). Our native land — our native vale — A long and last adieu Farewell to bonn}' Teviotdale, And Cheviot mou^i tains blue. Farewell, ye hills of glorious deeds, And streams renowned in sonir ; Farewell, ye blithesome braes and meads,* Oar hearts have loved so lonof. Farewell, ye broomy elfin knowes,t Where thyme and harebells J grow; Farewell, ye hoary haunted liowes,§ O'erhung with birk|| and sloe.H * Joyous hillsides and meadows. t Hillocks overgrown with broom and frequented by elves. - Ow, pr. as in vow. X f^ee engraving in margin. § Dells. li Birch: «^ Wild plum. I fff 1^ b i!> Hi 66 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. The battle-mound, the Border-tower, That Scotia's annals tell ; The martyr's grave, the lover's bovver — To each — to all — farewell ! Home of our hearts ! our fathers' home I Land of the brave and free ! The keel is Hashing through the foam That bears us far from thee. "We seek a wild and distant shore. Beyond the Atlantic main ; We leave thee, to return no more, Nor view thy cliffs again. But may dishonor blight our fame, And quench our household tires, When we, or ours, forget thy name, Green island of our sires ! Our native land — our n.ative vale — A long, a last adieu ! Farewell to bonny Teviotdale, And Scotland's mountains blue. HOME, SWEET HOME. J. H. Payne (1702-1852). 'Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there's no place like home ! A charm from the skies seems to hallow all there, Which, seek through the world, is ne'er met with elsewhere. Home ! home ! sweet home ! There's no place like home ! An exile from home, splendor dazzles in vain : Oh, give me my lowly thatched cottage again ; The birds singing gaily that came at my call : Give me these, and the peace of mind dearer than all. Home ! sweet, sweet home ! There's no place like home ! Opera nf Chiri, the Maid of Milan. <£lfiiM*''#b»«<',iS THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 67 MY BOYHOOD. Hugh Miller (1802-1850). One morning, liaving the clay's task well fixed in my memory, and no book of amusement to read, I bcuan gossii)ing with my nearest class-fellow, a very tall boy, who ultimately shot up into a lad of six feet four. I told him about the tall Wallace and his exploits ; and so effectually succeeded in awakening his curiosity, that I had to communicate to him, from beginning to end, every adventure recorded by the blind minstrel.* My story- telling vocation once fairly ascertained, there was, I found, no stopping in my course. I had to tell all the stories I had ever heard or read. The demand on the part of my class- fellows was great and urgent ; and setting myself to try my ability at original productions, I began to dole out to them long extempore biographies, which proved wonder- fully popular. My heroes were usually warriors, like Wallace; and voyagers, like Gulliver; and dwellers in desolate islands, like Robinson Crusoe ; and they had not unfrecjuently to seek shelter in huge, deserted castles, abounding in trap- doors and secret passages. And, finally, after much destruction of giants and wild beasts, and frightful encounters with magicians and savages, they almost invariably succeeded in disentombing hidden treasures to an enormous amount, or in laying open gold mines. After this they passed a luxurious old age, like that of Sinbad the sailor, at peace with all mankind, in the midst of confectionery and fruits. With all my carelessness, T continued to be a sort of favorite with the master ; and at the general English lesson, he used to address to me quiet little speeches, vouchsafed to no other pupil, indicative of a certain literary ground common to us, on which the others had not entered. Finding in my copy-book, on one occasion, a page filled * Blind Harry, a wanderiiij? minstrel, who wroto (about 14('0) The Adventures uf Sir WiUiaiu Wallace. I IF • 'V I I I' >' 68 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. with rhymes, which I had headed, " Poem on Poace," he brought it to his desk. After reading it carefully over, he called me up, and with his closed pen-knife, which served as a pointer, in one hand, and the copy-book in the other, he began his criticisms. "That's bad grammar, sir," he said, resting the knife- handle on one of the lines; "and here's a miss[)elled word; and tliere's another; and you have not attended to the punctuation ; but the general sense of the piece is good, — very good, indeed, sir." And then he added, with a grim smile, " Care, sir, is, I dare say, as you remark, a very bad thing ; but you may safely bestow a little more of it on your spelling and your grammar." My Schools and Schoolmasters. A CHILD'S EVENING PRAYER. Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834). Ere on my bed my limbs I lay, God grant me grace my prayers to say. O God, preserve my mother dear In strength and health for many a year ; And, oh, preserve my father too. And may I pay him reverence due ; And may I my best thoughts employ To be my parents' hope and joy. And, oh, preserve my brothers both From evil doings and from sloth ; And may we always love each other. Our friends, our father, and our mother. And still, O Lord, to me impai-t An innocent and gi'ateful heart. That, after my last sleej), T may Awake to thy eternal day ! ^\men. ^ace," he ily over, ?, which k in the le knife- eel word ; cl to the , good,— li a grim very bad I of it on hnastcrs. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. P A E T II. eg -♦♦- f m^U"' r '•'--S^ '^">-^^ FLOW GENTLY, SWEET AFTON Robert Burns (175!) 17%). [(Gilbert, the poet's oldest brother, re|iorted IJurns "^ fts sjiyinj? thut the stiliject of tlu'f j hues was tlie Coilstield dairy-nuiid, Highland Mary.] Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes ; * Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in tliy praise : My Clary's asleep by thy murmuring sti-eam : Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb notherdreani. . * Hill-sides. pi m 70 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Tb.ou stock-dove whose echo resounds through the glen, Ye wild whistling blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green-crested lapwing thy screaming forbear ; I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, Fai' marked with the courses of clear, winding rills ; There daily I wander as noon rises high, ^ly flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where wild in the woodlands the primroses blow ; 'J'here oft as mild evening weeps over the lea. The sweet-scented birk* shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides. And winds by the cot where my Mary resides ; ] low wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave. As gathering sweet flow'rets she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, among thy green braes; Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays : My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream; Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. SAD AND SWEET. Thomas Aubrey de Veue (b. 1814). Sad is our youth, for it is ever going, Crumbling away beneath our very feet ; Sad is our life, for it is ever flowing In current unperceived, because so fleet ! Sad are our hopes, for tliey were sweet in sowing, But tares self-sown have overtopped the wheat ; 8ad are our joys, for they were sweet in blowing — And still, still their dying breath is sweet; — And sweet is youth, althougli it hath bereft us Of tliat which made our childhood sweeter still ; And sweet is middle life, for it hath left us A newer good to cure an older ill ; And sweet are all things, wlien we learn to prize them Not for their sake but His, who grants them, or denies them. * Birch. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS, THE ELEVENTH LABOR OF HERCULES. Barthold Georg Niebuhr (1776-1831). [The great historian Nieljuhr wrote for his Httle son Marcus a series of Greek Hero Stories, from which this selection is made.] Then Eurystheus [pr. Eu-rys-tlieus] coninianded Her- cules [pr. Her-cii-lt's] to bring him tlie golden npples of the Hesperides [pr. Hes-per-!-des]. When Juno held her marriage-feast with Jupiter, she gave him the golden apples, which he put into the ground, in the gardeii of the nymphs, who, being the daughters of Hesperus, were called the Hesperides ; and trees grew from them which likewise bore golden apples. Many would have liked to {teal them, and on that account the Hesperides had to watch the garden themselves; and they kept a great dragon in it, which had a hundred heads. Hercules did iiot know where the garden was, and he had to go about many days before he discovered it. On the way Antseos [])r. An-tse-os] met him. He was a son of the Earth, and was mightily strong. He wicstled with all whom he met, and subdued them : for if one were so strong that he tlirew Antjvos to the ground, he at once sprang up again, because the Earth was his mother, and always made him stronger when he touched her ; but if Antaios threw his opponent to the ground he killed him. When Hercules observed that Anta^os be- came stronger when he cast him on the ground, h(» raised him up on high in his arms, so that he did not touch the Earth, even with his feet. Then he 2)ressed him in his arms so tight that Antjeos died. Then he came to Egyi)t, where Busiris [pr. Bu-sT-ris] was king, who offered upon the altar all strangers as sacrifices. Hercules suffered liis hands to be bound and a fillet to be tic^d about his head as if he were a victim, and hit himself be led to the altar, where salt and meal were strewed on his head. But when the priests were about to take the knife and to stab him, then he broke the cords with which his hands had been bound, and he struck tlio priests and the cruel king Busiris dead. 72 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ia» Since Hercules was so large and strong he had a very great appetite. Once, when he was very hungry, he met a peasant who had yoked two oxen before his plough and was ploughing. He asked him to give him something to eat, but the peasant would give him nothing. Then Hercules was angry at him, and drove him away, and unyoked the oxen, and slaughtered one of them, and broke the plough in pieces, and made a fire with the wood of the plough, and roasted the ox, and ate it all up. Then he came to the Kaukasos,* which is a very high mountain towards the sunrise. On one side of this mountain, wliich is very steep, and so high that no one could climb to the top, Jupiter had caused Prometheus [pr. Pro-me-theus] to be bound with chains; and every day there came an eagle who tore his side. Hercules took liis bow and shot the eagle, and asked Jupiter to free Pronifjtheus ; and Jupiter did so, and Prometheus returned to Olympus, to the other gods. At last Hercules came to Atlas, who stood at +he edire of the world, and bore up the vault of Heaven on his shoulders, so that it should not fall on the Earth. Atlas was the brother of the father of the Hesperides, and Hercules asked him to persuade his nieces to give him some apples. Hercules was not afraid of the dragon, and would have killed him, but he did not wish to take the apples away from the nymphs by force. Atlas went to the Hesperides ; and until he came bad Hercules hold up the vault of Heaven's arch on his shoulders. The Hesperides gave their uncle three apples to give to Hercules, if he promised that they should have them again ; for all knew that Hercules kept his word. When Atlas came back, he wanted Hercules alwavs to continue to stand and to hold up the heavens ; but Hercules threatened that he would let them fall, and then Atlas took his place again, and gave him the apples. Greek Hero Stories. Ed. Benj. Ho^rl^'. * T!ie Creek spellin;,' i)f Cauciusu;s [pr. Kau-kjt-sos]. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Ltl a very , he met )ugh and Btliing to . Then vay, anil lid broke wood of ery high of tliis no one )metheus id every lies took to free returned e edge of [loulders, was the Hercules e apples, lid have es away me bad on his e apples Id have s word, rt^avs to ercules 11 Atlas [orriN. MAY. Nathaniel Parker Willis (1807 1807). Oh, the merry May has pleasant hours, And dreamily they glide, As if they floated like the leaves Upon a silver tide : The trees are full of crimson buds, And the woods are full of birds ; And the waters flow to music, Like a tune with pleasant words. Tlie verdure of the meadow-land Is creeping to the hills; The sweet, blue-bosomed violets Are blowing by the rills ; The lilac has a leaf of balm For every wind that stirs; And the larch* stands green and beautiful Amid the sombre firs. There's perfume upon evrry wind — Music in every tree — - Dews for the moisture-loving .: flowers — Sweets for the sucking bee : The sick come forth for the heal- ing south; The young are gathering flowei's ; And life is a tale of ])oetry, That is told by golden hours. More generally called in Ctmada the tamarack. 74 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. M. yL,-s!S*-V # E^: ;k^ "■■:»«&» •..■u^ >:'>^' 1 ^a^ ii^ ,*^i;: Ift^V, \-\ THE ^j L^-i^'-: l')%-^'. ORIGIN OF THE ROBIN. A LEGEND OF THE WIGWAM. iijiiljit)','. E^'^ Im |S„' M\- long througli m y'i ,». ■ -v* ,. \ An old man had an only son, named ladilla, who had come to that age which is thought to be most proper to make the and final fast which is to secure guardian genius or spirit. The father was ambitious that his son should surpass all others in whatever was deemed wisest and greatest amonj? his ])eople. To accomplish his wish, he thought it necessary that the young ladilla should fast a much longer time than any of those renowned for their power or wisdom, whose fame he coveted. He therefore directed his son to pre- pare with great ceremony for the im[)ortant event. After he had been several times in the sweating- and bath, which were to A v ^:s\ lodge If-..."- ^ s''vuit,''^'^f;^,N::' m is^' »;-v\ ^*5> k-«^:; 551^ "X^or-* ^««. .^v-v ;i V A ^^X 'A M O SHOOTING RAPIDS. Rev. Pkincipal Guant, D.D. (b. 1835). To slioot ra])i(ls in a car.oc is a plc^asiiro tliat compara- tively ftnv Eiiglislnnon have ever enjoyed, and no ])icture can give an idea of what it is. There is a fascination in the motion, as of poetry or music, Nvhieli must he experi- enced to he understood. Tlie excitement is greater than when on board a steamer, because you are so mucli nearer the seething water, and the canoe seems sucli a fragile thing to contend with the mad forces, into tlu^ very thick of which it lias to be steered. Where the stream begins to descend, the water is an inclined i)lane, smooth as a billiard-table ; beyond, it breaks into curling, gleaming rolls, which end otF in white boiling caldrons, where the water has l)roken on the rocks beneath. On the brink of the inclined plane, the canoe seems to pause for an instant. The captain is at the bow — a broader, stronger paddlf> than usual in his hand — his eye kindling with enthusiasm, and every nerve and fibre in his body at its utmost tension. The steersman is at his post, and every man is ready. They know that a false stroke, or too weak a turn of the caj)tain's wrist, at the critical moment, means death. A push with the paddles, and, strai;*^' and swift as an arrow, the canoe shoots right down into the mad vortex : now into a cross current that would twist her broadside round, but that every man fights against it : then she steers right for a rock, to which she is being resistlessly sucked, and on which it seems as if she would be dashed to pieces ; but a rapid turn of the captain's paddle at the right moment, and she rushes past the black mass, riding gallantly as a race-horse. The waves boil up at the side, threatening to engulf her, but, except a dash of spray or the cap of a wave, nothing gets in ; and, as she speeds into the calm reach beyond, all draw long breaths, and hope that another rapid is near. From Occa to Ocean (1877). ;i1 80 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. THE RAPID. {St. Lawrence.) Charles Sangster (b. 1822). All peacefully gliding, The waters dividing, The indolent b.'itteau moved slowly along j The rowers, light-hearted. From sorrow long jjarted, Beguiled the dull moments with laughter and song : " Hurrah for the Rapid ! that merrily, merrily Gambols and leaps on its tortuous way ; 8oon we will enter it, cheerily, cheerily, Pleased with its freslmess, and wet with its spray." More swiftly careering, The wild Rapid nearing, They dash down the stream like a terrified steed ; The surges delight them, No terrors affright them. Their voices keep pace with their quickening speed ; " Hurrah for the Rapid ! that merrily, merrily Shivers its arrows against ns in play ; Now we have entered it, ciieerily, cheerily. Our spirits as light as its feathery spray." Fast downward they're dashing. Each fearless eye flashing, Tii<3Ugh danger awaits them on every side ; Yon rock — see it frowning ! They strike — they are drowning ! But downward they sjieed with the merciless tis that he himself was killed. Duke William took ofl'liis helmet, in oi-der that his face miulit be distinctly seen, and rode along the line befon; his men. This gave; tbem couiage. As they turned again to face th(^ English, some f)f the Norman horse divided the pursuing body of th<' iMiglish from the rest, and thus all that foremost [»ortion of the J'jiglish ai'my fell, lighting bravely. Tlie main body still I'emaining firm, heedless of the Norman ari'ows, and with their battle- axes cutting down the crowds of horsemen wiien tliey rcxle up, like forests of yomig trees, Duke William pretended to retreat. Th(» eager I^Jiglish followed. TJie Norman army closed again, an." beautiful is night! A devk V freshness fills the silent air ; No mist obscures, nor cloud nor speck nor stain Creaks the serene of heaven : In full-orixMl glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths: I](uieath h(»r steady ray The desert circle spreads Like the round ocean, girdled with the sky : How beautiful is night ! ThaValM the Destroyer (1707). * Tho dovico on tho Norman standard wan thnni Wuwn intssant (t!mt is, walkng), oh may bo seen on the royal amis of England. THIRD BOOit OF READING LESSONS. 85 ^^. •v>-- ^"'" ii:^'^' TO A BUTTERFLY. William Woudswoutii (1770 lKr)0). I'vo watc'liod you now a full lialt'-hour Solf-poiKcd ui)on that yellow ilowcr ; And, little buttcrHv, indeed I know not if you sleej) or feed. How motionless ! — not frozer, s.(>as xMoro motionless ; anut, oh, they love the better The few our Father sends : And you were all I had, INIary, My blessing and my pride ; There's nothing left to care for now, Since my poor Mary died. I*ni bidding you a long farew(;l], My Mary kind and true ; But I'll not forget you, darling. In the land I'm going to. They say there's bread and work for all, And the sun shines always there; But I'll not forget old Ireland, Were it tifty times less fair. ENGLAND. [John of Gaunt speaks : — ] This royal throne of kings, this scei)tred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of ^lars, This other Eden, — /A 'w '/ Hiotographic Sciences Corporation '^'V 33 WIST MAIN STRUT WnSTER.N.Y, M5«0 (716) S73-4S03 'V- o < rv'.^. i^^'^i ;/^ tt:^/*)\- -.7? -♦■JO fii?'''! ^^ ;>i-% ^% SOWING AND REAPING. Adelaide Anne Procter (1835-18G4). Sow with a generous hand ; Pause not for toil and pain ; Weary not through the heat of summer, Weary not through the cold spring rain ; But wait till the autumn co.mes For the sheaves of golden grain. Scatter the seed, and fear not — A table will be spread ; What matter if you are too weary To eat your hard-earned bread ; Sow, while the earth is broken, For the hungry must be fed. Sow ; — while the seeds are lying In the warm Earth's bosom deep. And your warm tears fall upon it, They will stir in their quiet sleep. And the gretn blades rise the quicker. Perchance, for the tears you weep. Then sow;— for the hours ai. fleeting. And the seed must fall to-day ; And care not what hands shall reap it, Or if you shall have passed away Before the waving corn-tields Shall gladden the sunny day. THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. 93 nil cQiiies THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN OF SLEEPY HOLLOW. Washington Irving (1783-1859). The revel now gradually broke up. The old farmers gathered together their families in their waggons, and were heard for some time rattling along the hollow roads, and over the distant hills. Some of the damsels mounted on pillions behind their favorite swains, and their light- hearted laughter, mingling with the clatter of hoofs, echoed along the silent woodlands, sounding fainter and fainter, until they gradually died away. The late scene of noise and frolic was all silent and deserted. Ichabod stole forth with the air of one who had been sacking a hen-roost rather than a fair lady's heart. With- out lookinfr to the ri^dit or left to notice the scene of rural wealth on which lie had so often gloated, he went straight to the stable, and, with several hearty cufis and kicks, roused his steed most uncourteously from the comfortable quarters in which he was sound ly sleeping It was the very witcliing time of night that Ichabod, heavy-hearted and crest-fallen, pursued his travel liome- wards, along the sides of the lofty hills which rise above Tarrytown. The hour was as dismal as himself. Far below him the Tappan Zee spread its dusky and indistinct waste of waters, with here and there the tall mast of a sloop riding quietly at anchor under the land In the dead hush of midnight, he could even hear the barking of the watch-dog from the opposite shore of the Hudson ; but it was so vague and faint as only to give an idea of his distance from this faithful com})anion of man. Now and then, too, the long-drawn crowing of a cock, accident- ally awakened, would sound far, far oil', from some farm- house away among the hills. No signs of life occurred near him, but occasionally the melancholy chirp of a cricket, or perhaps the guttural twang of a bull-frog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping uncomfortably, and turning suddenly in his bed. The night grew darker and darker, the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving clouds occasionally hid ,''s 94 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. >i(ii' 'M :! I them from Iiis sight. He had never felt so lonelv and dismal. He was, moreover, approaching the very place where many of the scenes of the ghost-stories had been laid. In the centre of the road stood an enormous tulip- tree, which towered like a giant above all' the other trees of the neighborhood, and formed a kind of landmark. Its limbs were gnarled and fantastic, large enough to form trunks for ordinary trees, twisting down almost to the earth, and rising again into the air. It was connected with the tragical story of the unfortunate Andre, who had been taken prisoner hard by ; and was universally known by the name of Major Andre's tree. The common people regarded it with a mixture of respect and superstition, partly out of sympathy for the fate of its ill-starred name- sake, and partly from the tales of strange sights and dole- ful lamentations told concerning it. As Ichabod approached this fearful tree, he began to whistle : he thought his whistle was answered ; it was but a blast sweeping sharply through the dry branches. As he approached a little nearer, he thought he saw something white hanging in the midst of the tree — he 2:)aused and ceased whistling ; but on looking more narrowly, he ])er- ceived that it was a place where the tree had been scathed by lightning and the white wood laid bare. Suddenly he heard a groan — his teeth chattered, and his knees smote against the saddle ; it was but. the rubbing of one huge bough upon another, as they were swayed about by the breeze. He passed the tree in safety, but new perils lay before him. About two hundred yards from the tree a small brook crossed the road, and ran into a marshy and thickly-wooded glen, known by the name of Wiley's Swamp. A few rough logs, laid side by side, served for a bridge over this stream. On that side of the road where the brook entered the wood, a group of oaks and chestnuts, matted thick with wild gra[)e vines, threw a cavernous gloom over it. To pass this bridge was the severest trial. It was at this identical spot that the unfortunate Andre was captured, and this has ever since been considered a haunted stream, and fearful are the feelings of the school-boy who has to pass it alone after dark. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 95 As he approached tlie stream, his heart bec^an to thump. He summoned up, however, all his resolution, gave his horse half a score of kicks in the ribs, and attempted to dash briskly across the bridge. But instead of starting forward, the perverse old animal made a lateral movement, and ran broadside against the fence. Ichabod, whose fears increased with the delay, jerked the rein on the other side, and kicked lustily with the contrary foot. It was all in vain. His steed started, it is true, but it was only to plunge to the opposite side of the road into a thicket of brambles and alder buslies. The schoolmaster now bestowed both whip and heel upon the starveling ribs of old Gunpowder, wlio dashed forward, snutHng and snorting, but came to a stand just by the bridge, with a suddenness which had nearly sent his rider sprawling over his head. Just at this moment a plashy tramp by the side of the bridge caught the sensitive ear of Ichabod. In the dark shadow of the grove, on the margin of the brook, he beheld something huge, misshapen, black, and towering. It stirred not, but seemed gathered up in the gloom, like some gigantic monster ready to spring upon the traveller. The hair of the affrighted pedagogue rose uj) on liis head with terror. What was to be done ? To turn ? nd fly was now too late. Summoning up, therefore, a show of courage, he lemanded, in stammering accents, "Who are youf He received no reply. He repeated his demand in a still more ao-itated voice. Still there was no answer. Once more he cudgelled the sides of the inflexible Gunpowder, and shut- ting his eyes, broke forth with involuntary fervor into a psalm tune. Just then the shadowy object of alarm put itself in motion, and with a scramble and a bound, stood at once in the middle of the road. Though the night was dark and dismal, yet tlie form of the unknown might now in some degree be ascertained. He appeared to be a horseman of large dimensions, and mounted on a black horse of powerful frame. He made no oti'er of molestation or sociability, but kept aloof on one side of the road, jog- ging along on the blind side of old Gunpowder, who had now got over his fright and waywardness. 'li \M % \ 1 I' Itlll 'illlll 96 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Icliabod, who had no relish for this strange midnight companion, now quickened liis steed, in hopes of leaving him behind. The stranger, however, quickened his horse to an equal pace. Ichabod pulled up, and fell into a walk, thinking to lag behind — the other did the same. His heart began to sink within him ; he endeavored to resume his psaim tune, but his parched tongue clove to the roof of his mouth, and he could not utter a stave. There was something in the moody and dogged silence of this pertina- cious companion that was mysterious and appalling. It was soon fearfully accounted for. On mounting a rising- ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless ! — but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle ! His terror rose to desperation. He rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the slip. But the spectre started full jump with him. Away then they dashed, through thick and thin, stones flying and sparks flashing at every bound. An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hope that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. ^'If I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, " I am safe." Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind him ; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, E . old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding planks ; he gained the opposite side ; and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash. He was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider passed by like a whirlwind. II THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 97 The next morning the old horse was found without his saddle, and with the bridle under his feet, soberly cropping the grass at his master's gate; while near the bridge, on the bank of a broad part of the brook, where the water ran deep and black, was found the hat of the unfortunate Ichabod, and close beside it a shattered pumpkin ! The Sketch-Book. TO A CHILD EMBRACING HIS MOTHER. Thomas Hood (1798-1845). Love thy mother, little one ! Kiss and clasp her neck again ; Hereafter she may have a son Will kiss and clasp her neck in vain. Love thy mother, little one ! Gaze upon her loving eyes, And mirror back her love for thee; Hereafter thou may est shudder sighs To meet them when they cannot see. Gaze upon her loving eyes ! Press her lips the while they glow With love that they have often told ; Hereafter thou mayest press in woe, And kiss them till thine own are cold. Press her lips the while they glow ! Oh, revere her raven hair ! Although it be not silver-gray ; Too early Death, led on by care, May snatch save one dear lock away. Oh, revere her raven hair ! Pray for her at eve and morn. That Heaven may long the stroke defer; For thou mayest live the hour forlorn When thou wilt ask to die with her. Pray for her at eve and morn ! Ml i! ''l"^^" Pi I ill! 1; .» ''ill!' IP • ill , I I ' I III! !!Ui •l-ii ! llllll' ' ■ i 1 1 1 1 If 98 THILD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. THE HOMES OF ENGLAND. Mrs. Hemans (1794-1835). The stately homes of England ! How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land ! The deer acrosL^ their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 99 The blessed homes of England How softly on their bowers Is laid the holy quietness That breathes from Sabbath ,. .. ^ hours! ^^.i£7i Solemn, yet sweet, the church bells' chime Floats through their woods at morn \ All other sounds in that still time Of breeze and leaf are born. The cotiaoe homes of Eno^land! By thousands on her plains. They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks. And round the hamlet fanes. Through glowing orchards forth they pcepy Each from its nook of leaves ; And f tearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath the eaves. '' i-a . ,1. ■; -11 1^ iijiiil * i I i liiii III "iiiii !l 100 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. The free fair homes of England! Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallowed wall ! And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Whore first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God ! THE INDIAN'S FAITH. Thomas DAucy M'Gee (1825-1868). We worship the Spirit that walks unseen Through our land of ice and snow ; We know not his face, we know not his place. But his presence and power we know. Does the buffalo need the Pale-face word To find his pathway far? What guide has he to the hidden ford, Or where the green pastures are? Who teacheth the moose that the hunter's gun Is peering out of the shade ? Who teacheth the doe and the fawn to run In the track the moose has made ? Him do we follow, him do we fear, The Spirit of earth an'l sky ; Who hears with the wapiti's eager ear His poor red children's cry ; Whose whisper we note in every breeze That stirs the birch canoe ; Who hangs the reindeer-moss on the trees For the food of the caribou. That Spiri; we worship who walks unseen Through our land of ice and snow ; We know not his face, we know not his place, But his presence and power we know. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 101 A BUFFALO HUNT. W. H. Kingston. Though called buffalo,* the animal I am speaking of is really the bison. It has, a protuberant hunch on its shoulders; and the body is covered, especially towards the head, by long, fine, woolly hair, which makes the animal api)ear much more bulky than it really is. That over the head, neck, and fore part of the body, is long and shaggy, and forms a beard beneath the lower jaw, descending to the knees in a tuft ; while on the top it rises in a dense mass nearly to the tops of the horns, and is strongly curled and matted on the front. The tail is short, and has a tuft at the end ; the general color of the hair being a uniform dun. The legs are especially slender, and appear to be out of all proportion to the body ; indeed, it seems wonderful that they are able to bear it, and that the animals oan at the same time exhibit the activity they seem possessed of. In summer, the buffalo finds an abundance of food by cropping the sweet grass Avhi^h springs up after the tires so frequent in one part or othei of the prairies. In winter, in the northern regions, it won' starve, were it not pos- sessed of a blunt nose, coverei ^ tough skin, with which it manages to dig into the snow and shovel it away, so as to get at the herbage below. In winter, too, the hair grows to a much greater length than in summer, when the hinder part is covered only by a very short, tine hair, smooth as velvet. Many thousands of these magnificent animals congregate in herds, which roam from north to south over the western prairies. At a certain time of the year the bulls fight desperately with one another, on which occasions their roaring is truly terrific. The hunters select, when they can, female buffaloes, as their flesh is much superior in quality and tenderness to that of the males. The females are, however, more active than the males, and can run three times as fast, so that * The true buffalo is a native of India and South Africa. It bears but little resemblance to the bison. flf IF* 1^ !l| l(, I'! Im tf! !! I! M '!! I'l i;)li III III '1)1,1 111 I Ml ■I: li ill I jiiiii THIIW BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 103 «wift horses are required to keep up witli them. The Indians complain of the destruction of the hutluhx for- <;('ttin,tlemen ! walk * Essex and Washington Streets, Salem, Mass. THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 105 Town Pump up ! walk up ! Here is the superior stuff ! Here is the unadulterated ale of Father Adam — better than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong- beer, or wine of any price ! Here it is, oy the hogshead or the single ;^lacjs, and not a cent to pay! Walk up, gentlemen ! walk up and help yourselves I" It were a pity *^ all this outcry should draw no customers. Here tiit3y come ! — A hot day, gentlemen ! Quaff, and away again! — You, my friend, will need another cupful, to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cowhide boots. I see you have trudged half-a-score of miles to-day, and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns and stopped at the running brooks and well-curbs. Otherwise, betwixt lieat witliout and fire within, you would have been burned to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all, in the fashion oi a jelly-fish ! Drink, and make room for that other fellow who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations — which he drained from no cup of mine. — Wel- come, most rubicund sir ! You and I liave been great strangers hitherto ; nor, to express the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer intimacy till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent. Mercy on you, man ! the water absolutely hisses down your red-hot throat, and is converted quite to steam. Fill again, and, tell me, on the word of an honest toper, did you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any kind of a dram shop, spend the price of your children's food for a drink half so delicious? Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavor of cold water. Good-bye, and whenever you are thirsty, remember that I keep a constant supply at the old stand. Who next? — Oh, my little friend, you are let loose from school, and come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain ta})s of the ferrule, and other schoolboy troubles, in a draught from the Town Pump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life. Take it, and may your heart and tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now ! There, mv dear cliild ! put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly gentlemp.n, who treads so tenderly over the stones that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. ifil im ii <;! >. iiiji 1 1 "'!) 'Ml! "' 106 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. What ! he limps by without so much as thanking me, as if my hospital)le offers were meant only for people who have no wine-cellars. Well, well, sir ! no harm done, I hope ! Go, draw the cork, tip the decanter ; but when your great toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be no aftair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation of the gout, it is all one to the Town Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue lolling out, does not scorn my hospi- tality, but stands on his hind legs and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away again ! — Jowler, did your worship ever have the gout ? Are you all satisfied] Then wipe your mouths, my good friends ; and, while my spout has a moment's leisure, I will delight the town with a few historical reminiscences. In far antiquity, beneath a darksome shadow of venerable boughs, a spring bubbled out of the leaf- strewn eartli, in the very spot where you behold me on the sunny pave- ment. The water was as bright and clear, and deemed as precious, as liquid diamonds. The Indian Sagamores drank of it from time immemorial, till the fearful deluge of fire-water burst upon the red men, and swept the whole race away from the cold fountains. Endicott * and his followers came next, and often knelt down to drink, dipping their long beards in the spring. The richest goblet then was of birch-bark. Governor Winthrop drank here, out of the hollow of Ms hand. The elder Higginson f here wet his palm and laid it on the brow of the first town-born child. For many years it was the watering-place, and, as it were, the wasli-bowl of the vicinity, whither all decent folks resorted to purify their visages, and gaze at them afterward — at least the pretty maidens did — in the mirror which it made. On Sabbath-days, whenever a babe was to be baptized, the sexton filled his basin here, and placed it on the communion-table of the humble meeting-house which partly covered the site of yonder stately brick one. Thus one generation after another was consecrated to Heaven * John Endicott became Governor of Massachusetts in 1G44 ; John Winthrop, in 1020. t Francis Higginson (1588-1G30), first clergyman of Salem, Mass. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 107 by its waters, and cast its waxing and waning shadows into its glassy bosom, and vanished from the earth as if mortal life were but a flitting image in a fountain. Finally, the fountain vanished also. Cellars were dug on all sides, and cart-loads of gravel flung upon its source, whence oozed a turbid stream, forming a mud-puddle at the corner of two streets. In the hot months, when its refreshment was most needed, the dust flew in clouds over the forgotten birth- place of the waters, now their grave. But in the course of time a Town Pump was sunk into the source of the ancient spring ; and when the first decayed, another took its place, and then another, and still another, till here stand I, gentlemen and ladies, to serve you witli my iron goblet. Drink, and be refreshed ! The water is pure and cold as that which slaked the thirst of the red ►Sagamore beneath the aged boughs, though now the gem of the wilderness is treasured under these hot stones, where no shadow falls but from the brick buildings. And be it the moral of my story, that, as the wasted and long-lost fountain is now known and prized again, so shall the virtues of cold water, too little valued since your fathers' ilays, be recognized by all. Your pardon, good people ! I must interrupt my stream of eloquence, and spout forth a stream of water, to replenish the trough for this teamster and his two yoke of oxen, that have come from Topsfield,* or somewhere along the way. No part of my business is pleasanter than tlie watering of cattle. Look ! how rapidly they lower the water-mark on the sides of the trough, till tlieir capacious stomachs are moistened with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afibrd time to breathe it in with sighs of calm enjoyment. Now they roll their quiet eyes around the brim of their monstrous drinking-vessel. Twice -toM Talcs. * Village twenty miles north-east of Boston, Mass. n m \(W 108 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. P I i: THE BARN ELVES. F. H. Knatchbull-Hugessen. Dick was about twelve, Billy ten, Polly and Jessie respectively nine and eight years old, when the circum- stance occurred which gave them the first real knowledge of the quarter from whence these sounds in the old barn actually proceeded. They had been having a good game on an autumn's afternoon, having established some nine- pins on the barn floor, which they were engaged in knock- ing down and setting up again after the usual manner of nine-pin players. All of a sudden down drop2:)ed an e.^^^ plump on the floor just before them. " Hallo ! " cried Dick, " there 's an e^g ! And it isn't broken either." As he spoke, the children all ran towards the egg to seize it, when, to ^heir great surprise, it began to roll awa}' all of itself ; and although they rushed after and tried to seize it, it dodged them all so cleverly did this wonderful Qgg^ that none could ever touch it. Whilst eagerly engaged in the pursuit, they heard a loud burst of the same old laughter over their heads; and looking hastily and anxiously up, perceived the laugher for the first time. It was a little man, — a very little man, for he could not have been above eight inches high ; moreover, it was a comical-looking little man, dressed entirely in red, with a black velvet cap on the top of his head, and a short pipe in his mouth, — which is a very wrong thing for anybody to have in a barn, because a single spark might do dreadful mischief. But no sparks came from this pipe; probably because it was a magic pipe, which could do no harm to anybody unless the smoker wished it. The little man had the most roguish expression you can imagine upon his wizened old face ; and there he was, seated astride of the big rafter over the children's heads, and grinning away at them, as if he had just heard or else made the best joke in the world, and was thoroughly en- joying it. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 109 The children looked up at this strange being in the oreatest surprise, and stared as if the eyes would come out of their heads. The little man laughed all the more as he saw them staring, and then suddenly stopping his laughter, he proceeded to do something still more extraordinary than the egg trick. He drew up his legs, turned ra})idly head over heels, and then hung by his toes from the rafter, swinging himself to and fro like the pendulum of a clock. Then he jerked himself up again after a curious fashion, threw his legs once more over the rafter, cocked his velvet cap jantily on one side, and looking down on the chil- dren with an air indescribably comical, exclaimed in a clear voice, though rather slu'ill — "Well ! how are ye, my chickabiddies, and how do ye like the looks of me ? " For a moment not one of the children could find words to answer, so utterly bewildered were they by the un- expected sight of their visitor. Presently, however, Dick summoned up his courage and replied to the question — *' We are all pretty well, sir, thank you. But how did you get up there ? " At this the old man went oft' into another fit of laughter, so violent that the children began to think he would certainly burst, or tumble down on his head, or do some- thing else equally unpleasant; however, after a little while he recovered himself, and winking at them with a comical eye, replied as follows : — " Ay, don't you \/onder how I got up here? It's more than you could do, Master Dick, or your brother Bill tliere either ! " The children were more than ever surprised at hearing that the little old man knew their names, and greatly wondered who or what he could be. So Dick resolved to continue his inquiries, and accordingly ajrain addressed his new acquaintance. " Pray, sir," said he, " do you live un there, or where do you live 1 " " And what's your name?" shouted Bill. "And why do you sit across the rafter?" asked Polly. ■',<, ^y;" "!.p^w ::• i' |!li: !!t mill Hfiil ll'l iii mil 1 Ml! I I ll'l!' I ihi'i !!t"i liii't lit! I in I|! lll'i III I ■ *^* -'• . no THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. "And why are you dressed all in red V demanded Jessie. The three younger children having gathered ^^ourage to speak, and being equally with their el lest brothei desirous of information, all uttered these exclamations at oiice with great eagerness. " Oh dear ! what a lot of questions ! " said the little man, with a real or pretended sigh. " I don't tell every- thing to everybody, you must know; becaus-3 if I did, I should have nothing left to tell anybody else " *' But," said Dick seriously, " if you told everybody, there wouldn't be anybody else left to want to be toldj so that couldn't be a real reason.'' "Couldn't it?" said the little man gravely; "then per- haps it isn't. I never thought of that. But don't let us argue : there is nothing such a bore as a child that argues, especially if it argues with people older than itself; and I am much older — oh ! hundreds of times older than you are, you know. Why, I'm older than the barn." " Are you really ? " exclaimed all the children, to whom the barn appeared a place of vast antiquity, and who accordingly looked upon the littk old man as a prodigy of old age; as perhaps indeed he was, without any reference to the barn. "Yes, I am really," continued the little old man : "I am as old as the hills, if you know how old that is; and I suppose mortals do, for I have often heard them use the expression. And as to telling, I don't mind telling you children who I am, because you are good children, and play without quarrelling, which is what I like. Besides, you seem to belong to the barn, and so do I; so we ought to be friends, you see. I am the King of the Barn Elves. I dress in red, because I like that color; I sit on a rafter, because I choose to do so ; and my name is Ruby, for any * because ' you please. " As the old man spoke, he winked his eyes and nodded his head in the most extraordinary and ludicrous manner, and chuckled audibly as he concluded. " Bi t where are the elves you are king over?" said little Jessie, her large blue eyes wide open with astonishment. 4 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Ill " Yes, where are they ? I don't see any elves," added Polly. "That you shall soon see," cried the little man; and elevating his voice, he cried, in clear, shrill tones — " Forward come, ye merry elves! Hide ye silently no more ; Fear not now to show yourselves, — Sport upon the ancient floor. Raise your voices loud and clear. Henceforth be no longer dumb ; None but friendly folk are here, — Horse and foot together come ! " He ceased, and the children, who were now standing at the end of the barn floor very near ' e door, were witnesses of the extraordinary scene which followed. Numbers of little beings, none of whom was quite as tall as their king, but whose average height might have been six inches or thereabouts, darted from every side on to the floor. They were dressed in all kinds of colors and costumes, and wore all sorts of hats and caps upon their heads. Their faces were like those of ordinary human beings on a very small scale, and their shape was generally good and graceful. The greater part of them were on foot, and came dancing and skipping on to the barn floor as merrily as need be. But a considerable number were mounted on rats, with saddles and bridles all complete, and evidently well trained to act as ch-argers for their little riders. Some of them, however, were rather unruly; and if they had not been too much amazed to laugh, the children would have roared to see one rat rearing, another kicking, and a third shying, to the great and manifest discomfiture of those who bestrode them. In a very few seconds, however, the band of elves ranged themselves in some order; and then one of them — a dapper little fellow clad entirely in yellow, with a roA cap upon his head — came forward from the rest, and said : — ** What would King Ruby with the band Who readily obey his call ? For peace or war alike we stand, Prepared t' obey him, one and all ! " T'T' 112 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. V- > III '"'" 'I mill I'l iiilM 'II 1 1 liiM i; iii»1 'i nil •i Hi! I'i As he listened to these words, the little man bowed graciously, and then proceeded as follows : — " Good Flitterkin, full well we know How readily our elves obey : These mortal babes I fain would show A little of our elfin play." At these words the elf who had been addressed as Flitterkin, made a low and respectful bow; and turning round to his companions, gave them the signal to com- mence their games, which they were by no means slow to obey. And such games they were 1 you never saw anything so extraordinary. They twisted themselves into the most fantastic shapes, turned head over heels, jumped leap- frog fashion one over the other, tripped each other up, end were evidently up to all kinds of mischief ; though all, as the children observed, in perfect good humor. Then those who were mounted on rats ran races, and engaged in tilting matches with straws, and jumped over straw fences set up for the occasion ; and, in short, indulged in every kind of amusement you can imagine. They were in the very midst of their fun, and the chil- dren were watching them with the keenest delight, when all of a sudden the door at the end of the barn was opened, and in came Tom the waggoner for a truss of straw. In less time than it takes me to write it, every elf had dis- appeared like magic, and the whole scene had vanished from the sight of the astonished children. Queer Folk. <( u auAiis. Mary Howitt (b. 1804). Bit-by-bit ! " says the Quail in the rye, — Bit-by-bit ! " as we wander by ; Down in the flax and the clover sweet, Down at the roots of the flowering wheat, Close on their nests the Quail-mothers sit, And say to each other, "Bit-by-bit!" g0 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. nan bowed cldressed as Liid turning iial to com- ?ans slow to ,\v anything ito the most ed leapfrog [ler up, and lough all, as nor. Then and engaged over straw indulged in md the chil- elight, when was opened, straw. In elf had dis- lad vanished Queer Folk. e, ^heat, rs sit, ^it*M And bit-by-bit is wrought the spell Wliich wakens life and bursts the shell. the early summer's new - mown swath. In the flowers of the later aftermath. Still the Quail-fathers' simple wit Is ever repeating, " Bit-by-bit ! " And bit-by -bit the year moves on ; Day after day, and summer is gone; Then winter comes, and skewer and spit Make an end of the poor Quails bit-by-bit ! With the Birds. f. t'll 1 ^rm I, 114 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSON'S, I I' i t m "GRAY EAGLE" AND HIS FIVE BROTHERS. {A Legend of the Wif/wam. ) There were six falcons living in a nest, five of whom were still too young to fly, when it so happened that both the parent birds were shot in one day. The young brood waited anxiously for their return ; but night came, and they were left without parents and without food. Gray Eagle, the eldest, and the only one whose feathers had become stout enough to enable him to leave the nest, took his \ ace at the head of the family, and assumed the duty of stifling their cries and providing the little house- hold with food; in which he was very successful. But, after a short time had passed, by an unlucky mischance, while out on a foraging excursion, he got one of his wings THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 115 OTHERS. [ve of whom ?d that both roung brood ft came, and lod. lose feathers [ve the nest, [assumed the little house- issful. But, ly mischance, lof his wings broken. This was the more to be regretted, as the season had arrived when they were soon to go to a southern country to pass the winter, and the children were only waiting to become a little stronger and more expert on the winu: to set out on the journey. Finding tliat their eldest V)rother did not return, they resolved to go in search of him. After beating up and down the country for the better part of a whole day, they at last found him, sorely wounded and unable to Hy, lodged in the upper branches of a sycamore-tree. " Brothers," said Gray Eagle, as soon as they were gathered around, and had questioned him as to the extent of his injuries, "an accident has befallen me, but let not this prevent your going to a warmer climate. Winter is rapidly approaching, and you cannot remain here. It is better that I alone should die, than for you all to suffer on my account." "No, no," they replied, with one voice. "We will not forsake you. We will share your sufferings ; we will abandon our journey, and take care of you as you did of us before we were able to take care of ourselves. If the chill climate kill you, it shall kill us. Do you think we can so soon forget your brotherly care, which has equalled a father's, and even a mother's kindness ? Whether you live or die, we will live or die with you." They sought out a hollow tree to winter in, and contrived to carry their wounded nest-mate thither ; and before the rigor of the season had set in, they had by diligence and economy stored up food enough to carry them through the winter months. To make the provisions they had laid in last the better, it was agreed among them that two of their number should go south ; leaving the other three to watch over, feed, and protect their wounded brother. The travellers set forth, sorry to leave home, but resolved that the first promise of spring should bring them back again. At the close of day, the three brothers who remained, mounting to the very top of the tre<^, with Gray Eagle in their arms, watched them, as they vanished away southward, till their forms blended with the air and were wholly lost to sight. 31 I ?'■" 11 116 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. I| Ml'" ' 'l!''' tli|ii i; Mit'i in I tiiin i|i>>i 1:1. „ ,, I !! Their next business was to set the household in order; and tliis, with the judicious direction of Gray Eagle, who was propped up in a snug fork, with soft cushions of dry moss, they speedily accomplished. One of the brothers took upon himself the charge of nursing Gray Eagle, — preparing his food, bringing him water, and changing his pillows when he grew tired of one position. He also looked to it that the house itself was kept in a tidy con- dition, and that the pantry was supplied with food. To the second brother was assigned the duty of physician, and he was to prescribe such herbs and other medicines as the state of the health of Gray Eagle seemed to require. As the second brother had no other invalid on his visiting- list, he devoted the time not given to the cure of his patient, to the killing of game wherewith to stock the housekeeper's larder; so that, whatever he did, he was always busy in the line of professional duty — killing or curing. On his hunting excursions, Doctor Falcon carried with him his youngest brother, who, being a foolish young fellow, and inexperienced in the ways of the world, it was not thought safe to trust alone. In due time, what with good nursing, and good feeding, and good t;"r. Gray Eagle recovered from his wound, and he repaid the kindness of his brothers by giving them such advice and instruction in the art of hunting as his age and experience qualified him to impart. As spring advanced, they began to look about for the means of replenishing their store-house, whose supplies were running low ; and they were all quite successful in their quest except the youngest, whose name was Peepi, or the Pigeon-Hawk, and who had of late begun to set up for himself. Being small and foolish, and feather-headed, flying hither and yonder without any set purpose, it so happened that Peepi always came home, so to phrase it, with an empty game-bag, and his pinions terribly rumpled. At last Gray Eagle spoke to him, and demanded the cause of his ill-luck. "It is not my smallness nor weakness of body," Peepi answered, " that prevents my bringing home provender as well as my brothers. I am all the time on the wing, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 117 smanded the liitlior and thitlior. I kill ducks and other birds every time I go out ; but just as I g<'t to the woods, on my way honu^, 1 am met by a large ko-ko-ho, who robs me of my prey; and," added Peepi, with great encTgy, ''it's my settled opinion that the villain lies in wait for the very purpose of doing so." " I have no doubt you are right, Brother Peepi," rejoined (Jray Eagle. "I know this i>irate — his name is White Owl ; and now that I feel my strength fully recovered, I will go out with you to-morrow and help you to look after this greedy bush-ranger." The next day they went forth in company, and arrived at a fine fresh-water lake. Gray Eagle seated himself hard by, while Peepi started out, and soon pounced upon a duck. " Well done ! " thought his brother, who saw his suc- cess ; but just as little Peepi was getting to land with his prize, up sailed a large white owl from a tree where he too had been watching, and laid claim to it. He was on the point of wresting it from Peepi, when Gray Eagle, calling out to the intruder to desist, rushed up, and, fixing liis talons in both sides of the owl, without further intro- duction or ceremony, flew away with liim. The little Pigeon-Hawk followed closely, with the duck under his wing, rejoiced and happy to think that he had something to carry home at last. He was naturally much vexed with the owl, and had no sooner delivered over the duck to the housekeeper than he flew in the owl's face, and, venting an abundance of reproachful terms, would, in his passion, have torn the very eyes out of the White Owl's head. " Softly, Peepi," said the Gray Eagle, stepping in be- tween them. *' Don't be in such a hufl", my little brother, nor exhibit so revengeful a temper. Do you not know that we are to forgive our enemies ! — White Owl, you may go ; but let this be a lesson to you, not to play the tyrant over those who may chance to be weaker than your- self." So, after adding to this much more good advice, and telling him what kind of herbs would cure his wounds, :|i. 118 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Hi' » '; ; 1 111 I iR h i» > i'. t • - ii^ -*' - ■■1 , L 11 Gray Eagle dismissed White Owl, and the brothers sat down to supper. The next day. betimes in the morning, before the house- hold had fairly rubbed the cobwebs out of the corners of the\r eyes, there came a knock at the front door — which was a dry branch laid before the hollow of the tree in which they lodged — and being called to come in, who should make their appearance but the two nest -mates, who had just returned from the South, where they had been wintering. There was great rejoicing over their re- turn ; and now that they were all happily re-united, each one soon chose a mate, and began to keep house in the woods for himself. Spring had now revisited the North. The cold winds had all blown themselves away ; the ice had melted, the streams were open, and smiled as they looked at the blue sky once more ; and the forests, far and wide, in their green mantles, echoed every cheerful sound. But it is in vain that spring returns, and that the heart of Nature is opened in bounty, if we are not thankful to the Master of Life, who has preserved us through the winter. Nor does that man answer the end for which he was made who does not show a kind and charitable feel- ing to all who are in want or sickness, especially to his blood relations. The love and harmony of Gray Eagle and his brothers continued. They never forgot one another. Every week, on the fourth afternoon of the week (for that was the time when they had found their wounded eldest brother), they had a meeting in the hollow of the old sycamore-tree, when they talked over family matters, and advised with one another, as brothers sliould, about their affairs. Schoolcraft's Indian Legends, Edited by Matthews. On Tuesday last A falcon, towering in her pride of place, Was by a mousing owl hawked at and killed. Shakspeare : Macbeth, ii. 4. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 119 brothers sat lat the heart thankful to through the 'or which he aritable feel- cially to his his brothers Every week, was the time rother), they -e-tree, when. id with one Matthews. KILLARNEY. Lord Macaulay (1800-1859.) The south-western part of Kerry is now well known as the most beautiful tract in the British Isles. The moun- tains, the glens, tlie capes stretching far into the Atlantic, the crags on which the eagles build, the rivulets brawling down rocky passes, the lakes overhung by groves in whicli the wild deer tind covert, attract every summer crowds of wanderers sated with the business and the pleasures of great cities. The beauties of that country are, indeed, too often hidden in the mist and rain which the west wind lij 1 frf ^ !''H r '. 1 1 ■ iji, 1 i ■.'.\ j \ j ' 4 ■ji .; 1 • ^fi ' ■il "! : I !!' iiiiiir. ' (.,' hiliil 'T't ■ nilM 111 ; liiMiti!!; ■M til' 1 ■ I ii||h ii> > 'Ml, li ii=:: ' 1 i ! 1 ' , 1 i 1 !■ Li. li i; 120 THIED BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. brings up from a boundless ocean ; but, on the rare days when the sun shines out in all his glory, the landscape has a freshness and a warmth of coloring seldom found in our latitude. The myrtle loves the soil. The arbutus thrives better than even on the sunny shore of Calabria. The turf is of livelier hue than elsewhere, the hills glow with a richer purple, the varnish of the holly and ivy is more glossy, and berries of a brighter red peep through foliage of a brighter green. But during the greater part of the seventeenth century this paradise was as little known to the civilized world as Spitzbergen or Greenland. If ever it was mentioned, it was mentioned as a horrible desert, a chaos of bogs, thickets, and precipices, where the she-wolf still littered, and where some half-naked savages, who could not speak a word of English, made themselves burrows in the mud, and lived on roots and sour milk. History of England^ chap. xii. GLENCOE. Lord Macaulay. [Glencoe was, on the night of February 13, 1692, the scene of the atrocious massacre of the clan MacDonald, and of their chief Maclan.] In the Gaelic tongue, Glencoe signifies the " Glen of Weeping ;" and, in truth, that pass is the most dreary and melancholy of all the Scottish passes, the very Valley of the Shadow of Death. Mists and storms brood over it through the greater part of the finest summer ; and even on those rare days when the sun is bright, and when there is no cloud in the sky, the impression made by the land- scape is sad and awful. The path lies along a stream which issues from the most sullen and gloomy of mountain pools. Huge precipices of naked stone frown on both sides. Even in July the streaks of snow may often be discerned in the rifts near the summits. All down the sides of the crags heaps of ruin mark the headlong paths of the torrents. Mile after mile the traveller looks in vain for the smoke of one hut, or for one human form wrapped in a plaid, and listens in vain for the bark of a shepherd's V J <. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS, 121 dog or the bleat of a lamb. Mile after mile the only sound that indicates life is the faint cry of a bird of prey from some storm-beaten pinnacle of rock. The progress of civilization, which has turned so many wastes into tields yellow with harvests or gay with apple-blossoms, has only made Glencoe more desolate. All the science and industry of a peaceful age can extract nothing valuable from that wilderness ; but, in an age of violence and rapine, the wilderness itself was valued on account of the shelter which it afforded to the plunderer and his plunder. History of England y chap, xviii. 5 scene of the hief Maclan.] THE DOG AT HIS MASTER'S GRAVE. Lydia Sigourney, n^e Huntly (1791-18G5). " lie will not come," said the gentle child ; And she patted the poor dog's head. And she pleasantly called him, and fondly smiled: Ill !" .>i;i !iii;iliii III iiiii t iM)l I!'" Mi •"' i I III. i ' '"" I i ,-i.|ll:J •111,, Dm ii. >i |i!' 122 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. But he heeded her not in his anguish wild, Nor arose from his lowly bed. 'Twas his master's grave whei'e he chose to rest — He guarded it night and day ; The love that glowed in his grateful breast, For the friend who had fed, controlled, caressed, Might never fade away. And when the long grass rustled near. Beneath some hastening tread, He started up with a quivering ear ; For he thought 'twas the step of his master dear. Returning from the dead. But sometimes, when a storm drew nigh, ^ And the clcuds were dark and Heet, He tore the turf with a mournful cry. As if he would force his way, or die. To his much-loved master's feet. So there, through the summer's heat, he lay, Till autumn nights grew bleak. Till his eye grew dim with his hope's decay. And he pined, and pined, and wasted away, A skeleton gaunt and weak. And oft the pitying children brought Their offerings of meat and bread. And to coax him away to their homes they sought; But his buried master he ne'er forgot. Nor strayed from his lonely bed. Cold winter came, with an angry sway, And the snow lay deep and sore ; Then his moaning grew fainter day by day. Till, close where the broken tomb-stone lay. He fell, t) rise no more. And when he struggled with mortal pain. And Death was by his side, With one loud cry, that shook the plain, He called for his master — but called in vain ; Then stretched himself, and died. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 123 5e to rest — A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA. Allan Cunningham (1784-1842). A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows idst, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast ; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. Oh, for a soft and gentle wind ! I heard a fair one cry ; But give to me the snorting breeze And white waves heaving high ; And white waves heaving high, my lads, The good ship tight and free — The world of waters is our home, And merry men are we. There 's tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud ; But hark the music, mariners ! The wind is piping loud ; The wind is piping loud, my boys. The lightning flashes free — While the hollow oak our palace is, Our heritage the sea. THE PITCHER-PLANT OR INDIAN CUP. Very many of my readers, I suppose, have seen the little plant about which I wish to speak — the pitcher-plant or side-saddle flower, called sometimes "Indian cup" and "huntsman's cup." It is common in the northern and eastern parts of America ; and farther south are other kinds quite similar to the northern species. The pitcher- plant grows in bogs and wet m.eadows, and is so singular in appearance that any one who cares to notice the curious 1: i 124 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. w " Mill III; "'I' I" 1 !' ., •nil "" ""I ih II iV: ii, 1 forms of plants and all the wonderful little things that are everywhere about us, but which are not seen until we look for them with eyes of interest, — any one who cares for these things could hardly fail to notice this curious plant. Now, what is the use of these curious pitchers? For we are not to suppose that leaves would be changed into such wonderful shapes by their wise Maker without some reason for it. Well, the only use that we know of is to catch insects. That is a very queer thing for plants to do, to be sure ; yet several kinds do it in different ways, and this pitcher-plant does it. The little pitchers are commonly half full of rain-water, and great numbers of flies and other insects are drowned in it. These insects remain in the water and decay, thus forming, doubtless, a rich fertilizer for the plant to feed upon ; and this, perhaps, is the object of the singularly-shaped leaves. But whatever the object, the insects are caught ; and it is not by accident either, for, curiously enough, there is an arrangement to prevent any bugs that have crawled into the pitcher from coming out again. The erect lid or hood projecting above the rest is the part upon which the insect would naturally alight to crawl in, in fact a sort of door- step or pathway into the pitcher ; and this lid is covered on the inside with fine, stiff, and pointed hairs or bristles, which all point downwards towavd the water inside. So, although they do not hinder the insect from entering^ they effectually stop its coming out. And once in the water (which perhaps was the attraction that caused it to enter), there it stays till it dies. The pitcher-plant, then, is a simple but effectual ^y-^ra;^. We may suppose that some of the insects, by using their wings, could escape before getting into the water ] but certainly many, if not all, of the insects which once enter the pitcher never escape, but remain there and die. When tempted to enter the path of wrong, let us think of the bristles which keep the fly in when once it has entered the mouth of the pitcher. Let us stop before we find it too late to turn and reach again the freedom of happiness and innocence. W. S. Harris in the Christian Monthly. is. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 125 lings that are until we look ho cares for rious plant, tellers ? For changed into nthout some [low of is to plants to do, it ways, and re commonly ies and other main in the ich fertilizer is the object Lght ; and it 1, there is an crawled into } lid or hood :h. the insect ort of door- i is covered i or bristles, inside. So, itering, they the water it to enter), then, is a e that some cape before not all, of escape, but et us think once it has before we freedom of m Monthly. THE MIDNIGHT WIND. William Motherwell (1797-1836). Mournfully, oh, mournfully This midnight wind doth sigh ! Like some sweet, plaintive melody Of ages long gone by. It speaks a tale of other years, Of hopes that bloomed to die ; Of sunny smiles that set in tears, And loves that mouldering lie. Mournfully, oh, mournfully This midnight wind doth moan 1 It stirs some chord of memory In each dull, heavy tone ; The voices of the much-loved dead Seem floating thereupon — All, all my fond heart cherished Ere death had made it lone. Mournfully, oh, mournfully This midnight wind doth swell, With its quaint, pensive minstrelsy ! — Hope's passionate farewell To the dreamy joys of early years, — Ere yet grief's canker fell On the heart's bloom — ay ! well may tears Start at that parting knell ! hi u M 126 i'HIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ON FINDING A SMALL FLY CRUSHED IN A BOOK. Chaules (Tennyson) Turner. Some hand, tluat never meant to do thee hurt, Has crushed thee here between these pages pent ; But thou hast left thine own fair monument, — Thy wings gleam out and tell me what thou wert. O that the memories which survive us here Were half as lovely as these wings of thine ! Pure relics of a blameless life, that shine Now that thou art gone. Our doom is ever near ; The peril is beside us day by day ; The book will close upon us, it may be, Just as we lift ourselves to soar away Upon the summer airs. But, unlike thee. The closing book may stop our vital breath, Yet leave no lustre on our page of death. THE BLUE BIRD. Alkxanper Wilson (17C6-1813). [The following description of the Bhie Bird has become a " classical quotation " in the literature of American birds. This beautiful bird— so familiar to us in Canada — was by Swainson named after his biogra- pher, Wilson's Blue Bird {Sialia Wilsonii).] The pleasing manners and sociable disposition of this little bird entitle him to particular notice. As one of the first messengers of spring, bringing the charming tidings to our very doors, he bears his own recommendation always along with him, and meets with a hearty welcome from every- body. Though generally accounted a bird of passage, yet so early as the middle of February, if the weather be open, he usually makes his appearance about his old haunts, the barn, orchard, and fence posts. Storms and deep snows sometimes succeeding, he disappears for a tii .e ; but about the middle of March he is again seen, accompanied by his mate, visiting the box in the garden, or the hole in the old apple-tree, the cradle of some generations of his ancestors. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 127 IN A BOOK. mo a " classical *' When ho first begins his amours," says a curious and correct observer, " it is pleasing to behold his courtship, his solicitude to please and to secure tlie favor of liis beloved female. He uses the tenderest expressions, sits close by her, caresses and sings to her his most endearing warblings. When seated together, if he espies an insect delicious to her taste, he takes it up, flies with it to her, spreads his wing over her, and ])uts it in her mouth."' If n rival makes his appearance — for they are ardent in Iheir loves — he quits her in a moment, attacks and pursues the intruder as he shifts from place to place in tones that be- speak the jealousy of his affection, conducts him with many reproofs beyond the extremities of his territory, and njtums to warble out his transports of triumph beside his beloved mate. The preliminaries being thus settled, and the spot ilxed on, they begin to clean out the old nest and the rub- bish of the former year, and to prepare for the reception of their future offspring. Soon after this, the House Wren, another sociable little pilgrim, also arrives from the south, and, finding such a snug berth preoccupied, he shows his spite by watching a convenient opportunity, in the ab- sence of the owner, of popping in and pulling out sticks ; but he takes special care to make off as fast as possible. The Blue Bird lays five and sometimes six eggs, >^f a pale- blue color; and raises two, and sometimes three broods in a season ; the male taking the youngest under his par- ticular care while the female is again sitting. Their principal foods are insects, particularly large beetles that lurk among old, dead, and decaying trees. Spiders are also a favorite repast with them. In the fall, they occa- sionally regale themselves on the berries of the sour gum ; and, as winter approaches, on those of the red cedar, and on the fruit of a rough hairy vine that runs up and cleaves fast to the trunks of trees. The usual spring and summer song of the Blue Bird is a soft, agreeable, and oft-repeated warble, uttered with open quivering wings, and is extremely pleasing. In his motions and general character he has great resemblance to the Bobin Redbreast of Britain ; and had he the brown olive of that bird, instead of his own blue, he could scarcely ' htlll) 1 1« I 128 THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. he distinguished from him. Like him, he is knovn to ahnost every child ; and shows as much confidence in man by associating with him in summer as the other by liis familiarity in winter. He is also of a mild and peaceful disposition, seldom fighting or quarrelling with other birds. His society is courted by the inhabitants of the country ; and few farmers neglect to provide for him, in some suit- able place, a snug little summer-house, ready fitted and rent free. For this he more than sufficiently repays them by the cheerfulness of his song, and by the multitude of injurious insects which he daily destroys. Towards fall, that is, in the month of October, his song changes to a single plaintive note, as he passes over the yellow many- colored woods ; and its melancholy air recalls to our minds the approaching decay of the face of nature. Even after the trees are stripped of their leaves, he still lingers over his native fields, as if loath to leave them. About the middle or end of November, few or none of them are seen ; but, with every return of mild and open weather^ we hear his plaintive note amidst the fields, or in the air, seeming to deplore the devastation of winter. Indeed, he appears scarcely ever totally to forsake us, but to follow fair weather through all its journey ings till the return of spring. Such are the mild and pleasing maiiners of the Blue Bird, and so universally is he esteemed, that I have often regretted that no pastoral muse has yet arisen in this Western woody world, to do justice to his name, and endear him to us still more by the tenderness of verso, as has been done to hi^; representative in Britain, the Robin Redbreast. A small acknowledgment of this kind I have to offer, which the reader, I hope, will excuse as a tribute to rural innocence : — When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more, Green meadows and brown furrowed fields reappearing, The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore, And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering ; When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing. When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing ; — O then comes the Blue Bird, the herald of spring ! And hails with its warblings the charms of the season. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 120 Tlion loiul-pipiiig frogs make the niarslies to ring ; Then warm glows tlie sunsliine, and tine is the weather ; Tlie blue woodland flowers just beginning to .spring, And Hpicewood and sassafras budding togetlier; — < ) then to your gardens ye housewives repair, Your walks border uj), sow and j)lant at your leisure ; The Blue Bird will chant from his box such an air, That all your hard toils will seem truly a plejusure! lie flits through the orchard, he visits each tree. The red flowering peach, and the api)le's sweet blossoms ; lie snaps up destroyers wherever tliey be, And seizes the caititfs that lurk in their bosoms; lie drags the vile grub from the corn it devours, The worms from their webs where they riot and welter; His song and his services freely are ours. And all that he asks is — in summer a shelter. The ploughman is pleased wh6n he gleans in his train. Now searching the furrows — now mounting to cheer liini ; The gard'ner delights in his sweet simple strain, And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him ; The slow ling'ring schoolboys forget they '11 be chid, While gazing intent as he warbles before them, In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red. That each little loiterer seems to adore him. When all the gay scenes of the summer are o'er, And autumn slow enters so silent and sallow. And millions of warblers, that charmed us before. Have fled in the train of the sun-seeking swallow ; The Blue Bird forsaken, yet true to his home, Still lingers, and looks for a milder to-morrow, Till, forced by the horrors of winter to roam. He sings his adieu in a lone note of sorrow. While spring's lovely season, serene, dewy, warm, The green face of earth, and the pure blue of heaven, Or love's native music have influence to charm, Or sympathy's glow to our feelings are given. Still dear to each bosom the Blue Bird shall be ; — His voice, like the thrillings of hope, is a treasure ; For, through bleakest storms, if a calm he but see. He comes to remind us of sunshine and pleasure. American Ornithology. 9 If i II if 130 THllll) BOOK OF HEADINU LESSONS. tit- 1( 4 ■"■' I IT It" t iV SELF-HELP. KkV. C. II. Sl'lMUlKON. Nobody is surpriMiMl fo rojid (luit CorncliuH VandcM'MIl hlistcri'd his hands rowiiiijj a ferry hoat, Nobody is sin prisinl to ]u\ir tliat A. T. Stt^vart. uhimI to Hwocp out his own stoiv. You oan tliink of thoso wlio had it very hard who hav(^ now i>-ot it v(»ry (\'isv. ThiMr walls l)h)SHoni and hlooin with piotun's : carix^ts ihatinaiU'! foreign h)oins hiui,di now kiss tlieir iool. Tho horsos n(Mgh and chani)) tli(»ir hils at tho nco by looking out of the window at night into another window, and seeing a man turn olF one sheet after another of writing paper until almost the davbreak. Who was it tliat wrote until the morning? It was Walter Scott. Who was it that looked at him from the opposite \vindow 1 It >vas Lockhart, after- wards his illustrious biograplier. It is push and struggle and drive. There are mountains to scale, there are rivers to ford, and there has been struggle for everybody that gained anything for themseh . o, or anything for the Church, or gained anything for the world. THE HERITAGE. James Russell Lowell (b. 1810). What doth the poor man's son inherit ? — Stout muscles and a sinewy heart, A hardy frame, a hardier spirit ; King of two hands, he does his part In every useful toil and art ; — ys. iM Vau(l(M'l>ilt ()l)0(ly \h sm AV(M'|> out lus I it very hard MoHsum and n looiuH lauij;h aiup tlu'iv l)ils [ tlu* nirrin^c rk life. Wi.o < i\stat<' si mi!,' There was ii n, with a IomI' the streets of ilosopluT, out in. All indo iug out of the Heeiuij: a luan g paper until •ote until tin* it that looked |ockhart, after- 1 and struggle lore arc rivers rcrybody tliat r the Church, mil- iart Tirrnn hook ob ukaixno lf.ssons. lai ' ^iCrWittf i lieritn.<,'e, it HeeiriH io me, \\WfWfm \\ ' A \i\\v^ iiiiglit wish to hold iu ij| ^'j y . ' iK W'liiit (lotli tlie poor iiuui's sou ' Ul . ' inherit f-»— VVisheH oV'r joyed with hiiiiihle thing's, A rank jidjudi^'ed to toil worn ,(« merit, :'V4 , Content tlwit from em|)lf)y- ment Hpi'in^H, A heart that in his lab(;r , Hin« A king might wish to hold in ik' ^ ^i^'^ man's son ! there is a toil That with all other level ^ 'aJ*^" • stands ; Large charity doth never soil, But only whitens, soft white hands ; This is the best crop from thy lands ; — A heritage, it seems to me, Worth being rich to hold in fee. ONTARIO COLLEGi^ C-F EDUCATIOM •4] ' *1 ' <3 ;it^' s: III * ,i! '■^■' ■I: J nil I Kill' I'll Miili III. '«"l I •"•ii i|' 132 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. THE TWENTY-THIRD PSALM. The Lord my pasture shall prepare, And feed me with a shepherd's caie ; His presence shall my wants supply, And guard me with a watchful eye ; My noonday walks he shall attend, And all my midnight hours defend. When in the sultry glebe I faint, Or on the thirsty mountain pant, To fertile vales and dewy meads My weary, wand'ring steps he leads ; Where peaceful rivers, soft and slow. Amid the verdant landscape flow. Though in the paths of death I tread, With gloomy horrors overspread, jNIy steadfast heart shall feel no ill ; For thou, O Lord, art with me still ! Thy friendly crook shall give me aid, And guide me through the dreadful shade. Though in a bare and rugged way, Through devious, lonely wilds, I stray, Thy bounty shall my wants beguile ; The barren wilderness shall smile, With sudden greens and herbage crowned. And streams shall murmur all around. Addison : Tke Spectatoi' (No. 4H) ^^1^^ THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 133 P x\ E T III. -♦♦- . 1; THE HAPPY VALLEY. Samuel Johnson (1709-1784). [Rasselas, from which tliis extiact is taken, wan written in the evenings of one week (1751)) ; and out of the proceeds Johnson paid the expenses of his mother's funeral.] The place which the wisdom or policy of antiquity had destined for the residence of the Abyssinian princes was a spacious valley in the kingdom of Amhara, surrounded on every side by mountains, of which the summits overhang fii I ill I'm I'll' II! I| I M'l ill ' *"'<* '«l| i Mil I 4*l''h ill! >• ..I ' ■'"' • i|il,:„ r 1 k, ,, I 134 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. the middle part. The only passage by which it could be •entered was a cavern that passed under a rock, of which it has been long disputed whether it was the work of Nature or of human industry. The outlet of the cavern was con- cealed by a thick wood ; and the mouth, which opened into the valley, was closed with gates of iron forged by the artificers of ancient days, so massy that no man could, without the help of engines, open or shut them. From the mountains, on every side, rivulets descended, that filled all the valley with verdure and fertility, and fori_ied a lake in the middle, inhabited by fish of every species, and frequented by every fowl which nature has taught to dip the wing in water. This lake discharged its superfluities by a stream, which entered a dark cleft of the mountain on the northern side, and fell with dreadful noise, from precipice to precipice, till it was heard no more. The sides of the mountains were covered with trees. The banks of the brooks were diversified with flowers. Every blast shook spices from the rocks, and every month dropped fruits upon the ground. All animals that bite the grass or browse the shrub, whether wild or tame, wandered in this extensive circuit, secured from beasts of prey by the mountains which confined them. On one part were flocks and herds feeding in the pastures; on another, all the beasts of chase frisking in the lawns ; the sprightly kid was bounding on the rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in the trees, and the solemn elephant reposing i ii the shade. All the diversities of the world were brought together , the blessings of nature were collected, and its evils extracted and excluded. The valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its inhabitants with the necessaries of life ; and all delights and super- fluities were added at the annual visit which the emperor paid his children, when the iron gate was opened to the sound of music, and during eight days every one that resided in the valley was required to propose whatever might contribute to make seclusion pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of attention,"^ and lessen the tediousness of the time. Every desire was immediately granted. All the * Vacancies of attention, hours not otherwise occupied. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 135 artificers of pleasure* were called to gladden the festivity: the musicians exerted the power of harmony, and the dancers showed their activity before the princes, in hope that they should pass their lives in this blissful captivity, to which those only were admitted whose performance was thought capable of adding novelty to luxury. Such was the appearance of security and delight which this retirement afforded, that they to whom it was new always desired that it might be perpetual ; and as those on whom the iron gate had once closed were never suffered to return, the effect of long experience could not be known. Thus every year produced new schemes of delight and new competitors for imprisonment Rasselas, Prince of Abtjssinia. HOME THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD. ( Written in Italy.) Robert Browning (b. 1812). Oh, to be in England, Now that April 's there ! And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning unaware. That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, "While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough, In England — now. And after April, when May follows. And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows; Hark ! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field, and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dew-drops at the bent spray's edge — That's the wise thrush : he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture. And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower, Far brighter than this gaudy melon flower ! Tliose whose office it was to devise new forms of pleasure. * ii i I! ' Mil)' ' ■I » !| ■ !• ,,, ill Wlii-'t II'! ■ 'll ' »*.>| 1 ill . niiiii . ». (I , I M II. I <»„'■ "I I nil III W I , nil ;!:;i; Dn ' " 'I' 1114 I II. .| Hill . «l ;l 111 I 111 1 1 I ti II !l jtJl ■15' ' I § 136 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. .If \^ O^^i TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET. Leigh Hunt (1784-1859). Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up * at the feel of June ; Sole voice that's heard amidst the lazv noon, When even tlie bees lag at the summoning brass : f And you, warm little housekeeper, % who class With those who think the candles como too soon. Loving the fire, and with your tricksome tune Nick the glad silent moments as they pass : § * That is, raisin^' your courage. + That is, loiter though their bugler calls. X Addressed to the cricket. § That is, chirp every moment. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 137 Oh, sweet and tiny cousins ! that belong, One to the fields, the other to tlie hearth, Botli have your sunshine ; both, though small, are strong At your clear hearts ; and both were sent on earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song : Indoors and out, summer and winter, — mirth. lidst the lazv candles com(^ our tricksome ents as they THE WORD "KIND." Archbishop Trench (b. 1807). We speak of a kind person, and we speak of man/tt'«f/, and perhaps, if we think about the matter at all, we seem to ourselves to be using quite different words, or the same word in senses quite unconnected. But they are connected, and that by the closest bonds. A " kind " person is a " kinned " person, one of kin ; one who acknowledges and acts upon his kinship with other men, — confesses that he owes to them, as of one blood with himself, the debt of love. And so "mankind " is man-H^mec/. * In the word is contained a declaration of the relationship which exists between all the members of the human family ; and, seeing that this relationshij:), in a race scattered so widely and divided so far asunder, can only be through a common head, we do in fact, every time we use the word " man- kind," declare our faith in the one common descent of the whole race of man. And, beautiful before, how much more beautiful now do the words " kind " and " kindness " appear, when we apprehend the root out of which they grow, — that they are the acknowledgment, in loving deeds, of our kinship with our brethren. How profitable to keep in mind that a lively recognition of the bonds of blood, whether those closer ones which unite us to that which by best right we term our family, or those wider ones which knit us to the whole human family, is the true source out of which all genuine love and affection must spring ; for so much is affirmed by our daily, hourly use of the word. * d excrescent, older form wia/i^m.— SKEAT's Etym. Did. I'l \% U '' it :l 1!; ;!!! I; ^ la.'""::::,, ■' ii-ll Hill""!' I »:^ ir' "MM MH , ■I'* ii 11 . ...■■ 1 'j:;:; ; 1 iii;:::: ■ " «i!;i|: ' J i;ii ""•" , > '", •..>! I Ill,',; " lil,..,|h| t Hi .„ ' .' Hi "' , " t ..,;, . k 'f 1 r' ■ ' ' i ',\ 1 1 j 138 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. THI OPEN WINDOW. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882). The old house by the lindens Stood silent in the shade, And on the gravel pathway The light and shadow played. I saw the nursery win low Wide open to the air ; But the faces of the children, — They were no longer there. The large Newfoundland house-dog Was standing by the door ; He looked for his little playmates, Who would return no more. They walked not under the lindens. They played not in the hall ; But shadow, and silence, and sadness Were hanging over all. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 139 The birds sang in the branches With sweet familiar tone ; Lut the voices of the children Will be heard in dreams alone ! And the boy that walked beside me, He could not understand Why closer in mine, ah ! closer, I pressed his warm, soft hand. THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. yriie Heights of Abraham form the ap])roach to Quebec on the land side. The battle fought there in 1751) between the French and the En^Hsh occurred in the course of the Seven Years' War (175G-03), in which England and Prussia were combined against France, Austria, llussia, and other states. The specific cause of the war in America was the attempt made by the French to cut off the English from the fur-trade with the Indians by a chain of forts from the Lakes to the Mississippi. The expedition against Quebec was commanded by Gen- eral Wolfe, a young officer specially selected by Pitt on account of his ability. The plan of the campaign was, that two armies from the south (under Generals Amherst and Johnson) should join Wolfe before Quebec. After waiting for them in vain, Wolfe attacked the . French camp at the Montmorency on July 31st ; but he v.'as repulsed with considerable loss.] The disaster at the Montmorency broke down the health of Wolfe. His eager and ambitious spirit was housed in a sensitive, frail body. For days he lay in burning fever on his bed. He knew that his country expected much from him. He had been specially chosen by Pitt to com- mand, in the expectation that no danger and no difficulty would daunt him. As he tossed restlessly about, tlie bur- den of his unaccomplished task oppressed him sorely. As if in sympathy with their beloved Oeneral, sickness broke out in the army. For a time the gloom of discouragement rested up' n it. When the fever began to leave him, Wolfe wrote to his generals requiring them to consult over future operations. The obstacles to a successful attack by the Beauport shore were too great. Another plan, suggested, it is said, by General Townsend, was adopted ; but it was kept a pro- found secret. Health returned to the army amid the bustle of preparation. At the end of August, Wolfe, now re- il I 1 1 IP t 1 1 1 ^' ; f If 1 1 ill ;ll' III,'"'" ■HilJIiuiiii ^! ■