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I
w
^hc Hciial iicabcrs.
special Canadian Series.
THIKD BOOK
OF
Eeading Lessons.
With Illustrations from Giacomelli and other Eminent Artists,
Also a Vocabulary of the More Difficult Words.
Authorized by the Minister of Education for use in the
High and Public Schools of Ontario.
3? V U t :
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS,
AND
JAMES CAMPBELL AND SON.
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<l together
in a single glance so many of these " things of beauty "
which the eye loves to feast on and to place in memory as
joys for ever ? f The Great Lone Land {Uth cd., ISTO),
* Tlu' Islo of Orleans.
t Reference to the opening line of Keat's Endymion: —
"A tiling of beauty is a joy for ever."
,,J
t ;
I r
12 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
JACK-IN-THE-PULPIT.*
J. G. Whittier (b. 1808).
Jack-in-the-Pulpit
Preaches to-day,
Under the green trees
Just over the way.
Squirrel and Song-Sparrow,
High on their [)orch.
Hear the sweet Lily-bells
Kinging to church.
Come, hear what his reverence
Rises to say.
In his low, painted pulpit,
This calm Sabbath-day.
Fair is the canopy
Over him seen,
Pencilled, by Nature's hand,
Black, brown, and green :
Green is his surplice.
Green are his bands ;
In his queer little puljnt
The little priest stands.
In black and gold velvet,
So gorgeous to see,
Comes, with his bass voice,
The chorister Bee.
Green fingers playing
Unseen on wind-lyres;
Low, singing-bird voices ;
These are his choirs.
Tlie Violets are deacons;
I know by the sign
That the cups wliich they carry
Are purple with wine.
* Schoolboys' name for Indian turnip [Ariswrna triphyUum),
■ ■il
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
And the Columbines bravely
As sentinels stand
On the lookout, with all their
Red trumpets in hand.
Meek-faced Anemones,
Drooping and sad ;
Great Yellow Violets,
Smiling out glad;
Buttercups' faces,
Beaming and bright ;
Clovers, with bonnets —
Some red and some white ;
Daisies, their white fingers
Half clasped in prayer ;
Dandelions, proud of
The gold of their hair.
Innocents, children
Guileless and frail.
Meek little faces
Upturned and pale ;
Wild-wood Geraniums,
All in their best ;
Languidly leaning
In ])urple gauze dressed ; —
All are assembled.
This sweet Sabbath-day,
To hear what the priest
In his pul[)it will say.
Look ! white Indian pipes
On the green mosses lie !
Who has been smoking
Profanely so nigh 1
. Rebuked by the preacher
The mischief is stopped,
And the sinners, in haste,
Have their little pipes dropped.
Let the wind with tlie fragrance
Of fern and black birch
13
)
i
V'
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f 'iii
I
14
THJEI) BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS,
Blow the smell of the sraokinc:
Clean out of our church !
So much for the preacher :
The sermon comes next ; —
Shall we tell how he preached it, .
And where was his text i
Alas ! like too many
Grown-up folks who play
At worship in churches
]Man-builded, to-day, —
We heard not the preacher
Expound or discuss ;
We looked at the people,
And they looked at us.
We saw all their dresses.
Their colors and shapes ;
The trim of their bonnets.
The cut of their capes.
We heard the wind-organ.
The bee, and the bird,
But of Jack in the pulpit
We heard not a word 1
PLUCK: AN EAST INDIAN FABLE.
A mouse that dwelt near the abode of a great magician
was kept in such constant distress by its fear of a cat,
that the magician, taking pity on it, turned it into a cat.
Immediately it began to suffer from the fear of a dog ; so
the magician turned it into a dog. Then it began to suffer
from the fear of a lion; and the magician turned it into a
lion. Then it began to suffer from the fear of huntsmen ;
and the magician in disgust said, " Be a mouse again. As
you have only the heart of a mouse, it is impossible to help
you by giving you the body of a nobler animal. " And the
poor creature again became a mouse.
So it is with a mouse-hearted man. He may be raised
to high office, and clothed Avitli the authority to undertake
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
15
and execute great enterprises, but he will always betray
the spirit of a mouse. Public opinion is usually the great
magician that finally says to such a person, " Go back to
your obscurity. You have only the heart of a mouse, and
it is useless to try to make a lion out of you."
THE COCK AND THE GOOSE.
A certain cock ruled over a poultry yard. He formed
a friendship with a goose who had fine plumage, had trav-
elled, and had dabbled in the fountain of knowledge :
its gait was not elegant, but it was firm ; its utterance
was not musical, but it was grave and sententious. The
goose advised its friend, the cock, to cut oft' his crest,
which, as the goose said, only excited hostility; and also
to cut off" his spurs, which were useless. The cock com-
})lied, and then went out for a walk with his friend.
The goose, who was very trustful, left the gate of the
poultry yard open. When they returned, the cock went
to his hearth to light up, and saw two gleaming lights
there.
" What strange lights are those ? " exclaimed the cock.
And going nearer he saw that they were the eyes of a cat,
which darted on to him.
He put himself into position for fighting; but as he had
no spurs the CT,t killed him.
The goose, when it beheld this, never ceased repeating,
*' Peace, gentlemen; peace, peace, gentlemen; peac^.
peace, peace ; " but this did not prevent the cat from
making an end of him too.
From the Spanish o/Feknan Cab.\llero.
To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds,
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his gods.
Mac AUL ay's Horatius.
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THIRD BOOK OF REJlVyo LESSONS.
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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.
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1 houm
and
for t»;
Th.
He i^
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fightii
Spj
They
feet I
They
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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.
!|!
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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-
■;:■.<
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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 <lra wing-room, —
just as you may have seen your papa walk up and down
the room, if any one kept him waiting for his dinner. At
last, emerging from tlie forest a long way down tlie
mountain, she saw iMr. Bear slowly walking along, seeming
to be quite loaded with something lie was carrying in his
arms, and which he was afraid of losing. She watched
him as he carefully stepped from rock to rock, and climbed
up the steep path that led to their home; but not till he
n
i
26
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
was safe beside her did she discover that it was a splendid
piece of honey-comb he had brought, holding it tightly
under one paw, while his other arm was employed in
carrying the young green shoots for her breakfast. Mrs.
Bear was indeed delighted at the sight of such a feast, and
forgot all her impatience and discontent. She would not
even wait to ask him how he was so fortunate as to find
honey so early in the spring, but began her meal at once
by devouring the leaves and sweet green boughs that good
Mr. Bear put before her.
He watched her with delight ; he had satisfied his own
hunger in the forest, and could wait quietly for her to
share the honey-comb with him. He had ample time to
take a long look at the sleeping babies before Mrs. Bear
called him to dessert, and asked him to tell her all his
adventures in the forest. Mr. Bear took a nice lump of
honey-comb in his paw, and, sucking out the dainty food,
began his story. •
"You know, my dear," he said, speaking slowly and
deliberately, as a dignified father-bear must, ''the bees
have only just begun to work, and have not yet done more
than begin to fill the combs with honey, and it was only
by a lucky accident that I got you this unlooked-for treat.
As I was sitting on a big bough half-way up a large old
ash tree, I heard an unusual buzzing and whirring below;
so I came down to see what was going on, and there I saw
bees of all sorts and sizes going in and out of a round hole
in the tree : and what puzzled me not a little was, that
instead of going in heavily with their legs all over pollen,
as you know, my dear, we have often seen them do, they
went in busily and quickly, and came out looking heavy
and tired ; so then I knew they must have found a store
of honey in the tree, and the bees that made it must have
died of the cold in winter. You will be sure I would not
leave them to enjoy such a feast alone. I soon tore down
the bark, and found that lovely piece of comb you are
enjoying so much ; but oh, the trouble and time it cost
me to bring it home to you ! If you only knew it, you
would not wonder at my being late."
They kept a little piece of honey-comb to see what the
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
27
babies would think of it; and, as soon as they woke up, Mr.
Bear gave each of them a good push, whicli brought them
out into the dayliglit without much tumbling over, and he
sat and purred with delight when he saw their rough little
tongues licking their mother's paws, and then watched
them enjoying their first taste of food as much as young
babies alwavs do.
After their meal he made them crawl about, and
tumbled them over and over with his paw ; while Mrs.
Bear, satisfied with her delicious meal, sat nodding in the
corner.
You know, bears never stay out in the hot mid-day sun,
but keep in their caves nearly all day, and prowl about
when it is cool of an evening, to look for food. And our
bears were too well-educated and correct in their behavior
to make any mistake on this point, even on their first day
of waking up. When, therefore, Mr. Bear saw his wite
dozing in the sunshine, he pushed and rolled the young
ones first inside, and then, touching Mrs. Bear as gently
as he could with the soft part of his paw, said, " Come, my
dear, it is time we should take a little rest." So she
opened her eyes, and, looking first to make sure her babies
were not left behind, followed Mr. Bear indoors.
And thus they passed many days quietly and harmlessly,
sleeping most of their time, and living on the food they
could find near home ; for Mr. and Mrs. Bear were getting
rather old, and did not care for adventures so much as
they once did. Life of a Bear.
THE COUNTRYMAN AND THE LAWYER.
A SCENE IX COURT.
Horace Smith (1779-1849).
A Lawyer in the Common Pleas,
Who was esteemed a mighty wit.
Upon the strength of a chance hit
Amid a thousand flippancies,
28 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
And Ill's occasional bad jokes
In bullying, bantering, browbeating.
Ridiculing, and maltreating
Women or other timid folks,
In a late cause resolved to hoax
A clownish Yorkshire farmer — one
Who, by his uncouth look and gait,
Appeared expressly meant, by Fate,
To be quizzed, and played upon.
So, having tipped the wink to those
In the back rows,
Who kept their laughter bottled down
Until our wag should draw the cork.
He smiled jocosely on the clown,
And went to work.
*' Well, Farmer Numskull, how go calves at York 1 "
" Why — not, sir, as they do wi' you,
But on four legs instead of two."
" Officer ! " cried the legal elf.
Piqued at the laugh against himself,
" Do, pray, keep silence down below there. —
Now look at me, clown, and attend :
Have I not seen you somewhere, friend ? "
" Ye-es — very like — I often go there."
*'Our rustic's waggish — quite laconic,"
The lawyer cried, with grin sardonic ;
*' I wish I'd known this prodigy,
This genius of the clods, when I,
On circuit, was at York residing. —
Now, Farmer, do for once speak true ;
Mind, you're on oath, — so tell me, — you
Who doubtless think yourself so clever, —
Are there as many fools as ever
In the West Riding?"
"Why, no, sir, no : we've got our share.
But not so many as when you were there."
^s.
THIRD BOOK OF liEADING LESSONS.
29
■s,
i
at York ? "
lere. —
THE FISHERMAN'S SONG.
Rev. J. M. Neale (1818-186G).
Come, messmates ! 'tis time to hoist our sail —
It is fair as fair can be ;
And the ebbing tide and northerly gale
Will carry us out to sea.
So down with the boat from the beach so steep, —
We must part with the setting sun ;
For ere we can spread out our nets on the deep
We've a weary way to run.
As through the night-watches we drift about,
We'll think of T/he times that are fled,
And of Him who once called other fishermen out
To be fishers of men instead.
Like us, they had hunger and cold to bear ;
Rough weather, like us, they knew ;
And He who guarded them by His care
Full often was with them too !
'Twas the fourth long watch of a stormy night,
And but little way they had made,
(| r]
il
30 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
When He came o'er tlie waters and stood in their sight,
And their hearts were sore afraid ;
But He cheered their spirits, and said, "It is I,"
And then they coiikl fear no harm :
And though we cannot beliokl Him nigh.
He is guarding us still with His arju.
They had toiled all the night, and had taken nought ;
He commanded the stormy sea —
They let down their nets, and of fishes caught
An hundred and fifty-three.
And good success to our boat He will send.
If we trust in His mercy right;
For He pitieth those who at home depend
On what we shall take to-night.
And if ever in danger and fear we are tossed
About on the stormy deep,
AYe'U tell how they once thought that all was lost,
When their Lord "was fast asleep."
He saved them then, He can save us still.
For His are the winds and the sea ;
And if He is with us, we'll fear no ill,
Whatever the danger be.
Or if He sees fit that our boat should sink
By a storm or a leak, like lead,
Yet still of the glorious day we'll think.
When the sea shall yield her dead.
For they who depart in His faith and fear
Shall find that their passage is short
From the troublesome waves that beset life here
To the everlasting port. * '
THE SOUL OF MUSIC.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ;
And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour
A thousand melodies unheard before !
Rogers : Human Life.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
HOSPICE OF ST. BERNARD.
Rev. Hugh Macmillan, LL.D. (b. 1833.)
At the very summit of tlie pass, I saw the Hospice
looming above me, its windows <:litteriiig in the setting
sun. Fatigue and weariness all forgotten, I eagerly clam-
bered up the remaining part of the ascent, along a jtaved
road overhanging a precipice, and in a few minutes stood
beside the open door. At first I could hardly reah'ze the
fact that the convent, about which I had read so much,
which I had so often seen in pictures and ])ictured in
dreams, was actually before me. It had a veiy familiar
look, appearing exactly as I had imagined. 1 did not
approach it in the orthodox fashion, exhausted and lialf-
frozen amid the blinding drifts of a snow-storm, and
dragged in on a dog's back ! On the contrary, the even-
ing was calm and summer-like ; the surrounding peaks
retained the last crimson blush of the exquisitely beautiful
after-glow of sunset ; the little lake beside the convent
mirrored the building on its tranquil bosom ; the snow had
retreated from the low grounds, and only lingered on the
lesser heights in the form of hardened patches wedged in
the shady recesses of the rocks. I could not have seen the
place under more favorable auspices ; and yet, neverthe-
less, the scene was inexpressibly forlorn and melancholy.
There was an air of utter solitude and drea;^'ness about it
which I have never seen equalled, and w^hich oppressed me
with a nameless sadness. There was no color in the land-
scape — no cheerful green, or warm brown, or shining gold,
such as relieves even the most sterile moorland scenery in
Scotland. Everything was gray and cold — the building
was gra}', the lake was gray, the vegetation was gray, the
sky was gray ; and when the evening glow vanished, tin*
lofty peaks around assumed a livid, ghastly hue, which even
the sparkling of their snowy drapery in the first beams
of the moon could not enliven. Not a tree, not a shrub,
not even a heather bush, was in sight. It seemed as if
Nature, in this remote and elevated region, were dead,
and that I was gazing upon its shrouded corpse in a
chamber draperied with the garments of woe.
32
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
it
The effect of this bitter Arctic climate upon the monks,
as might be expected, is extremely disastrous. The
strongest constitution soon gives way under it. Head-
aches, pains in the chest and liver, are sadly common.
Even the dogs themselves, hardy though they are, soon
become rheumatic and die. Seven years is the longest
span of their life, and the breed is with the utmost diffi-
culty kept up.
Jftl if^ »«:|.
^--^-.J^
Tlie monks begin their novitiate, which usually lasts
about fourteen years, at the age of eighteen ; but few of
them live to complete it. The first year of residence is
the least trying, as the stock of health and energy they
have brought with them enables them successfullv to resist
the devitalizing influence of the monotonous life and the
severe climate ; but, every succeeding 'ear, they become
less and less able to bear the cold and privations, and they
go about the convent the ghosts of their former selves,
blue and thin and shivering. Before they have succumbed,
they go down to the sick establishments in the milder
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
33
j'liniate of IVFartigny or Aosta, or they serve as pn^-isli
priests in the different valleys around. But in many
cases this remedy comes too late. They i)erish at their
posts, literally starved to death. The annals of the
convent contain many sad records of such devotion ; and
they thrill the heart with sympathy and admiration.
I saw the famous St. Bernard dogs, playing about the
convent door. There were five of them, massively built
creatures, of a brown color, — very like Newfoundland
dogs, only larger and more i)Owerful. The stock is
supposed to have come originally from the Pyrenees.
The services they have rendered in rescuing travellers
are incalculable. A whole book might easily be filled
with interesting adventures of which they were the heroes.
In the Museum at Berne I saw the stuffed body of the
well-known dog " Barry," which is said to have saved the
lives of no less than forty persons. The huge creatures
were fond of being caressed ; and one of them ran after
my companion, as he was going up the hill-side by a wrong
path, and pulled him back l)y the coat-tail !
Shortly afterwards we bade adieu to our hospitable
entertainers with mingled feelings of gratification and
regret : gratification, because we had seen so much that
was new and interesting to us, and had been so kindly
treated, though strangers in a strange land ; and regret,
because the palmiest days of the Hospice are over, for the
great majority of tourists will now take advantage of the
Mount Cenis Tunnel, and proceed to Italy by the most
direct route, and only a few wdll care to turn aside, on a
long and somewhat diflacult journey, to visit the spot.
Holidays on High Lands.
MONASTIC BROTHERHOOD.
What other yearning was the master tie
Of the monastic brotherhood, ui)on rock
Aerial, or in green secluded vale,
One after one, collected from afar.
An undissolving fellowshi])? What but this,
The universal instinct of repose,
The longing for confirmed tranquillity.
Inward and outward ; humble, yet sublime :
The life where hope and memory are one.
Wordsworth : Excursion, book iii.
3
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34
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE RED RIVER VOYAGEUR.
J. G. Whittier (b. 1808).
Out and in the river is winding
The links of its long, red chain,
Through belts of dusky pine-land
And gusty leagues of plain.
Only, at times, a smoke-wreath
With the drifting cloud-rack joins —
N> «;
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 !
• (!•■ - -'
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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
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
m
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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
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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
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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
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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"-^
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46
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
'':*
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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
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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
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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
'><m
li^Jsl
ong;
)one
lone.
Birds.
e's three
3ar;
world,
here ! "
"ountl
d
)li-tree.
of loose
THE BOY-FARMER IN AMERICA.
Charles D. Warner (b. 1829).
I tliink there is no part of farming "Nvliich the hoy enjoys
more than the making of maph
It
th
ving,
better
nearly as good as tishing ; and one
reason why he likes this work is, that somebcdy else does
most of it. It is a sort of work in which he can appear to
be very active, and yet not do much. In my day, maple-
sugar-making used to be something between picnicing and
being shipwrecked on a fertile island, where one should
save from the wreck tubs, and augers, and great kettles,
and pork, and hen's eggs, and rye, and Indian bread, and
begin at once to lead the sweetest life in the world.
I am told that it is something diffv^rent now-a-days, and
that tliere is more desire to save the sa,p, and make gcod
pure sugar, and sell it for a large price, than there used to be;
and that the old fun and picturesqueness of the business are
nearly all gone. I am told that it is the custom to carefully
collect the sap and bring it to the house, where are built
brick arches, over which the sap is evaporated in shallow
pans ; an*^^ that care is taken to keep the leaves, sticks,
ashes, and coals out of it, and that the sugar is clarified —
that, in short, it is a money-making business, in which there
is very little fun ; and that the boy is not allowed to dip
his paddle into the kettle of boiling sugar and lick oft' the
delicious sirup. The prohibition may improve the sugar,
but not the sport of the boy.
As I remember the New England boy (and I am very
intimate with one) he used to be on the qui the in the
spring, for the sap to begin running. I think he discovered
it as soon as anybody. Perhaps he knew it by a feeling of
something star :ing in his own veins, — a sort of sprang stir
in his legs and arms, which tempted him to stanii on his
head or throw a hand-spring, if he could find a spot of
ground from which the snow had melted.
The sap stirs early in the legs of a countrj^ boy, and
shows itself in uneasiness in the toes, which get tired of
boots, and want to come out and touch the soil just as
4
ft
j [
50
THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
soon as the sun has warmed it a little. The country boy
goes bare foot just as naturally as the trees burst their buds
in spring.
Per naps tlie boy has been out digging into the maple
trees with his jack-knife ; at any rate, he comes running
into the house in a great state of excitement — as if he had
heard a hen cackle in the barn — with, " Sap's runnin' !"
Then, indeed, the stir and excitement begin.
The sap-buckets, which have been stored in the garret
over the wood-house, are brought down and set out on the
south side of the house and scalded.
The snow is still a foot or two feet deep in the woods,
and the ox-sled is taken out to make a road to the sugar-
camp, and the campaign begins. The boy is everywhere
present, superintending everything, asking questions, and
filled with a desire to help on the excitement.
It is a great day when the sled is loaded with the
buckets, and the procession starts for the woods. The sun
shines almost unobstructedly into the forest, for there are
only naked branches to bar it ; the snow is beginning to
sink down, leaving the young bushes spindling up every-
where ; the snow-birds are twittering about, and the noise
of shouting and the blows of the axe echo far and wide.
This is spring, and the boy can hardly contain his delight
that his outdoor life is about to begin again. In the first
place, the men go about and tap the trees, drive in the
spouts, and put the buckets under. The boy watches all
these operations with the greatest interest.
He wishes that, some time, when a hole is bored in a
tree, the sap would spout out in a stream, as it does when
a cider barrel is tapped : but it never does ; it only drops ;
sometimes almost in a stream, but, on the whole, slowly ;
and the boy learns that the sweet things of the world do
not usually come otherwise than drop by drop.
Then the camp is to be cleared of snow. The shanty is
re-covered with boughs. In front of it two enormous logs
are rolled nearly together, and a fire is built between them.
^Jpright posts with crotches at the top are set, one at each
end, and a long pole is laid on them; and on this are hung
the great kettles.
mtry boy
lieir buds
le maple
running
if he liad
min' !"
le garret
ut on the
le woods,
he sugar-
orywhere
ions, and
with the
The sun
there are
nning to
ip every-
the noise
nd wide.
s delight
the first
in the
itches all
red in a
DCS when
y drops ;
slowly ;
vorld do
;hanty is
lous logs
en them.
) at each
ire hung
i
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
51
The huge hogsheads are turned right side up and cleaned
out, to receive the sap that is gathered. And now, if there
is a good " sap run," the establishment is under full head-
^vay.
TJie great fire that is kindled in the sugar-camp is not
allowed to go out, night or day, so long as the sugar
season lasts. Somebody is always cutting wood to feed it;
somebody is busy most of the time gathering in the sap ;
somebody is re(piired to fill the kettles and see that the
sap does not boil over.
It is not the boy, however ; he is too busy with things
in jijeneral to be of anv use in details. He has his own
little sap-yoke and small pails, witli which he gathers the
sweet liquid. He has a little boiling-place of his own,
with small logs and a tiny kettle.
In the jjreat kettles, the boilins: cjoes on slowlv ; and the
liquid, as it thickens, is dipped from one to another, until
in the end-kettle it is reduced to sirup, and is taken out
to cool and settle, until enough is made to " sugar off." So
"sugar off" is to boil the sirup till it is thick enough tp
crystaP.ize into sugar. This is the grand event, and is only
done once in two or three days. But the boy's desire is to
"sugar off" perpetually. He boils his sirup down as
rapidly as possible : he is not particular about chips, scum,
or ashes ; he is apt to burn his sugar ; but if he can get
enough to make a little wax on the snow or to scrape from
the bottom of the kettle with his wooden paddle, he is
happy. A great deal is wasted on his hands and the out-
side of his face and on his clothes; but he does not care —
he is not stingy !
To watch the operations of the big fire gives him con-
stant pleasure. Sometimes he is left to watch the boiling
kettles. He has a piece of pork tied on the end of a stick,
which he dips into the boiling mass, when it threatens to
go over.
He is constantly tasting the sap, to see if it is not almost
sirup. He has a long, round stick, whittled smooth at
one end, which he uses for this purpose, at the constant
risk of burning his tongue.
The smoke blows in his face ; he is grimy with ashes ;
i
" M
U i 1 ! r. !\ ; L'
1 • • ! ; .' » >-
^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
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E^:
;k^
"■■:»«&»
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>:'>^'
1 ^a^
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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::'
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
76
OBIN.
tVAM.
L, named
je which
iiake the
) secure
r spirit.
his son
(ver was
ong his
ish, lie
young
er time
r their
ovetecl.
to pre-
or the
e had
f^eatirig-
rere to
prepare and purify him for communion with liis good
si)irit, he ordered him to lie down on a clean mat in a
little lodge, and koo]) a twelve days' fast. On the ninth
day the son, exhausted by hunger, addressed his father as
follows :
" My father, my dreams forebode evil. ^la^' T break my
fast now, and at a more favorable time make a lew fast]"
The father answered :
" My son, you know not what you ask. If you get up
now, all your glory will depart. Wait patiently a little
longer. You have but three days more, and your term
will be completed. You kno\y it is for your own good,
and I encourage you to persevere. Shall not your aged
father live to see you a star among the chieftains and the
beloved of battle?""
The son assented ; and co\ ^ri g himself more closely, that
he might shut out the light ^ hid prompted him to complain,
he lay till the eleventh day, when he repeated his request.
The father addressed laci'lla as he had the day before,
and promised that he wt dd himself prepare his first meal,
and brine: it to him bv the dawn of the mornincr.
The son moaned, and the father added :
" Will you bring shame upon your father when his sun
is falling in the west 1 "
" I will not shame you, my father," replied ladilla ; and
he lay so still and motionless that you could only know
that he was living by the gentle heaving of his breast.
At the spring of day, the next morning, the father,
delighted at having gained his end, prej)ared a repast for
his son, and hastened to set it before him. On coming to
the door of the little lodge, he was surprised to hear his
son talking to himself. He stooped his ear to listen; and,
looking through a small opening, he wafi yet more aston-
ished when he beheld his son painted with vermilion over
all his breast, and in tlie act of iinishinf' his work bv lavinii:
on the paint as far back on his shoulders as he could reach
with his hands, saying at the same time, to himself :
" My father has destroyed my fortune as a man. He
would not listen to my requests. He has urged me beyond
my tender strength. He will be the loser. 1 shall be
»6
THIRD BOOK OF RE A DING LESSONS.
I
::; ';{;
for ever liappy in my new state, for I liave been obedient
to my parent. He alone will l)e the sufferer, for my
guardian s[)irit is a just one. Though not propitious to
me in the manner I desired, he has shown me pity in
another way — he has given me another shape ; and now I
must go."
At this moment the old man broke in, exclaiming :
*' My son ! my son ! I pray you leave me not ! "
But the young man, with the quickness of a bird, had
flown to the top of the lodge and perched himself on the
highest pole, having been changed into a beautiful robin
red-breast. He looked down upon his father witJi pity
beaming in his eyes, and addressed him as follows :
" Regret not, my father, the change you behold. I
shall be happier in my present state than I could have
been as a man. I shall always be the friend of men, and
keep near their dwellings. I shall ever be happy and
contented ; and although I could not gratify your wishes
as a warrior, it will be my daily aim to make you amends
for it as a harbinger of peace and joy. I will cheer you
by my songs, and strive to inspire in others the joy and
lightsomeness of heart I feel in my present state. This
will be some compensation to you for the loss of glory you
expected. I am now free from the cares and pains of
human life. My food is spontaneously furnished by the
mountains and fields, and my pathway of life is in the
bright air."
Then stretching himself on his toes, as if delighted with
the gift of wings, ladilla carolled one of his sweetest songs,
and flew away into a neighboring wood.
Schoolcraft's Indian Lcyends. Ed. Matthews.
A CANADIAN BOAT SONG.
Thomas Moore (1779-1852).
[Written on the river Ottawa in the summer of 1804.]
Faintly as tolls the evening chime.
Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time;
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
77
Soon as the woods on the shore look dim,
We'll sing at St. Anne's"* our parting hymn.
Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast,
The Kapids are near, and the daylight's past.
Why should we yet our sail unfurl ?
There is not a lireath the blue wave to curl ;
But when the wind blows oft' the shore.
Oh, sweetly we'll rest our weary oar.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast.
The E-apids are near, and tlie daylight's past.
Utawa'sf tide ! this trembling moon
Shall see us float over thy surges soon.
Saint of this green isle ! hear our prayers ;
Oh, grant us cool heavens, and favoring airs.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast.
The Rajmls are near, and the daylight's past.
* St. Amie de Bellevue, at the confluence of the rivers Ottawa and
St Lawrence.
+ The metre requires the pronunciation, Utaw-wa. This sj idling
and this proniniciation also still survive among the old French wi'cujeurs
on the Ottawa.
I
^1
ji;
3
'A
H
O
THIBD BOOK OF liEADTXa LICSSOXS.
'^
W^
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iRKiffl
m
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^
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1
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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 ti<le :
No voice cheers tlie Rapid, that angrily, angrily
Shivers their bark in its maddening play ;
(iaily they entered it — heedlessly, reckh'ssly,
JMiuLding their lives with its treacherous si)rav !
3i
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
81
THE MEN OF OLD.
Lord Houghton (Richard Monckton Milnks)— b. 1809.
I know not that the men of
old
Were better tlian men now,
Of heart more kind, of hand
more bold,
Of more ingenuous brow ;
I heed not those who pine for
force
A ghost of time to raise,
As if they thus could check
the course
Of these appointed days.
Still it is true, and over true,
That I delight to close
This book of life self-wise and
new,
And let my thoughts repose
Ou all that hund)le happiness
The world has since fore-
gone —
The daylight of contentedness
That on those faces shone !
With rights, though not too
closely scanned,
Enjoyed as fai' as known —
With will by no reverse un-
manned —
With puls(» of even tone —
They from to-day and from to-night
Expected nothing moi-e,
Than yesterday and y<'strrnight
J lad prollered them luifore.
a
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82 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE LAST OLD ENGLISH KING.
Charles Dickens (1812-1870).
[Edward the Confessor died on January 5, lOGfi, and Harold was at
once chosen king by the Witan. William of Normandy (h'nounced
Harold for havini? broken his oath, and resolved to wre^t tlu! crown
from him by force of arms. His ])re|)arati(ms occupied many months.
Shortly before he landed, Tosti^', Harold's outlawed brother, accom-
panied })y Harold Hardrada, King of Norway, invaded Northumbria
and captured York. Harold advanced against them, and on September
25th both of his foes were killed in the Battle of Stamford liridge. Four
days later, Harold learned that Duke William had landed at I'evensey,
10 miles south-west of Hastings, on the coast of Sussex, with a powerful
and well-appointed army. He at once n^arched soutliward, in order
to place himself between William and London. On ()ctol)er 13th the
Knglisli army reached Senlac Hill, and found the Norman host en-
camped on the Hill of Telham, a few miles off.]
All night the armies lay encamped before each other, in
a part of the country tlien calhid Senlac, now called (in
remembrance of them) Battle. With the first dawn of day
they arose. There, in the faint li<;ht, were the Eni^lish on
Senlac Hill, a wood behind them, in their midst two royal
l)anners ; — one t\u) (ioldiMi Ura-jjon of Wessex ; the other
King Harold's standard, representing a Fighting Warrior,
woven in gold thread, adorned with pnn^ious stones.
Jieneath tliese banners, as they riistl<Ml in the wind,
stood King Ifiirohl on foot, witli two of his brotliersbv his
side ; around lliem, still and silent as the dead, clust(?red
the whole Knglish army — every soldier covered by his
THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS,
83
1
Harold was at
dy dt'uounced
est tlu! crown
many niontlis.
•other, accoin-
Nortlnnnl)ria
on September
Bridge. Fonr
A at Pevcnsey,
'ith a i)o\v('rful
vard, in order
tober VM\ the
inian host eu-
.cli other, in
V called (in
lawn of day
; En,L(lisli on
st two royal
tlio otlier
Warrior,
Mies.
the wind,
Ihers hv his
I, chistered
(l by his
shield, and bearin<]j in his hand his dreaded English battle-
axe. On the o])})Osite hill of Telham, in three Ihies — arehers,
foot-soldiers, horsemen — was the Noiinan force. On a
sudden, a great battle-cry, "God helj) us ! " l)urst from tlio
Norman lines. The English answered with their own l»at tie-
cry, "God Almighty !"' "Holy Rood !" The Normans then
came sweeping down the hill to attack the Englisli ; for
King Harold had ordered his men to keep their ground,
and on no account to be ttnnpted to leave their ranks It
had been well for the Euixlish had th<'V obeyed that order !
There was one tall Norman knight \ho rode before; the
Norman army on a prancing liorse, throwing up Ins li<'a\ y
sword and catching it, and singing of the bravery of his
countrymen. An English knight who I'ode out fron» the
English force to meet him, fell by this knight's liand.
Anotln'r English knight rode out, and lie fell too. Hut
then a third rode out, and killed the Norman. This ^\as in
th(! beginning of tlu^ ti«dit. It soon i-aged evervwhi're.
The English, kee})ing siih; by side in a great nuiss, cared
no more for the showers of Norman arrows than if they
had been sliowers of Norman i-ain. Wlnni t]i(^ Norman
horsemen rode against them, with their battle-axes they
cut men and horses down. The Nonnans "ave wav. 'J'lie
I'Jiglish pressed forward. Duke William's ho)\se fell under
him, and a cry WvMit forth aniong the Norman troof>s 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<l fell upon them with great slaughter.
"Si ill," said DuUe Williatn, " there are thousands (►f tho
English lirm as rocks around their king. Shoot upwards,
NoriiLun archers, that your arrows nuiy fall down upon
84
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
I y^i
their faces ! " The sun rose high and sani- and the ])attle
still raged. Through all the ^vi)»,i October day t : - clash
and din resounded in the air. In the red sunset, rnd in
the white moonlight, heaps .1. '^n hctpo of dciUi iiien lay
strewn — a dreadful spectach' — ai! over tl vj ground.
King Harold, wounded with ai nrrow in the eye, was
nearly blind. His brothers were already killed. Twenty
Norman knights, whose battered armor had flashed fiery
and golden in the sunshine all day long, and now lookeil
silvery in the moonlight, dashed forward 10 seize the royrd
banner from the English knights and oldiers still faiti)-
fully collected around their olinded King. The king
received a mortal wound and dropped. The English broke
and fled The Normans rallied, and the day wa^ lost.
Oh, whac a sight beneath the moon and stars^ when
lights were shining in the tent of the victorious Duke
William, which was pitched near the spot where Harold
fell — and he and his knidits were carousing: within — and
soldiers with torches, going slowly to and fro, without,
sought for the corpse of Harold amou*^ piles of dead — and
the Warrior, worke^l in golden threa<» and precious stones,
lay low, all torn and soiled with blood - and the three Norman
Lions ^ kept watch over the field 1 — A ChiUCs Hutory of Emjlaud.
NIGHT IN THE BESEKT.
ROBEIIT SOUTHET (1774-1S43).
Hi>." 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
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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 ; an<l then
AVhat joy awaits you, when ♦^i *t T;rerze
Hath found you out anion*^ i." trees,
And ealls you forth a.i;ain !
This ])l()t of orcl ird f^round is ours ;
My trees they are, my sister's Howrrs :
Here rest your winjj^s when th<y an* weary;
Here \oi\iio. as in a sanctuary !
Come ofti^'n to us, fear no wrong ;
Sit near us en the bou^li !
We'll talk of sunshine and of sonir.
And sunuiH'r davs when we were vounjx ;
8w<»et, childish <lays, that wore us long
As twenty dr\ys are now.
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THIED BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS.
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THE IRISH EMIGRANT.
Lady Dupferin (1H07-18()7).
I'm sitting on the stilo, Mary,
Wliero wo sat sitle by side,
On a bright May morning long ago,
WluT tirst you wore my bride.
The corn was springing fresh and green,
And the lark sang loud and high ;
An<l tlte vM was on your lij), Mary,
And the love light in your eye.
The place is little changed, IMary,
Thc^ (lav's as bridit as then:
The lark's loud song is in n\y ear.
And the corn is jofreen ajrain :
But I miss the soft clasp of your hand.
And your warm breath on mv chcM'k,
And I still keep listening for the words
You nev(T more may speak.
'Tis but a step down yonder lane.
The village church stands near, —
Ul
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
87
The church where we were wed, Marv, —
J see the spire from here:
But the grave-yard lies between, Mary,
And my step might break your rest,
Where I've laid you, darling, down to sleep,
With your baby on your breast.
I'm very lonely now, Mary,
For the poor make no new friends ;
l>ut, 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, — <lemi-])aradise, —
This fortress built by Nature for herself *
Against infection, and the hand of war ;
This ha])py breed of men, this little woi'ld,
This precious stone set in the silver sea.
Which serves it in the oilico of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive^ to a house.
Against the etivy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, — this England !
Shakspkahk: Kinit Richard II., Act ii., Scono 1.
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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BEE-KEEPING.
An iiuportant product of llowers, and one which is
radually becoming more used, is the nectar which,
gathered by bees, is by them transformed :nto honey and
wax. The bee only requires a phace in which to store the
])recious load it has feathered from a wide extent of field
and garden, and so much of its lioard, or of some cheaper
form of "sweet," as is necessary for its sustenance.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
89
Bee-keepinf? has recently attained its giTatest drvolop-
ment in the United States, "svliore it now forms an inii)oit-
ant branch of industry. In Kussia, where lioney is used
l)y the peasantry instead of sugar, nnd mead instead of
beer, and where large numliers of wax tapers arc em-
ployed in tlie services of the Greek Church, the total pro-
<luction of honey is estimated at seven hundred thousand
])ounds, while in the United States the annual production
exceeds thirty -five millions of pounds.
Bee-keeping in America is carried on by capitalists on a
large scale, many bee-keepers having over two thousand
liives; indeed, one house in New York has no fewer than
twelve thousand. In order to obtain feeding-ground for such
enormous numbers, the swarms are farmed out to orchard-
keepers and farmers all over the country, who, Tor a fixed
rent, allow a certain number of hives to be ])laced on their
land. These are visited regularly by experts, who take out
the honey, clean the liives, and see to their proper woiking.
An acre of ground will, it is said, support tw( iity live
swarms of bees; and as each of these should on an aNcrage
yield fifty pounds of horicy in the year, it will thus be seen
that the Americans have fallen upon a n(w source of
wealth in the utilization of the nectar of their flowers.
A Chicago honey-dealer has recently a(lo])ted another
method of reaping the honey harvest. He has had a float-
in«' bee-house constructed lai'ge enoui:h to acccmnuidatc two
thousand hives, and this he is now having towed U]) tl;o
Mississi})pi from Louisiana to Minnesota. His shij) krcjis
pace as it moves northward with the blossoming of the
spring flowers, while on its return journey advantage is
taken of a like succession of autumnal flowers. This plan,
however, is by no means an American invention, as it was
practised in ancient times by the Romans, CJ reeks, and
Egyptians, and is still to some extent applied on the Con-
tinent of Europe.
The crop of finely-flavored honey that is left ungathercd
on the moors for want of bee laborers is enoi'nious : Itut
were bee-keeping to become as popular and as well under-
stood among the peasantry of England as it is in Cer-
many, no such Maste would be possible. So imjiortant is a
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II
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'•I
90
THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS.
If '^"^'^H
knowledge of this art considered in Germany, where there
are at present over a million and a half of bee stocks,
that the German Government sends paid aijents regularly
throughout the rural districts to teach cottagers the best
methods of bee-keeping.
Bee culture has been greatly stimulated by the many
ingenious contrivances which have of late years been intro-
duced for increasing the honey-producing capacity of those
insects. Chief among these is the " honey-extractor," by
means of which the full honey-comb can
in a few seconds be emptied of its con-
tents without injury to the cells, which
are thus again ready for immediate use.
Three-fourths of a bee's time was
occuj)ied in comb-building, under the
old plan of removing the comb with
tlie honey ; but by returning the empty
honey-pots, the insect is enabled to
devote its whole energies to the gathering of honey.
A machine has also lately been introduced by which
tablets of wax are mouMed so as to form the foundation
of the honev-comb, and in which the side walls of the cells
are started, so that the bee has only to finish them ; and
thus much time and much wax are saved.
CELLS.
VOICES OF PAST YEARS.
The last faint gleam of evening's golden light
Has softly died away ; with noiseless hand
The autumn twilight-shades enshroud from sight
Both sea and land.
In the hushed stillness of the darkened air, —
Like lonely echoes of the surging main, —
The voices of the past, with music rare.
Float through my brain.
Their mournful tones enchant my listening ears
Like spirit songs. They throng my soul unsought,
Rich with the hoarded gold of vanished yeai's.
And pearls of thought.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
91
*' Lonely echoes of the suryiug main."
Liko winds and waves that swiftly, wildly swoop,
Froidited with treasures from some far-olF clime,
They bear rich argosies across the deep,
Dark sea of time.
TTnearthly messengers, your tones remind
Of blighted blossoms of my wasted years ;
Of broken vows and baffled hopes, which blind
With bitter tears.
And yet, these whispered notes of dirge-like tone
]\Iy sad and doubting heart with hope inspire;
For brighter burns, as time has onward flown,
Truth's beacon fire.
All earth-born glory dies and is forgot;
But all that Heaven's immortal founts su]"»ply, —
Truth, holy love, kind deeds, and noble thouglit,
Shall never die.
E. H. Dewaut, D.D. : Songs of Life.
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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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.
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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.
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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 !
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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.
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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.
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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,<i that their own folly in killing the females is one r
the chief causes of the diminution of their numbers.
Huge and unwieldy as is the buUalo, it dashes over the
ground at a surprising rate, bounding with largo and
clumsy-looking strides across the roughest country, |)lung-
inc: down the broken sides of ravines, and ti'vin-^ the
mettle of horses and the courage of rid(TS in pursuit <A' it.
To the Indians of the prairies the butlalo is of tlie
greatest possible value; for they depend on these animals
for their food, tents, clothing, and numerous other articles.
They dress the skins with the hair on, and these serve as
cloaks or coverings at night. The horns are convei'ted
into powder-flasks ; the hides, when tanned, serve to cover
their tents ; and the avooI makes a coarse cloth, ^\'hen
the flesh is eaten fresh, it is considered superior in tender-
ness and flavor to that of the domestic ox, the hum])
especially being celebrated for its delicacy. It is also cut
Mito stri})s and dried in the sun, or it is pounded up with
the fat and converted into pemmican. Tlie hides arc used
also for leggings and saddles, and when cut into strips, form
halters. With the sinews strings are made for their bows.
From the bones they manufacture a variety of tools — of
the smaller ones making needles, and using the finer
sinews as threads. From the ribs, strengthened bv some
of the stronger sinews, are manufactured the bows which
they use so dexterously. The bladder of the animal is
used as a bottle ; and often, when the Indian is crossing
the prairie where no water is to be found, he is saved from
perishing of thirst by killing a buffalo and extracting the
water which is found in its stomach. Afar in the Forest.
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PLEASURES.
Pleasures are like poppies spread ;
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed :
Or like the snow-fall in the river ;
A moment white, then melts for ever.
Burns.
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104 THIRD BOOK OJf' READING LESSONS.
A EILL FROM THE TOWN PUBIP.
Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864).
[Scene— The comer of two principal streets.* The Town Pump
talking through its nose.]
Noon by the north clock, noon by the east. High noon,
too, by these hot sunbeams which fall scarcely aslope upon
my head, and almost make the water bubble and smoke
in the trough under ray r ^e. Truly we public characters
have a tough time of it. And among all the public char-
acters chosen at the March meeting, where is he that sus-
tains, for a single year, the burden of such manifold duties
as are imposed in perpetuity upon the Town Pump 1 The
title of " town treasurer " is rightfully mine, as guardian
of the best treasure that the town has. The overseers of
the poor ought to make me their chairman, since I provide
bountifully for the pauper, without expense to him that
pays taxes, I am at the head of the fire department, and am
one of the physicians of the board of health. As a keeper
of the peace, all water-drinkers will confess me equal to
the constable. I perform some of the duties of the town
clerk, by promulgating public notices when they are pasted
on my front. To speak within bounds, I am the chief
person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an ad-
mirable pattern to my brother officers, by the cool, steady,
upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my business,
and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Sum-
mer or winter, nobody seeks me in vain ; for all day long
I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market,
stretchino: out my arms to rich and poor alike. And at
night I hold a lantern over my head, both to show where
T am and to keep people out of the gutters.
At this sultry noontide J am nup-bearer to the parched
populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my
waist. Like a dram-seller on th^ mall, at muster-day 1
cry aloud to all and sundry in my plainest accents, and at
the very tip-top of my voice, " Here it is, gentlemen ! here
is the good liquor ! Walk up ! walk up, gei>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.
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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.
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108
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
P I
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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!"
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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
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11
116
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
I| Ml'"
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tli|ii
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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
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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
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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 <h)orway, .^ihh'd harnoss tinklus, and th(» nirriMijc
rolls away, likt* a lus-iutiful wavo, on Now York life. Who
was it? It is tho hoy wlio once Imd all his (\stat(^ shniL;
over his shoulder in a cotton han<lkt'rchiof. Thc^re was a
river of diirioultv betwiMMi HcMiianiin Franklin, with a loaf
of bread under his arm, trudging along the strei^ts of
Philadelphia, and BiMijaniin Franklin the philosopher, out-
side Boston, playing kite with a thundcM'stonn. An indo
lent man was cured of liis indoh>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«<H ;--
A lieritage, it seems to mo,
.. A king might wish to hold in
foe.
What dotli the poor man's son
inherit ? —
A patience learned by being
I)oor ;
Courages, if sorrow come, to bear
it;
''.-,- A fellow-feeling that is sure
To make the outcast bh-ss his.
door ; —
A heritage, it seems to mo,
ing
fec!.
> 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
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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
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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.
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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.
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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
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140
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
covered, withdrew from his camp on the left bank of
the Montmorency, and concentrated his forces at Point
Levi.
On the 12th of September his batteries opened on Que-
bec ; and Admiral Saunders anchored some of his great
ships within tiring range of the Beauport shore. Mont-
calm could see the British sailors and marines entering the
boats, and he stood ready to repel another attack on his
intrenchments. His army was now somewhat diminished
in numbers. A mutinous spirit breaking out among the
militia, he hanged some "to encourage the others :" many
he had been compelled to send away to gather in the har-
vest. The reports of the capture of Fort Niagara and of
the movements of Amherst from Crown Point had dis-
quieted him.
While the cannon were thundering over the Beauport
shore, the English army marched by the southern bank of
the St. Lawrence eight miles above Quebec, to where the
fleet was stationed. Thrilled with the expectation of a
great action, the soldiers of the first division stepped
silently into the boats. Wolfe was in the foremost. The
night of September 14th was starry and still. As the
flotilla dropped softly down the tide, he relieved his ex-
citement by reciting Gray's Elegy ; adding, when he had
finished, " Now, gentlemen, I would rather have been the
author of that poem than take Quebec." He was soon to
prove how true it is that " the paths of glory lead but to
the grave."
On the beach of a cove, three miles above the city, Wolfe
and the oflicers with him leaped. Fast as the boats arrived,
the soldiers landed and formed in rank. All night the
boats passed between the cove and the fleet, which had now
dropped down opposite it, bringing over the other divisions.
A narrow path, hidden by the boscage, ran tortuously from
the beach up the face of the precipitous rock. Swinging
themselves up by the branches, holding on by tufts of
grass, tlie agile Highlanders clambered to the top, and
captured a French guard. Wolfe and his whole army
followed. When the gray dawn turned to a burning red
streaked with glittering golden bars, 4,828 British soldiers
SONS.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
141
lie left bank of
forces at Point
opened on Que-
ne of his great
i shore. Mont-
iies entering the
r attack on his
^hat diminished
out among the
others :" many
ther in the har-
Niagara and of
Point had dis-
T the Beauport
luthern bank of
c, to where the
tpectation of a
ivision stepped
"oremost. The
still. As the
elieved his ex-
when he had
have been the
e was soon to
J lead but to
he city, Wolfe
boats arrived.
l11 night the
rhich had now
bher divisions.
[•tuously from
Swinging
by tufts of
[the top, and
whole army
burninsj red
litish soldiers
were falling into order of battle on the billowy and boul-
dered Plains of Abraham !
From the city an officer rode swiftly to Montcalm with
the startling intelligence that Quebec was threatened on
the south-west. Obeying only the impulse of his chival-
rous spirit, he resolved to give battle to the daring foe.
Loudly the reveille rang out, and roused his soklNrs from
their slumbers. Fast they were hurried over the bridge
of boats across the St. Charles, and were formed for battle
on a slope on the north-west of the fortress. In his pre-
cipitation, Montcalm threw away the advantage that a
superior artillery would have given him. He had only
two light field-pieces ; but his foe had only one. He mus-
tered 7,520 men under arms ; but hardly half of them were
proved soldiers.
Wolfe had none but veterans under his command. But
his position was perilous : while a superior force faced him,
another was advancing from Cap Rouge to attack him in
the rear.
The French advanced with great show and bravery.
Strong parties of their skirmishers drove in upon the
' <l
< I
I
n
142
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
il'llll
British main line the light infantry which were posted in
front. Wolfe, who was on foot near the centre of the
battle, with the Louisburg Grenadiers, strode along the
ranks and counselled his soldiers not to fire until they saw
the eyes of the foe. The French skirmishers retired, and
with loud shouts the army advanced in columns, Mont-
calm in the centre with the regiments of Beam [^pr.
Bai-arn] and < 'uienne [pr. Ghee-en']. Before their sharp
fire the British soldiers fell fast. Wolfe was wounded in
the wrist. When within forty yards, the red lines poured
forth one simultaneous volley of musketry. It was de-
cisive : — the militia fled : the French columns, shattered
and reeling, wavered.
Wolfe save the word to advance. As he led the wav a
shot struck him in the body ; wounded again, in the breast,
he staggered and f^ll into the arms of a Grenadier officer,
and was borne to the rear. Montcalm and his officers
strove in vain to re-form their columns, to withstand the
charge of the British. Before their advancing fire, and
the rush of the Highlanders vdth their keen claymores,
the French soldiers broke into irretrievable flight, and
sought safety under the cannon of the ramparts. Mont-
calm fell mortally wounded, and was borne through the
St. John's Gate into Quebec.
" See ! they run !" cried out the Grenadier officer who
was with Wolfe. — "Who run?" asked Wolfe. — "The
enemy, sir; they give way everywhere." — "Now, God be
praised ; — I die happy." In the short and sharp conflict
of "the Plains" the English lost 55 killed and 607
wounded; the French, 1,500 in all. Wolfe was dead.
Generals Murray and Moncton were severely wounded.
Montcalm died on the morning after the battle, consoled,
as a soldier, by the fact that the spotless flag of France
still waved over Quebec.
On the first alarm of the utter rout of the French army,
the fortifications on the east of the city were abandoned.
On the 18th of September the French governor of Quebec
received instructions to hold out to the last extremity, as
a fresh army was preparing to march to his relief. But it
was too late — on that day the British army entered the
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
143
capital of Canada. After an existence of one hundred and
fifty years, the city of Champlain passed away from the
protection of France, and the British standard was un-
furled from the Castle of St. Louis. Under the new rule
the inhabitants remained in secure possession of their
property and in the free exercise of their religion.
Archer : History of Canada.
A STUDENT OF THE OLDEN TIME.
Thomas Bailey Aldrich (b. 1836).
[In the following lines are beautifully described the illuminated
Gospels of the Middle Ages.]
To those dim alcoves, far withdrawn.
He turned with measured steps and slow,
Trimming his lantern as he went :
And there, among the shadows, bent
Above one ponderous folio.
With whose miraculous text were blent
Seraphic faces ; angels, crowned
With rings of melting amethyst ;
Mute, patient martyrs, cruelly bound
To blazing faggots ; Lere and there
Some bold, serene evangelist,
Or Marv in her summer hair :
And here and there, from out the woods,
A brilliant tropic bird took flight ;
And through the margins many a vine
Went wandering — roses, red and white,
Tulip, windflc wer, and columbine
Blossomed. To his believing mind
These things were real, and the wind,
Blown through the mullioned window, took
Scent from the lilies in the book.
Fnar Jeromes Beautiful PooL
11
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144 TniRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS,
MANITOBA: THEN AND NOW.
Rev. Principal Bryck, M.A., LL.B.
The past ten years seem like a dream. In the rapidity
of change there has hardly been the time for anything to
seem real. The conclusions of one year as to the country
have had to be abandoned the next, as development took
place. The vast extent of the region grows on the mind
by degrees. One's idea of distance changes. It seems no
more to overtake a hundred miles than it formerly did to
go twenty. The most fondly cherished delusions for
settlement of certain opening regions have to be abandoned
as flourishing settlements lise; and the raibvay is making
such a transformation as to make the " oldest inhabitant "
wonder whether he may not be in an enchanted land.
Where Forts Douglas and Gibraltar were, now stands
the city of Winnipeg. An unsightly Indian village of
log houses, of not more than 300 people in 1871, is replaced
by a busy city of 12,000 or 14,000 inhabitants; and the
street of log hovels has become the chief business street of
the rising city, and been built up with handsome brick
buildings.
The tide of population has rolled westward. Portage La
Prairie is a thriving town upon the Canadian Pacific Rail
way, now of 2,000 people. Three or four miles down Red
River, from Fort Daer at Pembina, but on the east side of
the river, stands Emerson, of nearly equal size. Not many
miles from the old Brandon House, of which Pritchard
speaks in his narrative, is the new town of Brandon,
where the Canadian Pacific Railway crosses the Assiniboin.
This place is only a few months old, but seems to promise
to be of some importance. Settlement is now rushing on
more than 250 miles west of Winnipeg, and the advance-
guard will soon have reached Qu'Appelle, the rendezvous
of the Bois-brules (half-breeds) in 1846.
The supremacy of the half-breeds is past ; the peaceful
arts of civilization wil] now be allowed to flourish. The
boundless plains, so long left to the wandering bufialoes,
are now everywhere being covered with thriving settle-
vs.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
)W.
1 the rapidity
r anything to
the country
ilopment took
on the mind
It seems no
rmerly did to
delusions for
be abandoned
ray is making
t inhabitant "
ied land.
3, now stands
ian village of
n, is replaced
mts ; and the
fness street of
ndsome brick
Portage La
Pacific Rail
es down Red
le east side of
Not many
ch Pritchard
of Brandon,
e Assiniboin.
IS to promise
w rushing on
the advance-
rendezvous
the peaceful
urish. The
g buffaloes,
iving settle-
ments. Upwards of 70,000 people have entered Manitoba
during these ten years, and this in face of the fact that
it is only about two years since the advent of the railway
made access to the country easy. Agriculture and cattle-
raising are the staple occupations of the incoming po})ula-
tion. Wheat, it has been demonstrated, can be profitably
raised and exported, even with the railway facilities
hitherto enjoyed. The Selkirk colonists have not been
slow to avail themselves of the opportunities afforded by the
development of the country. Their young men and women
have, in many cases, intermarried with the incoming Cana-
dians ; and many of the most enterprising have left the old
home in Kildonan, and settled in the new townships open-
ing up east and west of them. It is a fact worth noting,
also, that a number of the grandchildren of the band of
colonists led away from Red River by Duncan Cameron
in 1815, have come as settlers, of their own accord, to the
land deserted by their fathers.
And during the past ten years a vast advance has taken
place in the condition of the Indian tribes of the whole
Nortli-West. When the writer went to the country, there
was still uncertainty as to them ; bands of surveyors were
stopped as trespassers by them, but now treaties have
been made with the Indians over the whole extent to the
foot of the Rocky Mountains, and settlers are as safe five
hundred miles west of Winnipeg as in the centre of the
KSelkirk settlement. The Indian now, as he always did,
respects the great mother (Queen Victoria); all causes of
disagreement with the whites are removed.
Manitoba : its Infancy, Gi'oivth, and Present Condition (1882).
MEG MEREILIES.
John Keats (1795-1821).
JMeg Merrilies is the tall masculine gipsy woman introduced by
Sir Walter Scott in Guij Mannei'iwjy chap, lii.]
Old Meg she was a gipsy.
And lived upon the moors :
Her bed it was the brown heath turf.
And her house was out of doors.
10
146
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
Her apples were swart blackberries,
Her currants, pods o' broom ;*
Her wine was clew of the wild white rose,
Her book a churchyard tomb.
Her brothers were the craggy hills,
Her sisters larchen trees ;
Alone Avith her great family
She lived as she did please.
Nc breakfast had she many a morn,
No dinner many a noon ;
And, 'stead of supper, she would stare
Full hard against the moon.
But every morn, of woodbine fresh
She made her garlanding ;
^X .id, every night, tli3 dark glen yew
She wove, and she would sing.
And with her fingers, old and brown,
She plaited mats of rushes.
And gave them to the cottagers
She met among the bushes.
rft Ij,..,.
I
\ CAMEL IN LOVE.
LlEJT.-COL. BURNABY.
T once rode a camel in love ; this was in the Great
Korosko desert. He was known by the name of the
Magnoon, or the Mad Camel ; but whether on account of
his susceptible heart or not I cannot say. I shall never
forget one occasion on which the amorous quadruped had
accidently become separated from the Juliet of his affection,
a sweet creature that earned the sheik of our party. She
was very old ; but this was no deterrent in the eyes of her
ardent admirer, who was miserable when not at her side,
I had ridden on a little ahead of the party when the voice
of Juliet, who was being saddled in the desert, and who
* Here the "bonnie broom" of Scotland is intended; its bright
yellow flowers are followed by pods.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
147
vented her woes in weird squeals and sounds appropriate to
her race, was wafted by the breeze to the attentive ears of
her admirer. He was a very long and a very tall camel,
and in an instant he commenced to rear. My position Ije-
came both ludicrous and precarious. Ludicrous to every
one but myself, who was interested in the matter more
than any one except Romeo. I found that I was, as it
were, slipping down the steep roof of a house, with noth-
ing to hold on by but a little peg about four inches long,
which projected from the front i)art of the saddle.
It was an awful moment, but he did not kcc}) me long
in suspense. Performing an extraordinary movement, he
suddenly swung himself round on his hind le.ijs, and ran
as fast as ever he could in the direction of the faii* enticer.
A camel's gait is a peculiar one ; they go something like a
pig with the fore, and like a cow with the hind legs. The
motion is decidedly rough. At this moment my steed was
seized with a strange and convulsive twitching, which
threatened to capsize the saddle. My position became
each second more ridiculous and appalling. I was a
shuttlecock, Romeo's back was the battledore. At every
moment I was hurled into the air. The fear of missing
the saddle and falling on the ground was continually in
my mind. The little projecting knob, which seemed an
instrument of torture like the impaling-sticks used to
punish the unfaithful in China, was also a source of con-
sternation. I do not think I have ever felt a more
thorough sensation of relief than when, on arriving at our
encampment, Eomeo halted by the side of his Juliet.
Ride to KIdva.
Bnt finding soon a smoother road
i^eneath his well-shod feet.
The snorting beast began to trot.
Which galled him in his seat.
" So, fair and softly," John he cried,
Ijiit John he cried in vain ;
Tliat trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.
Covvper: John Gilpin.
148
THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
MM'
/ I
FLIGHT OF THE WILD GEESE.
Thos. D'Arcy M'Gee (1825-1868).
[The southward flight of the Canada Goose lasts from the middle of
-ugust to the middle of October ;
of April to the middle of May.]
August to the middle of October ; the northward flight, from the middle
A]
'tJ
" What is the cry so wildly heard,
Oh, mother dear, across the lake ? " —
" My child, 'tis but the northern bird
Alighted in the reedy brake."
" Why cries the northern bird so wild?
Its wail is like our baby's voice." —
" 'Tis far from its own home, my child,
And would you have it, then, rejoice ? "
" And why does not the wild bird fly
Straight homeward through the open air?
I see no barriers in the sky —
Why does she sit lamenting there 1 " —
*' My child, the laws of life and death
Are written in four living books :
The wild bird reads them in the breath
Of winter, freezing up the brooks ;
" Reads and obeys — more wise than man —
And meekly steers for other climes ;
Obeys the providential plan.
And humbly waits for happier times.
" The spring, that makes the poets sing,
Will whisper in the wild bird's ear ;
And swiftly back, on willing wing.
The wild bird to the north will steer."
ii
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS,
149
THE RAPIDS.
John B. Gough (b. 1817).
Let me speak, then, of one habit which, in its power
and influence and fascination, seems to rear its head like
a Goliath above all the kindred agencies of evil — I allude
to the habit of using intoxicating liquors as a beverage,
until that habit becomes a fascination.
I read, the other day, of an old gentleman who said to
his friend, — "I have drunk a bottle of wine a day for
twenty years, and have enjoyed good health."
" Ah ! " said his friend, ^' but where are your com-
panions ? "
*' Oh," was the reply, " I have buried six generations of
them."
Yes, young men, that 's it.
Let men look back ui)on the fate of the companions of
their youth, let the long Angers of memory draw into that
memory's chambers the forms of those dear friends, and
how many would they find who have gone to death and
destruction through a bad habit working with an easy
temperament !
There is a young man, full of fire and poetry ; of a
nervous temperament and a generous heart ; fond of
society, and open and manly in everything he does.
Every one loves him. That is the man most liable to
become intemperate.
He enters into the outer circle of the whirlpool, and
throws care to the winds. There he thinks to stay ; but
he gets nearer and nearer to the fatal gulf, until he is
suddenly swept into the vortex before he dreams of danger.
This thing, habit, comes gradually. Many a man who
has acquired a habit, but does not exactly proceed to
excess, is rescued simply by possessing certain physical
qualities which his poor unfortunate friend had not.
You say that you are not such a fool as to become a
drunkard. So Jie thought onca
You say, *' I can leave it off* when I like ; " as if he at
first had not had the power to leave it off when he liked.
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THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSOKS.
You say, " I have too sound an intellect to become a
drunkard ; " as if he had been born without one.
You say, " I have too much pride in myself, too much
self-respect;" as if he had not once been as proud as you.
The way in which men acquire this habit is, by looking
on those who proceed to excess as naturally inferior to
themselves. The difference between you and a drunkard
is just this : — you could leave off the habit, but won't ; he
ivould with all his heart and soul, but cannot.
Tliis power of habit is gradually increasing, and is
destroying your power of self-control. Samson was bound
three times ; and wh^n he heard the crv, "The Philistines
are upon thee, Samson," three times n^ burst his bonds.
But he fell into Delilah's hands : he laid his head on her
knees, and she took off his locks. Then came the cry,
" The Philistines are upon thee, Samson;" and he arose and
said, " I will go out and shake myself," — but his
irength
was gone.
God pity you, young man, if ever you begin to feel the
fetters of evil habit galling you, and if, when you go out
to burst them, you find them welded iron bands eating into
the marrow, so that you cry in agony of spirit, " Who shall
deliver me from the slavery of evil habit?" A man's power
to do a thing is valueless, unless he have the will to exercise
that power.
I tell you, young men, that while the power of a bad
habit strips you of nerve and energy and freshness of feel-
ing, it does not destroy your responsibility. You are
accountable to God for every poAver and talent, and for the
influence of your position. Although the power of evil
habit destroys your power of good, you are still accountable
for the terrible result ; and then, too late, you will find that
" the wages of sin is death."
'a can quit it, but I won't." "Should I find it by
experience to be injurious, I will give it up." Surely that
is not common sense. Yet such is the fascination thrown
around a man by the power of evil habit, that it must
have essentially injured him before he will consent to give
it up.
Many a man has been struck down in his prosperity, has
THIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
151
been sent to prison for crime, before he acknoM ledgcd that
his evil habit was injuring liim.
You might as well say, "I will put my hand into the
nest of the rattlesnake, and when I find that he lias struck
his fangs into me, I will draw it out and get it cured."
I remember riding from Buffalo to the Niagara Falls ;
and I said to a gentleman, "What river is that, sir?"
" That," he said, " is Niagara Eiver."
" "Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I; " bright and fair
and glassy : how far off are the rapids ? "
" Only a mile or two," was the reply.
■^ Is it possible that, only a mile from us, we shall find
the water in the turbulence which it must show when near
the Falls ? "
"You will find it so, sir."
And so I found it ; and that first sight of 1 iie Niagara I
shall never forget.
Now, young men, launch your bark on that Niagara
River. It is bright, smooth, beautiful, and glassy. There
is a ripple at the bow ; the silvery wake you leave behind
adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you glide, oars,
sails, and helm in proper trim, and you set out on your
pleasure excursion.
Suddenly some one cries out from the bank, "Young
men, ahoy ! "
"What is it?"
" The rapids are below you ! "
" Ha, ha ! we have heard of the rapids, but we are not
such fools as to go there ! If we go too fast, then we shall
up with the helm and steer to the shore ; we slipll set the
mast in the socket, hoist the sail, and speed to land. Then
on, boys ! don't be alarmed ; there 's no daDger,"
" Young men, ahoy there ! "
"What is it?"
" The rapids are below you ! "
" Ha, ha ! another old fool told us that i Botlio- the
rapids; we will laugh and quaft"; all things delight us.
What care we for the future ! No man ever saw it ! ' Suf-
ficient for the day is the ev'l thereof.' We will enjoy life
while we may ; we >vill catch pleasure as it fiies ! This is
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152
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
TOO LATE
enjoyment : time enough to steer out of clanger when we
are sailing swiftly with the current. •
" ' Let 's sing away while yet we may,
Prove our voices — '"
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
153
" Young men, ahoy ! "
"What is it r'
** Beware ! beware ! The rapids are below you ! T.ook
how fast you pass that point ! See the water foaming all
around you there ! "
" Ah 1 so it is! — Up with the helm ! Now turn ! Pull
hard ! — quick ! quick ! Pull for your lives ! pull till the
blood starts from your nostrils, and the veins stand Hke
whipcord upon your brow ! Set the mast in the socket !
hoist the sail ! — Ah, ah ! it is too late ! " Shriekinir.
cursing, howling, over you go !
Thousands of young men, in this land of light and
liberty, are sent shrieking every year over the rapids of
Intemperance, crying all the while, " When I find it is
injuring me, then I will give it up ! " Oratiom (1854).
ler when we
THE TREE.
Bjornstjerne Bjornson* (b. 1832).
Tlie Tree's early leaf-buds were bursting their brown ;
*' Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
" No : leave them alone
Till the blossoms have grown,"
Prayed the Tree, while he trembled from rootlet to crown.
Tlie Tree bore his blossoms, and all the birds sung ;
*' Shall I take them away ? " said the Wind, as he swung.
'' No ; leave them alone
Till the berries have grown,"
Said the Tree, while his leaflets quivering hung.
Tlie Tree bore his fruit in the midsummer glow ;
Said the girl, " May I gather thy berries now 1 "
"Yes ; all thou canst see ;
Take them ; all are for thee,"
Said the Tree, while he bent down his laden boughs low.
* Approximate sound,— 13ee-Irn-stee-ern-ay Bee-Trn-son.
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154 THIMD BOOK OF READING LESSONS,
RIVERS.
John Tyndall, LL.D. (b. 1820).
Let us trace a river to its source. Beginning where it
empties itself into the sea, and following it backwards, we
find it from time to time joined by tributaries, which swell
its waters. The river, of course, becomes smaller as these
tributaries are passed. It shrinks first to a brook, then
to a stream; this, again, divides itself into a number of
streamlets, ending in mere threads of water. These con-
stitute the source of the river, and are usually found
among hills. Thus, the Severn has its source in the
Welsh Mountains ; the Thames in the Cotswold Hills ;
the Missouri in the Rocky Mountains ; and the Amazon
in the Andes of Peru. But it is quite plain that we have
not yet reached the real beginning of the rivers. Whence
do the earliest streams derive their water 1 A brief resi-
dence among the mountains would prove to you that the
streams are fed by rain. In dry weather you would find
the streams feeble, sometimes, indeed, quite dried up. In
wet weather you would see them foaming torrents. In
general these streams lose themselves as little threads of
water upon the hill-sides. Sometimes you may trace a
river to a definite spring. But you very soon assure
yourself that such springs are also fed by rain, which has
percolated through the rocks or soil, and which, through
some orifice that it has found or formed, comes to the light
of day. But we cannot end here. Whence comes the
rain that forms the mountain streams? Observation
enables you to answer the question. Rain does not come
from a clear sky. It comes from clouds. But what are
clouds'? Is there nothing you are acquainted with which
they resemble ? You discover at once a likeness between
them and the condensed steam of a locomotive. At
every puff of the engine a cloud is projected into the
air. Watch the cloud sharply. You notice that it first
forms at a little distance from the top of the funnel.
Give close attention and you will sometimes see a per-
fectly clear space between the funnel and the cloud.
THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
155
Through that clear space the thing which makes the cloud
must pass.
What, then, is this thing, which at one moment is
transparent and invisible, at the next moment visible as a
dense opaque cloud ? It is the steam or vapor of water
from the boiler. Within the boiler this steam is transpa-
rent and invisible ; but to keep it in this invisible state a
heat would be required as great as that within the boiler.
When the vapor mingles with the cold air above the hot
funnel, it ceases to be vapor. Every bit of steam shrinks,
when chilled, to a much more minute particle of water.
The liquid particles thus produced form a kind of water dust
of exceeding fineness, which floats in the air, and is called
a cloud. Watch the cloud-banner from the funnel of a
running locomotive : you see it growing gradually less
dense. It finally melts away altogether ; and, if you con-
tinue your observations, you will not fail to notice that the
speed of its disappearance depends on the character cl the
day.
In moist weather the cloud hangs long and lazily in the
air ; in dry weather it is rapidly licked up. What has
become of it 1 It has been re-converted into true invisible
vapor. The drier the air, and the hotter the air, the greater
is the amount of cloud which can be thus dissolved in it.
Make the lid of a kettle air-tight, and permit the steam
to issue from the pipe ; a cloud is formed in all respects
similar to that which issues from the funnel of \:he locomo-
tive. To produce the cloud, in the case of the locomotive
and the kettle, heat is necessary. By heating the water
we first convert it into steam ; and then by chilling the
steam we convert it into cloud.
Is there any fire in nature which produces the clouds of
our atmosphere 1 There is — the fire of the sun. Thus, by
tracing a river backwards from its end to its real beginning,
we come at length to the sun.
Forms of Water.
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156
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE BEOOK.
Alfred Tennyson (b. 1809).
I come from haunts of coot and hern,"*
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.
By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or siip between the ridges ;
By twenty thorps,! a little town.
And half a hundred bridges ;
Till, last, by Philip's farm I flow,
To join the brimming river ; —
For men may come, and men may go,
But I go on for ever.
I chatter over stony ways.
In little sharps and trebles ;
I bubble into eddying bays, '^ "
I babble on the pebbles.
With many a curve my bank I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a, fairy foreland J set
With willow- weed and mallow.
* Water-fowl that frequent quiet streams among the hills.
t Hamlets, little villages.
X 1^'lat marsh jutting into the brook.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
157
T chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming
river ; —
For men may come, and men
may go.
But I go on for ever.
I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom
sailing.
And here and there a lusty
trout,
And here and there a
grayling.
And here and there a foamy
flake
Upon me as I travel.
With many a silvery water-
break
Above the golden gravel,
And draw them all along,
and flow
To join the brimming
river ; —
For men may come, and men
may go,
But I go on for ever.
I steal by lawns and grassy
plots,
I slide by hazel covers,
I move the sweet forget-me-
nots
That grow for happy lovers.
I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance.
Among my skimming
swallows ;
I make the netted sunbeams
dance
Against my sandy shallows.
" To join the hriwniiiKj river."
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
I murmur under moon and stars
In brambly wildernesses ;
1 linger by my shingly bars,
I loiter round my cresses ;
And out again I curve and flow,
To join the brimming river ; —
For men may come, and men may go.
But I go on for ever.
MOSES AT THE FAIR.
Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774).
As we were now to hold up our heads a little higher in
the world, my wife suggested that it would be proper to
sell the colt, which was grown old, at a neighboring fair,
and buy us a horse that would carry us single, or double
upon an occasion, and make a pretty appearance at church
or upon a visit. This at first I opposed stoutly ; but it
was stoutly defended. However, as I weakened, my
antagonist gained strength, till at last it was resolved to
part with him.
As the fair happened on the following day, I had
intentions of going myself; but my wife persuaded me
that I had got a cold, and nothing could prevail upon her
to permit me from home. " No, my dear," said she; ^'our
son Moses is a discreet boy, and can buy and sell to a very
good advantage. You know all our great bargains are of
his purchasing. He always stands out and higgles, and
actually tires them till he gets a bargain."
As I had some opinion of my son's prudence, I was
willing enough to intrust him with this commission ; and
the next morning I perceived his sisters mighty busy in
fitting out Moses for the fair ; trimming his hair, brushing
his buckles, and cocking his hat with pins. The business
of the toilet being over, we had at last the satisfaction of
seeing him mounted upon the colt, with a deal box before
him to bring home groceries in. He had on a coat made
of that cloth they call " thunder and lightning," which,
though grown too short, was much too good to be thrown
e higher in
nee, I was
ission ; and
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
159
away. His waistcoat was of gosling green, and his sisters
had tied his hair with a broad black ribbon. We all
followed him several paces from the door, bawling after
him, *' Good luck ! good luck ! " till we could see him no
longer.
I began to wonder what could keep our son so long at the
fair, as it was now almost nightfall. "Never mind our son,"
cried my wife; "depend upon it he knows what he is about.
I '11 warrant we '11 never see him sell his hen of a rainy day.
I have seen him bring such bargains as would amaze one.
I '11 tell you a good story about that, that will make you
split your sides with laughing. — But as I live, yonder
comes Moses, without a horse, and the box on his back ! "
As she spoke, Moses came slowly on foot, and sweating
il
M' am
I..
160
THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
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under the deal box, which he had strapped round his
shoulders like a pedler. — " Welcome, welcome, Moses I
Well, ray boy, what have you brought us from the fair 1 "
" I have brought you myself," cried Moses, with a sly look,
and resting the box on tlie dresser. — " Ay, Moses," cried
my wife, " that we know ; but where is the horse V "I
have sold him," cried Moses, "for three pounds five shil-
lings and twopence." — "Well done, my good boy," returned
she; "I knew you would touch them off. Between our-
selves, three pounds five shillings and twopence is no bad
day's work. Come, let us have it then." *' I have brought
back no money," cried Moses again. " I have laid it all
out in a bargain, and here it is," pulling out a bundle from
his breast ; " here they are ; a gross of green spectacles,
with silver rims and shagreen cases." — " A gross of green
spectacles ! " repeated my wife, in a faint voice. " And
you have parted with the colt, and brought us back nothing
but a gross of green paltry spectacles ! " " Dear mother,"
cried the boy, "why don't you listen to reason? I had
them a dead bargain, or I should not have brought them.
The silver rims alone will sell for double the money." — "A
fig for the silver rims ! " cried my wife in a passion : '' 1
dare swear they won't sell for above half the money at the
rate of broken silver, five shillings an ounce." — "You need
be under no uneasiness," cried I, " about selling the rims,
for they are not worth sixpence ; for I. perceive they
are only copper varnished over." — "What!" cried my
wife ; " not silver ? the rims not silver 1 " " No," cried I :
"no more silver than your saucepan." — "And so," re-
turned she, " we have parted with the colt, and have only
got a gross of green spectacles, with copper rims and sha-
green cases ? A murrain take such trumpery ! The block-
head has been imposed upon, and should have known his
company better." "There, my dear," cried I, "you are
wrong ; he should not have known them at all." — " Marry I
hang the idiot ! " returned she, "to bring me such stutt'; —
if I had them, I would throw them in the fire." "There
again you are wrong, my dear," cried I ; "for though they
be copper, we will keep them by us, as copper spectacles,
you know, are better than nothing. "
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
161
By this time the unfortunate Moses was undeceived.
He now saw that he had been imposed u])on by a prowling
sharper, who, observing his figure, had marked him for an
easy prey. I therefore asked the circumstances of his
deception. He sold the horse, it seems, and walked the fair
in search of another. A reverend-look in sx man brouj-iit
him to a tent, under pretence of having one to sell.
** Here," continued Moses, " we met another man, very
well dressed, who desired to borrow twenty pounds u^on
these, saying that he wanted money, and would dispose of
them for a third of the value. The first gentleman, who
pretended to be my friend, whispered me to buy them,
and cautioned me not to let so good an offer pass. I sent
for Mr. Flamborough, and they talked him up as finely as
they did me ; and so at last we were persuaded to buy the
two gross between us." The Vicar of Wakefield, chap. xii.
CONVERSE IN PAEADISE.
{Eve addresses these words to Adam .—]
With thee conversing I forget all time ;
All seasons and their change, all please alike.
Sweet is the breath of Morn, her rising sweet,
With charms of earliest birds; pleasant the Sun,
When first on this delightful land he spreads
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower,
Glistening with dew ; fragrant the fertile Earth
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on
Of grateful Evening mild ; then silent Night,
With this her solemn bird, and this fair Moon,
And these the gems of Heaven, her starry train :
But neither breath of Morn, when she ascends
With charm of earliest birds ; nor rising Sun
On this delightful land ; nor herb, fruit, flower.
Glistening with dew; nor fragrance after showers;
Nor grateful Evening mild ; nor silent Night,
With this her solemn bird ; nor walk by ^loon.
Or glittering star-light, without thee, is sweet.
Milton : Paradise Lost, book iv., 039 C.^»(5.
II
T -
• ^'1 m
■ Hi
' ,
162
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
n
M-^-
Children are what tlie mothers arc.
No fondest father's fondest care
Can fashion so the infant heart,
As tliose creative beams that dart,
With all their hopes and fears, upon
The cradle of a sleeping son.
His startled eyes with wonder see
A father near him on his knee,
Who wishes all the while to trace
The mother in his future face ;
But 'tis to her alone uprise
His wakening arms ; to her tliose eyes
Open with joy and not surprise.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
163
CHILD AND BOATMAN.
J KAN Ini;elo\v (b. 1830).
" Martin, I wonder who makes all the sonc^s."
*' You DO, sir?"
" Yes, I wonder liow they come, '
*' ^Vell, bov, I wonder what vou "11 wonder next ! "
*' But somebody must make them '? "
" Sure enough."
" Does your wife know ? "
''8he never said she did."'
'• You told me that she knew so many things."'
*' 1 said she was a London woman, sir.
And a tine scholar, but I never said
She knew about the songs."
"I wish she did."
*' And I wish no such thing ; she knows enough.
She knows too much already. ^ — Look you now,
This vessel's otf the stocks, a tidy craft."
*' A schooner, Martin ] "
" No, boy, no ; a brig,
Only she's schooner-rigged, — a lovely ci'aft."
" Is she for me ] — Oh, thank you, Martin dear.
What shall I call her ]"
" Well, sir, what you please."
*' Then write on her. The Juujle.^'
" Bless the child !
Eagle ! why, you know naught of eagles, you.
When we lay otf the coast, up Canada way,
And chanced to be ashon^ when twilight fell.
That was the place for eagh^s ; bald they were,
With eyes as yellow as gold."
" O Martin, dear,
Tell me about them."
"Tell ! there's naught to tell.
Only they snored o' nights and frighted us."
*' Snored ? "
" Ay, I t(»ll you, snored ; they slept upright
In the great oaks by scores ; as true as time ;
f ni
:!H K
164 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
If I 'd had auglit upon my mind just then, —
I wouldn't have walked that wood for unknown gold ;
It was most awful. When the moon was full,
I Ve seen them fish at night, in the middle watch,
When she got low. I 've seen them j^lunge like stones,
And come up fighting with a fish as long,
Ay, longer than my arm ; and they would sail, —
When they had struck its life out, — they would sail
Over the deck, and show their fell, fierce eyes,
And croon for pleasure, hug the prey, and speed
Grand as a frigate on a wind."
*' My ship,
She must be called The Eagle, after these.
And, Martin, ask your wife about the songs,
When you go in at dinner-time."
*' Not 1 1 "
Songs en the Voices of Birds.
.1
THE COUNTRY SURGEON.
IsA (Craig) Knox (b. 1831).
Her eyes have asked the question-
Will it be life, or death 1
And waiting for the answer,
She holds her very breath.
Like a half-open gateway
Her white lips are apart,
While still within is standing
Her waiting, listening heart.
She will be brave — will meekly
Go down into the gloom,
Prepared in death's chill shadow
To shed her very bloom.
He bows his head before her,
But not a word he Kaith.
It is enough : in silence
She reads the answer- — Death 1
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS,
16ft
THE HEEOINE OF VERCHERES.
Francis Parkman (b. 1823).
[The follo^^^ng incident belongs to the ]x;ri<)d of the deadly stniK'pIo
between the French settlers in Canada and the Iroquois Indians. The
storj' was, by order of (iovernor Beaiiharnois, taken down many years
later trom the recital of the heroine herself.]
Vorcheres \j)r. Yer-shair'] was a fort on the south shore
of the St. Lawrence, about twenty miles below Montreal.
A strong block-house stood outside the fort, and was con-
nected with it by a covered way. On the morning of the
22nd of October [1692] the inhabitants were at work in
the fields, and nobody was left in the i)lace but two sol-
diers, two boys, an old man of eighty, and a number of
women and children. The connnaiidaut was on duty at
(Quebec ; his wife .vas at Montreal ; and their daughter,
Madeline, fourteen years of age, was at the landing-placfj
not far ^rom the gate of the fort, with a man-servant.
Suddenly she heard tiring from the direction where the
settlers were at work, and an instant after the servant
called out, *' Run, miss ! — run ! here come the Indians ! "
She turned and saw forty or fifty jf them at the distance
of a pistol-shot. She ran to the fort as quickly as possible,
while the bullets whistled about her ears, and made the
time seem very long. As soon as she was near enough to
be heard, she cried out, "To arms! — to arms!" hoping
that somebody would come out and help her ; but it was
of no use. The two soldiers in the fort were so scared
that they had hidden m the block-house.
When she had seen certain breaches in the palisade
stopped, she went to the block-house, where the ammuni-
tion was kejjt ; and there she found the two soldiers, one
hiding in a corner, and the other with a lighted match in
his hand. "What are you going to do with that match?"
she asked. He answered, " Light the j)owder and blow us
all up." "You are a miserable coward !" said she. "Go
out of this place." She then threw off her lionnet, j)ut on
a hat, and taking a gun in her hand she said to her two
brothers, " Let us fight to th(? death. We are fighting for
our country and our religion."
166
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
I.
The boys, who were ten and twelve years old, aided by
the soldiers, whom her words had inspired with some little
courage, began to tire from the loop-holes on the Indians ;
who, ignorant of the weakness of the garrison, showed
their usual reluctance to attack a fortified place, and occu-
pied themselves with chasing and butchering the people in
the neighboring fields. Madeline ordered a cannon to be
fired, partly to deter the enemy from an assault, and
partly to warn some of the soldiers who were hunting at
a distance.
A canoe was presently seen approaching the landing,
place. In it was a settler named Fontaine, trying to reach
the fort with his family. The Indians were still near, and
Madeline feared that the new-comers would be killed if
something were not done to aid them. Distrusting the
soldiers, she herself went alone to the landing-place.
" I thought," she said, in her account of the affair, " that
the savages would suppose it to be a ruse to draw them
towards the fort, in order to make a sortie upon them.
They did suppose so ; and thus I was able to save the Fon-
taine family. When they were all landed, I made them
march before me in full sight of the enemy. We put so bold
a face on it, that they thought they had more to fear than we.
Strengthened by this reinforcement, I ordered that the
enemy should be fired on whenever they showed themselves.
" After sunset a violent north-east wind began to blow,
accompanied with snow and hail, which told us that we
should have a terrible night. The Indians were all this
time lurking about us ; and I judged by all their move-
ments that, instead of being deterred by the storm, they
would climb into the fort under cover of darkness."
She then assembled her troops, who numbered six, all
told, and spoke to them encouraging words. She with
two old men took charge of the fort, and she sent Fontaine
and the two soldiers with the women and children to the
block-house. She placed her two brothers on two of the
bastions, and an old man on a third, while she herself took
charge of the fourth. All night, in spite of wind, snow,
and hail, the cry of " All 's well " was kept up from the
block-house to the fort, and from the fort to the block-
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
167
house. One would have supposed that the place was full
of soldiers. The Indians thought so, and were completely
deceived, as they afterwards confessed.
At last the daylight came again ; and as the darkness
disappeared, the anxieties of the little garrison sconiod to
disappear with it. Fontaine said he would never abandon
the place while Madeline remained in it. IShe declared
that she would never abandon it : she would rather die
than give it up to the enemy.
She did not eat or sleep for twice twenty-four hours.
She did not go once into her father's house, but kept
always on the bastion, except wlien she went to the block-
house to see how the people there were behaving. She
always kept a cheerful and smiling face, and encouraged
her little company with the hope of speedy succor.
"We were a week in constant alarm," she continues,
'' with the enemy always about us. At last a lieutenant,
sent by the governor, arrived in the night with forty men.
As he did not know whether the fort was taken or not, he
approached as silently as possible. One of our sentin, ^s,
hearing a slight sound, cried, 'Who goes there?' I was at
the time dozing, w. ' my head on a table and my gun
lying across my arms. The sentinel told me that he heard
voices from the river. I went at once to the bastion to
see whether they were Indians or Frenchmen who were
there. I asked, 'Who are you?' One of them answered.
' We are Frenchmen come to bring you help.'
" I caused the gate to be opened, placed a sentinel there,
and went down to the river to meet them. As soon as 1
saw the lieutenant I saluted him, and said, 'I surrender
my arms to you.' He answered gallantly, 'They are in
good hands, miss.' He inspected the fort, and found
everything in order, and a sentinel on each bastion. * It
is time to relieve them,' said I ; * we have not been off our
bastions for a week.' "
A band of converts from St. Louis arrived soon after-
wards, followed the trail of their heathen couiitrymen,
overtook them on Lake Champlain, and recovered twenty
or more French prisoners.
Frontcnac and New France under Louis XIV., cliap. xiv.
i
'f !
• -^*
i...
I-.
< C r!l
168
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE STORM.
Mrs. Augusta Webster.
Storm in the dimness of the purpled sky,
And the sharp flash leaps out from cloud to cloud ;
But the blue lifted corner spreads more high, —
Brightness and brightness, — bursts the gathered shroud.
Ay, pass, black storm, thou hadst thy threatening hour ;
Now the freed beams make rainbows of the shower ;
Now the freed sunbeams break into the air ;
Pass, and the sky forgets thee and is fair.
StornelHy in'' A Book of Rhyme'' (1881).
YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND.
Thomas Campbell (1777-1844).
[While travelling in Germany, in 1800, Campbell's incautious lan^ruage
led to his arrest as a Jacobin and a spy. Luckily the police, in search-
ing his luggage, found in his trunk the manuscript of this noble ode.
The true nritish fiM^l'nsr which breathes through every line of it caused
h:.> uo julttal. — C D. YuNvJE.]
Ye mariners of England !
That guard our native seas.
Whose flag has braved a thousand years
The battle and the breeze.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
Your glorious standard launch again,
To match another foe,
And sweep through the deep
While the stormy winds do blow ;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
Tlie spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave !
For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave :
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
Your manly hearts shall glow.
As ye sweep through the deep
While the stormy winds do blow ;
While the battle rage loud and long,
And the stormy wii.dt: io blow.
Britannia needs no bulwarks.
No towers along th . steep ;
Her march is o'er he mountain waves.
Her home is on che deep :
With thunders from her native oak
She quells the floods below,
As they roar on the shore
When the stormv winds do blow ;
When the battle rages loud and lonjr.
And the stormy winds do blow.
1C9
'OJ
The meteor-flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn.
Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean warriors !
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name.
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.
170
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE CASTLE-FAIKY OF OSTERODE.
Mrs. ("Toofie") Lauder.
[Tl>Q scene of this lep-end is laid at Osterode (-day), a town of
Hanover at the foot of the Harz Mountains.]
One Smulav
ft/
morninsf early, a
poor linen weaver
was Av^alking to
Osterotle.
Aurora* showed
her fjailv laimhinE:
and blushinij face
above the green
mountains, a bal
saniic freshness
floated over the
valleys and
streams, the peaks
of the woodv
ft/
heights swam in
the blue ether, and
tlie dew -bathed
mountain flowers
sparkled in the
sun's golden splen-
dor. The son^s of
the birds rang out
of the thickets,
and soft chimes
rose from the vil-
lages summoning
to worship and
praise — a mild,
p^i blissful peace hov-
*£ '2 <^i'f^tl over the en-
'%JM tire scene.
— "' It was long be-
SPECTUE OF THE BRooKEN, THE HIGHEST PEAK OF THE fore the Wanderer
HAHZ MOUNTAINS. ^^^^^^^^ ^J^^^^ g^^.,
* The goddess of the dawn.
town of
iindav
arly, a
weaver
ing to
showed
ugliing
ng face
green
a bal
f^sliness
er the
and
? peaks
woody
am in
er, and
bathed
owers
in the
splen-
ngs of
|ng out
ckets,
himes
le vil-
loning
and
mild,
e hov-
je en-
ig be-
Iderer
sur-
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
171
roundinff beauties of the morninjr, for a heavv sorrow hiv
at his heart. A beloved wife lay at home ill, six hungry
children waited with lier anxiously for his return, and he
must return with empty hands.
His rich cousin, from whom lie had hoped for a.ssistance,
had repulsed him with cruel words, and now his future
lay dark and hopeless before him.
But as the sun rose higher, as all Nature bloomed and
sent forth her frankincense of i)raise, and the streams
murmured of peace, he grew more com]»osed.
*' How glorious ! how wonderful I " he thought, as he
stood still and gazed around him ; "and what a mystery
it is that only man is so often shut out from the universal
enjoyment of creation. Why should he be crushed to the
earth, and provide in sorrow and pain for liis bodily
sustenance, v*liile the birds sing and the flowers bloou)
free from care? Doth He not clothe the lilies, and give
the rose and the violet their perfume and exquisite hues ?
Can the Eternal Father care less for an immortal soul ^
No, no, never ! "
He began again to move forward, singing that noblest
hymn in the German language, which has been so perfectly
translated by John Wesley, beginning —
" Commit thou all thy griefs
And ways into His hands,
To His sure truth and tender care.
Who earth and heaven commands.
** Wlno points the clouds their course,
Whom winds and seas obey ;
He shall direct thy wandering feet.
He shall prepare thy way. »
*' Thou on the Lord rely.
So safe shalt thou go on ;
Fix on His work thy steadfast eye.
So shall thy work be done."
When he came to the lines —
" Still heavy is thy heart ?
Still sink thy spirits d<»wn?
Cast off the weight, let fear depart, '
Bid every care be gone," —
he quickened his pace with a firn^er tread and lighter
heart
172
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSOyS.
I! 1 '
!!«P V*
f i
I !.
Perhaps he would have sung on to the end of tlie hymn,
had not a voice, clear as a silver bell, greeted him with
*' Guten morgen ! " (Good morning !)
The singer looked in the direction of the voice, and
stood like one transfixed at the sight of the vision before
him.
On the banks of the brook which flowed past his path
sat a lovely maiden clad in white, and bathed her marble-
white feet in the crystal water.
Before he could recover from his astonishment, the
figure rose and approached him, saying in a voice of tlio
most delicious melody —
"Thou sangst just now a beautiful song, that was made
for the troubled. May help be as near every one who
sings it as to thee ; for know, thou art come at a most
happy hour. It is only permitted me once a year to be
at this spot ; and whoever meets me here, and deserves it
as thou, him I make happy — if wealth can make him
happy. Listen, then : When the bells ring midnight, leave
thy cottage, and climb the mountain in silence to the ruins
of Burg Osterode. Between the sunken walls thou wilt
tind a flower ; pluck it, and instantly all the treasures of
the heart of the mountain will be revealed to thine eyes,
from which thou mayst take as much as thou wilt. Go
now thy way, and carry comfort and hope to thy wife.
My time is expired."
The slender form, the pale, loving face, transparent
as moonlight, the long golden hair, were in a twinkling
vanished.
Wonderfully cheered, the weaver hastened home and
related his vision to his suffering wife and little children,
and they waited with impatience for the appointed hour.
At last the leaden-footed hours had passed — it was mid-
night.
The weaver kivssed his wife and hastened forth. It was
a glorious night. The full moon shone, the quail sang her
nightly song. The picturesque ruin contrasted wonderfully
in its dark gray masses with the cloudless blue of the
heavens and the silver moonlight.
A peculiar light shone out of an arched chamber; he
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
173
followed it, and there sat the pale iimiden, adorned with
a wreath of white roses in her hair. She raised her jasper-
blue eyes, looked kindly on him, and beckoned him to
approach and gather the shining flower.
The weaver obeyed and tremblingly plucked the lily.
Hardly had he the flower in his hand when a fearful,
rumbling sound arose in the heart of the mountain, the
ground close to his feet sank crashing into the depths, and
a huge caldron rose in flame, fllled to the brim with
glittering gold pieces. The maiden bade Rim take what
he would ; for he was so overcome with astonishment and
terror that he could not move.
At her friendly voice lie recovered from his fear, filled
pockets and hat with the coins, bowed low and reverently,
left the magic chamber, and hurried back to his cottage —
and the sun rose on two happy people. Every anniversary
of the day they went to the ruins to thank the fairy, who,
hoAvever, ever afterward remained invisible.
Legends and Tales of the Harz Mountains (1881).
;
SOIDIEE, REST!
Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832).
[These lines are sung by Ellen Douglas, the "i^ady of the Lake,"
when Ellen and her aunt, the lady Margaret, are entertaining James
Fitzjames (James V.) at their island retreat in Loch Katrine.]
Soldier, rest ! Thy warfare o'er.
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking;
Dream of battled fields no more.
Days of danger, nights of waking.
In our isle's enchanted hall.
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing;
Fairy strains of music fall.
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest ! Tliy warfrre o'er,
Dream of fighting fields no more ;
w;j
174
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
'%
n
I *'\ ■ 1
' •»• ii
#s:
Sleep the sloei) that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall roach thine ear,
Armor's clang, or war-steed champing;
Trump nor jnhroch sunnnon here
Clustering clan, or squadron trumping.
\'8t the lark's shrill fife may come,
At the daybreak, from the fallow ;
And the bittern sound his drum,
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near ;
(Juards nor ward(;rs challenu^e here ;
Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing,
♦Shouting clans, or squadrons stamping.
Lady of the Lake, canto L
^|i
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
175
itoU
RUIi:, BRITANNIA.
[This national anthem is generally publixhed with the works of
James Thomson (l(HKI-174cS), hut by some critics it is attrilmted to
David Mallet (1703[?J-17<>r)). It first appeared in 1740 in the mask
<»f Alfred (act ii. scene 5), which was published as the joint work of
Thomson and Mallet.]
When Britain first, at IToavon's commaiid,
Arose from out the azure main,
Tliis was the charter of the land.
And guardian angels sang the strain :
" liuh', Britannia ; Jlritannia rules the waves ;
Britons never will be sla\ es.
*' The nations, not so hlest as thee,"""
ISFust, in their tun:-, to tyrants fall :
Whilst thou shalt flourish, great and fi'eo,
The dread and envy of them all.
*' Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke;
As the loud blast that tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.
** Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame ,
All their attempts to hurl thee down
Will but arouse thy gen'rous flame,
And work their woe — but thy renown;
*' To thee belongs the rural reign ,
Thv cities shall with connncrce shine :
All thine shall be the subject main.
And every shore it circles, thine.
**The Muses, still with Freedom found,
Shall to thy hap})y coast repair ; —
Blest isle ! with matchless l)eauty crowned,
And manlv hearts to guard the fair :
Bulc, Ih'itannia, rule the waves ;
n
r»ritons never will be slaves.
)>
* Svntax would reciuire than ; hut then^ arc many 'similar instances
of [MKjtic idioms.
17G
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
h
HIAWATHA, THE MISCHIEF-MAKER.
There was never in the whole world a more mischievous
busy-body than that notorious giant Hiawatha, but whose
native namo always is Manabozho. He was everywhere,
in season and out of season ; running about, and i)utting
his hand in whatever was going forward. To carry on
his game, he could take almost any shape he pleased : he
could be very foolish or very wise ; very weak or very
strong ; very poor or very rich — ^just as happened to suit
his humar best. Whatever any one else could do, he
would attempt without a moment's reflection. He was a
match for any man he met, and there were few nianitoes
that could get the batter of him. By turns he would be
very kind or very cruel ; an animal or a bird ; a man or
a spirit : and yet, in spits of all these gifts, Manabozho
was always getting himself involved in all sorts of troubles,
and more than once, in the course of liis busy adventures,
was this great m iker of mischief driven to his wits' end
to com i off' with his life.
To begin at the beginning : Manabozho, while yet a
youngster, w is living with his grandmother, near the edge
of a wide prairie. It was on this prairie that he first saw
animals and birds of every kind ; he also there made first
acciuaintance with thunder and lightning ; he would sit by
the hour, watching the clouds as they rolled, and musing
on the shades of I'ght anrl darkness as the day rose and fell.
For a stripling Manabozho was uncommonly wide
awake. Every n'3W sight he beheld in the heavens was
a subject of remark ; every new animal or bird an object
of deep interest ; and every sound that came from the
bosom of Nature was like a new lesson which he was
expected to learn. He often trembled at what he heard
ami saw.
To tho scene of the wide open praiiie liis grandmother
sent him at an early ag<' to watch. The first sound he
heard was tliat of th(^ owl ; at which he was greatly terrified,
and quickly descending the tre^e he had climbed, ho ran
with alarm to the lodge. " Noko ! noko ! grandmother,"
ho cried. *' I have heard a monedo."
fi't
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
177
She laughed at his fears, and asked him what kind of
noise his reverence made. He answered, '* It makes a
noise like this: ko-ko-ko-ho."
His grandmother told him he was young and foolish ;
that what he had heard was only a bird which derived its
name from the peculiar noise it made.
He returned to the prairie and continued l\is watch.
As he stood there looking at the clouds, he thought ^o
himself, *' It is singular that I am so simple and my
grandmother so wise ; and that I have neither father nor
mother. I have never heard a word about them. I must
ask and find out."
He went home and sat down, silent and dejected.
Finding that this did not attract the notice of his grand-
mother, he began a loud lamentation, which lui kept in-
creasing, louder and louder, till it shook the lodge, and
nearly deafened the old grandmother. She at length said,
" Manabozho, what is the matter with you 1 You are
making a great deal of noise."
Manabozho started off again with his doleful hubbub ;
but succeeded in jerking out between his big sobs, *' I
haven't got any father nor mother, I haven't ; " and lie set
out again lamenting more boisterously than ever.
Knowing that he was of a wicked and I'cvengeful
tempei', his grandmother dreaded to tell him the story of
his parentage, as she knew he would make trouble of it.
Manabozho renewed his cries, and managed to throw
out for a third or fourth time his .sorrowful lament that he
was a poor unfortunate, who had no parents and no
relations.
She at last said to him, "Yes, vou have a father and
three brothers living. Your mother is dead She was
taken for a wife by your father, the West, without the
consent of her parents. Your brothers are the North,
East, and South ; and being older than yourself, your
father has given them great power with tlu^ winds, ac-
cording to their names. You are the youngest of his
children. I have nursed you from your infancy ; for
your mother died at your birth. Your mother was my
only child, and you are my only hope."
12
iP
-1
178
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
■. I
,)^ I**
kt [
C 5,.
It
*'I am glad my father is living," saJd Alalia lioziio. '*!
shall set out in the moraing to visit hi..' "
Hi- grandniother would have discourag'Ml i)im ; saying
it wa.s a long distance to the place wLere liis fatLer, Nin-
gabiun, or the West, lived.
This information seemed rather to please than to discon-
cert Manabozho : for by this time he had grown to such a
size and strength that he had been compelled to lesve the
narrow shelter of his grandmother's lodge and to live out
of duors. He was so tall that, if he had been so c'isposed,
he could have snapped off the heads of the birds roosting
in the topmost branches of the highest trees, as lie stood
up, without being -t the trouble to climb. And if he had
at any time taken a fancy to one of the same trees for a
walking-stick, he would have had no niore to do than to
pluck it up with his thumb and forefinger, and strip down
the leaves and twigs with the palm of his hand.
Bidding good-bye to his venerable old grandmother, who
pulled a very long face over hi<« departure, M lUHbozho set
out at great headway, for he was able to stride from one
side of a prairie to the other at a single step.
He found his father on a high mountain ground, far in
the west. His father espied his approach at a great dis-
tance, and l)ounde<l down the mountain side several miles
to give him welcome ; and, side by side, ap[)arently de-
lighted with each other, thev reached in two or tliree of
their giant pact.,s the lodg«. ot the West, which stood high
up near the clouds.
They s[)ent some days in talking with eaoli otlier ; for
these two gnuit persons did notliing on a small scjilc, arid
a whole day to deliver a single sentence, such was the
immensity of th(ur discourse, was (juite an ordinary alfair.
One evening, Mana)K)zho asked iiis father what he was
most afraid of on earth.
He replied, '' Nothing."
"But is there nfttliing you drend here — nothing that
wond hurt you if you t<K)k too much of it? (Jtune, tell
me.
Mai'?bozho was very urgent ; at last his father said, —
''Yes; there is a black stone to be found a cou{>le of
i
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
179
i(,
aying
Nin-
iscon-
;uch a
re the
'e out
posed,
osting
stood
le had
for a
lan to
down
r, who
ho set
in one
far in
it dis-
milos
.ly de-
iroo of
ll high
\y ; for
KS and
lis the
kirair.
le was
that
IKS toll
hi-
ll tie of
hundred miles from here, ovei that way," pointms; a?^ he
spoke. " It is the only thing f \rtldy that I xr pfr;.af? of;
for if it should happen to liit me on iiny part ot my b viy,
it vould hurt me very much."
The West ma^.j this important circumstance kn ;wr to
JManabozho in the strictest confidence.
"Now you will not tell any one, Manabozho, {a*X the
black stone is bad medicine for your father, will you 'i " hci
added. " You are a good son, and I know you will keep
it to yourself. Now tell me, my darling boy, is there not
something that you don't like?"
jManabozho answered j)romptly, "Nothing."
His father, who was of a very steady and persevering
temper, put the same question to him seventeen times, and
each time Manabozho made the same answer — "Nothing."
But the West insisted, " Tiiere must be something you
are afraid of."
"Well, I will tell you," said JManabozho, "what it is."
He made an etlbrt to speak, but it seemed to be too
much for him.
" Out with it," said Ningabiun, or the West, fot clung
Manal)ozho such a blow on the back as shook tiie ?noun-
tain with its echo.
"Je-ee, je-<>o — it is," said Manabozho, inpfireutly in
great pain. " Y(i0, yeo ! I cannot name it, I rtmbie sc. '
The West told him to banish his fears, a to speak up;
no one would hurt him.
Manabozho began again, and he would have :»'ine over
the same make-believe of an«.'uish, had not \\v fatluir,
whose strenirth he knew was more than a matcli for his
own, threatened to pitch him into a river about five miles
off. At last he cried out, —
" Fathe}*, since you will know, it is the root of the
bulrush."
lie who could with jierfect ease S])in a sentence a whole
day long, se<'med to l>e exhausted by the eflbrt of |)ro
nounciiig that one word, " Itulrusli.''
Some time after, ^Ianabo/.h'> observed, —
"I will get some of the bla'-k rock, nu relv to see how
it looks."
m
^\4
ml
IM
180
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
W V
"Well," said tho father, "I will also get a little of the
bulrush-root, to learn how it tastes."
They were both double-dealing with each other, and in
their hearts getting ready for son)e desperate work.
They had no sooner separated for the evening than
Manabozho was striding off the couj)le of hundred miles
necessary to bring him to the place where black rock was
to be procured, while down the other side of the mountain
hurried Ningabiun.
At the break of day they each appeared at the great
level on the mountain-top ; Manabozlio with twenty loads,
at least, of the black stone, on one side ; and on the other
the West, with a whole meadow of bulrush in his arms.
Manabozho was the first to strike — hurling a great piece
of the black rock, which struck the West directly between
the eyes ; who returned the favor with a blow of bulrush,
that rung over the shoulders of Manabozho, far and wide,
like the whip-thong of the lightning among the clouds.
And now both rallied, and Manabozho poured in a
tempest of black rock, while Ningabiun discharged a
shower of bulrush. Blow upon blow, thwack upon thwack
— they fought hand to hand until black rock and bulrush
wei*e all gone. Then they betook themselves to hurling
crags at each other, cudgeling with huge oak-trees, and
defying each other from one mountain-top to another ;
while at times they shot enormous boulders of granite across
at each other's heads, as though they had been mere jack-
stones. The battle, which had commenced on the moun-
tains, had extendeil far west. The West was forced to
give ground. Manabozho pressing on, drove him across
rivers :>nd mountains, ridges and lakes, till at last he got
him vO tb.e very brink of the world,
*' Hold ' ' cried the West. *' My son, you know my
pow T ; and :^lthough I nilow that 1 am now fairly out of
breath, i' is i impossible to kill me. The four (juarters of
the globe are ahcady occupied, but you can go and do a
great de>'] of good to the peoph^ of the earth, which is
i?.set with serpents, beasts and monsters, who make great
liavoc of human lit'*-.
ScHooLCU.XFx'a Indian LciiaKjU- Ed. Matthews.
vv my
ut of
crs of
do a
cli is
|<]froat
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
j\ • >■',
•>^.-^'-r^
** *^ -r
-'T*^
,-S;.^--
'•W:*--
M."^
181
mM
• J
** \-^
-r<f
:'*•
■•:?.•
THE OWL.
Hknky B. Hiuht (b. 1H13).
"When twilijijlit fades and (evening falls
Alik<; oil trco and to\v(;r,
And silence, like a pensive maid,
Walks round each slund)(»iin«,' bower ;
\Vli<*n frau^rant flowerets fold their leaves,
And all is still in sh^ep,
The horni'd owl on moonlit wing
Flies from the donjon keep.
And he calls aloud — " too- whit I too-whoo ! "
And the nightingale is still,
And thr ]>attering step of tlu; hurrying hare
Is Imshed upon the hill
'r»
'^■J^.\
**^#t..
And he crouches low in th(^ dc^wy grass
As the lord of the night goes by,
Not with a loudly whirring wing,
But like a lady's sigh.
1
'' '-.iii
ii I '
¥
r .
n
182
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
L . iC I
>*..
Ir
A NIGHT SCENE.
The Rev. Henry Alpord, D.D.,
DEAN OF CANTERBURY.
We looked into the silent sky,
We gazed u^x^n thee, lovely
moon ;
And thou wert shining clear and
bright
In night's unclouded noon.
And it was sweet to stand and
think,
Amidst the deep tranquillity,
How many eyes at that still hour
Were looking u[M)n thee.
The exile on the foreign shore
Hath stood and turned his eye
on thee ;
And he hath thought uyion his
days
Of hope and infancy;
And he hath said, there may be
those
CJazin;jr upon thy lieauty now,
Who stain ped the last, the burn-
iuj,' kiss
Ujion liis i)arting brow.
The captive in his grated ceil
Hath cast him in thv peering
li^'ht;
And looked on thee and almost
bl(>st
The solitary night.
Till', infant slunibereth in his cot,
And onliimisthy licpiid beam;
And shapes of soft and faery
light
Have mingled in his dream.
The sick upon the sliM>pless l)ed,
Scared by the dream of wild
unrest,
The fond and nmte companion-
ship
Of thy sweet ray hath blest.
The mourner in thy sihtT beam
Ha'.h laid his sad and wasted
fnnn.
And felt that there is «juiet there
T<t calm his inward storm.
I
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
183
D, D.D.,
RY.
it sky,
}, lovely
jlear and
loon.
and and
]uillity,
till hour
36.
shore
1 his eye
iix)n his
may be
by now,
le burn-
ceil
])f>ering'
almost
his cot,
I boani;
fa«^ry
-'am.
■is brd,
f wild
tiiuii»n-
ilost.
iM'iim
vasted
there
11.
THE BOYHOOD OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN,
Frederick Sherlock.
The picture which Mr. J. G. Holland has furnished of
the rou^di log cabin in which the Lincolns dwelt at the
time referred to, is one of extreme desolation. They had a
few three-legged stools ; and their only bed was made in a
singular manner. Its head and one side were formed by a
coiner of tlie cabin ; the bed-post was a single crotch cut
from th(^ forest. Laid upon this crotch were the ends of
two hickory poles, the extremities of which were placed in
two holes made in the logs of the wall. On these sticks
rested " slats," or boards rudely split from trees ^vith an
axe ; and on these slats was laid a bag tilled with dried
leaves. This was the bed of Thomas and Nancy Lincoln ;
and into it — when the skins hung at the cabin entrance
did not keep out the cold — little Abraham and his sister
crept for warmth.
In 1818 a fever epidemic earned off Lincoln's wife.
Little Abraham and his sister felt their lots very acutely ;
but in thirteen months their father brought home a second
wife, Mrs. Johnson, a widow, whom he had wooed ineffec-
tually in Kentucky many years before. " She set about
mending matters with great energy ; and made her husband
put down a floor and hang windows and doors. She had
brought a son and two daughters of her own; but Abraham
and his sister had an equal place in her affections. They
were half-naked, and she clad them ; they were diily, and
she washed them ; they had been ill-used, and she treated
them with a little more tenderness. In her own language,
she **made them look a little more human." Mr. Le'and
tells us that this excellent woman loved Abraham tenderly,
and that her love was warmly returned. After his death,
she declared to Mr. W. H. Herndon, who was for many years
the law partner of Abraham Lincoln, '* I can t-ay what not
one mother in ten thousand can of a boy — Abe never
gave me a cross look, and never refused, in fact or apj)ear-
ance, to do anything I requested him ; nor did I e^er give
him a cross word in all my life. His mind and mine —
W^
\
184
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
i^
l;:
P 'ii y.
ill- ••
what little I had — seemed to run together. He was duti-
ful to me always. Abe was the best boy I ever sa\v, or
ever expect to see." "When in after years Mr. Lincoln
spoke of his ' saintly mother,' and of his ' angel of a
mother/ he referred to this noble woman, who first made
him feel * like a human being,' — whose goodness first
touched his childish heart, and taught him that blows and
taunts and degradation were not to be his only portion in
tlie world."
The boy's first teacher was Zachariah Riney, a Catholic
priest ; but in all his life, reckoning his instruction by days,
he had only one year's schooling. As he grew up, when
not working for his father he was hired out as a farm
laborer to the neisjhbors. In the evening's he was accus-
tomed to pass the hours in study. By the dim fire-light he
would plod at arithmetic with a pencil or coal on a wooden
shovel or strip of board. When this was full he would
shave it off with a sharp knife and begin again.
" Abraham's poverty of books,' it has been aptly re-
marked, *'was the wealth of his lifo." It is interesting to
note that among the first books which he read and thor-
oughly mastered were " ^sop's Fables," " Robinson
Crusoe," " Pilgrim's Progress," and " Weem's Life of
Washington." "Lincoln," said his cousin, Dennis Hanks,
*' was lazy — a vertj lazy man. He was always reading,
scribbling, ciphering, writing poetry, and the like." This
" laziness," however, enabled him to become a smart lawyer
by the age of twenty-five.
Lincoln is described by a fellow- work man as being at
twenty-one " the roughest-looking person he ever saw : he
was tall, angular, and ungainly, and wore trowsers of fiax
and tow, cut tight at the ankles, and out at the knees. He
was very ])oor, and made a bargain with Mrs. Nancy
Miller to .split four hundred rails for every yard of brown
jean, dyed with walnut bark, that would be required to
make him a pair of trowsers."
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
185
ic: at
: he
flax
He
incy
town
d to
THE ANGEL'S WHISPER.
«
Samuel Lover (1797-1808).
["A superstition of ^reat beauty prevails in Ireland, that when a
cliild smiles in its sleep it is ' talking with angels.' " — Lover.]
A bal)y was sleeping,
Its mother was weepinji;,
For her husband was far on the wild raging sea ;
And the tempest was swelling
Round the fisherman's dwelling,
And she cried, " Dermot, darling, oh, come back to me ! "
Her beads while she numbered,
The baby still slumbered.
And smiled in her face as she bended her knee ;
" Oh, blest be that warning.
My child, thy sleep adorning.
For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.
*' And while theyare keeping
Bright watch o'er thy sleei)ing,
Oh, pray to them softly, my baby, with me !
And say thou would 'st rather
They 'd watch o'er thy father ! —
For I know that the angels are whispering with thee."
The dawn of the morning
Saw Dermot returning,
And the wife wept with joy her babe's father to see ;
And closely caressing
Her child, with a blessing,
Said, *' I knew that the angels were whispering with thee. "
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186 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
MOUNTAIN DRIVE TO THE GEYSERS OF
CALIFORNIA
[The Calif omian " Geysers " are a series of hot springs and fountain?,
situated in a deep gorge of the Coast Range, about 70 miles from San
Francisco. The follcnving graphic account is from the pen of the Rev.
Hugh Johnston, M.A., who, during the spring of 1871, visited the
Geysers in company with the Rev. Dr. Punshon and Mr. Herbert
Mason.]
Here the famous whip, Mr. Clarke Foss, the champion
driver of the world, took us in charge. Like a royal
autocrat he dictated to us the conditions of enjoyable rid-
ing. We must not fear, for he was a perfectly safe driver
— " the biggest coward that ever pulled a rein." We
must not .brace ourselves. " He had tried to hold down a
ship once but couldn't do it," and so gave up the effort.
A splendid specimen of a man is Mr. Foss — tall, stout,
handsome, well-proportioned ; he is, in his own words, a
" healthy ghost," and weighing two hundred and fifty
pounds. He has immense strength, and is "too big to*
strike in a fall." We soon made the acquaintance of his
six-in-hand; — "Ned and John," the leaders, high-bred and
thoroughly trained; " Heenan and Limber Jim," tlie
swing, — the said Jim starting off so rampant that his
driver told him in words that he could not fail to under-
stand (for he says, " they know his talk if it isn't very
good ") that he would come back like a sick cat ; " Hem-
mingway and Jeff Davis," the obedient wheelers. But
how shall we describe the ride ? — that exciting, bewilder-
ing mountain drive — up steep hills and down them at
full gallop — across pasture grounds — climbing, stretching,-
toiling up an immense mountain side, in tortuous path, as
if winding around a gigantic cork-screw — trotting, gallop-
ing, rushing ; th(^ whole band of six fleet coursers lifted at
one time from the ground and grasped in the strong hand
of the driver. Now pausing from some immense height,
to look back and down upon thirty miles of the Russian
River valley, with its fields spread out like a great chess-
board, and the stream winding like a thread of silver
between the sloping heights — now flying like the wind
over " Hog's Rack " (the crest of a mountain running
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
18:
OF
'ountains,
from San
the Rev.
isited the
Herbert
lampioii
a royal
ible rid-
3 driver
" We
down a
e effort.
1, stout,
^ords, a
id fifty
i big to*
e of his
red and
n," tlie
hat his
under-
I't very
" Hem-
But
iwilder-
hem at
tching,-
)ath, as
gallop-
fted at
g hand
height,
lussian
} chess-
silver
wind
unning
away from the edge like tlie sides of a roof), the road so
narrow that you look from the bristle, sheer down two
thousand feet at the ravines below. At length we came
to a point that overlooked the canyon of the Pluto River,
narrow and deep, the place of the smoking and boiling
springs. But it is two miles down, and the rapid descent
is eighteen hundred feet. *'Now," says Foss, "look at
your watches; we'll be tht^re in ten minutes." Away
we go, plunging down the mountain side with apparent
recklessness of life or limb, making sharp turns, where the
leaders are swung directly oft* their feet — away we go ])ell
mell, holding our breath until with a sudden turn we are
at the sides of the canyon, and halt at the hotel.
*' Well," said one of our party, heaving a sigh of relief
as he stepped out of the carriage, " I never before drove
djown a house-side in a coach and six." Now for the
springs. All around you are the marks of volcanic action ;
you are burdened with a sense of oppressive heat, clouds
of smoky vapors are rising, and the earth is hollow and
ruttibling, and from it the sounds of escaping steam are
heard. From a thousand heated crevices are issuing jets
of sulphurous hot steam. The ground is white and yellow
and gray ; porous and rotten with high heat. Along tho
bottom of the ravine, and up its sides, are caldions filled
with heated water ; such as the " Devil's Punch-bowl,"
and "The Witches' Caldron" — a large liole several feet in
diameter. The/ waters differ in temperature; some are
cold and others hot — rising in temperature from 150° to
200°. They differ also in taste, color, and smell. Some
are white, and others black as ink. We found all around
us little orificjRS, deposits of sulphur, and sulphate of mag-
nesia, alum, and tho various salts of iron. As you ascend
the ^ulch, you hear a imfHng noise, resembling that which
a steamboat makes in resisting a strong curn-nt. This is
"The Steamboat" Geyser, and from it rises a volume of
steam to a height of from fifty to a hundred feet. The
earth shakes and trembles under the pressure; of the feet ;
ebullitions and horrid boilings increase at every step, and
you are anxious to get away, fearing some earthquake
opening, or some volcanic outburst of tire.
^li
1^;
i
iii
m
*i I
ri
188
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
'A':\
MOOSE JTJNTING IN CANADA
Lord Dunraven (b. 1841).
Out on the lake it was blowing a gale, and right against
us. We had to kneel in the bottom of the canoes, instead
of sitting on the thwarts, and vigorously ply our paddles.
The heavily laden craft plunsfed into the waves, shipping
water at every jump, and sending the spray flying into our
faces. Sometimes we would make good way; at other
times, in a squall, we would not gain an inch, and would
be almost driven on shore. But after much labor we
gained the shelter of a projecting point, and late in the
evening reached our destination, and drew up our canoes
for the last time.
While others make camp, old John, our Indian guide,
wanders off with head stooped, and eyes fixed on the
ground, according to his custom. After dark he comes
quietly in, sits down by the fire and lights his pipe, and,
after smoking a little while, observes . " Moose been here,
sir, not long ago. I saw fresh tracks, a cow and a calf
close handy just around that little point of woods." And
so we fall to talking about former hunting excursions till
bed time, or rather sleepy time, comes, and we curl up in
our blankets, full of hopes for the future, which may or
may not be disappointed.
Moose-calling commences about the 1st of September,
and ends about the 15th of October. A full moon occurring
between the middle and the end of September is the best
of all times. The best plan in calling is to fix upon a per-
manent camp and to make little expeditions of two or
three days' duration from it, returning to rest and to get
fresh supplies. Then you enjoy the true luxury of hunt-
ing. Then you feel really and thoroughly independent
and free.
The Indian carries your blanket, your coat, a little tea,
sugar, and bread, a kettle, and two tin pannikins. The
hunter has enough to do to carr^ himself, his rifle, ammu-
nition, a small axe, a hunting-knife, and a pair of field-
glasses. Thus accoutred, clad in a flannel shirt and home-
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
189
against
instead
•addles.
lipping
[ito our
: other
would
3or we
in the
canoes
guide,
3n the
comes
e, and,
a here,
a calf
And
)ns till
up in
nay or
mber,
urring
le best
a per-
wo or
to get
hunt-
ndent
tea,
The
mmu-
field-
lome-
spun trowsers, moose-hide moccasins on y^-ur feet, your
trowsers tucked into woollen socks, your arms unencum-
bered with that useless article a coat, you ])lunge into the
woods, the sun your guide in clear weather, your pocket-
compass if it be cloudy, the beasts and birds and fishes your
companions ; and you wander through the woods at will,
sleeping where the fancy seizes you, " calling" if the nights
are calm, or hunting on a windy day.
Calling is the most fascinating, disappointing, exciting
of all sports. You may be lucky at once and kill your
moose the first night you go out, perhaps at the very first
call you make. You may be weeks and weeks, perhaps
the whole calling season, without getting a shot. Moose-
calling is simple enough in theory ; in practice it is im-
mensely difficult. It consists in imitating the cry of the
animal with a hollow cone made of birch bark, and en-
deavoring by this means to call up a moose near enough
to get a shot at him by moonlight or in the early morning.
He will come straight up to you, within a few yards — walk
right over you almost — answering — "speaking" is the
Indian term — as he comes along, if nothing hapi^ens to
scare him ; but that is a great if, so many unavoidable
accidents occur.
The great advantage of moose-calling is, that it takes
one out in the woods during the most beautiful period of
the whole year ; when Nature, tired with the labor of
spring rnd summer, puts on her holiday garments, and
rests luxuriously before falling into the deep sleep of winter.
The great heats are past, though the days are still warm
and sunny; the nights are calm and peaceful, the mornings
cool, the evenings so rich in coloring that they seem to
dye the whole woodland with sunset hues, for the maple,
oak, birch, and beech trees glow with a gorgeousness un-
known to similar trees in the British Islands.
As soon as the moon was high enough to shed a good
light, Noel and I walked down to a little point of woods
jutting out into the barren, to call. Putting the birch-bark
caller to his lips, Noel imitated the long-drawn, wailing
cry of the moose ; and then we sat down, wrapped in our
blankets, patiently to listen and to wait. No answer —
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190
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
perfect stillness prevailed. Presently, with a strange,
rapidly approaching rush, a gang of wild geese passed,
clanging overhead, their strong pinions whirring in the still
air.
" Hark ! " says Noel ; " what 's that 1 I hear him right
across the wood there ; " and in truth we could just make
out the faint call of a bull moose miles away. The sound
got rapidly nearer, he was coming up quickly, when we
heard a second moose advancing to meet him. They
■}^i.^
MOOSE DEER.
answered each other for & little while, and then they ceased
speaking, and the forest relapsed into silence, so death-like
that it was hard to believe that it ever had been or could
be broken by any living thing.
The moose arrived within about fifty or sixty yards of
us. We could dimly see him in the dark shadow of an
island of trees. In another second he would have been
out in the moonlight if we had left him alone ; but Noel,
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
191
They
^.
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^^^,
in his anxiety to bring him up, called like a bull, and the
moose turned right round and went back aijain across the
barren. We did not try any more calling, but made up
our fire and lay down till daylight.
The next night, or rather on the morning after, we called
up two moose after sunrise, but failed from various causes
in getting a shot ; but on the day succeeding that, I killed
a very large bull.
We had called without any answer all night, and were
going home to the principal camp about ten in the day,
when we heard a cow call. It was a dead calm, and the
woods were dry as tinder and strewn with crisp, dead
leaves ; but we determined to try and creep up to her.
I will not attempt to describe how we crept up pretty
near, and waited, and listened patiently for hours^ till we
heard her again, and fixed the exact spot where she was :
how we crept and crawled, inch by inch, through Imshes,
and over dry leaves and brittle sticks, till we got within
sight and easy shot of three moose — a big bull, a cow, and
a two-year-old. Suffice it to say that the big bull died ;
he paid the penalty. Female loquacity cost him his life.
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THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.
William CullExN Bryant (1794-1878).
The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year,
Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown
and sear.
Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie
dead ;
They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs
the jay.
And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the
gloomy day.
Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately
sprang and stood
In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ?
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THIJRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
Alas ! they all are in their graves — the gentle race of
flowers
Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of
ours.
The rain is falling where they lie ; but the cold November
rain
Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
The windflower and the violet, they perished long ago,
And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the summer
glow ;
But on the hill the golden-rod, and the aster in the wood,
And the yellow sunflower by the brook in autumn beauty
stood,
Till fell the frost from the clear cold heaven, as falls the
plague on men,
And the brightness of their smile was gone from upland,
glade, and glen.
And now, when comes the calm milJ air, as still such days
will come.
To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter
home ;
When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the
trees are still,
And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill ;
The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance
late he bore,
And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no
more.
And then I think of one who in her youthful beauty died.
The fair, meek blossom, that grew up and faded by my
side :
In the cold, moist earth we laid her, when the forests cast
the leaf,
Ajid we wept that one so lovely should have a life so
brief :
Yet not unmeet it was that one, like that young friend of
ours,
80 gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers.
il.S
race of
good of
)vember
s again.
ago,
summer
3 wood,
I beauty
falls the
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winter
I all the
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•agrance
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by my
jsts cast
life so
[•lend of
Iflowers.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 193
THE AUTUMN FOUEST.
Dora Read Goodale (b. ISGfi).
The woodland ] ath is full of light,
With maple-tires returning;
The day succeeds tlie frosty night,
With sudden splendor burning:
The pines are black against the sky,
With shifting asters bordered;
Behind, the glowing forests lie,
In gold and scarlet broidered.
The line* of birches to the right
Is melted into amber ;
And up along the wooded lieight
The poison-ivies clamber:
By yonder stately chestnut, where
A mateless thrush is calling.
The leaves are dropped across the air
Like flakes of sunlight falling.
The woodland path is full of light,
And fever-fires returning;
The stinging frost of yesternight
Has set the maples burning:
The wood a regal color shows,
With purple asters bordered;
And Autumn's dark-blue mantle glows
In gold and scarlet broidered.
All Round the Year ^ Verses from Sky Farm {18S I).
I
ROCKED IN THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP.
Mrs. Emma (Hart) Willard (1787-1870).
Hocked in the cradle of the deep,
I lay me down in peace to sleej) ;
Secure, I rest upon the wave, —
For thou, O Lord, hast power to save.
13
,? ■ ?
■
194
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
I know thou wilt not slight my call,
For thou dost mark the sparrow's fall ;
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.
When in the dead of night I lie
And gaze upon the trackless sky,
The star-bespangled heavenly scroll,
The boundless waters as they roll, —
I feel thy wondrous power to save
From ])erils of the stormy wave :
Eocked in the cradle of the deep,
I calmly rest and soundly sleep.
And such the trust that still were mine,
Though stormy winds swept o'er the brine,
Or though the tempest's fiery breath
Roused me from sleep to wreck and death !
In ocean cave, stih safe with thee
The germ of immortality !
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep.
Rocked in the cradle of the deep. Poems (1830).
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS
PART IV.
195
-♦♦-
s (1830).
RED LANCES IN THE SKY.
The Marquis of Lorne.
See, in the heaven there glances,
Piercing its northern night,
Light, as of luminous lances,
Flashing, and hurled in fight.
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THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
With weird and wavering gleaming
Bright ranks advance ever higher,
As if through a battle's mist streaming,
And storming the zenith with fire.
Arrayed like a rainbow, but beating
The dark, with thousands of spears,
Eacli thrown, as though armies were meeting,
All glittering and red re-appears.
At times in fair order, and crossing
The heaven as with a span.
Or disarrayed, striving, and tossing.
Seem the hosts to the eyes of man.
See how their lines are shaking.
Surge on, and fast retire ;
How through them faster breaking
Rise others — gleam — expire.
Are rival banners vying,
And waved by armed hands.
Or sheen of planets flying
From bright celestial brands ?
But the silence reigns unbroken,
They fight without a sound ;
If indeed these lights betoken
That wars the stars astound !
For whether they burn all gory.
Or blanch the trembling sky,
No thunder vaunts their glory
As in the gloom they die.
Do they come as warning, telling
Of death, or war, or shame,
When their tremulous pulses, swelling,
Can fill the world with flame 1
Do they tell of cities burning,
'Mid sack, and blood, and lu^t ;
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
H)7
Of lighted arrows, turning
Loved hearths to smoking dust ?
*
For like to an awful ])rosago
Of fields of shiuglitcred dead,
Just where they held their passage
A crimson cloud is sj)read.
Or, boding no fell chastening,
Are they but paths, where sliine
Swift feet, immortal, hastening
With messages divine 1
Come thus the angels speeding
With blighting wing, and rod ?
Ah, none may know the reading
Or follow the signs of God !
In silence He, the Maker,
Bids kindle the fair fire;
In silence he, the Taker,
Lets the red flame expire.
And o'er the watcher's sj)irit,
With Fear, Desire is thrown :
A longing deep doth stir it
To know the yet Unknown.
We seek, with useless yearning,
To pry at hidden things,
Where God, to mock our learning,
His veil of mystery flings.
Earth rears us, and to love her
From birth our nature 's bound ;
But she, like the fires above her,
May die without a sound.
Her seasons' varying story,
The fate of all her race.
May, like the Aurora's glory.
Change, in a moment's space !
Guido and Lita : A Tale oj the Riviera,
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198 TBIED BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
FROZEN VOICES.
Joseph Addison (1672-1719).
We were separated by a storm in the latitude of 73" N.,
insomuch that only the ship which I was in, with a Dutch
and a French vessel, got safe into a creek of Nova Zembla.
We landed, in order to refit our vessels and store ourselves
with provisions. The crew of each vessel made themselves
a cabin of turf and wood, at some d^tance from each other,
to fence themselves against the inclemencies of the weather,
which was severe beyond imagination.
We soon observed that, in talking to one another, we
lost several of our words, and could not hear one another
at above two yards' distance, and that, too, when we sat
very near the fire. After much perplexity, I found that
our words froze in the air, before they could reach the ears
of the person to whom they were spoken.
[With a turn of the wind, the froi^en voices thawed all
at once.] My reader will easily imagine how the whole
crew was amazed to hear every man talking, and see no
man opening his mouth. In the midst of this great sur-
prise we were all in, we heard a volley of oaths and curses,
lasting for a long while, and uttered in a very hoarse voice,
which I knew belonged to the boatswain, who was a very
choleric fellow, and had taken his opportunity of cursing
and swearing at me when he thought I could not hear
him ; for I had several times given him the strappado on
that account, as I did not fail to icpeat it for these his
pious soliloquies when I got him on shipboard.
I must not omit the names of several beauties in
Wapping, which were heard every now and then in the
midst of a long sigh that accompanied them : as, " Dear
Kate ! " " Pretty Mrs. Peggy ! " This betrayed several
things which had been concealed till that time, and furnished
us with a great deal of mirth in our return to England.
When this confusion of voices was pretty well over,
though I was afraid to offer at speaking, as fearing I should
not be heard, I proposed a visit to the Dutch cabin, which
lay about a mile farther up into the country. My crew
73^ N.,
I Dutch
Zembla.
iirselves
m selves
h other,
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bher, we
another
we sat
ind that
the ears
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" Dear
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THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
190
were extremely rejoiced to find they had again recovered
their hearing, though every man uttered his voice with the
same apprehensions that I had done.
At aboi't half a miles distance from our cabin we heard
the groanings of a bear, which at first startled us ; but,
upon inquiry, we were informed by some of our company
that he was dead, and nr , lay in salt, having been killed
upon that very spot about a fortnight before, in the time of
tl\e frost. Not far from the same place, we were entertained
likewise with some posthumous snarls and barkings of a fox.
Tatler: No. 0, Nov. 23, 1710.
THE OLD MAN'S DREAM.
Oliver Wendell Holmes (b. 1809).
" Oh for one hour of youthful joy !
Give back my twentieth spring !
I 'd rather laugh a bright haired boy
Than reign a gray -beard king !
*' Off with the wrinkled spoils of age '
Away with learning's crown !
Tear out life's wisdom- written page,
And dash its trophies down !
"One moment let my life-blood stream
From boyhood's fount of flame !
Give me one giddy, reeling dream
Of life all love and fame ! "
My listening angel heard the prayer,
And calmly smiling said,
" If I but touch thy silvered hair
Thy hasty wish hath sped
" But is there nothini? in thy track
To bid thee fondly stay,
While the swift seasons hurry back
To find the wished-for day 1 "
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200
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
" Ah, truest soul of womankind,
Without thee, Avhat were Hfe ?
One bliss I cannot leave behind :
I '11 take — my — precious —
wife !"
The angel took a sap])hire pen,
.^lij^"? And wrote in rainbow dew,
' " The man would be a boy again,
' And be a husband too ! "
U
f'-^ And is there nothing yet unsaid
Before the change ap})ears ]
Remember, all their gifts have fled
With these dissolving years.''
Why, yes ; for memory would recall
My fond paternal joys ;
I could not bear to leave them all •
I'll take — my — girl — and — boys !"
The smiling angel dropped his pen —
Why, this will never do ;
The man would be a boy again,
And be a father too ! "
And so I laughed — my laughter woke
The household with its noise —
And wrote my dream, when morning broke,
To please the gray-haired boys.
Autocrat of the Breakfast Tallc.
«■' » t''''
ikind,
ere life ?
behind :
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Talk.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 201
GULLIVER AMONG THE GIANTS.
. De.\n Swift (1GG7-1745).
It was about twelve at noon, and a servant broii|L:lit in
dinner. It was only one sul)stantial dish of meat (tit for
the plain condition of a husbandman), in a dish of about
four-and-twenty feet diameter. The company consisted of
the farmer and his wife, three children, and an old grand-
mother. When they were seated, the farmer placed me at
some distance from him on the table, which was thirty
feet high from the floor.
I was in a terrible fright, and kept as far as I could
from the edge, for fear of falling. The wife minced a bit
of meat, then crumbled some bread on a trencher, and
placed it before me. I made her a low bow, tcok out my
knife and fork, and fell to eating, which gave thtm ex-
ceeding delight. The mistress sent her maid for a small
dram-cup, which held about two gallons, and filled it with
drink.
I took up the vessel with much difficulty in both himds,
and in a most respectful manner drank to her ladyship's
health, expressing the words as loudly as I could in Eng-
lish ; which made the company laugh so heartily, that I
was almost deafened with the noise. This liquor tasted
like a small cider, and was not un})leasant.
Then the master made me a sign to ccme to his trencher-
side ; but, as I walked on the table, being in great surprise
all the time, as the indulgent reader will easily conceive
and excuse, I happened to stumble against a crust, and fell
flat on my face, but received no hurt.
I got up immediately, and, observing the good people
to be in much concern, I took my hat (m hich 1 held under
my arm, out of good manners), and, waving it over my
head, gave three huzzas, to show I had received no mis-
chief by my fall. On advancing to^vard my master (as I
shall henceforth call him), his youngest son, who sat next
to him, an arch boy of about ten years old, took me uj* by
the legs, and held me so high in the air that I trembled in
every limb ; but his father snatched me from him, and at
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THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSOIfS.
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the same time gave him such a box on the left ear as would
have felled a European troop of horse to the earth, and
ordered him to be taken from the table. Being afraid the
boy might owe me a spite, and well remembering how mis-
chievous all children among us naturally are to sparrows,
rabbits, young kittens, and puppy-dogs, I fell on my knees,
and, pointing to the boy, made my master to understand
as well as I could that I desired his son might be pardoned.
The father complied, and the lad took his seat again ; where-
upon 1 went to him and kissed his hand, which my master
took, and made him stroke me gently with it.
In the midst of dinner, my mistress's favorite cat leaped
into her lap. I heard a noise behind me like that of a
dozen stocking- weavers at work ; and, turning my head, I
found it proceeded from the purring of that animal, who
seemed to be three times larger than an ox, as I computed
by the view of her head and one of her paws, while her
mistress was feedin": and stroking her. The fierceness of
this creature's countenance altogether discomposed me,
though I stood at the farther end of the table, above fifty
feet off, and though my mistress held her fast, for fear she
might give a spring and seize me in her talons. But it
happened that there was no danger, for the cat took not
the least notice of me when my master placed me within
three yards of her. As I have been always told, and
found true by experience in my travels, that flying, or dis-
covering fear before a fierce animal, is a certain way to
make it pursue or attack you, so I resolved, in this dan-
gerous juncture, to show no manner of concern. I walked
with intrepidity five or six times before the very head of
the cat, and came within half a yard of her ; whereupon
she drew herself back, as if she were afraid of me. I had
less apprehension concerning the dogs, whereof three or
four came into the room — as it is usual in farmers' houses
— one of which was a mastiff, equal in bulk to four ele-
phants, and a greyhound somewhat taller than the mastiff,
but not so large. Travels of Lemuel Gulliver (1726).
r
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
203
s would
th, and
raid the
ow mis-
)arrows,
y knees,
ierstand
irdoned.
; where-
T master
,t leaped
lat of a
' head, I
nal, who
omputed
rhile her
!eness of
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ove fifty-
fear she
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ook not
e within
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, or dis-
way to
[his dan-
walked
head of
hereupon
I had
three or
houses
four ele-
mastiff,
(1726).
HOME.
James Montgomery (1771-1854).
There is a land, of every land the pride,
Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ;
Where brighter suns dispense serener light.
And milder moons imparadise the night ;
A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth,
Time-tutored age, and love-exalted youth :
The wandering mariner, whose eye explores
The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores,
Views not a realm so bountiful and fair.
Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ;
In every clime the magnet of his soul,
Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole ;
For in this land of Heaven's peculiar grace,
The heritage of nature's noblest race,
There is a spot ol earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.
Where man, creation's tyrant, casts aside
His sword and sceptre, pageantry and pride,
While in his softened looks benignly blend
The sire, the son, the husband, brother, friend :
Here woman reigns ; the mother, daughter, wife,
Strew with fresh flowers the narrow way of life !
In the clear heaven of her delightful eye
An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ,
Around her knees domestic duties meet.
And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet.
Where shall that land, that spot of earth be foun<l ?
Art thou a man ? — a patriot ?— -look around ;
Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam.
That land thy Country, and that spot thy Homo.
West Indies, part iii., opening lines.
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204
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE FIRST SNOW-FALL.
Jaiies Russell Lowell (b. 1819)
The snow had begun in the gloaming,
And busily all the night
Had been heaping field and Jiighway
With a silence deep and white.
Every pine and fir and hemlock
Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
And the poorest twig on the elm-tree
Was ridged inch deep with pearl.
From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
Came chanticleer's muffled crow ;
The stiff rails were softened to swan's-down,
And still fluttered do^Mi the snow.
I stood and watched by the window
The noiseless work of the sky,
And the sudden flurries of snow-birds,
Like brown leaves whirling by.
I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
Where a little headstone stood, —
How the flakes wore folding it gently.
As did robins the babes in the wood.
«U>'-.
3wn,
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 205
Up spoke our own little Mabel,
Saying, " Father, who makes it snow 1 "
And I told of the good All-father
Who cares for us here below.
Again I looked at the snow-fall,
And thought of the leaden sky
That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
When that mound was heaped so high.
I remembered the gradual patience
That fell from that cloud like snow,
Flake l)y flake, healing and hiding
The scar of our deejj-plunged woe.
And again to the child I whispered,
" The snow that husheth all,
Darling, the merciful Father
Alone can make it fall ! "
Then with eyes that saw not I kissed her ;
And she, kissing back, could not know
That my kiss was given to her sister.
Folded close under deepening snow.
Under the Willows (18G9).
SONNET-CANADIAN WINTER NIGHT.
Charles Heavysege (181G-187C).
The stars are setting in the frosty sky,
Numerous as pebbles on a broad sea-coast ;
While o'er the vault the cloud-like galaxy
Has marshalled its innumerable host.
Alive all heaven seems : with wondrous glow,
Tenfold refulgent every star appears ;
As if some wide, celestial gale did blow,
And thrice illumine the ever-kindled spheres.
Orbs, with glad orbs rejoicing, burning, beam
Raj^-crowned, with lambent lustre in their zonef^;
Till o'er the blue-bespangled spaces seem
Angels and great archangels on their thrones; —
A host divine, whose eyes are s})arkling gems.
And forms more bright than diamond diadems.
206
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE SNOW MAN.
I ,
Hans Christian Andersen (b. 1805).
" It 's so wonderfully cold that my whole body crackles ! "
said the Snow Man. " This is a kind of wind that can
blow life into one — and how the gleaming one up yonder
is staring at me." He meant the sun, which was just
about to set. " It shall not make me wink — I shall man-
age to keep the pieces."
He had two triangular pieces of tile in his head instead
of eyes. His mouth was made of an old rake, and con-
sequently was furnished with teeth.
He had been born amid the joyous shouts of the boys,
and welcomed by the sound of sledge bells and the slashing
of whips.
The sun went down, and the full moon rose, round,
large, clear, and beautiful in the l)lue air.
"There it comes again from the other side," said the
Snow Man. He intended to say the sun is showing
himself again. *' Ah ! I have cured him of staring. Now
let him hang up there and shine, that I may see myself.
If I only knew how I could manage to move from this
place — I should like so much to move. If I could, I would
slide along yonder on the ice, just as I see the boys slide ;
but I don't understand it — I don't know how to run."
" Away ! away ! " barked the old Yard Dog. He was
quite hoarse, and could not pronounce the genuine " bow-
wow." He had got the hoarseness fiom the time when
he was an indoor dog, and lay by the fire. **The sun will
teach you to run ! I saw that last winter in your pre-
decessor, and before that in his predecessor. Away ! away !
— and away they all go."
*' I don't understand you, comrade," said the Snow Man.
"That thing up yonder is +o teach me to run?" He
meant the moon. " Yes, it was running itself when I saw
it a little while ago, and now it comes creeping from the
other side."
"You know nothing at all," retorted the Yard Dog.
"But then you Ve only just been patched up. What you
see yonder is the moon, and the one that went before was
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
207
ickles ! "
hat can
> yonder
^as just
all inan-
. instead
and con-
lie boys,
slashing
, round,
said the
showing
y. Now
3 myself,
om this
I would
^s slide ;
n."
He was
" bow-
lie when
sun will
our pre-
away!
e
I
Dw Man.
? " He
n I saw
rom the
:'d Dog.
hat you
"ore was
the
It
and will teach
sun. It will come again to-morrow,
you to run down into the ditch by the wall. We shall
soon have a change of weather ; I can feel that in my
left hind leg, for it pricks and pains me : the weather is
going to change."
" I don't understand him," said the Snow Man, " but I
have a feeling that he 's talking about something disagree-
able. The one who stared so just now, and whom he
called the sun, is not my friend. I can feel that."
" Away ! away !" barked the Yard Dog; and he turned
round three times, and then crept into his kennel to sleep.
The weather reaHy changed. Towards morning, a thick
damp fog lay over the whole region; later there came a
wind, an icy wind. Tho cold seemed quite to seize upon
one; but when the sun rose, what splendor! Trees and
bushes were covered with hoar frost, and looked like a
complete forest of coral, and every twig seemed covered
with gleaming white buds. The many delicate ramifica-
tions, concealed in summer by the wealth of leaves, now
made their appearance : it seemed like a lace- work, gleam-
ing white. A snowy radiance sprang from every twig.
The birch waved in the wind — it had life, like the rest of
the trees in summer. It was wonderfully beautiful. And
when the sun shone, how it all gleamed and sparkled, as if
diamond-dust had been strewn everywhere, and big dia-
monds had been dropped on the snowy carpet of the earth !
or one could imagine that countless little lights were
gleaming, whiter than even the snow itself.
" That is wonderfully beautiful," said a young girl, who
came with a young man into the garden. They both stood
still near the Snow Man, and contemplated the glittering
trees. " Summer cannot show a more beautiful sight,"
said she ; and her eyes sparkled.
" And we can't have such a fellow as this in summer-
time," replied the young man, and he pointed to the Snow
Man. "He is capital."
The girl laughed, nodded at the Snow Man, and then
danced away over the snow with her friend — over the
snow that cracked and crackled under her tread as if she
were walkina: on starch.
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208
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
" Who were those two?" the Snow Man inquired of the
Yard Dog. " You 've been longer in the yard than I. Do
you know them V
" Of course I know them," replied the Yard Dog. " She
lias stroked me, and he has thrown me a meat bone. I
don't l>ite those two."
" But what are they?" asked the Snow Man.
" Lovers !" replied the Yard Do^ -i^'hey will go to
live in the same kennel, and gnaw at the same bone.
Away ! away !"
" Are they the same kind of beings as you and I ?"
asked the Snow Man.
" Why, they belong to the master," retorted the Yard
Dog. " People certainly know very little who were only
born yesterday I can see that in you. I have age and
information. I know every one here in the house ; and I
know a time when I did not lie out here in the cold,
fastened to a chain. Away ! away !"
"The cold is charming," said the Snow Man. "Tell
me, tell me. — But you must not clank with your chain,
for it jars something within me when you do that."
*'Away! away!" barked the Yard Dog. "They told
me I was a pretty little fellow : then I used to lie on a
chair covered with velvet, up in master's house, and sit
in the lap of the mistress of all. They used to kiss my
nose, and wipe my paws with an embroidered handker-
chief. I was called * Ami — dear Ami — sweet Ami.' But
afterwards I grew too big for them, and they gave me
away to the housekeeper. So I came to live in the base-
ment story. You can look into that from where you are
standing, and you can see into the room where I was
master; for I was master at the housekeeper's. It was
certainly a smaller place than upstairs ; but I was more
comfortable, and was not continually taken hold of and
pulled about by children as I had been. I received just
as good food as ev^r, and even better. I had my own
cushion ; and there was a stove — the finest thing in the
world at this season. I went under the stove, and could
lie down quite beneath it. Ah ! I still dream of that
stove. Away ! away ! "
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
209
.1 of the
I. Do
, '* She
(one. I
11 go to
le bone.
and II"
he Yard
ere only
age and
B ; and I
;he cold,
. " Tell
\XY chain,
'hey told
lie on a
and sit
kiss my
andker-
Ql.'
•e
But
gave me
the base-
B you are
I was
It was
vas more
d of and
ived just
my own
g in the
,nd could
of that
'' Does a stove look so beautiful?" asked the Snow Man.
*'lsit at all like me?"
" It 's just the reverse of you. It 's as black as a crow,
and has a long neck and a brazen drum. It eats firewood,
so that the fire spurts out of its mouth. One must keep
at its side, or under it ; and there one is very comfortable.
You can see it through the window from where you stand."
An<l the Snow Man looked, and saw a bright polished
thing with a brazen drum, and the fire gleamed from the
lower part of it. The Snow Man felt quite strangely : an
odd emotion came over him, he knew not what it meant,
and could not account for it; but all people who are not
snow men know the feeling.
"And why did you leave her?" asked the Snow Man;
for it seemed to him that the stove must be of the female
sex. " How could you quit such a comfortable place?"
" I was obliged," replied the Yard Dog. "They turned
me out of doors, and chained me up here. I had bitten
the youngest young master in the leg, because he kicked
away the bone I was gnawing. * Bone for bone,' I thought.
They took that very much amiss, and from that time I
liave been fastened to a chain and have lost my voice.
Don't you hear how hoarse I am ? Away ! away ! I can't
talk any more like other dogs. Away ! away ! that was
the end of the affair."
But the Snow Man was no longer listening to him.
He was looking in at the housekeeper's basement lodging,
into the room where the stove stood on its four iron legs,
just the same size as the Snow Man himself.
" What a strange crackling within me !" he said. " Shall
I ever get in there? It is an innocent wish, and our
innocent wishes are certain to be fulfilled. I must go in
there and lean against her, even if I have to break through
the window."
"You will never get in there," said the Yard Dog;
" and if you approach the stove you '11 melt away — away!'*
" I am as good as gone," replied the Snow Man. " I
think I am breaking up."
The whole day the Snow Man stood looking in through
the window. In tho cwilight hour the room became still
14
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210
THI^D BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
more inviting: from the stove came a mild gleam, not
like the sun nor like the moon; no, it was only as the
stove can glow when he has something to eat. When the
room door opened, the flame started out of his mouth;
this was a habit the stove had. The flame fell distinctly
on the white face of the Snow Man, and gleamed red upon
his bosom.
" I can endure it no longer," said he; " how beautiful it
looks when it stretches out its tongue!"
The night was long ; but it did not appear long to the
Snow Man, who stood there lost in his own charming
reflections, crackling with the cold.
In the morning the window panes of the basement lodg-
ing were covered with ice. They bore the most beautiful
ice-flowers that any snow man could desire; but they con-
cealed the stove. The window-panes would not thaw; he
could not see the stove, which he pictured to himself as a
lovely female. The freezing air crackled and whistled in
him and around him; it was just the kind of frosty weather
a snow man must thoroughly enjoy. But he did not enjoy
it; and, indeed, how could he enjoy himself when he was
stove-sick ?
"That's a terribL^ disease for a Snow Man," said the
Yard Dog. " I have suffered from it myself, but 1 got
over it. Away ! away ! " he barked ; and he added, " The
weather is going to change."
And the weather did change ; it began to thaw.
The warmth increased, and the Snow Man decreased.
He said nothing and made no complaint — and tliat 's an
infallible sign.
One morning he broke down. And, behold, where he
had stood, something like a broomstick remained sticking
up out of the ground. It was the pole round which the
boys had built him up.
" Ah ! now I can understand why he had such an
intense longing," said the Yard Dog. " Why, there 's a
shovel for cleaning out the stove fastened to the pole.
The Snow Man had a stove-rake in his body, and that 's
what moved within him. Now he has got over that too.
Away ! away ! " Hans Andersen's Fairy Tales.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS,
211
im, not
' as tlie
hen the
mouth ;
istinctly
:ed upon
Lutiful it
ig to the
;b arming
ent lodg-
beautiful
liey con-
bhaw; he
self as a
listled in
r weather
not enjoy
n he was
'».
said the
>ut 1 got
ed, '' The
lecreased.
hat's an
kvhere he
sticking
diich the
such an
there's a
[the pole,
id that 's
that too.
ry Tales.
WINTER.
William Shakspeaue (loW-lGKI).
When icicles bang by tbe wall,
And Dick, tbe sliepbenl, blows liis nail,
And Tom bears logs into tiie hall,
And milk comes frozen home in p.ail,
When blood is nipped, and ways be foul,*
Then niglitly sings the staring owl,
Tii-wbo !
Tu-wliit, tu-who! — a merry note.
While greasy Joan doth keelt the pot.
When all aloud tbe wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's
saw,t
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and
raw.
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-w'ho !
Tu-wbit, tu-who I — a merry note.
While greasy Joan doth keel the ])ot.
Love's Labour 's Lost, v. 2.
Roads are muddy, t Skim. % Sermon.
212
THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS.
:;>
:► !
f \*^
i M
CLOUDS.
John Uuskin (b. 1810).
Has the reader any distinct idea of what clouds are ?
That mist which lies in the morning so softly in the
valley, level and white, tlirough which the tops of the
trees rise as if through an inundation — why is it so heavy,
and why does it lie so low, being yet so thin and frail that
it will melt away utterly into splendor of morning when
the sun has shone on it but a few moments more ? Those
colossal pyramids, huge and firm, with outlines as of
rocks, and strength to bear the beating of the high sun
full on their fiery flanks, why are thetj so light, their bases
high over our heads, high over the heads of Ali)s 1 Why will
these melt away, not as the sun rises^ but as he descends,
and leave the stars of twilight clear ; while the valley
vapor gains again upon the earth like a shroud? Or that
ghost of a cloud which steals by yonder clump of pines ;
nay, which does not steal by them, but haunts them,
wreathing yet round them, and yet, and yet, slowly ; now
falling in a fair waved line like a woman's veil ; now
fading, now gone ; we look away for an instant, and look
back, and it is again there. What has it to do with that
clump of pines, that it broods by them, and waves itself
among their branches to and fro 1 Has it hidden a cloudy
treasure among the moss at their roots, which it watches
thus ? Or has some strong enchanter charmed it into fond
returning, or bound it fast within those bars of bough?
And yonder lilmy crescent, bent like an archer's bow
above the snowy summit, the highest of all the hills — that
white arch which never forms but over the supreme crest
— how it is stayed there, repelled apparently from the
snow — nowhere touching it, the clear sky seen between it
and the mountain edge, yet never leaving it — poised as a
white bird hovers over its nest ! Or those war-clouds that
gather on the horizon, dragon-crested, tongued with fire —
how is their barbed strength bridled? What bits are
those they are champing with their vaporous lips, flinging
off flakes of black foam ? Leagued leviathans of the sea
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
213
s are ?
iy in the
)s of the
so heavy,
frail that
ing when
I ? Those
les as of
liigh sun
leir bases
Why will
descends,
he valley
Or that
of pines ;
II ts them,
wly ; now
eil ; now
and look
with that
ives itself
1 a cloudy
t watches
into fond
)f bough]
ler's bow
ills — that
•enie crest
from the
etween it
)ised as a
.ouds that
ith lire —
bits are
^, flinging
)f the sea
of heaven, out of their nostrils goeth smoke, and their eyes
are like the eyelids of the morning : the sword of him that
layeth at them cannot hold ; the spear, the dart, nor the
habergeon. Where ride the captains of their armies?
Where are set the measures of their march 1 Fierce mur-
murers, answering each other from morning until evening —
what rebuke is this which has awed them into i)eace ;
w^hat hand has reined them back by the way in which
they came?
For m}^ own part I enjoy the mystery ; and perhaps the
reader muy. I think he ought. He should not be less
grateful for summer rain, or see less beauty in the clouds
of morning, because they come to prove him with hard
questions ; to which, perhaps, if we look close at the
heavenly scroll, we may find also a syllable or two of
answer illuminated here and there. Frondes Aurcstcs.*
THE EVENING CLOUD.
John Wilson (1785-1844).
A cloud, lay cradled near the setting sun,
A gleam of crimson tinged its braided snow ;
Long had I watched the glory moving on
O'er the still radiance of the lake below.
Tranquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow !
Even in its very motion then; was rest ;
While every breath of e\'e that chanced to blow
Wafted the traveller to the beauteous West.
Emblem, methought, of the departed soul !
To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given ;
And by the breath of mercy made to roll
Right onwards to th(^ golden gat(;s of Heaven,
Where, to the eye of faith, it peaceful lies.
And tf'lls to man his glorious destinies.
* Under this title, " Leaves of the Field," were imblished (1875),
with Mr. IluskiiiH a] »j»rohati<)n, selected i)asHapes from his first larroat
work, " Modern Painters ;" which, as a whole, he says ho is " resolved
never to republish."
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214
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
SUMMER AND WINTER.
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822).
It was a bright and cheerful afternoon,
Towards the end of the sunny month of June,
When the north wind congregates in crowds
The floating mountains of tlie silver clouds
From the horizon, and the stainless sky-
Opens beyond them like eternity.
All things rejoiced beneath the sun — the weeds,
The river, and the cornfields, and the reeds.
The willow leaves that glanced in the light breeze,
And the firm foliage of the larger trees.
It was a winter such as when birds die
In the deep forests, and the fishes lie
Stiffened in the translucent ice ; which makes
Even the mud and slime of the warm lakes
A wrinkled clod as hard as brick ; and when
Among their children, comfortabk* men
Gather about great fires, and yet feel cold ; —
Alas then for the homeless beggar old !
Poems written in 1S20.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
215
'^:^y-^. \
Bw
r'M
is
ids.
reeze.
in IS20,
A TRUE CAPTAIN OF INDUSTRY.
GoLDWiN Smith, M.A., LL.D. (b. 1823).
The vast works of the railway and steamboat age called
into existence, besides the race of great engineers, a race
of great organizers and directors of industry, who may be
generally termed Contractors. Among these no figure was
more conspicuous than that of Mr. Brassey.
There were periods in IMr. Brassey's career during which
1)0 and his partners were giving employment to ei<;hty
thousand persons, upon works requiring seventeen millions
of capital for their completion. It is also satisfactory to
know that in tlie foreign countries and colonies over which
his operations extended, he was instrumental in raising
the wages and condition of the working-class, as well as
in affording, to the elite of that class, opportunities for
rising to higher positions,
Mr. Brassey, like all men who have done great things
in the practical world, knew his way to men's hearts. In
his tours along the line, he remembered even the navvies,
and saluted them by their names. He understood the
value of the co-operative principle as a guarantee for
hearty work. His agents were made partakers in his
success ; and he favored the butty -gang system — that of
letting work to a gang of a dozen men, who divide the
pay, allowing something extra to the head of the gang.
Throughout his life it was a prime object with him to
collect around him a good staff of well-tried and capable
men. He chose well, and adhered to his choice. If a man
failed in one line, he did not cast him off, but tried him in
another. It was well know^n in the labor market that he
would never give a man up if he could helj) it. He did
not even give men up when they liad gone to law with
him. In the appendix is a letter by him to provide em-
ployment for a person who " had by some means got into
a suit or reference against him," but whom he described as
"knowing his work well." In hard times he still kept his
staff together, by subdividing the em])loyment.
Of all Mr. Brassey's undertakings, not one was superior
in importance to that with which C'anadians are best
1KH
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216
THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS,
acquainted — the Grand Trunk Railway, with the Victoria
Bridge. It is needless here to describe this enterprise, or
to recount the tragic annals of the loss brought on thou-
sands of shareholders, v/hich, financially speaking, was its
calamitous sequel. Tlie severest part of the undertaking
was the Victoria Bridge. "The first working season
there," says one of the chief agents, "was a period of diffi-
culty, trouble, and disaster." The agents of the con-
tractors had no experience of the climate. There were
numerous strikes among the workmen. The cholera com-
mitted dreadful ravages in the neighborhood. In one case,
out of a gang of two hundred men, sixty were sick at one
time, many of whom ultimately died. The shortness of
the working season in this country involved much loss of
time. It wafe seldom that the setting of the masonry was
fairly commenced before the middle of August, and it was
certain that all work must cease at the end of November.
Then there were the shoving of the ice at the beginning and
breaking up of the frosts, and the collisions between floating
rafts two hundred and fifty feet long and the staging erected
for putting together the tubes. Great financial difficulties
were experienced in consequence of the Crimean War. The
mechanical difficulties were also immense, and called for
extraordinary efforts both of energy and invention. The
bridge, however, was completed, as had been intended, in
December 1859, and formally opened by the Prince of
Wales in the following year. "The devotion and energy
of the large number of workmen employed," says Mr.
Hodges, " can hardly be praised too highly. Once brought
into proper discipline, they worked as we alone can work
against difficalties. They have loft behind them in Canada
an imperishable monument of British skill, pluck, science,
and perseverance in this bridge, which they not only de-
signed but constructed."
The whole of the iron for the tubes was prepared at
Birkenhead ; but so well prepared, that in the centre tube,
consisting of no less than 10,309 pieces, in which nearly
half a million of holes were punched, not one plat^ required
alteration, neither was there a plate punched wrong.
GoLDWiN Smith iii Canadian Monthly.
Victoria
'prise, or
on tliou-
f, was its
iertaking
^ season
:l of cUffi-
the con-
ere were
[era corn-
one case,
k at one
rtness of
3I1 loss of
onry was
id it was
ovember.
ming and
ti floating
Lg erected
lifficulties
S^ar. The
ailed for
on. The
ended, in
i^rince of
energy
lays Mr.
l3rouglit
an work
Canada
science,
only de-
mred at
tr(^ tube,
nearly
required
Monthly.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
217
^!: J
:-
PREHISTORIC MAN.
Daniel Wilson, LL.D. (b. 1816).
It was with a strange and fascinating pleasure, that, after
having striven to resuscitate the races of Britain's pre-
historic ages by means of their buried arts, I found myself
face to face with the aborigines of the New World. jNIuch
that had become familiar to me in fancy, as pertaining to
a long obliterated past, was here the living present ; while
around me, in every stage of transition, lay tlic pliases of
savage and civilized life : the nature of the forest, the art
of the city ; the God-made country, the man-made town;"*"
* An allrsion to Cowpcr's familiar Hnc : —
"God made the country, and man made the town."
The Task {I. The Sofa), 740.
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THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
each in the very process of change, extinction, and re-crea-
tion. Here, then, was a new field for the study of civili-
zation and all that it involves. The wild beast is in its
native state, and hastens, when relieved from artificial con-
straints, to return to the forest wilds as to its natural con-
dition. The forest-man — is he too in his natural condition?
For Europe's sons have, for upwards of three centuries,
been levelling his forests, and planting their civilization on
the clearings, yet he accepts not their civilization as a
higher goal for him. He, at least, thinks that the white
man and the red are of diverse natures ; that the city and
cultivated field are for the one, but the wild forest and the
free chase for the other. He does not envy the white
man ; he only wonders at him as a being of a different
nature.
Broken -Arm, the Chief of the Crees, receiving the
traveller Paul Kane and his party into his lodge, at their
encampment in the valley of the Saskatchewan, told him
the following tradition of the tribe : — One of the Crees be-
came a Christian. He was a very good man, and did
what was right ; and when he died he was taken up to the
white man's heaven, where everything was beautiful. All
were happy amongst their friends and relatives who had
gone before them ; but the Indian could not share their
joy, for everything was strange to him. He met none of
the spirits of his ancestors to welcome him : no hunting
nor fishing, nor any of those occupations in which he was
wont to delight. Then the Great Manitou called him, and
asked him why he was joyless in his beautiful heaven ;
and the Indian replied that he sighed for the company of
the spirits of his own people. So the Great Manitou told
him that he could not send him to the Indian heaven, as he
had whilst on earth chosen this one ; but as he had been
a very good man, he would send him back to earth again.
Prehistoric Man, chap. i.
I re-crea-
of civili-
is in its
icial con-
ural con-
Dndition?
enturies,
nation on
ion as a
lie white
city and
b and the
lie white
different
ving
the
at their
told him
Crees be-
and did
up to the
ful. All
who had
ire their
none of
hunting
1 he was
lliim, and
heaven ;
ipany of
tou told
in, as he
ad been
again.
I chap. i.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 21D
SONNETS.
[In both of these exquisite sonnets the thought is :—" After death,
I would rath ■ be entirely forgotten by my friend than occasion him
saddening memo- ies."J
I.-SONNET LXXI.
William Shakspeare (1564-1616).
No lonjzer mourn for me wlien I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly, sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell :
Nay, if you read this line, remembor not
The hand that writ it ; for I love you so,
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you vvoe.
Oh if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay, —
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
IT.— REMEMBER.
Christina G. Rossetti (b. 1830).
Remember me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land ;
When you can no more hold me by the hand.
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more, day by day,
You tell me of our future that you ])lanned :
Only remember me ; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet, if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve :
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had.
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Gohlin Market and other Poems (1862,
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220 THIHD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
THE DEATH OF SIR ROBERT FEEL.
WITH THE CORRESPONDENCE OF HER MAJESTY, QUEEN VICTORIA.
" Sir Robert Peel is to be buried to-day. The feeling in
the country is absolutely not to be described. We have
lost our truest friend and trustiest counsellor, the throne
its most valiant defender, the country its most open-minded
and greatest statesman.
" Buckingham Palace, 0th July 1S50."
Writing the same day to King Leopold, Her Majesty
says : — " Peel is to be buried to-day. The sorrow and
grief at his death are most touching, and the country
mourns over liim as over a father. Every one seems to
have lost a personal friend."
It was indeed so. From the time his life was known to
be in danger, the entrance of his house was besieged by
crowds, to whom a bulletin of liis progress was from time
to time read by a policeman. The faces of his friends, as
they passed from the door, were eagerly scanned, and
sorrow fell upon people's hearts at the grave sadness which
alone was to be read there. The deep and silent grief of
all classes was most affecting. Biography, like history,
repeats itself, and what Tacitus wrote of Agricola might
have been applied, word for word, to the modern states-
man : — " To his family the closing of his life was a deep
affliction ; it was a heavy grief to his friends, and cast a
gloom even over strangers and those to whom his person
was unknown. As he lay sick, the common people, too,
and those who generally feel no concern in public events,
thronged about his house, and his name was on all men's
tongues in the market-place and in the streets. Nor was
there any one who, hearing of his death, either was glad,
or went on his way and thouglit of it no more."
In the case of Sir Robert Peel, as in so many others,
death swept away the mists of passion or prejudice, "^r
mere indifference, which had veiled the true proportions A
his character from many eyes. His patience, his courage,
the wise and far-seeing counsels with which he had tem-
pered the action and strengthened the hands of the
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
221
rORIA.
eeling in
^e have
e throne
i-niinded
Majesty
row and
country
seems to
:nown to
ieged by
om time
'iends, as
tied, and
ss which
grief of
history,
ila might
In states-
s a deep
cast a
[s person
>ple, too,
events,
lU men's
for was
'as glad,
others,
(dice, '^r
rtions J
jourage,
id tem-
of the
Government wliich had driven liim from office, had
subdued even his adversaries. The attachment, no hard
to sacrifice, of the bulk of the party he liad led had been
replaced by the daily growing esteem of the nation ; and in
the shock it felt at a loss for which it was so little j)re-
pared, the country became alive to the fact that he had
possessed their confidence in a measure to wliich no other
public man could pretend. Lord John Russell in the
Lower, and Lords Lansdowne and Stanley in the Upper
House, spoke in generous and glowing terms of the void
which the disappearance of *' a great man and a great
statesman,'" as he was styled by Lord Stanley, had created
in the council of the nation ; but of the many eloquent
things that were said on all sides, no words are more likely
to be long remembered than the few by which the Duke
of Wellington, in a voice thickened with emotion, paid his
tribute to the friend whose public and i)rivate woitli he
had reason to know so well : " In all the course of my
acquaintance with Sir Robert Peel I never knew a man in
whose truth and justice I had a more lively confidence, or
in whom I saw a more invariable desire to promote the
public service. In the whole course of my communica-
tions with him I never knew an instance in which he did
not show the strongest attachment to truth ; and I never
saw in the whole course of my life the slightest reason for
suspecting that he stated anything which he did not believe
to be the fact." It need not be said how much this
quality of entire truthfulness endeared Sir Robert Peel to
the Prince,"* himself the soul of truth, and impatient
almost to a fault of the moral weakness which its absence
implies.
As Sir Robert Peel had enjoined by his will that his
funeral should be of the simplest kind, and that he should
be buried beside his father and mother in the family vault
at Drayton Bassett, the nation could only substitute for
the public funeral in Westminster Abbey, which it was
eager to have assigned him, a monument there at the
public expense. This was voted by Parliament, a few
days after his death, on the motion of Lord John Russell ;
* Prince Albert.
w.
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222
THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
from wlioin the public, at the same time, learned that the
offer of a peerage had been declined by Lady Peel. " Her
own wish," he said, '* was to bear no other name than that
by which Sir Robert Peel was known." Any other
course, she had at the same time intimated, would have
been contrary to her husband's wish recorded in his will,
that none of his family should accept, if offered, any title,
distinction, or reward, on account of any services he might
be supposed to have rendered to his country.
Sir Theodore Martin's Life of the Prince Consort.
VICTORIA'S TEARS
Mrs. Elizabeth (Barrett) Browning (1809-18G1).
[Queen Victoria's first Privy Council was held at Kensington Palace
on the morning of her accession, June 20, 1837. When the heralds
proclaimed her as Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and
Ireland, she threw herself into her mother's arms and burst into tears. 1
"O maiden ! heir of Kings !
A King has left his place ;
The majesty of death has swept
All other from his face :
And thou upon thy mother's breast
No longer lean adown,
But take the glory for the rest,
And rule the land that loves thee best ! "
The maiden wept —
She wept to wear a crown !
♦
They decked her courtly halls ;
They reined her hundred steeds ;
They shouted at her palace gate,
"A noble Queen succeeds ! "
Her name has stirred the mountain's sleep,
Her praise has filled the town ;
And mourners, God had stricken deep,
Looked hearkening up and did not weep.
Alone she w^ept,
Who wept to wear a crown !
Ir
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
223
that the
'<• Her
han that
ly other
aid have
his will,
my title,
lie might
onsort.
).
ton Palace
he heralds
3ritain and
into tears. 1
, She saw no purples shine,
For tears had dimmed her eyes ;
She only knew her childhood's llowers
Were happier pageantries !
And while the heralds played their part,
Those million shouts to drown,
^' God save the Queen ! " from hill to mart.
She heard through all her beating heart.
And turned, and wept —
She wept to wear a crown !
God save thee, weeping Queen 1
Tliou shalt be well beloved !
The tyrant's sceptre cannot move
As those pure tears have moved !
The nature in thine eyes we see
That tyrants cannot own —
The love that guardeth liberties !
Strange blessing on the nation lies.
Whose Sovereign wept —
Yea, wept to wear a crown !
God bless thee, weeping Queen,
With blessing more divine !
And fill with happier love than Earth's
That tender heart of thine !
That when the thrones of Earth shall be
As low as graves brought down,
A pierced hand may give to thee
The crown which angels shout to see ! —
Thou wilt not weep
To wear that heavenly crown.
Hi/':: '
T»
THE EXECUTION OF MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS.
Charles Dickens (1812-1870).
She, feeling sure that her time was now come, wrote a
letter to the Queen of England, making three entreaties :
first, that she might be buried in France ; secondly, that
m
224
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
w\
a\\
slie might not be executed in secret, but before her
servants and some others ; thirdly, that, after lier death,
her servants should not be molested, but should be suffered
to go home with the legacies she left them. It was an
atfecting letter ; and Elizabeth shed tears over it, but sent
no answer. Then came a special ambassador from France,
and another from Scotland, to intercede for Mary's life ;
and then the nation began to clamor, more and more, for
her death.
What the real feelings or intentions of Elizabeth were,
can never be known now ; but I strongly suspect her of
only wishing one thing more than Mary's death, and that
was — to keej) free of the blame of it. On the 1st of
February 1587, Lord Burleigh having drawn out the
warrant for the execution, the Queen sent to the Secretary
Davison to bring it to her that she might sign it ; which
she did. Next dav, when Davison told her it was sealed
slie angrily asked him why such haste was necessary.
Next day but one she joked about it, and swore a little.
Again, next day but one she seemed to complain that it
was not yet done ; but still she would not be plain with
those about her. So, on the 7th the Earls of Kent and
Shrewsbury, with the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, came
with the warrant to Fotheringay, to tell the Queen of
Scots to prepare for death.
When those messengers of ill-omen were gone, Mary
made a frugal supper, drank to lier servants, read over her
will, went to bed, slept for some hours, and then arose and
passed the remainder of the night saying ^. layers. In the
morning she dressed herself in her best clothes, and at
eight o'clock, when the sheriff came for her to her chapel,
took leave of her servants, who were there assembled pray-
ing with her, and went downstairs, carrying a Bible in one
hand and a crucifix in the other. Two of her women and
four of hei' men were allowed to be present in the hall,
where a low scaffold, only two feet from the ground, was
erected and covered with black, and where the executioner
from the Tower and his assistant stood, dressed in black
velvet. The hall was full of people. While the sentence
was being read she sat upon a stool ; and when it was fin-
fore her
er death,
3 suffered
t was an
hut sent
1 France,
ry's life ;
more, for
eth were,
ict her of
and that
lie 1st of
out the
Secretary
it ; which
;^as sealed
ary.
'e a little,
lin that it
)lain with
JCent and
lire, came
Queen of
tie, Mary
over her
irose and
In the
and at
chapel,
lied pray-
le in one
>men and
the hall,
und, was
icutioner
in black
sentence
was tin-
THUID BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS.
225
ished she again denied lier ^'uilt, as slie had done before.
The Earl of Kent and the Dean of Peterborough, in their
Protestant zeal, made some very unnecessary s})eeches to
lier ; to wliich she replied sh(^ died in the Catholic religion,
and they need not troublt^ themselves about that matt(»r.
When !ier head and neck were uncovered by the execu-
tioners, she said that she had not been used to be undressed
by such hands, or before so much com])any Finally, one
of her women fastened a cloth over lier face ; and she laid
her neck upon the block, and repeated more than once in
Latin, " Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my sj)irit."
Some say her head was struck off in two blows, some say
in three. However that be, when it was held uj), stream-
ing with blood, the real hair beneath the false hair she had
long worn was seen to be as gray as that of a woman of
seventy, though she was at that time only in her forty-
sixth year. All her beauty was gone.
But she was beautiful enougli to her little dog, who
cowered under her dress, frightened, when she went upon
the scaffold, and who lay down beside her headless body
when all her earthly sorrows were over.
Child's History of Erir/Iand.
THE SLEIGH BEIIS
Mrs. Susanna Moodie (b. 1803).
'Tis merry to hear at evening time.
By the blazing hearth, the sleigh-bells' chime ;
To know the bounding steeds bring near
The loved one, to our bosoms dear.
Ah ! lightly we spring the fire to raise,
Till the rafters glow with the ruddy blaze.
Those merry sleigh-bells ! our hearts keep time,
Responsive to their fairy chime.
Ding-dong, ding-dong ! o'er vale and hill
Their welcome notes are trembling still.
'Tis he ! and blithely the gay bells sound
As glides his sleigh o'er the frozen ground.
15
m
m
; tr
I
f
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226 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS,
Hark ! he has passed the dark pine wood ;
He crosses now the ice-bound flood,
And hails the light at the open door
That tells his toilsome journey 's o'er.
The nierry sleigh-bells ! my fond heart swells
And throbs to hear the welcome bells.
Ding-dong, ding-dong ! o'er ice and snow,
A voice of gladness, on they go.
Our hut is small, and rude our cheer,
But love has spread the banquet hen^ ;
And childhood springs to be caressed
By our beloved and welcome guest.
With a smiling brow his tale he tells ;
The urchins ring the merry sleigh-bells.
The merry sleigh-bells ! with shout and song
They drag the noisy string along.
Ding-dong, ding-dong ! the father 's come,
The gay bells ring his welcome home.
)■-.
H M"
SONNET.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882).
As a fond mother, when the day is o'er,
Leads by the hand her little child to bed,
Half willing, half reluctant to be led.
And leaves his broken playthings on the floor,
Still gazing at them through the open door,
Not wholly reassured or comforted
By promises of others in their stead,
WhicJi, though more splendid, may not please him
more ;
So Nature deals with us, and takes away
Our playthings one by one, and by the hand
Leads us to rest so gently that we go
Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what v/e
know.
'ells
ong
).
floor,
)lease liim
md
what T/e
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
227
A JOURNEY ACROSS THE DESERT.
Alexander William Kinglake (b. 1811).
The manner of my daily march was this. At about an
liour before dawn I rose, and made the most of about a
pint of water which I allowed myself for washinp^. Then
I breakfasted upon tea and bread. As soon as the beasts
A\ere loaded, I mounted my camel and pressed forward.
JNFy poor Arabs, being on foot, would sometimes moan with
fatigue and pray for rest ; but I was anxious to enable
them to perform their contract for bringing me to Cairo
within the stipulated time, and I did not therefore allow a
halt until the evening came. About mid-day, or soon
after, Mysseri * used to bring up his camel alongside of
mine, and supply me with a piece of bread softened in
water (for it was dried hard like board) ; and also, as lon<
f
o
* A tutar, or governTnent courier, who acted as ca])tain and inter-
preter, and was officially responsible for the safety of the travellers.
S'l -I 3
I
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228
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
If is
as it lasted, with a piece of the tongue. After this there
came into my hand — liow well I remember it ! — the little
tin cup half filled with wine and water.
As long as you are journeying in the interior of the
desert, you have no particular point to make for as your
resting-place. The endless sands yield nothing but small
stunted shrubs ; even these fail after the first two or three
days, and from that time you pass over broad plains, you
pass over newly reared hills, you pass through valleys that
the storm of the last week has dug — and the hills and the
valleys are sand, sand, sand, still sand, and only sand, and
sand, and sand again. The earth is so samely, that your
eyes turn toward heaven — toward heaven, T mean, in the
sense of sky. You look to the sun, for he is your task-
master, and by him you know the measure of the work
that you have done, and the measure of the work
that remains for you to do. He comes when you strike
your tent in the early morning ; and then, for the first hour
of the day, as you move forward on your ca,mel, he stands
at your near side, and makes you know that the whole
day's toil is before you ; then for a while, and a long while,
you see him no more, for you are veiled and shrouded, and
dare not look upon the greatness of his glory — but you
know where he strides overhead by the touch of his flaming
sword. No words are spoken, but your Arabs moan, your
camels sigh, your skin glows, your shoulders ache, and for
sights you see the pattern and the wet^ of the silk that
veils your eyes, and the glare of the outer light. Time
labors on. Your skin glows, and your shoulders ache,
your Arabs moan, your camels sigh, and you see the same
pattern in the silk, and the same glare of light beyond ; but
conquering Time marches on, and by-and-by the descend-
ing sun has compassed the heaven, and now softly touches
your right arm, and throws your lank shadow over the sand,
right along on the way for Persia. Then again you look
u[)on his face, for his power is all veiled in his beauty, and
the redness of flames has become the redness of roses ; the
fair wavy cloud that fled in the morning now comes to his
sight once more — comes blushing, yet still comes on — comes
burning with blushes, yet hastens, and clings to his side.
this there
-the little
or of the
»r as your
but small
3 or three
lains, you
lleys that
is and the
sand, and
that your
an, in the
^our task-
the work
the work
you strike
first hour
he stands
the whole
ong while,
uded, and
■but you
is flaming
loan, your
|e, and for
silk that
lit. Time
itrs ache,
the same
^ond ; but
descend-
ly touches
the sand,
you look
auty, and
joses ; the
les to his
In — comes
lis side.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
229
Then arrives your time for resting. The world about
you is all your own, and there, where you will, you pitch
your solitary tent ; there is no living thing to dispute your
choice. When at last the spot had been fixed upon, and
we came to a halt, one of the Arabs would touch the chest
of my camel, and utter at the same time a peculiar gur-
gling sound. The beast instantly understood and obeyed
the sign, and slowly sank under me till she brought her
body to a level with the ground ; then gladly enough T
alighted. The rest of the camels were unloaded, and
turned loose to browse upon the shrubs of the desert,
where shrubs there were ; or, where these failed, to wait for
the small quantity of food which was allowed them out of
our stores.
My servants, helped by the Arabs, busied themselves in
pitching the tent and kindling the fire. While tliis was
doing, I used to walk away toward the east, confiding in
the print of my foot as a guide for my return. Apait
from the cheering voices of my attendants, I could better
know and feel the loneliness of the desert. The influence
of such scenes, however, was not of a softening kind, but
filled me rather with a sort of childish exultation in the
self-suflftciency which enabled me to stand thus alone in the
wilderness of Asia ; — a short-lived pride ; for wherever man
wanders, he still remains tethered by the chain that links
him to his kind ; and so when the night closed round me I
began to return — to return, as it were, to my own gate.
Reaching at last some high ground, I could see, and see
with delight, the fire of our small encampment ; and when
at last I regained the spot, it seemed to me a very home that
had sprung up for me in the midst of these solitudes. My
Arabs were busy with their bread : Mysseri rattling tea-
cups ; the little kettle, with her odd, old-maidish look, sat
humming away old songs about England ; and two or thi'ee
yards from the fire my tent stood }n'»m and tight, with
open portal and with welcoming look, like "the old arm-
chair" of our lyrist's ''sweet Lady Anne."
At the beginning of my journey, the night breeze blew
coldly. When that happened, the dry sand was heaped up
outside round the skirts of the tent ; and so the wind, that
T
fcj
M
ilh^
r
i:
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230
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
everywhere else could sweep as he listed along thos&
dreary plains, was forced to turn aside in his course, and
mike way^ as he ought, for the Englishman ! Then within
my tent there were heaps of luxuries — dining-rooms, dress-
ing-rooms, libraries, bed-rooms, drawing-rooms, oratories,
all crowded into the space of a hearth-rug. The first night,
I remember, with my books and maps about me, I wanted
light. They brought me a taper ; and immediately from out
o^ the silent desert there rushed in a flood of life, unseen
before. Monsters of moths of all shapes and- hues, that
never before, perhaps, had looked upon the shining of a»
flam 3, now madly thronged into my tent, and dashed
through the lire of the candle till they fairly extinguished
it with their burninor limbs. Those that had failed in
attaining this martyrdom suddenly became serious, and
clung despondingly to the canvas.
By-and-by there was brought to me the fragrant tea, and
big masses of scorched and scorching toast, that minded
m3 of old Eton"^ tlays, and the butter that had come all
the way to m > in this desert of Asia from out of that poor,
dear, starving Ireland. I feasted like a king — like four
kings — like a boy in the fourth form.
When tlie cold, sullen morning dawned, and my people
began to load the camels, I always felt loath to give back
to the waste this little spot of ground that had glowed for
awhile with the cheerfulness of a human dwelling. One
by one, the cloaks, the saddl<»s, the baggage, the hundred
things that strewed the ground and made it look so familiar
— all these were taken away and laid upon the camels. A
speck in the broad tracts of Asia remained still impressed
with the mirk of patent portmanteaus and the heels of
London boots ; the embers of the fire lay black and cold
upon the sand ; — and these were the signs we left.
My tent was spared to the last ; but when all else was-
ready for the start, then came its fall : the pegs were
drawn, the canvas shivered, and in less than a minute
there was nothing that remained of my genial home but
only a pole and a bundle. The encroaching Englishman
was off; and instant, upon the fall of the canvas, like an
The famous English school on the Thames, opposite Windsor.
* nii
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
231
i
i r
1- I \
ng those
•urse, and
en within
ms, dress-
oratories,
rst night,
I wanted
' from out
:e, unseen
lues, that
tiing of a
d dashed
inguished
failed in
and
lOUS
ng
it tea, and
,t minded
come all
that poor,
-like four
ny people
give back
lowed for
One
hundred
familiar
mels. A
m pressed
! heels of
and cold
else was.
egs were
X minute
lome but
glishman
like an
''indsor.
owner who had waited and watched, the Genius of the
Desert stalked in.
Eothen ; 07', Traces of Travel BroiLght Home from the East (1844).
THE TURF SHALL BE MY FRAGRANT SHRINE.
Thomas Moore (1779-1852).
The turf shall be my fragrant shrine;
My temple, Lord, that arch of thine,
My censer's breath, the mountain airs ;
And silent thoughts my only prayers.
INIy choir shall be the moonlight waves.
When murmuring homeward to their caves ;
Or when the stillness of the sea,
Even more than music, breathes of thee.
I '11 seek by day some glade unknown,
All light and silence, like thy throne;
And the pale stars shall be at night
The only eyes that watch my rite.
Thy heaven, on which 'tis bliss to look,
Shall be my pure and shining book ;
Where I shall read, in words of flame.
The glories of thy wondrous name.
I '11 read thy anger in the rack
That clouds a while the day beam's track ;
Thy mercy, in the azure hue
Of sunny brightness breaking through !
There 's nothing bright above, below,
From flowers that bloom to stars that glow,
But in its light my soul can see
Some feature of thy Deity !
There 's nothing dark below, above,
But in its gloom I trace thy love,
And meekly wait that moment when
Thy touch shall turn all bright again !
1 ''I
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232 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
GIBRALTAR.
Count von Moltke, Chief Marshal of the German Empire
(b. 1800).
October 1846.
When we went on board the corvette Amazon on a
sunny evening in last month, the sea was smiling as if to
invite us on a pleasure trip, but shortly afterwards it
became terribly rough. It took us sixteen days to beat
up against the wind to Gibraltar. The sea was high, and
the vessel, no longer steadied by her sails, reeled like a
drunken man, and as if the masts would snap off. At
length the Rock of Tarik * — a splendid sight — rose out of the
water. The rugged mass, 1361 feet high, is only con-
nected with the continent of Europe by a level tongue of
land, and therefore is a gigantic insulated cone. Opposite
to it, on the coast of Africa, the other Pillar of Hercules
rises in like manner, the Ap'^s' Hill at Ceuta. We
struggled long against the strong tide v hicli here always
sets in to f^he Mediterranean. At lenijth ;. e cast anchor, and
the fortress greeted our mourning flag with a royal salute.
The first step on shore led us into a new world — a won-
derful combination of Spain and England. The brilliancy
and luxuriance of a southern sky are here allied with the
energy and activity of the North. The red-coated un-
breeched Hidilanders stand like giants amon2: the small
brown Spaniards, wrapped in their cloaks, and among the
slender Arabs, who flock in numbers into the fair xand
which belonged to them for seven hundred years. There
lay, in immense quantities, grapes, oranges, dates, and
olives, from Malaga, Valencia, and Granada, together with
English potatoes and cheese ; while lobsters, flying-Hrsh, and
dolphins from the Atlantic lay beside dried stock-fish from
the Arctic seas. Above the flat roofs, the balconies, and
the gardens with their pomegranates and palms, project
the three tiers of galleries which have been mined in the
limestone rock to the depth of a mile, and which are
armed with cannon from the Scotch foundries. Three
* Gibralta? that is, Gebel-al-Tarik, or Hill of Tarik, the Moorish
conqueror who landed there April 30. 711. ,
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
233
Empire
her 1846.
zon on a
as if to
wards it
5 to beat
ligli, and
kI like a
off. At
mi of the
\\\y con-
onfifue of
Opposite
Hercules
a. We
3 always
^hor, and
1 salute.
—a won-
rilliancy
with the
ited un-
lie small
long the
lir land
There
OS, and
ler With
ish, and
sh from
ies, and
project
1 in the
ich are
Three
Moorish
noble ships of the line, bearing the British flag, tower
above the swarm of small craft and of steamboats. Our
Amazon appeared beside them like a graceful child.
Gibraltar is constantly increasing, but it is only per-
mitted by its iron armor to grow in height. Plots of
ground and house-rent are incredibly dear. A limestone
rock and a spit of sand necessarily i)roduce nothing, and
were originally inhabited only by partridges and a})es.
All the necessaries of life must be brought by sea, even
drinking-water, which is the great want in this otherwise
impregnable fortress. Spanish guards are posted on the
spit of sand, 1680 yards from the Rock, with loaded guns,
not armed to resist an attack, but to put down the smug-
gling trade, which is carried on here on a large scale.
I had decided to make the rest of the journey by land ;
but it was necessary that it should be only a courier's
journey, which would leave little time for enjoyment and
sight-seeing. An order from the governor admitted me to
all the fortifications, to the Moorish castle, O'Hara's tower,
and to the telegraph station on the sunmiit of the Rock.
From this spot, where the eastern cliff has a perpendicular
descent of 1,000 feet, there is a wide view over the Spanish
coast, the snowy peaks of the Sierra Nevada, which is
10,000 feet high, and across the dark blue sea. On the
farther side of the strait are seen the African mountains
of.Tangiers and Ceuta, and the wide bay of Algeciras
opens on the west. We looked down upon the town, the
fortifications, and the beautiful harbor, as on a map. I
sought to imprint the picture on my memory, feeling how
unlikely it was that I should ever again see one of such
extent and beauty. Count von Moltke's Spanish Journal.
Thy memory, thy pain, to-night,
My brother ! and thine early lot,
Possess me quite.
The murmur of this midland daep
Is heard to-night around th^ <rrave.
There, where Gibraltar's cannoned steep
O'erfrowns tlie wave.
Matthew Arnold : A Southern Night.
r^i
Ill
i^:
I! *
• ;i-
234 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
CHARMING THE WOLVES.
W. H. Kingston.
"We went on and on, but no sign could we see of Mike.
It was already getting dusk when Kepenau stoj)ped and
examined the ice.
" A man has passed this way," he said, " and has turned
off to the right."
Telling one of his people to follow up the trail, he j^ro-
ceeded onwards, narrowly scrutinizing the ice.
" It is as I thought," he observed : '• he was coming
along on foot when he saw a pack of wolves following him,
and instead of continuin": on the ice he made his wav for
the shore, to try and reach a tree into which he could
climb — the wisest thing he could do."
Having made this remark, he led the way in the direc-
tion the other Indian had taken. He soon overtook him ;
but as darkness was increasing we had to proceed slowly,
so as not to lose the trail, which I was utterly unable to
perceive. The banks were of a low, marshy nature, so
that there were few trees about up winch the fugitive
could have escaped. I did not confidently expect to meet
Mike on this occasion ; fc' he, I thought, would have come
along on his skates, whereas this person, the Indian said,
was on foot.
We had not gone far when Kepenau stopped. " That
is the howl of wolves," he observed; "but it is accompa-
nied by a curious sound, and they are not howling in their
usual fashion."
Advancing further, I could clearly distinguish the howl-
ing of the wolves, accom})anied by another sound.
*' Why, as I 'm alive, those are the tones of Mike Laf-
fan's fiddle !" exclaimed Uncle Mart. " He is safe, at all
events — that is one comfort; but it is a curious place to
be ploying in."
Kepenau now told us that the path we were following
would lead us to the ruins of an old fort, erected by the
early French settlers, and that he had little doubt our
friend had found his way to it for refuge from the wolves;
of Mike,
pped and
I as turned
il, lie i^ro-
LS coming
wing liim,
IS way for
he could
the direc-
book him ;
jd slowly,
unable to
lature, so
fugitive
; to meet
lave come
ian said,
" That
accompa-
g in their
the howl-
»Iike Laf-
[ife, at all
s place to
following
d by the
oubt our
e wolves;
THIRD BOOK OF READINa LESSOXS.
235
CUAUMCNU THE WOLVES.
but they had followed him, and were certainly not far off.
"We hurried on, and as the sounds of the tiddle became
m
r ", '
l^'
m
I*; '
m
! ;
3:1
: :'.
236
7'.¥/7?/) 500ir 0/?' HEADING LESSONS.
more distinct, the full moon rose from behind a dark mass
which proved to be a ruined wall of the building; a id
immediately afterwards, directly in front of us, we discov-
ered Mike Laffan seated on one of the time-worn and
rickety beams which had once formed part of the fort.
There he was, bow in hand, fiddling with might and main ;
while below him were a whole pack of wolves, their mouths
open, singing an inharmonious nhorus to his music. So
entranced were they, that the brutes actually did not dis-
cover us; nor, so far as we could see, were they making
any attempt to reach Mike.
At a sign from Kepenau we stopped ; but !Mike, though
he had perceived us, went on fiddling. Presently he
changed the tune to one of extraordinary rapidity: this
evidently astonished his vuli)ine audience, which began to
leap about. Suddenly he exclaimed . *' Now, shout, friends,
shout ! and we shall put the spalpeens of wolves to flight."
As we raised our voices he made his instrument produce
the most fearful shrieks and cries, while he uttered at the
same time a true Irish howl.
Mike's plan had the desired effect. The wolves, bewil-
dered by the strange sounds, were seized with terror, auu
off they scampered like a pack of curs, howling and biting
at each other as they rushed along towards the forest, in
which they soon disappeared.
Mike on this jumped down from his perch, laughing
heartily, and thanked us all for having come to his assist-
ance. In the Fm-cst.
CANADA S HERITAGE.
The Earl of Dupferin.
[On the 11th of June 1872, a banquet was given at Belfast to the
Earl of Dutferin, thcui on the eve of his departure for Canada. Reply-
ing to the toast, " The health of his Excellency the Governor-General
of Canada," Lord Dufferin delivered a brilliant speech, of which the
following is the peroration : — ]
Of course the most constant and absorbing duty of every
one connected with the government of Canada, and one
not less agreeable than those to which I have alluded, will
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
237
.; hij '
irk mass
ing; and
e discov-
orn and
the fort,
lid main;
r mouths
jsic. So
not dis-
j making
?, though
pntly he
lity: tliis
began to
:, friends,
;o flight."
produce
ed at the
3S, bewil-
rror, and
Lid biting
forest, in
laughing
lis assist-
e Foi'cst.
fast to the
a. Reply-
or-General
which the
of every
and one
ded, will
be that of developing the latent wealth and the enormous
material resources of the vast territory comprised within
my new jurisdiction. Few people in this country have any
notion how blessed by nature is the Canadian soil. The
beauty, majesty, and material importance of the Gulf of
St. Lawrence is indeed the theme of every traveller, while
the stupendous chain of lakes, to which it is the outlet, is
well known to afford a system of inland navigation such
as is to be found in no other i)art of the habitable globe.
The inexhaustible harvest of its seas annually gathered by
its hardy maritime population, the innumerable treasures of
its forests, are known to all ; but what is not so generally
understood is, that beyond the present inhabited regions of
the country — beyond the towns, the lakes, the woods —
there stretches out an enormous breadth of rich alluvial
soil comprising an area of thousands of square miles, so
level, so fertile, so ripe for cultivation, so profusely watered,
and intersected by enormous navigable rivers, with so
exceptionally mild a climate, as to be destined at no
distant time to be occupied by millions of our prosperous
fellow-subjects, and to become a central granary for the
adjoining contir ents. Such a scene as this may well fire
the most sluggish imagination ; nor can there be conceived
a greater ^ rivilege than being permitted to watch over the
development of an industry and civilization fraught with
such universal advantage to the human race. In fact, it
m.ay be doubted whether the inhabitants of the Dominion
themselves are as yet fully awake to the magnificent
destiny in store for them, or have altogether realized the
promise of their young and hardy nationality. Like a
virgin goddess in a primeval world, Canada still walks
in unconscious beauty among her golden woods and by
the margin of her trackless streams, catching but broken
glances of her radiant majesty, ns mirrored on their sur-
face, and scarcely recks as yet of the glories awaiting her
in the Olympus of nations.
Speeches and Addresses of the Earl of Diiffcrin {1S82).
h' ;;••",
lili
11 1
f;:
h: I
.f«i
fl'.
238 THIRD BOOK OF READIXO LESSONS.
ENGLAND IN 1685.
Lord Macaulay (1800 1859).
Could the England of 1685 be, by some magical process,
set before our eyes, we should not know one landscape in
a hundred or one building in ten thousand. The country
gentleman would not recognize his own fields. The in-
habitant of the town would not recognize his own street.
Everything has been changed but the great features of
nature, and a few massive and durable works of human
art. We might find out Snowdon and Windermere, the
Cheddar Clifis and Beachy Head. We might find out
here and there a Norman minster, or a castle which
witnessed the Wars of the Roses. But, with such rare
exceptions, everything would be strange to us. Many
thousands of square miles which are now rich corn land
and meadow, intersected l)y green he;lge-rows, and dotted
with villages and pleasant country seats, would appear as
moors overgrown with furze, or fens abandoned to wild
ducks. We should see stras^s^lino: huts built of wood and
covered with thatch, where we now see manufacturing
towns and seaports renowned to the farthest ends of the
world. The capital itself would shrink to dimensions not
much exceeding those of its present suburb * on the south
of the Thames. Not less strange to us would be the garb
and manners of the people, the furniture and the equipages,
the interior of the shops and dwellings.
[The historian discusses in detail the social condition of
England in 1685 ; he then proceeds : — ]
The general effect of the evidence which has been sub-
mitted to the reader seems hardly to admit of doubt.
Yet, in spite of evidence, many will still image to them-
selves the England of the Stewarts as a more pleasant
country than the England in which we live.
It may at first sight seem strange that society, while
constantly moving forward with eager speed, should be
constantly looking backward with tender regret. But
these two propensities, inconsistent as they may appear,
* Southwark.
■I *
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
239
can easily be resolved into the same principle. Both
spring from our impatience of the state in which we
actually are. That impatience, while it stimulates us to
surpass preceding generations, disposes us to overrate their
happiness. It is, in some sense, unreasonable and un-
grateful in us to be constantly discontented with a con-
dition which is constantly improving. But, in truth,
there is constant improvement precisely because there is
con.stant discontent. If we were perfectly satisfied with
the present, we should cease to contrive, to labor, and to
save with a view to the future. And it is natural that,
being dissatisfied with the present, we should foim a too
favorable estimate of the past.
In truth, we are under a decej)tion similar to that
which misleads the traveller in the Arabian desert. Be-
neath the caravan all is dry and bare ; but far in advance,
and far in the rear, is the semblance of refreshing waters.
The pilgrims hasten forward and find nothing but sand
where, an hour before, they had seen a lake. They turn
their eyes and see a lake where, an hour before, they
were toiling through sand. A similar illusion seems to
haunt nations through every stage of the long progress
from poverty and barbarism to the highest degrees of
opulence and civilization. But if we resolutely chase the
mirage backward, we shall find it recede before us into
the regions of fabulous antiquity. It is now the fashion
to place the Golden Age of England in times when noble-
men w^ere destitute of comforts the want of which w^ould
be intolerable to a modern footman, when farmers and
shopkeepers breakfasted on loaves the very sight of which
would raise a riot in a modern workhouse, when to have
a clean shirt once a week was a privilege reserved for the
higher class of gentry, wdien men died faster in the purest
country air than they now die in the most pestilential
lanes of our towns, and when men died faster in the lanes
of our towns than they now die on the coast of Guiana.
We too shall, in our turn, be outstripped, and in our turn
be envied. It may well be, in the twentieth century, that
the peasant of Dorsetshire may think himself miserably
paid with twenty shillings a week ; that the carpenter at
m
^
'Ai
i '\
Illli
<u
to
1 1.5:
to V,
^m
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
241
.»'->-;^l«|^.
Iter, „ ■; i
[\%
m
so
■3
\l
Greenwich may receive ten shillings a day ; that laboring
men may be as little used to dine without meat as they
now are to eat rye-bread ; that sanitary, police, and medical
discoveries may have added several more years to the
average length of human life ; that numerous comforts
and luxuries which are now unknown, or confined to a
few, may be within the reach of every diligent and thrifty
working man. And yet it may then be the mode to assert
that the increase of wealth and the progress of science
have benefited the few at the expense of the many, and to
talk of the reign of Queen Victoria as the time when
England was truly merry England, when all classes were
bound together by brotherly sympathy, when the rich did
not grind the faces of the poor, and when the poor did
not envy the splendor of the rich.
History of England, chaj). iii.
A CHRISTMAS CARD FOR A CHILD
Theodore Watts
To catch old Christmas in the morning air,
A child stole out and wandered on the heath ;
And there sat Christmas, blowing foggy breath,
Cross-legged upon a stile, and cried, "Look here;
This smile 's for you — a good wide smile, my dear,
Of bright red gums, and rare plum-pudding teeth,
And jolly old wrinkles round my holly wreath ;
Ho, ho for Christmas and a glad New Year ! "
That child was I ; and every year, in snow.
Or mist, or rain, to that same heath I go :
And there sits Christmas on the self-same stile ;
And of the dear sweet days we talk awhile,
Laui^hing and crying at the things we know.
But parting ever with a hug and smile.
Contributed to Athenicum, Christmas Eve, 1881,
•■■'■ i\
■'.it
*i
iir-
tS'i
IG
242
9im ■::0f^
THIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
THE GOOD TIME COMING
Charles ALvckay (b. 1814).
There 's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming :
We may not live to see the day.
But earth shall glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming.
Cannon balls may aid the truth,
But thought 's a weapon stronger ;
We '11 win our battle by its aid ; —
Wait a little longer.
5i*:
.." not Might, .in the
good time cominy."
There 's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming :
The pen shall supersede the sword,
And Right, not Might, shall be the lord.
In the good time coming.
Worth, not Birth, shall rule mankind.
And be acknowledged stronger;
The proper impulse has been given ; —
Wait a little longer.
There 's a ^'ood time coming, boys,
A good time coming :
War in all men's eyes shall be
A monster of iniquity,
In the good time coming.
Nations shall not quarrel then.
To prove which is the stronger ;
Nor slaughter men for glory's sake j —
Wait a little longer.
There 's a good time coming, boys,
A good time coming :
Let us aid it all we can,
Every woman, every man,
Tlie good time coming.
Smallest helps, if rightly given.
Make the impulse stronger ;
'Twill be strong enough one day; —
Wait a little longer.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
243
a.
loys,
y»
ray
,h,
onger ;
d;-
M3ys,
vord,
e the lord,
lankind,
ger;
jiven ; —
oys,
^er;
sake; —
^y;—
THE SNOWBALL BATTLE.
{From the Swedish o/Zach. Topelius.)
" Now we are going to have a war !" cried little Matthew,
as he rushed into the hall, flushed with excitement, adorned
with huge mustaches made by charcoal smut, a cock's
feather stuck in his cap, and brandishing his wooden sword.
" Heaven save us ! " ejaculated old Sarah, who was
sweeping the dining-room floor; and the news gave her
such a fright that she felt quite faint, and was nearly
sitting down on the floor.
"What do you say, Master Matthew? are we going to
have war ? "
" That you may depend upon ! " said the young fellow,
proudly, and stuck his sword into the loop of his belt.
" Yes, war ! so that it will echo in the hills too ! But I
say, give me some bread and butter first ; there 's a dear old
soul : it is not the thing to go into battle with a hungry
stomach."
" Now you are joking. Master Matthew," Sarah resumed,
not knowing exactly what to believe, and feeling rather
frightened **\Var, dear me, is a great scourge ; and how
cruel it is when people kill each other, and burn towns and
hamlets, and trample on the growing corn in the fields ! —
Perhaps the Turks have come at last ! "
" Yes, of course they have,' said Matthew, appropriating
some large slices of bread and butter from the cupboard,
and munching heartily while talking. " The whole yard
is crowded with Turks," he continued, with his mouth full ;
" but just you wait a bit — we will soon scatter them to tho
winds. We defy them to capture our fortress, * Dread-
nought ! ' "
" Well, I 'm blest if I understand all this," said old Sarah;
and, gathering up her sweepings in the pan, she Jiastened
out to the yard. The old woman was curious to know
what it all meant, and what was going on outside ; so she
opened the back door all in a tremble, and saw — the whole
yard filled with boisterous school-boys, and that in a corner
against the railings was built a miniature fortress of snow,
on the top of which was placed as a standard a red kerchief
Ml
!']'
244
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
W \i ■ I
,: 1
i ii.
fixed on a tall hop-pole. The old woman muttered " Talk
of old Nick," and then returred indoors with her pan, in
quite a pet. She did not observe that behind the palings
were gathered a whole army of eager warriors, measuring
on an average about three feet six inches, and all distin-
guished with the sign of a paper half-moon, pinned on their
backs, tliis supposed to be th'^ most appropriate place for a
decoration. These were evidently the Turks, busily en-
gaged in casting shot, that is to say, forming hard snow-
balls, and piling them up in pyramids against the walls.
The Christian crusaders were all assembled in the yard,
and each carried as an emblem a sprio: of spruce-fir stuck
in the button-hole of his jacket.
" Where is the General *? " asked one of the Chri;:3tian
officers, with an anxious glance at the side whence they
expected the enemy.
" Hfc is having some bread and butter in the pantry, I
believe, sir," replied one of the soldiers, saluting the Captain
in a military fashion.
" Defir me ! is thi ; the time for a general to munch bread
and buoter, when the foe is advancing?" said the Captain,
knitting his eyebrows.
" Sir," observed the warrior, proudly, " you will remem-
ber that was just what General Sandels did when he gained
the battle of—"
" How dare you answer 1 " said the Captain, angrily,
cutting him short ; " you, a simple cornet ! away at once
with my orders to the General, that he instantly quit the
pantry," he commanded in a stern voice.
" All right. Captain," answered the cornet.
But the General appeared at this moment on the door-
steps. The first thing he caught sight of was the red
banner on the battlements.
"Who has dared to hoist a blood-colored flag on jur
fortress of * Dreadnought ' 1 " he demanded, in a voice of
thunder. No answer came.
"Sir General," answered the Captain at last, rather
abashed, " I borrowed it from the scullery-maid, and made
her allowance from the commissariat. Really I couldn't
help that the kerchief happened to be red."
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
245
m
id '' Talk
r pan, in
e palings
leasuring
11 distin-
l on their
[ace for a
usily en-
ird snow-
walls,
the yard,
-fir stuck
Chric^fcian
ince they
pantry, I
e Captain
[ich bread
Captain,
il remem-
lie gained
angrily,
at once
quit the
the door-
the red
on jur
voice of
i, rather
Ind made
couldn't
((
" Captain," said the chief, somewhat appeased, " you
don't understand the color of flags any more than a blind
bat ! Surely we are not pirates, or buccaneers, that we
must show a red flag ! Let me tell you, blue and white
are our true colors ; deep blue as our lakes, and white the
symbol of our snowy fields. '
And the General hastily produced from the breast-pocket
of his coat a blue and white flag, which the day before his
sister had tacked together from some shreds of bunting.
The corsair standard was on the instant lowered, and
soon the blue and white banner floated proudly on the top
of the hop-pole in its place.
" The Turks are coming ! " cried the sentinel ; " every-
body to his post ! "
Now great activity was displayed by the Christian army,
which was parted in three divisions : two columns were
despatched to the gate, to take up their position one on
each side, to welcome the enemy with a terriflc storm of
shot ; and the third hastened into the fort to arrange the
batteries and repair the ramparts v/here the snow had
crumbled. The General kept a stern eye on everybody,
and any one who was not sharp enough, got a ruthless
punch in the ribs, to stimulate him to activity. But Fritz,
the little drummer, who did not feel inclined to risk his
young life of only seven winters in the pending conflict,
dropped his drumsticks from sheer fright, and retreated
into the dog-kennel !
The Turks mustered nearly twice the force of the Chris-
tians, so they pressed on with great courage through the
gate.
Hurrah ! now whizzed the first volley — phuff* ! pui):h 1
puff!
The Turks wavered for a moment, and tlieir cadets began
to cry. But their chief, Dschingis Khan, a tall ringleader,
premier of the upper form, knew how to rally them. A
perfect cannonade of snowballs rained upon the Christian
army, who in vain turned up their coat-collars to shield
themselves from the furious attack, and in their turn began
to waver.
This was the decisive moment cf the battle, when the
•M
M?'
\ '-
246
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
I
\ \
I
i
|!^
If
dram was of the greatest importance. But the drum ! the
drum which would have instilled new courage into the
wavering columns, was silent. If the Christians had only
heard the beating of the drum, they would have been sure
to have carried the day. But the General called in vain,
in agony, upon his missing drummer. The little rascal
lay silent and unseen ; he had taken sanctuary in the dog-
kennel.
"The traitor !" cried the General, fearful in his wrath ;
but nothing came of it. The enemy stormed through and
swarmed into the yard ; and though the Christians man-
fully defended every inch of ground, they were at last
forced to retreat before the terrific onslaught of the over-
wheluiing masses of the enemy, and take refuge within the
V lis of the fortress.
The General was beside himself with rage. The vic-
torious Turks cheered lustily, and carried off in triumph
the spoils of war found on the battle-field, consisting of
a boot, two tin sabres, seven caps, and fourteen or fifteen
mittens, all odd ones.
A short truce now ensued, and then the Turkish Pasha
trevated his victorious Bashee-Bazouks to a feast of almond
rock, at the expense of his commissariat. Then he sent
one of his dragomans to parley with the Christian com-
mander, and insolently demanded him to give up the
fortress unconditionally. In case of refusal, every man
would have to run the gauntlet ; which meant, to lie down
on the snow-covered ground and pretend to be killed.
The comet, who had scaled the battlements from within,
of course thought this such an awful insult, that he, without
waiting for orders, seized a snowball lying on the battery,
took a sure aim, and hit the insolent herald right between
the eyes, and knocked his fez off; and the infidel took to
his heels as fast as he could.
" It is against all recognized laws of warfare," cried
Dschingis Khan, disgusted.
*'Very likely," shouted the cornet; "but here might
is righc !" and at the same moment he sent another snow-
ball whizzing close to the ear of the proud conqueror, who
had to duck his head ingloriously to save his skin.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
247
rum ! the
into the
had only
been sure
i in vain,
tie rascal
L the dog-
is wrath ;
ough and
lans man-
•e at last
the over-
rithin the
The vic-
triumph
sis ting of
or fifteen
sh Pasha
►f almond
he sent
ian com-
I up the
^ery man
lie down
led.
n within,
, without
battery,
between
1 took to
'e," cried
re might
ler snow-
ror, who
"Well done, cornet I" called out the General's well-
.known voice. " If anybody dares to talk of surrendering,
he shall be shot on the instant ! Cornet, I appoint you
lieutenant on the spot ! " and here the commander raised
his voice, so as to be heard all over the battle-field. " But
the drummer-boy is a craven miscreant, and I relegate him
to the baggage service ! "
"Brave Mussulman!" bawled Dschingis Khan, "you
have heard how the braggart mouthed it. I will not P^}'
you, because that is not my habit ; but behind the board-
ing is still a basket of almond-rock provision, and the first
man who scales the fortress ramparts, I will give him, as
true as my name is Dschingis Khan, the whole of its con-
tents."
" Hurrah ! long live our Dschingis Khan ! " shouted the
Turkish hordes, and they simultaneously stormed the fort.
But " Dreadnought " was not so easily taken possesvsion
of as was the surrounding open district of the yard. Vol-
leys of snowballs whizzed about their ears, incessant as a
hail-storm. Now fell a Turk, and then another was sent
head over heels down from the battlements. Ammunition
ran short, and indeed could no longer be used, for now the
belligerents closed in upon one another, and fought man
to man, sparring, and then rolling down the ramparts,
locked in each other's struggling embrace. The walls of
the fort suffered great damage in the fearful strife, and big
breaches were soon effected. Some of the Bashee-Bazouks
even pulled their antagonists by the hair on the quiet,
though this was against the conventional laws of civilized
warfare, and could not even boast of being might for right.
The General and his soldiers performed prodigies of
valor, though in the fray they had been despoiled of caps
and mittens ; yea, some even lost their boots. They kept
their hold stoutly to the last man ; but, alas ! the Turks
were so numerous, and — there was no help for it — they
gained at last the ascendency. The General himself was
taken prisoner ; the banner was torn down ; and the vic-
torious enemy was already swarming up and all over the
battlements, when was heard — the beat of the drum !
At this unexpected signal, the Turks lost all presence
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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of mind ; they understood in a moment that reinforcements
were coming up in the rear to the relief of the distressed
fort, and in great panic tliey flung themselves headlong
down the ramparts, and took to their heels, and did not
rally until they were a good way beyond the gate, which
was naturally considered the frontier of the domains of
the " Sublime Porte."
The General and his men, though in a sad plight, soon
extricated themselves from the crumbling ruins of the
fortress, and could scarcely believe their eyes when they
saw little Fritz coming, quite alone across the yard, and
composedly beating his drum ! But when he came up to
where the General stood in surprise surrounded by his
staff, he saluted and knelt down in penitence before hirri,
and said, —
" If you please, sir, I am ready to be shot ! I know I
deserve it, for I deserted my comrades when the enemy
bore down upon us. I prefer to be shot, rather than be
reduced to the baggage service ! I heard all you said
about me, General, when I lay hid in the dog-kennel, and
it smote me to the heart. It is true I was afraid of the
Turks ; but I fear more being called a coward. So I bit
my lips firmly, and determined to find my drumsticks,
which I soon did amongst the snow ; and I said to myself,
' They may beat me, but I '11 beat the drum first.' But la !
they all ran away as fast as they could instead."
The General gently lugged the ears of the drummer-boy,
then lifted him up, and gave him a smacking kiss, so de-
lighted was he.
" Comrades," he said, " the drummer Fritz has saved the
fortress of * Dreadnought,' and all of us from massacre.
Before our whole army I solemnly declare that drummer
Fritz is a first-rate honest fellow. Let him only grow a
head taller, and no kennel will hold him ; and, let me tell
you, he will never again hide anywhere as long as he lives.
And shame upon any one who, in the hour of danger,
deserts the noble fortress of * Dreadnought ! ' But honor
be to him who prefers to be shot, rather than throw away
his drumsticks when his duty is to save his own country !"
Finland Idyh.
'orcements
distressed
headlong
d did not
ate, which
omains of
light, soon
ns of the
y^hen they
yard, and
ime up to
ed by his
jfore hiir,,
I know I
he enemy
r than be
you said
3nnel, and
id of the
So I bit
•umsticks,
bo myself,
But la !
imer-boy,
ss, so de-
saved the
massacre,
drummer
y grow a
't me tell
he lives.
danger,
ut honor
ow away
juntry !"
d Idyls.
THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 249
THE PINE.
John Ruskin (b. 1819).
The pine — magnificent ! nay, sometimes almost terrible.
Other trees, tufting crag or hill, yield to the form and
sway of the ground, clothe it with soft compliance, are
partly its subjects, partly its flatterers, partly its comforters.
But the pine rises in serene resistance, self-contained ;
nor can I ever without awe stay long under a grt^at Alpine
cliff, far from all house or work of men, looking up to its
companies of pines, as they stand on the inaccessible juts
and perilous ledges of the enormous wall, in quiet multi-
tudes, each like the shadow of tne one beside it — upright,
fixed, spectral, as troops of ghosts standing on the walls of
Hades, not knowing each other, dumb for ever. You can-
not reach them — cannot cry to them : those trees never
heard human voice : they are far above all sound but of
the winds. No foot ever stirred fallen leaf of theirs : all
comfortless they stand, between the two eternities of the
Vacancy and the Rock ; yet with such iron will, that the
rock itself looks bent and shattered beside them — fragile,
weak, inconsistent, compared with their dark energy of
delicate life and monotony of enchanted pride — unnum-
bered, unconquerable.
Then note, further, their perfectness. The impression on
most people's mind must have been received more from
pictures than reality, so far as I can judge, so ragged they
think the pine; whereas its chief character in health is
green and full roundness. It stands compact, like one of
its own cones, slightly curved on its sides, finished and
quaint as a carved tree in some Elizabethan garden ; and,
instead of being wild in expression, forms the softest of all
forest scenery : for other trees show their trunks and twist-
ing boughs, but the pine, growing either in luxuriant
mass or in happy isolation, allows no branch to be seen.
Summit behind summit rise its pyramidal ranges, or down
to the very grass sweep the circlets of its boughs — so that
there is nothing but green cone and green carpet. Nor is
it only softer, but in one sense more cheerful than other
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSON'S.
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a. !
foliage, for it casts only a pyramidal shadow. Lowland
forest arches overhead, and chequers the ground with dark-
ness ; but the pine, growing in scattered groups, leav^es the
glades between emerald bright. Its gloom is all its own ,
narrowing into the sky, it lets the sunshine strike down to
the dew. And if ever a superstitious feeling comes over
me among the pine glades, it is never tainted with the old
G3rman forest fear, but it is only a more solemn tone of
the fairy enchantment that haunts our English meadows ;
so that I have always called the prettiest pine-glade in
Chamouni "Fairies' Hollow."
Other trees rise against the sky in dots and knots, but
this in fringes. You never see the edges of it, so subtle
are they ; and for this reason, it alone of trees, so far as
I know, is capable of the fiery change which has been
noticed by Shakspeare. When the sun rises behind a
ridge crested with pine, provided the ridge be at a distance
of about two miles, and seen clear, all the trees, for about
three or four degrees on each side of the sun, become trees
of light, seen in the clear flame against the darker sky, and
dazzling as the sun itself. I thought at first this was owing
to the actual lustre of the leaves ; but I believe now it is
caused by the cloud-dew upon them — every minutest leaf
carrying its diamond. It seems as if these trees, living
always among the clouds, had caught part of their glory
from them ; and themselves the darkest of vegetation,
could yet add splendor to the sun itself, Frondes Agrestes.
A NIGHT IN A CHURCH SPIRE.
{From the Swedish of Richard Gustafsson.)
CHAPTER I.
One fine summer evening some twelve or fifteen of us
boys, who belonged to the collegiate school of the town
of Aros, in Sweden, after much importunity had obtained
from the bell-ringers permission to accompany them up
into the church steeple, whence they were in the habit of
sending out the peals at eight o'clock on Saturday night.
Lowland
with dark-
, leaves the
l11 its own ,
ke down to
comes over
dth the old
nn tone of
L meadows ;
ne-glade in
knots, but
t, so subtle
5, so far as
has been
J behind a
b a distance
, for about
Income trees
:er sky, and
5 was owing
3 now it is
nutest leaf
rees, living
heir glory
vegetation,
'es Agrestes.
THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
251
IE.
teen of us
the town
d obtained
them up
habit of
iay night,
to remind the inhabitants of the little town that it was
the eve of the Sabbath. This church spire was the highest
in Scandinavia, and vied with that of Strassburg itself ;
and besides, it was a rare place Tor jackdaws, rooks, and
owls: so whenever the schoolboys could prevail upon the
bell-ringers to let them, they
would mount the countless
stairs and ladders, and search
all possible nooks and liidden
places to collect eggs, in
which an extensive system
of barter was always being
carried on amon«: the bo vs.
I, however, was but a little
fellow of nine years of age,
with no special taste for
collecting eggs, or indeed for
collecting anything ; but T
was rather given to purpose-
less solitary roamings, in
which it had sometimes hap-
pened that I had surprised
the others bvunc. "^ected dar-
ing in some hazardous freaks
of exploration amongst the
rocks and woods — but this
was only on rare occasions of
excitement, and ordinarily I
was only a timid, quiet lad,
*'all eyes," as my playmates
tauntingly loved to call me.
The old cathedral dates,
I believe, from the thirteenth
or fourteenth centurv ; and
with it, of course, are associ-
ated many legends of monk-
ish life, and stories of sub-
terranean passages, leading
below the black river into
the forest opposite, for the
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TH nr BOOK OF READING LESSOTS.
i
egress from which we have in vain searched many a time
in our rambles through the woods. There had been an
unhappy king buried in the church — murdered by his
brother ; and, besides, there was an empty monastic cell,
half-way up the tower, with which there were also con-
nected some old legends. We had to pass this cell on our
way upwar(J, and of course I and one or two more for a
few minutes revelled in the mysteries that seemed to
breathe out of the lone chamber. At last we reached
the place, where all the big bells soon began to ring out
their evening chime. What a glorious thing it is to be
present at such a deafening vesper ! The bells seemed
almost to become alive, and translate into musical cadences
their Latin inscriptions. They all take their turn, wagging
their wise heads ; now thrilling the air with ponderous
chimes, now with vibrating awe-inspiring sounds ; now
quick harmonious cadences peal from the smaller bells ;
and so on, till the whole wooden framework trembles and
quivers with the music, calling into life remote echoes from
the adjoining dome itself, till you fancy that all those who
lie buried below, these many centuries past, are telling
through the echoes their tales of war and woe. The boys
soon dispersed over the roof among the dusty rafters and
through the tower in search of eggs ; but I intended to
wait till unobserved I could slip away and find a young
jackdaw, intending to hide it under my jacket, so that
none of the bigger boys might take it from me.
Above the place for the big bells was another spacious
hall, where the clock was ; and over that again was another
little room with round windows looking out on all sides.
This was called the " College Hall ;" and it was the boast
of many boys, when below in the neighboring play-
ground, to point up and be able to say, " I have been
there : " for there was a horrible long and steep ladder
leading to it, and it required no small nerve to accomplish
the ascent to this lantern-like room ; but when once reached,
a glorious view over the country round rewarded the
climber.
" Now then, ' Eyes !' I warrant you '11 never dare to get
up there!" taunted a big boy called Olaf. "Won't 11"
■■\^
any a timo
.d been an
•ed by his
nastic cell,
e also con-
cell on our
more for a
seemed to
^e reached
to ring out
it is to be
Us seemed
al cadences
n, wagging
ponderous
nds ; now
iller bells ;
3mbles and
choes from
those who
re telling
The boys
afters and
tended to
d a young
t, so that
r spacious
s another
all sides,
the boast
ing play-
ave been
ep ladder
ccomplish
^ reached,
rded the
tre to get
on't IV
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
253
said I, and I felt the blood run to my cheeks and make
them red-hot while the rest curdled quite cold in my veins ;
for I knew what a bad hand I was at gymnastics, and this
Olaf knew quite well, so of course he wanted to show him-
self big by making me appear small. But, determined to
show my valor and gain indisputable honors from the
other boys, who were now coming up, I climbed with
tremulous arms, till at last I reached the top ; and the
other boys shouted, " Well done, ' Eyes !' who would have
thought it 1 " Then discovering another ladder, witli only
one central beam, and bars sticking out on each side of it,
I made up my mind to complete my adventure by climbing
this also. I accordingly shouted down to the other boys ;
but on climbing a few bars, I discovered it only led to a
black hole, which I remembered would lead to an opening
in the outside of the spire, on which, I was told, big spikes
were inserted for the accommodation of any mortal who
might have the nerve, or rather be so devoid of nerves, as
to proceed on this hazardous way till he reached the golden
weathercock — as big as a condor, and on which he might
rest himself perched across its broad back. Indeed, there
is a tradition of a daring plumber having accomplished
this feat, and emptying a bumper to the health of the
lookers-on below, who must have appeared as pigmies or
flies to him ; that he also descended to the aforesaid open-
ing in the spire, but there toppled o^er, and dashed out
his brains amongst his admiring friends below. I don't
think there could have been much of them — the brains —
or he would never have ascended so far. However, the
black prospect was not an inviting one, so I soon turned
back, and passed away from the upturned gaze of my
schoolfellows, to look for one of the young jackdaws, of
which any number used to flutter around the tower and
spire. But my eyes were soon arrested by the glorious
view outside, stretching over two provinces, and over the
great lake which has as many islands as there are days in
the year.
■151
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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H
A NIGHT IN A CHVEGH SPIRE.
CUAPTER II.
The sunset was gloriously illuminating the country and
waters around, and I clapped my young hnnds in uncon-
scious adoration of the Maker of all this splendor, when,
outside the small-paned window through which I was look-
ing, I saw that I had unawares a companion, evidently
absorbed in the same meditation as myself : it was a young
jackdaw, tremulously clinging to the window-sill and press-
ing against the pane of glass. He was too young to fly
far : if I frightened him, he would only tumble down and
cripple his young life, accidents of which we schoolboys
were perfectly aware, as we often found young jackdaws
and rooks dying on the pavement below. He was evidently
the bird I had started in search of — but how to get hold
of him ! The window did not open, and breaking the glass
E.
ountry and
in uncon-
idor, when,
'. was look-
evidently
ras a young
and press-
lunt,' to fly
down and
schoolboys
g jackdaws
s evidently
o (fet hold
iQ the glass
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
255
would be sure to precipitate him below with fright. Then
I thought of opening the next window ; but to reach him
where he sat, almost stupetied, was impossible. I went
back to the first window, and, taking care not to be seen, I
put my cap to him inside, and this made him move a little ;
he evidently fancied some other bird wanted room. Again
I applied the cap, and again he moved a little nearer the
side where I wanted him to come. Then I went to the
open window. Surely now I should reach him, and warily
placing my cap over him secure my gentle prisoner. I
stretched myself out as far as I dared at that giddy height,
— further, I am sure, at nine years of age than I should
venture now, — but it was impossible; still there was a gap
of a few inches between me and my coveted prize, just as
in afterdife I have so often been so near the attainment of
what I sought for but have always somehow just failed in
clutching it. I withdrew again into the *' College Hall,"
to see if I could not get something to reach him with.
Nothing was there but the old bare walls and that abomin-
able ladder ; I must therefore humble myself, and call for
assistance from my schoolfellows. I looked down the
steep hole up which I had come. It made me feel so giddy
that I could not descend the perpendicular ladder. 1 laid
myself on the floor and called out, " Olaf ! John ! Axel ! "'
but no answer came. Surely they had not \vit the place
while I had been so intent upon obtaining the jackdaw !
They had evidently left the large room, and I thought they
might now be examining the big bells and the machinery
by which they were worked ; but yet I heard no sound
from them below, and I was so giddy and frightened I
dared not for my life try to descend. I threw my cap
down, to attract their attention : I heard its soft fall, but
no answer came. Then a l>right i<lea struck m(3 : " You
must throw down your pocket-knife ' — (schoolboys seem to
be born with big pocket-knives) ; " it will surely clank
against one of the big bells just b(ilow, and make it tell
your whereabouts." Down went the pocket-knife, and
sure enough a big bell called out my message ; but to its
sharp note, searching through all the nooks and corners of
the vast place, no friendly human schoolboy's voice re-
■||
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256
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
ill
I
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Nr
sponded. I should have far preferred a rough bawling
from the sturdy bell-ringers, but there was no sign of them ;
they were perhaps sleeping amongst their friends the bells,
as I knew the people used sometimes to say jokingly when,
on a fire breaking out, it was their duty to arouse the
town by ringing the bells, and it usually happened that
they arrived too late to give the signal. " Necessity is the
mother of invention " — so off I took one shoe and dashed
it down. An angry peal of an answer came from a big
bell, as much as to say, " Have not I told you there is no
one here ? " I thought of flinging the other shoe down as
well, in sheer desperation ; but then the tone of that bell
had struck on my ear as not very friendly, so I thought I
had better not wake their anger, for I did not know wliat
terrible things such huge monsters might do if they were
roused ; and for the first time in the spire, strange fancies
of spirits and ghosts and gnomes came upon me, and in
silent anguish I limped again to the window, where my
mute but live friend still sat outside. I felt some comfort
from a living thing being so near me, and as adverse fate
would have it that I could not reach him, I was determined
to get as near him as I possibly could : so I put both my
hands on the pane of glass, fancying that I had him in my
hands ; and leaving space enough between my hands for my
face, I put my lips to his head and kissed him through the
cold, unyielding crystal between us.
The sun had gone down in dark threatening clouds, and
the shadows were falling fast over the land, lake, and
tower. The evening star winked at me, and bade me have
no trembling fears. A pale summer moon, from that por-
tion of the sky which was yet free from dark clouds, was
gently breathing an atmos})here of celestial light and love
over the scene. My young spirit felt quite a dreamy
pleasure in basking in the mild moonlight beams that were
sent to comfort it all the way from that heavenly orb. I
thought I heard the distant echo of organ music, like the
soft preludes before an Easter festival. Clearer came the
tones — the prelude increased into a loud swell, not indeed
from the church below, but from the spheres above, a loud
long peal of thunder now rolled forth. Tlior was abroad.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
257
^h bawling
;n of them ;
s the bells,
ngly when,
arouse the
pened that
issity is the
,nd dashed
from a big
here is no
>e down as
f that bell
thought I
inow wliat
they were
ige fancies
ne, and in
where my
ne comfort
verse fate
letermined
i both my
him in my
lids for my
irough the
louds, and
lake, and
e me have
that por-
ouds, was
and love
dreamy
that were
y orb. I
like the
came the
ot indeed
t^e, a loud
s abroad,
a
riding on the storm that gathered. Ah ! there ! the first
shock from his hammer — the sparks glisten in the heavens,
and the lightning darts forth from all sides of his rattling
wheels ; and lo ! the goats, the one limping ; and now Thor
himself appears, the giant god of the North, enthroned
among masses of the dark clouds, pressing forward and
hurling his angry messages to the trembling earth below —
(remember, I was a Scandinavian boy, and the dream was
true to me). The steeple, being built of wood, rocked to
and fro fully a yard, as if in dread, and certainly it trem-
bled violently when the crash of the thunder rattled
through it. Then through the open window darted two
owls into the " College Hall," and perched upon the ladder.
Were they Hugin and Mugin — the two birds of wisdom
and knowledge which, from the throne of Woden himseh,
used to dart out into the world to gather news of the
doings of men? The owls glared at me, but my soul
shrunk from them, it would have none of their M-ise saws,
savoring of hated pedants ; and shaking their wise heads
they soared upwards into the dark, mystic hole above,
which 1 had beforo shrunk from, and which their eyes
only could explore, their safest retreat from the flashing
eyes of angry Thor. But I loved Thor, as a boy loves
what is great and powerful ; and 1 called out, " Oh ! give
me wings, god Thor, that I may journey with thee through
the wide world ! I am pinched and tormented in this
narrow world below me, and I would fly far, far away. I
am a Scandinavian boy, and have true Norse blood in my
veins. I am longing for bold adventure for adventure's
sake. Oh ! give me the wings of an eagle or a sea-hawk,
but none of the owls' ; let me fly away from the musty old
school where nobody understands me, let me — ! " Thor
answered with a tremendous crash that shook the spire
like a nervous living being ; but I only laughed loudly
with delight, and T thought I dashed forward to rob the
little jackdaw of his wings, and with them fly out in^o the
uproarious element before me.
But a soft voice whispered in my ear, as if it had been
my mother's from far away : " But Thor is the god of war,
of blood and carnage — that is not your mission ! "
17
?l K
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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t1
.tl
i i
" No ! no ! I will none of that either ; but I love adven-
ture, and the deeds that heroes do ! "
" You shall have these by-and-by," they said softly.
" We are but moonbeams. But first we will endow you
with wings, bright and strong, and of many hues, with
which you may be able to fly far away, carrying yourself
abroad and home again, and abroad again as often as you
like, so long as you take care not to stain and defile
them."
Then one of them seated herself, and, lying upon the
floor, I reclined my head upon her lap. A number of her
sititers, radiant and beautiful, lit up the room, and crowded
around me.
* * * * #
The bells were ringing when I woke. It was the old
familiar chime that I knew so well.
*' Awake ! awake ! 'tis nine o'clock of a Sunday morn-
ing!" I started to my feet, and soon remembered where
I was. Still the bells were pealing merrily, and the sun-
shine smiled at me (there's special sunshine on Sunday
mornings, to make little boys feel so merry), and I down-
right laughed at the adventures of the night, which per-
haps after all had becxA but a dream of the future. Then
I thought of how I would now wipe off" the stigma of
cowardice, which somehow had clung to me before, in the
opinion of my schoolfellows. Why, there was the little
jackdaw nestling in my bosom, between my shirt and vest,
— but how had it got there 1 I never could tell. A wise
man, to whom I once told the story, said : " My dear fel-
low, you had fetched him in your sleep. You must have
been a somnambulist, and crept out on the window frame-
work of the spire, kept your balance, for you knew noth-
ing then of the perilous height, and so succeeded in bring-
ing in your gentle prisoner."
" Oh ! if I had known it then, wouldn't I have been the
hero of the school, having walked outside the 'College
Hall,' on the narrow ridge midway, high up in the air out-
side the tower, and at midnight too ! "
" It wff,s well you did not understand it, for you would
have been the cause of destroying no end of brave boys,
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
259
ove adven-
lid softly,
ndow you
hues, with
g yourself
en as you
and defile
upon the
iber of her
d crowded
IS the old
day morn-
red where
d the sun-
n Sunday
d I down-
^hich per-
re. Then
stigma of
>re, in the
the little
and vest,
A wise
dear fel-
iiust have
)w frame-
lew noth-
in bring-
been the
'College
e air out-
ou would
[ive boys,
who would have tried to outdo you and perform the same
airy evolution wide awake."
When the bells stopped, I thought I would frighten the
churlish bell-ringers a little, so I droppetl my other shoe
down upon a big bell.
"Hallo !" one called out, "are there f^hosts at this time
of day? Look out, there ! Here are shoes coming rattling
down the ladders and tumbling among the bells !"
" And sure enough, here 's another ! And here 's a
pocket-knife, and a cap. It can't be one of those rascally
schoolboys turned ghost in the night-time, eh?"
" I say — none of you Ml-ringers has dropped one of the
lads down the tower last night? Tell the truth, and we '11
buiy him quietly or we shall never get any peace if his
ghost begins plaguing us up there !"
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !" I merrily * »ng out from above.
" Why, bless me ! if it isn't really a spirit above there I
what shall we do?"
" Why, let us lay the ghost."
"But how?"
" I think I know the words. ' Be thou angel or goblin
fiend' — this i < the way they do it at the show at fair times
— I used to oe a scene-shifter, at the play at fair times,"
he whispered.
"Ha! ha i ha! ha! ha!" I roared even more lustily
than before.
" Now I 'm hanged and quartered, if that is not a real
goblin's laugh ; 1 must try it again. * Be thou born of
earth or the child of — '"
" No ; I am only Mr. 's son ;" and here I mentioned
my father's name, in quite an innocent tone, for I wanted
to get down.
" Well, I am blessed if after all it is not one of those
rascals who went up with us last night ; and just to think,
— he has been in the steeple all night />// hirnsefff Now
none of you would have dared that. Are there any more
of you ?" he called up.
" Yes ; I have a little fellow with me, much smaller than
myself."
And all the men looked at each other.
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THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS.
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" Well, come clown, both of you."
" That 's just what I wish, but I can't, I am so afraid of
those horrible ladders."
Well then, I will get up and help you."
That 's a good fellow ; it 's just what I wanted." And
thrusting his big head up at last through the hole down
which I had looked, he asked, "Where is the other one?"
*'I have him here!" I said, and laughed, and showed
my dear little companion.
"Why don't you dare to come down, when you dared
to go up?"
" When I went up, all the boys were looking at me — that
made me determine to get up the ladder ; but when creep-
ing down, a fellow must feel backward, and if he topples
over, it is best to have a great big soft fellow, like you, to
fall back upon."
These philosophical remarks were delivered piecemeal,
almost only one word for each step of the ladder, so the
sturdy bell-ringer did not exactly catch the meaning of it :
and I think I was such a sly dog, that I indulged in this
more to have my own quiet joke at him than for anything
else ; which was very ungrateful of me. Then they brought
me my shoes and cap and pocket-knife, which, as soon as
I could, I api^ropriated to their proper places ; and after
this I made my way down the other long narrow stairs,
past all the dark places, in the comfortable company of the
burly bell-ringers, who professed themselves great admirers
of my high spirits, after a night in the church spire, and
taunted me with " Who would have thought him such c
plucky little fellow ? "
"And when once down? '
I ran away. Woodland Notes : Ed. Albert Alberq.
REVOLUTIONS
Matthew Arnold (b. 1822).
Before man parted for this earthly strand,
While yet upon the verge of heaven he stood,
God put a heap of letters in his hand,
And bade hini make with them what word he could.
THIRD BOOK OF REAVING LESSONS.
261
3 afraid of
id." And
hole down
:her one?"
id showed
^ou dared
me — that
hen creep-
he topples
ke you, to
piecemeal,
ier, so the
ling of it :
fed in this
anything
y brought
is soon as
and after
ow stairs,
my of the
admirers
pire, and
m such c>
Albebq.
)od,
he could.
And man has turned them many times ; made " Greece "
" Rome," " England,'' " France ;" — yes, nor in vain essayed
Way after way, changes that never cease !
The letters have combined, something was made :
But, ah ! an inextinguishable sense
Haunts him that he has not made what he should ;
That he has still, though old, to recommence.
Since he has not yet found the word God would.
And empire after empire, at their height
Of sway, have felt this boding sense come on ;
Have felt their huge frames not constructed right,
And drooped, and slowly died upon their throne.
One day, thou sayest, there will at last appear
The word, the order v/hich God meant should be :
- Ah ! we shall know that well when it comes near ;
The band will quit man's heart, he will breathe free.
Poems. {Ed. 1880.)
NEW YEAR'S CHIMES.
Alfred Tennyson (b. 1809;.
Eing out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
The flying cloud, the frosty light !
The year is dying in the night ;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die !
Ring out the old, ring in the new ;
Ring, happy bells, across the snow !
The year is going — let him go ;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.
Ring out the grief that saps the mind.
For those that here we see no more ;
Ring out the feud of ricli and poor ;
Ring in redress to all mankind.
Ring out a slowly dying cause.
And ancient forms of f)arty strife ;
Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.
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THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
" Ring, happy bellis, across the snoiv."
Ring out false pride in place and blood,
The civic slander and the spite ;
Ring in the love of truth and right ;
Ring in the common love of good.
Ring out old shapes of foul disease ;
Ring out the narrowing lust of gold ;
Ring out the thousand wars of old ;
Ring in the thousand years of peace.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand ;
Ring out the darkness of the land ;
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
In Memoriam, cvi.
m
T0CAI3ULAEY
OF THE MORE DIFFICULT WORDS.
I
A-ban-don, give up.
A-bom-i-na-ble, hateful ; detestable.
Ab^BO-lUte-ly, quite; wholly.
Ab-SOrb', swallow up.
Ac-COnL-mo-date, hold; meet one's
views,
Ac-com-pa-ny, attend
Ac-com-plisb, to do fully.
Ac-cus-tomed, used
Ac-knowledge, own; admit.
A-CUte-ly, keenly
Ad-ept^ skilled.
Ad-here^ stick to.
Ad-Judge', award.
Ad-ml-ra-ble, worthy of esteem.
Ad-omed^ ornamented.
Ad-van-tage, benefit
Ad-ven-ture (26), risk ; dangerous
undertaking.
Ad-ver-sa-ries, opponents-
Af-fec-ta-tion, pretence.
Af^ter-math, second crop of grass.
Ag-gra-vate, provoke; increase.
Ag-ile, nimble ; active.
A-grrIC-0-la, Roman Governor-General
of Britain.
Al-COVe, recess.
A-light', get down.
Al-lot', set apart.
Al-lu-vlal, deposited by floods.
Al-ter, change.
A-maze', very greatly surprise.
Am-e-tLyst, purple-tinted quartz.
Am-mu-nl-tlon, powder and ball for
firearms.
A-mour', courtship.
Am-phib-iOUS, living in water and
on land.
An-Ces-tral, descending from fore-
fathers.
A-nem-O-nfi, wind-flower.
An-gel of the Shadow, Angel o/
Death.
An-g^Sh, great pain or sorrow.
An-nalS, public records.
An-ni-ver-sa-ry, yearly return.
An-tag-O-Bist, opponent.
An-tl^I-pite, look for.
An-tl-qul-ty, age; olden tim. ,
Anx-I-e-ty, trouble of mind.
A-08-ta, town of Piedmont.
Ap-pall-lng, terrifying.
Ap-pSar^nce, look.
Ap-pre-hend', understand ; fi uf.
Ap-pro-prl-ate, (i) tal for one's
use ; (adj.) fit, suitable.
Ar-Chlves (th hard), i)ublic records
Ar-gd-Sies, treasure-ships.
Ar-tlf-l-cers, mechanics.
Ar-ti-fl-cial, not natural.
Ar-til-ler-y, heavy guns ; or the gun-
ners.
As-cen-dan-cy, the upper hand.
As-cer-taln', find for certain.
As-sexn-bled, met together.
As-sent', agree to.
As-sert', say with decision.
As-ses-sor (21), legal adviser.
As-signed', set apart for.
As-8in-i-bOins, tribe of North West
Indians.
As-SO-Cl-ate, keep company.
As-ter, star-shaped wild-flower
As-ton-ish, greatly surprise.
As-tound', strike with wonder
A-8Un-der, apart.
A-tone', make up for.
At^ti-tude, posture.
Aud-i-bly, so as to be heard.
Aus-pi-ces, circumstances ; condi-
tions.
Au-thor-1-ty, right v. der the law.
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
Au-tO-crat, uncontrolled ruler.
Av-er-age, medium.
A-ZUre msiin, deep blue sea.
Balm-y, soothing; fragrant.
Bal-sam-iC, aromatic.
Beach-y Head, highest headland on
English Channel.
Baa-gle, small liound.
Be-dighV, adorned.
Berne, Swiss capital, on river Aar.
Bick-er, to quiver; formerly, to
skirmish.
Bi-Og-ra-phy, story of one's life.
Blight-ed, blasted.
Blithe, joyous.
Block-house, small timber fort.
Boat-swain (Jbo'su), one in charge of
sails, etc.
B3i8-ter-0US, noisy.
B3S-cag^e, underwood.
Boul-der, large stone distant from its
native rock.
Boun-ti-ful-ly, generously.
Brae, hill-side.
Brand-ish, whirl round the head.
Brands (196), flashing swords.
Brlm-mingr, full to the brim.
Brine, sea-water.
Brood over, to dwell upon.
Brow-beat, to bully.
Browse, to feed.
Buc-ca-neer', pirate in West Indies.
Buck-ing^-ham Pal-ace, in St.
James' Park, London.
Bul-le-tin, official announcement.
Bul-warkS, fortress walls.
But-ter-y, store-room.
C9.-dence, tone.
Ca-det^ officer in training.
Cal-a-bri-a, district of Southern Italy.
Cal-am-i-ty, great loss.
Cal-dron, large basin-like vessel or
hollow.
Cam-paign' (50), commencing of war-
fare.
Can-ker, blight.
Cail-on (can'-yun), deep river-gorge.
Can-O-py, overhead covering.
Can-vassed, discussed
Ca-pac-i-ty, power; ability.
Cap-i-tal-ist, moneyed man.
Cap'8lze^ upset.
Car^-van, company of travellers.
on
in
the
Ca-reer-ing, hurrying on.
Ca-res8', fondle.
Car-I-bOU, Canadian reindeer.
Car-Ol, sing ; warble.
Ca-rOUS-ing:, noisy drinking.
Car-r&-ra, white marble from Carrara
in Italy.
Cas-cade', waterfall.
Cath-e^ral, church of a bishop.
C&V^r-nouS gloom, darkness of a
cave.
Cel^-brftt-ed, famous.
Ce-les-tial, belonging to the sky.
Cen-is' (sen-ee'), peak of Alps
French frontier.
Cer-e-mo-ny, sacred rite.
Cha-mou-ni {sha'-md-nee), vale
Switzerland.
Champ, to roll the bit between
jaws.
Chan-cel, part of church shut off by
altar rails.
Chan-ti-Cleer, cock ; rooster.
Char-i-ta-ble, liberal to the poor.
Cheddar Cliffs, in county Somerset,
England.
ChfiV-iOt Hills, between England and
Scotland.
ChiV-al-r0U8 (s;itt;'-),gallant; generous.
Chol-er-iC (ch hard), passionate.
Cir-Clets, little circles.
Cir-CUit, judge's round in holding
courts.
Cir-CUm-Stance, attendant event.
Cit-a-del, city fortress.
Civ-iC slander, citizen slandering
citizen.
Civ-i-lize, reclaim from savage state.
Clar-i-fied, made clear.
Cloud-rack, thin scudding clouds.
Cogn-ac (kon'-ync) (105), brandy.
CoMI-Bion, striking together.
Co-lOS-sal, immense.
Com-fort-a-ble, yielding ease.
Com-man-dant', governor ; chief
iifficer.
Com-miS-sa-ri-at (246), provision-
chest.
Com-miS-Sion, business to be done ;
instructions.
Com-mon Pleas, court of law.
Com-mu-ni-cate, tell ; make known.
Com-mftn-ion, intercourse.
Com-pact-ed, worked or framed to-
gether.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
265
Com-par^-tlve-ly, by comparison.
Com-pe-tent, fit; suitable.
Com-pet-i-tor, rival.
Com-plled^ did as asked.
Com-pOs^d-ly, calmly.
Com-pOs-ure, calm demeanor.
Con-ceiv-a-ble, that can be thought
of.
Con-cen-trate, gather together.
Con-densed^ made dense ; visible.
Connor, great vulture of the Andes.
Con-fec-tion-er-y, candies; sweet-
meats.
Con-fl-dence, trust.
Con-fu-sion, disorder.
Con-gealS^ freezes.
CoXL-gre-gate, assemble.
Con-SCiOUB, aware of.
Con-se-crftt-ed, set apart.
Con-8ld^r, think; regard.
Con-spiC-U-OUS, clearly seen ; well-
known.
Con-sti-tute, to frame.
Con-tem-plate, to gaze thoughtfully.
Con-trac-tor, an undertaker of work.
Con-trXv-ance, plan.
Con-yeZL-tion-al, settled by usage or
agreement.
Con-vul-slve, spasmodic.
Co-op-er-a-tive, sharing the profit as
well as the work.
Copse, wood of small growth.
Cor-net, ensign of cavalry.
Cor-sair, pirate.
Cor-vette', small ship of war.
Coun-selled, advised.
Cou-rier, swift messenger.
Cr&-ni-um, head.
Cra-ven mis^re-ant, cowardly ruff-
ian.
Cres-cent, new moon, or its shape.
Crest-fall-en, humbled.
Cri-sls, turning-point.
Croon', murmur.
Cru-sa-ders, soldiers of the Cross.
Crys-tal-line, clear ; sharp cut.
CU8-tom-er, buyer.
. Dab-bled in, played with.
Daz-Zle, overpower with light.
Deacon, church officer.
Dec-la-ra-tion, statement.
Dec-0-ra-tion, ornament.
Def-i-nlte, precise.
Deg-ra-da-tion, lowering of rank.
De-lib^-rate-ly, as if weighing well.
De-mol-ish-ing, making ruins of.
Dfi-mon-strate, ])rove.
De-rlve', draw from.
De-Sist^ cease.
Des-per-ate, hopeless.
Des-ti-na-tion, journey's end.
Des-ti-ny, fate.
De-tails', particulars.
De-ter-rent, obstacle.
De-Vel-op-ment, growth ; increase.
De-vi-tal-iZ-ing, deadening.
Dex-ter-ous-ly, skilfully.
Di-am-e-ter, greatest breadth.
Dil-i-gent, hard-working.
Dim-i-nu-tion, lessening.
Dis-a-g^ee-a-ble, not pleasant.
Dis-ap-pear', go out of sight.
Dis-ar-rayed' (196), witli broken
ranks.
Dis-as-ter, a great loss.
Dis^-pline (2I6), obedience to con-
trol.
Dis-com-flt-ure, defeat.
Dis-com-pose', disturb.
DiS-COn-cert', disturb; put out of
countenance.
DiS-COn-tent^d, not satisfied.
DiS-creet', prudent; cautious.
DiS-CUSS', take a subject to pieces.
DiS-en-tomb-ing, taking from a
tomb.
Dis-SOlve', melt away.
Dis-tinct-ly, plainly; clearly.
Di-ver-si-fy, give variety to.
Di-ver-8i-ty, variety.
Ddme, round-shaped roof.
Do-mes-tic e-con^-my, saving at
home.
Don-Jon, central tower of old castles.
Dow^r, gift.
Dr&g^O-man, interpreter.
Dra^per-ied, draped; clothed.
Dray-ton Bas-set, village in county
Stafi'ord, England.
Eb-ul-li-tion, boiling.
Ed-dy-ing, wliirling.
Ef-fec-tu-al-ly (67), successfully
E-jao-U-late, hastily exclaim.
Eke her living out {Hond\ add to
her life.
E-lab-0-rate, wrought with toil.
El-e-vate, raise.
E-lite' (ay-lcet'X picked men.
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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E-llZ-a-Mth-an, in the style of Eliza-
beth's reign.
El-O-quence, fine speaking.
Em-bayed', enclosed in a bay or in-
let.
£m-brold-ered, worked with the
needle.
Em-er-ald, a gem of beautiful green.
E-mS-tion, quickened feeling.
Em-ployed' (24), used.
Em-ploy-ment, work.
En-cour-age, urge on.
En-croach', trespass.
En^r-gy, activity.
En-gin-eer-lng (216), construction of
public works.
En-larged', set free.
E-nor-mous, vast; immense.
En-shroud', cover up.
En-ter-prise, undertaking.
Ea-thu-si-asm, warm zeal.
En-tiC-ing {mlj.), attractive; charm-
ing.
En-tranced', charmed.
En-trea-ty, urgent request.
Ep-ic rage, wild tumult of thoughts
that sweeps forward the writer of
heroic (epic) verse.
Ep-i-dem-ic, affecting the whole
people.
Eq-Ui-page, carriage and attendants.
Es-sen-ti-al-ly, to an important de-
gree.
Es-tab-lish, set firmly.
Es-tab-lish-ment (51), place of bus-
iness.
Es- teemed', highly valued.
Es-ti-mate, view; calculation.
E-ter-nal, lasting for ever.
E-ter-ni-ty, everlasting existence.
E-van-ge-list, writer of a Gospel.
E-vap^-rate, drive off contained
fluid.
Ev-1-dent-ly, plainly; clearly.
Ev-0-lU-tion, movement.
Ex-am-ine, look closely at.
Ex^el-lent, very good.
Ex-cite-ment, agitation.
Ex-clud-ed, shut out.
Ex-haust-ed (3), tired out.
Ex-pe-di-tion, journey.
Ex-pe-ri-enced, felt.
Ex-perts', skilful men.
Ex-pi-ra-tion, end.
Ex-pound', tell the meaning of.
Ex-pres^sion, feature.
Ex-preS8^1y, in plain terms.
Ex-qul-8ite, very beautiful.
Ex-tem-pO-rfi, spoken off-hand ; un-
prepared.
Ex-tin-guish, put out.
Ex-tract-ed, drawn out of.
Ex-traor-di-na-ry, very unusual.
Ex-ul-ta-tion, wild joy.
Fa-er-y, another form otfair'-y.
Fag-got, bundle of sticks for fuel.
Fain, gladly.
Faith-ful-ly, in a devoted manner,
Fal-l0\;r, untilled.
Fa-mil-i-ar, well known.
Fan-tas-tic, fiinciful.
Fas-Ci-nat-lng, charming.
Fee, held in, completely his own.
Fell (ndj.), cruel ; bloody.
Fer-til-ize, to make fruitful.
Fl-nal-ly, in tlie end.
Fi-nan-Cial-ly, from a money point
of view.
Fleet-ing, passing away.'
Flip-pan-Cies, pert talk.
FlOW^r-et, little flower.
For-a-ging, looking for food.
For-ti-fl-ca-tion, armed wall or
building.
Fort-u-nate, lucky.
Frftg-ile, weak.
Frank-in-cense, resinous fragrance.
Fraught, laden.
Freight, load.
Fresh-en-ing, reviving.
Fron-tier, boundary.
Full-orbed glory, brilliance of the
full moon.
Fun-nel, chiipney.
Gal-lant-ly, bravely; nobly
Gam-bol, play.
6ar-ri-son, defenders.
Gaunt, thin; wan.
6en-er-0US, free in giving.
Gen-u-ine, real.
Glad-some, joyous.
Glis-ter, glisten ; glitter.
Gloam-ing, morning or evening twi-
light.
Gloat-ed, gazed with satisfaction
Gnarled, knotted.
Gnomes, dwarfs ; goblins.
Gob-lin, fairy.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
267
ince of the
Gold-en Age, in Latin poets the joint
rei^n of Janus and Saturn in Italy. '
Oold-en-zoned, wiUi belt of bright
yellow.
Oor-geous, showy.
Grad-u-al-ly, step by step.
Orftn-a-ry, store-house for grain.
Grate-ful, thankful.
Grat-i-fl-ca-tion, pleasure.
Gus-ty, windy.
Gym-nas-tiCS, exercises of strength,
or activity.
•
Ha-ber-ge-on, armor for neck.
Hal-low, make holy.
Ham-let, small village.
Har-bin-ger, i)ioneer.
Har-bor bar, ridge of sand across a I
harbor. I
Haunt-ed, frequented by ghosts.
Ha-wai-i (haij-wi'-ee), or Owhyhee,
largest and most southerly of Sand-
wich Islands.
Haz-ar-dOU8, dangerous. '
Hear-ken, listen to.
Her-alds, royal messengers.
Her-i-tage, what comes by birth.
Her-mlt-age, retreat from the world.
Hi-lO, bay on east coast of Hawaii.
Hoard-ed, stored up.
Hoax, to mislead.
Ho-ly Rood, holy cross.
Ho-rl-zon, sky-line.
Hos-pice i'pecce), monastery.
H08-til-i-ty, warfare; unfriendliness.
Hu-mane^ kind-hearted.
I-den-tl-cal, the very same.
Ig-no-mln-i-OUS, shameful.
n-lu-mi-nate (213), print in brilliant
letters.
Im-ag-i-na-tion, fancy.
Im-i-tate, copy ; make something like.
Im-me-di-ate-ly, at once.
Im-me-mo-ri-al, beyond man's
memory.
Im-mor-tal, that cann t die.
Im-par-a-dise, render delightful.
Im-pa-tient (2(5), not willing to wait.
IXU-pen^-tra-ble, that cannot be
pierced.
Im-pe-tUS (38), force ; speed.
Im-por-tU-ni-ty, urgent asking.
Im-preg-na-ble, that cannot be
stormed.
Im-pulse, something that impels.
In-aC-ces-Sl-ble, that cannot be ap-
proached.
In-cal-CU-la-ble, that cannot be
counted.
In-Clem-en-Cles, severities.
In-con-sis-tent, disagreeing with
one's self.
In>de-8crlb-a-ble, that cannot be
told.
In-diC^-tive, showing ; exhibiting.
In-dO-lent, lazy ; inactive.
In-ex-pres^Bi-ble, tliat cannot be
told.^
In-fal-li-ble, that cannot err.
In-fe-ri-or, lower ; not so good.
In-flex-i-ble, that wlU not yield
In-ge-ni-OUS, clever.
In-gen-U-OUS, frank ; open.
In-har-mo-ni-ouB, out of tune.
In-iq-Ui-ty, gross wrong.
In-ju-ri-ous, hurtful.
In-no-cent, doing no harm.
In-nu-mer-a-ble, that cannot be
counted.
In-spire', to breathe into.
In-stant-ly, at once.
In-stinc-tive-ly, natu» ,iy.
In-StrU-ment, way; means.
In-SU-lat-ed, separated.
In-tel-lect, mind.
In-tel-li-gence, ability to under-
stand.
In-ter-cede', to plead.
In-ter-rupt', to break in.
In-ter-sect-ed, cut ; traversed.
In-ter-vene', come between.
In-tol-er-a-ble, not to be suffered.
In-tre-pid-i-ty, boldness.
In-un-da-tion, flood.
In-va-rl-a-bly, always.
In-ven-tion (2I6), finding of ways and
means.
In-vig-0-rate, strengthen.
In-ViS-i-ble, that cannot be seen.
In-VOl-un-ta-ry, that cannot be con-
trolled.
Ir-re-triev-a-ble, hopeless
" Ja-mai^a " (105), rum.
Janl-y, showy ; airy.
Jo-COSe-ly (28), merrily, as in joke.
Junc-ture, cri.sis.
Ju-riS-diC-tion, rule; administration
of the law.
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THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
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Ti
Keel (Shakspeare), skim.
Ken-Bing-ton Pal-ac9, one of the
royal residences in London, on west
side of Kensington Gardens.
Kaell, tolling for tlie dead.
La-bO-ri'<OUS, toilsome.
La-COn-iC, said in few words.
Land-scape, view ; scenery.
Lan-g^Uid-ly, as though tired
Larch, tamarack.
Lay at (213), tilt at ; charge.
Lea, grass-land.
Lead-en (205), heavy; overcast with
clouds.
Lead-en-fOOt-ed, heavvfooted ; slow.
Leagued, joined.
Lfig^-end, unlikely story.
Le-Vl-a-than, vast monster.
Life-stream {of maple), maple-sap.
Lime, lin-den, trees allied to bass-
wood.
Lo-CO-m5-tive, rail way engine.
Loom-in^, appearint^* mistily.
Loose-strife, marsh plant usually with
purple flowers.
Lo-quac-i-ty, love of talk.
Lft-di-crous, laughable.
Lul-la-by, song tliat lulls to sleep.
Ltl-mi-nous, shining.
Lust-y, stronj;.
Lux-U-ri-ance, abundj^»)t growth.
Lux-U-ries, things bcy<»n i mere com-
forts.
Lux-U-ri-OUR, self-indulgent.
Mag-iC (10). adj. for magical.
Ma-g'I-Cian, one dealing in sorcery.
Mag^-nif-i-Cent, grand ; noble.
Mal-treat', ni-use.
Man-builA-ed, built by man.
Man-i-tO (/) '((in), a spirit, good or
ba(l.
Mar-i-time, belonging to the sea.
Mar-tig-ny {mar-ieen-ycK), Swiss
town.
Mar-t3rr, sufferer for the trutli.
"Ma-te-ri-alre-sourc-es," products
of the fields, mines, etc.
"Mea^-ures of their march," mile-
stones.
Me-Chan-i-Cal (210), requiring skilled
labor.
Med-ley, confused mixture.
Mel-an-chol-y, sad.
Mer^i-less, unsparing.
Met-tle, spirit.
Mim-ic, that imitates or reflects.
Min-ia-ture, copy on small scale.
Min-now, small fresh-water fish.
Min-ster, churcli of a monastery.
Min-8trel-sy, song or song-music.
Mi-rage'(?H/'-rrt2/i'), illusive air-mirror.
MiS-er-a-ble, wretched.
Mis-Sile, woapon or thing thrown.
Mis-Sion, field of work.
Mod-em-i2ed, altered to present
fashions.
Mol-es-ta-tion, annoyance
Mon-arque' Grand, Louis XI v. of
France.
Mo-nas-tiC, of or belonging to monks.
Mon-S-dO {Indian), cannibal.
Mo-not-0-ny, sameness.
Mon-ster, gigantic or misshapen being.
Mouse-heart-ed, cowardly.
Mul-lioned, divided.
Mu-niC-i-pal-i-ty, district in charge
of a council.
Mur-rain {mur-Hn), plague ; dis-
temper.
Mus-cle, flesh.
MuB-tache', hair on the upper lip.
Mus-ter, get togetlier.
Mu-ti-nous, rebellious.
Nft-tion-al-i-ty (10), new national
existence.
Nav-l-ga-ble, on whicli ships may sail.
Nav-vy, laborer.
Nec-tar, sweet juice.
Nerve (44), strong sense.
Nest -ling, young bird.
Night-rack, scudding niglit-clouds.
Norse, belonging to Norway or
Sweden.
Nor-we-gi-an, belonging to Norway.
Nymph, maiden.
Ob-lit-er-ate, smear out.
Ob-SCU-ri-ty, darkness.
Ob-ser-va-tion, act of lieoding.
Oc-ca-sion-al, as cliance otters.
0-dor-OU8, yielding a scent.
0-lym-pus {North Greece), meeting-
jilace of the gods.
0-paque', dense; not to be seen
througli.
Op-por-tu-ni-ty, chance.
Op-press', burden.
II
1
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 269
Op-u-lence, riches; abundance of
Poised, weighed.
means.
Pol-i-tiC8, science rr art of govern-
reflects.
Or^-tO-ry (230), a place of prayer.
ment.
lall scale.
Or-chiS (t/i hard), a genus of flowering
Pom-mel, high part of saddle-bow.
iter flsh.
plants.
"Pon^er-OUS fO-ll-O," large, heavy
jnastery.
0r-gan-iZ8, form ; arrange.
book.
ng-music.
O-ri-ent, eastern ; rising.
Pop-U-lar, pleasing to tlic people.
ve air- mirror.
dr-i-fice, nioutli ; opening.
Port-al, gate ; entry.
0-rig-i-nal, one's own ; in earliest
Port-man-teau, leather trunk.
g thrown.
form.
Post-em, entrance.
Or-thO-dOX, conforming to rule.
Post-hu-mouS(lW)), heard long after
to present
they were uttered.
P&g-eant, show ; parade.
Po-ta-tion, drinking.
ice
Pal-i-sade^ picket-fence.
Pre-Cede', go before. ,
mis XIV. of
Par-a-dise, place of delight.
Pre-Cl-pice, headlong descent. 8
Par-take', share.
Pre-Cip-i-tate, to throw headlong. 1
ing to monks.
Par-ti-al-i-ty, one-sidedness.
Pre-Cip-i-ta-tion, headlong haste. ''
libal.
Par-tic-u-lar, special.
Pre-cise-ly, just; «iuite.
Pat^ter, to strike often.
Pre-hiS-tor-iC, prior to written rec-
shapen being.
Peas-an-try, farnung class.
ords.
(lly.
Ped-a-gOgue, teacher.
Pre-^U-dlce, partiality ; unfairness.
Pres-age, omen.
Ped-an-try, show of learning.
■ict in charge
Pem-mi-cau. Explained on p. 103.
Prl-me-val, early.
Pen-du-lum, swinging weight.
Prin-Cl-ple, foundation-truth.
plague ; dis-
Pen-i-tence, sorrow.
Prod-l-g^, wonderful person or thing.
Pen-Blve-ly, thoughtfully, sadly.
Pro-fane-ly, with contempt for tilings
Pent {Tfniiiixon-Turncr), imprisoned.
.sacred.
upper lip.
Per-chance', perliaps.
Pro-fes-Sion, occupation ; calling.
Per-co-lat-ed, trickled.
Pro-fUSe-ly, id)undantly.
Per-il-OUS, full of danger.
Pro-hl-bl-tion (4i»), act <»f forbid-
Per-ma-neut, lasting.
<li»l? ,
ew national
Per-O-ra'tion, condu.sion of a speech.
Pro-Jec-tion CJs), jiart that juts out.
Per-pen-diC-U-lar, sheer up or down.
Pro-mul-gat-ing, making public.
lips may .sail.
Per-pet-U-al-ly, for ever.
Pro-pl-ttoUS, favorable.
Per-pe-tU-1-ty, holding for ever.
Prop-O-Si-tlon CJl). what is otfered.
Per-plex-i-ty, doubt.
Pro-prie-tor, owner.
Per-se-vere', continue.
PrOS-per-i-ty, time ..f success.
Per-son-al, Ijelonging to one's self.
Pro-tu-ber-ant, bulging out.
[ht-clouds.
Per-suade', induce.
Prov-en-der, food.
Norway or
Per-taln', belong ; relate.
Prowl-lng, roving about.
Per-ti-na-ClOU8, obstinate.
Pru-dence, caution ; discretion.
to Norway.
Pes-tl-len-tial, breeding di-scasc.
Pulse (//.(•<•;( A), pottage.
PhJl-ses, fiinuH; a])pi'arance.<4.
Punc-tU-a-tlon, separation of words
Phl-168-O-pher, one who studies tlie
by stops.
causes of things.
Purl, flow witii soft murmur.
Phll-0-SOph-l-Cal, wise; thoughtful.
Pur-pOSe-leSP, witliout an object,
PurS-lane, juicy garden ,voed.
eding.
Pl-broch lpo:'-bro(li\ music of Scottish
jtfers.
bagjiipe.
Pyr-a-mld, pile liaving it.s sides moot-
t.
Plo-tu-reaque', picture-like.
ing at a point.
), meeting-
Piece-meal, bit by bit.
Pjhr-e-nees', mountains bctwocn
Pig-mles, dwarfs.
France and Spain.
be seen
Pll-llon, cusiilon behind saddle.
Pl-rate, sea robber.
Quaff, drink off.
Plain-tlve, sad ; motirnful.
Qui-Vlve' (Av-n' ,'), on the aloi t.
Pleaa-ant-ly, agreeably, Kindly.
1 Quiz {'21), to puzzle.
270
TBIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS.
S:f
M
M
Ra-dl-an-cy, brilliancy.
R&-Jah, prince of Hindostan.
Ral-lied, got into order again.
Ram-i-ft-ca^tion, branching.
Ram-part, fortified wall or mound.
Rap-ture, delight.
R&V-a{fe, waste ; destroy.
Ra-vlne', deep mountain pass.
Re-al-i-za-tion (52), bringing home to
one.
Re-bUked^ reproved.
Reck-less, careless of consequences.
Rec^g^-nize, know again.
Re-com-men-da-tion, favorable
notice.
Rec-om-pense, reward.
Re-dress^ set right.
Ref-er-ence (21.5), arbitration.
Re-in-force-ment, lielp ; assistance.
Re-lap8ed^ fell back.
Re-la-tlon-Shlp, family tie.
Rel-e-gate, degrade to lower rank.
Re-mark-a-ble, worthy of notice.
Re-marked', noticed.
Re-mem-brance, memory.
Re-mind-ed, brought back to mind.
Rem-i-nis-cence, recollection.
Ren-dez-vous (n»(*y'-(iai/-row),place of
meeting.
Re-nowned', famous.
Re-plen-ish, till again.
Re-pre-sent', show ; declare.
Re-sist-less-ly, iieipicH.siy.
Res-O-lUte-ly, witli firmness.
Re-80und-ed, ecimed.
Re-spec-tive-ly, taken in the same
order.
Re-spond', answer back.
Re-spon-Si-ble, answerable, account-
al)le.
Re-BUS-ci-tate, bring back to life.
Re-tire -ment, witlulrawal from the
world.
Re-treat', go back.
Re-veille'(ni//-i7»//'-.wf/X ''Cftt of drum.
Re-venge-ful, apt to return an In-
jury.
Rev-er-ence, respect.
Rheu-ma-tism, a disease stitrening
tlio joints.
Rid-1-CUle, laugliter ; mockery.
Ru-bl-CUnd, red fated.
Rtl-nlC, early (iotliic.
Rtl-ral, )>pl(tnging to the country.
Rtltll-less, unsparing ; merciless.
S&-Chem {di soft), Indian chieftain of
first rank.
Sack-ing, plundering.
E&g-a-more, Indian chieftain of second
rank.
Sal-low, of wan, yellow appearance.
Sal-ly, issue forth.
S8,l-U-ta-tion, mode of address.
8a-lute', hail ; address.
Sanct-U-a-ry, place of refuge.
San-i-ta-ry, belonging to health.
Sap, to undermine.
Sapph-ire {sdf-jir), brilliant precious
stone.
Sar-don-iC, bitter ; heartless.
Sas-katch^-wan Fiver, rises in
Ilocky Mountains and flows into Lake
Winnipeg.
Saw (Shak!*prart), sermon.
Scaf-fold, high platform.
Scan, look clo.sely at.
Scan-di-na-vi-a, Norway and Sweden.
Scath, blast.
Scap-tre, royal stafT.
Scope, space ; design.
Scru-ti-nize, look narrowly at.
Seeth-ing (70), boiling ; wliirling.
Self-COn-tained', showing no emo-
tion.
Self-poised' (S.^), balancing itself.
Self-wise', relying on one's own wis-
dom.
Sem-blance, likeness.
Sen-si-tive, delicate ; ea.'«ily affected.
Sen-ten-tlOUS,short and seeming- wise.
Sen-ti-nels, armed wa tollmen.
Se-rene', calm.
Sha-preen', granulated leather.
Share-hold-er, owner of stock or
sliares.
Sharo-er, cheat ; swindler.
Shat-ter, break to pieces.
Sheen, flash ; splendor.
Sheik, .\rab chieftain.
Shin-gly, gravelly.
Sim-Ul-ta-ne-OUB, ha])pening at the
same time.
Sin-gll-lar, odd ; unusual.
Skew-er, meat-pin.
Slaugh-ter, )>ut(her.
SlUg-(Card, drone ; i.iunger.
Slum-ber-ing, Hleei^ing liglitly.
Smut, soot.
Snow-don Moun-tain, higliest peak
in Wales.
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
271
n chieftain of
ftain of second
liant precious
y and Sweden.
highest peak
85-Cl-a-ble, disposed to be a com-
panion.
So-lil^-qulZ-lng:, talking with one's
self.
8ol-i-ta-ry. lonely.
Bol-i-tude, loneliness.
Som-bre, melancholy.
Som-nam-bU-list, sleep-walker.
Sor-tie, sud<len attack ; sally.
Spars (Hrrrirk), rafters.
Spec-ta-Cle, sight ; scene.
Spec-tre, whost.
Spell (/».), charm ; incantation.
Spind-ling', sending out a long stalk.
Spon-ta-ne-OUS, given without ask-
ing- ,
Spruce-ly, neatly.
Stand-ard, Hug ; colors.
Star-be-span-gled, glittering with
stars.
Starve-ling, ill-fed animal.
State-ly, grand ; majestic.
Stave, verse ; stanza.
St. Bon-i-face, suburb of Winnipeg,
on east bank of lied fJiver.
Steam-ing, night's, night's journey
by steamer.
Stim-U-late, urge on.
Stip-U-lat-ed, agreed on.
Stock-dove, wood -pigeon.
Strap-pa-do, beating ; formerly tor-
tun'.
Strass-burg, city of Alsace, or ELass,
near liliine; also Strasbourg.
Stream-let, little stream.
StU-di-OUS, given to study.
Stunt-ed, undersized.
StU-pen-dous, wonderftd
Sub-lime' Porte ( port) (us), Turkish
Sultan.
Sub-Sti-tutt exchange.
Suc-ceed-ing, following.
Suc-COr, assistance.
Suc-CUmb', yield ; give way.
Sug-gest-ed, hinted.
Su-per-flU-i-ty, excess; luxury.
Su-per-in-tend', overlook ; tako
charge of (.^o).
Su-per-sede', displace.
Su-per-8tl-tlon, undue reverence or
fear.
Su-per-vi-slon (21 \ oversight.
6ur-plice, clericul vestnunt.
Sus-pense', doubt.
Sus^ten^ance, .su])purt.
Swath, line of mown grass.
Sweat-ing lodge, wigwam for vapor-
baths.
Sym-bol, emblem ; token.
Tac-l-tU8, Roman historian, and biog-
rapher of Agricola.
Tap-pan Zee, lake-like exi)an8ion of
Hudson Kiver.
Tar-ry-town, town on Hudson iJiver.
Taunt^ing-ly, in a scoffing manner.
Te-diOU8, slow ; wearisome.
Tem-per-a-ment, natural bent.
Tem-per-a-ture, decree of heat.
Temp-ta-tion, attraction.
Ten-Sion, strain.
Tev-iOt-dale (Tie'- lot), in Roxburgh-
shire, Scotland.
Thatched, roofctl with straw.
Theme, s\»bject.
Thor-OUgh-ly, fully ; altogether.
Thresh-Old, stone or plank beneath
door.
Thrill, set the nerves vibrating.
Thwarts, seats.
Thyme (titii>), aromatic herb.
Time-tU-tored, timght liy ex]»erience.
Tln-tin-nab-u-la-tion, tinkling.
•* Tipped the wink," winked at.
Tit-il-late, tickle.
Tor-tU-OUS, winding.
Touch-Stone, stone for testing purity
of uK'tals.
Tour-ist, one who travels for pleasure.
Tran-quil, (juiet ; i>e:ut'ful.
Trans-flX-ing. j.iercinir tlnough.
Trans-for-ma-tion, diange of siiapo.
Tran-si-tion, diange.
Trans lu-cent. Unit allows litrht to
pass.
Trans-par-ent, that can be seen
Treach-er-ous, apt to betray.
Treas-ur-er, one having charge of
money.
Trel-lis, latticework.
Trem-U-lOUS, shaking.
Trench^r(,S('»/'n, large wooden platter
for carving joints «»f iiiiat oh
Trlb-u-ta-rles, streums that go t<»
swell a rivjr.
Troll, to tlsh.
Truss, bundle.
Tun-nel, passage under t'rotrnd.
Tur-bU-leL ;e, agitatlor; tumult.
I
¥^
272
THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS.
ii-' t
1-;
tv.i
Tweed, river-boundary between Eng-
land and Scotland.
Ty-pha, cattail flaj; a marsh plant.
Tyr-an-ny, harsh rule.
Ul-tl-mate4y, in tho end.
Un-ac-COn .-iallsheii, untln ishe«i,
U-nan-i-mcr — iy. with <»ne mind.
Un-a-VO.Uf-.-i,-dle, that cannot be
helped.
Un-con-di-tlon-al-ly, without terms.
Un-COn-SCiOUS, unaware of.
Un-cour-te-ous-ly, rudely.
Un-COUth', awkward.
Un-en-cum-bered, not burdened.
Un-fort-U-nate, unlucky ; unhajipy.
0-nJ -verse, wiiolo world.
Un-manned'. daunted.
Un-0b-3truc-ted-ly, without hin-
drance.
tJn-per-ceived', not noticed.
Un-slght-ly, u^ly.
Un-wield-y, clum.sy.
Ur-Chins, djildren.
U-tll-ized, made use of.
Va-por-OUS (Rmlcin), cloud - like
breatli.
" Va-rled lays " (lo), the notes of
various i)ir(l8.
Vault-er, loaper.
Veg-e-ta-tion, plant growtli.
Vein (44), impulse.
Verd-ure, greenness.
Ver-mll'-lon, brJlllant red color.
Vea-per, vneniug liymn.
Vi-brate, <iuiver.
Vi-Cln-1-ty, noJKlilmrhood.
Vig-Or-OUS-ly, forcibly ; with all one'.s
streniiftli.
Vl-tal^ breath, breath of life.
Vo-Ca-tion, calliiig; occupation.
Vol-ley, simultaneous di:4charge.
Vo-lupt-U-OU8, given to pleasure.
Vor-tex, wijirlpool.
Voy-a-geur («jca'-i/a-3/t«r— generall;
lironounced on the Ottawa so as to
rljyme with thfire), canic-man of ino
fur-tniding companies.
Vul-plne, wolflsii.
<Vag-8rieh, sportive.
Wan-lng, fi' fling.
Wap-l-tl, Iroquois name for the Cana-
dian species of deer tliat correspond i
to the European stag.
War-rant, (».) to answer for; (u.)
official authority for an act.
Wars of the Roses, wars waged for
tlie po.s8esslon of the Englisii tlir^ne
by tiie Houses oi York and Lancaster
(I4.'')r)-i48r)).
Wa-ver, hesitate.
Way-W rd, self-willed ; pcrvarse.
" Weanng few" (40), becoming fev/.
Weather-proof, tliat can keep out
rain.
Weath-er-warped, twistetl by the
weatlier
Weig^hed, their wortli taken.
Weird, unearthly.
West^min-Ster, district in the west of
London (England) wl)';iv the Housci
of Parliament stand.
Wig-wam, Indian Imt
Wil-der-ness, tangled tlilcket.
Wln-der-mere, a lovely lake in West-
moreland, l<'ngland.
Wind-flOW-er, anemone.
Wind-lyres {WhUHerX branches of
trees played upon l)y the wind.
WltCh-lng, bewitclurig.
Wiz'eiied, shriv '• .
Woid, open coun' •. .
Worts (Hen irk), Ciiobage, and perhaps
other vegetables.
York, Engllsli city on river Ouse.
Zen-lth, point of the heavens directly
ovurliead
tl
.\
a:
ft; '-'i^. ■
ir— general!}
nwa so as to
c-man of Uio
QU.T'STiO^'S AXD SUGGESTIONS.
for the Cana-
b correspond i
er for; (u.)
act.
irs waged for
nglish thr-jne
nd Lancu^iter
perverse,
ecoming few.
!an keep out
atud by the
ken.
In the west of
k" the Housci
icket.
lake in West-
branches of
! wind.
and perhaps
•r Oiise.
ens directly
1. (P. 9) INVITATION.
KXPLA NATION OF THE LK.SHON.
The i)()«>t asks us topo with hiui to | Oh, come away to the grave old
t\w old vvoods while they have WOOds
Htill their seri( >u.s face on ;
i)efore tlie dawn lui.s Ix'^'un to | Ere the skies are tinged with
break ; j light,
!
before the /^leepiu'^' leaves juive put j Ere the slumbering leaves of the
gloomy trees
Have thrown off the mists of
Night;
mW^
otf their gauzy wra[)i)erH oi nii.st ;
before the birds have raised their
heads from tlieir downy pillows;
before the little flower's cup is
emptied of the dew;
l)efore the distant brook can yet bo
seen li^ditly t«>uching the hill as
it conn's down:
It is at this tiarly hour we feel the
solemn influ«'nce of the woods;
then, whilt^ the slothful ai-e still iii
the midst of some uneasy dream,
lei us be^in the day, in the spirit
of j (layer, with a walk in th«i
darlcened woods.
Ere the birds are up,
Or the floweret's cup
Is drained of its fresh'ning 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.
A^ain, the poet invites us to visit Oh, come away to the bright old
the woods when the wrinkled old woods,
trees no lon^tM" look dark and j
gloomy, l»ut wear a joyous smile :
for now the s»ni has risen,
An the sun ascends the skies.
and the young birds sinijc their curly While the birdllngs sing tholr
songs, morning hymns,
IS
i
It
^t*:|
fir
it;
i-x.
274
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
lam*
I'
ill
whicli send Jin answering thrill '
through every leaf in the wood ;
and the gold-belted bee among the
blo.ssonis and shrubs seeks honey
for the hive ;
»ind from the peaceful nook every-
thing sings its own hynni of
praise t(j the Creator :
Kuch is the time to feel the quick-
ening charm of the sunny woods :
then, while the slothful are idly
dreaming,
let us thoughtfully walk tiirough
the depths of the old, but sunny
woods.
A:sA each leaf in the grove re-
piles ;
When the golden-zoned bee
Flies from flower to tree
Seeking sweets for its honied cell,
And the voice of Praise
Sounds its varied lays
From the 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.
With studious soul.
Through the depths of
bright old woods.
the
And how, after the
2. How did the old woods look before sunrise?
sun h.'vd lisen?
3. Where was the sun at our first visit? Where at our second visit?
4. How did we find the leaves occupied befoi'e sunrise? And how,
afterwards ?
5. What of the birds at each visit ?
(>. To find the oh', woftds in a joyous humor wh<»n must we visit
them? .\n(\ wlien, if wc would find the old woods in a serious humor?
7. [nstead of these words ^'ive oth<^rs liaving nearly the same mean-
ing: gTave (adj.), tinged, slumbering, gloomy, floweret, dismal,
bird^ings, ascends, golden-zoned, varied lays, trifling theme.
H, Write these words in the plural number : leaf, sky, lay.
1). I'arse : Oh, come away to the bright old woods I
10. Who was the author <if tli- > i lines, and how long apfo wa.s he born?
11. Write dsiwn otlier words [irouounced like these, but differing in
mo:»jiing : dew, hour, cell., laun, some, (iroup the words in pairs, with
their meanings.
12. (P. 10\ Spring-Time in Canada.
1 <, On the title page o*" thi ' book you will find the arms of Canada
within a wreath of mii:-! -leav v>. because Cami^'a has taken the maple-
leaf as her tMrjblem. V!.ng4 jtk?. .ig s ago, took the rose for her emblem ;
Ireland i\nt shamrock. Scodand the thistle; France the lily, etc.
Now tell me something' of t*'.. ii.v.ple-tree, beginning with the very
early Spring and ending wit'" t^-e u;;' of the h-af.
14. When tn'es are just u^ddiug out at Kingston, how would you
find them at Lake St. Clair? and how at Montreal?
l.^. How long wo\.'' i you be ji ir«»ing !>y hteamer from Montreal to
(^ut^bee? How loi.^.' does Summer take tit go that distance?
1(1. When Sunnier reaches (Quebec, how does it make ui> for lost
time ?
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
275
le grove re-
)\v, after the
17. If you were to visit the city of Quebec, where, fr«mi Major
Butler's account, would you exi)ect to get the best view of the sur-
rounding country ?
IS. Sui»i)OHe yourself now standing there beside Maj( r Eutler, tell
ns, in your own words, what vou see.
10. Point out on a map of Canada the Falls of Montmorency Que-
bec, the Island of Orleans, Montreal, Kingston, Lake St. Clair.
20. Rule a line, say two inches fn m the left-hand side of your slate
or paper ; within this border write down the following words, carefully
dividing them into syllables, and in the ^^ide space beyond write the
meanings in order :' instinctively, mimic, transparent, nationality,
cascade, enticing, symboL [These words will be found in the Vocabu-
lary.]
21. (P. 12) Jack-in-the-Pulpit— Whittier.
The jmlpit is a leaf-cup sha]ied like a calla lily, but of a preen color,
often veined with brown and black : the tip of the leaf is bent over so
as partly to cover the cup, and it thus forms the sounding-board or
canopy of the pulpit. In the centric of the leaf-cup rises a tliick stalk
bearing at its foot a cluster of small flowers. The jjoet playfully makes
this Jack-in-the-Pulpit i)reach in the church of the forest.
22. What flowers swing their bell-shaped blossoms and call the con-
gr<»gation to this forest-church ?
2X Describe how the ]ml])it is made, and painted, and grained.
24. How is the little minister dressed ?
2."). Now go ui) to the choir. What are the instruments used (see
third and eightn stanzas)? Who are the singers? Who lea«is the
treble (see first stanza)? Who leads the bass, and how is he dressed?
2(). Who are the deacons, and how do you know them?
27. This church service setms to have l)een held in war-time ; for
look-out men are jiosted to warn the con^'regation of the enemy's
a])proach. To whom is this duty given, and liow are they to .s»»und
the warning?
25. Some of the congregation are sad, come prayerful, some glad,
some radiant with smiles ; now tell us their names.
20. Some girls are in church only to show their bonnets, or their
purple-gauze dresses, or to dis|)lay their golden hair; vho are those
vain girls?
'SO. Then there are meek, i)ale-faced childien, with eyes upturned
to the i»reacher : who can they be? iChickweeds.)
31. But somebody has been smoking: for see the Indian pipes.
(These are cm'i(»Uf; leafl«^ss jdants common in rich woods, growing on
decayed vegetable matter; the flower is set on the stalk like the bowl
of a pii)e.) After this sm«.>king, how was the forest-church sweet-
ened ?
32. But tlie sermon : tell us something of that ! Cannot ? Not even
the text? How ^^'as the time spent during the service?
33. As in No. 20, divide and explain these words : gorgeous, lan-
guidly, innocents, sentinels, profanely.
34. (P. 14.) From what (piurter of the world did we get the fable
Pluck?
3.'». Trace the mouse through its various changes upwards, and then
btu'k again.
3«'». ill whicli of its conditions did it fear the lion? In which did it
fear the dog?
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276
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
mi
■h
37. In real life, wliat character aiiHwers to the mouse ? Who is the
magician ?
38. (P. 16.) Tlie Htoi'V of T/ir doc/c and the Goose teaches us that,
even in the, peaceful life of the country, wo must not tlirow asidr
natural safeguards. This witty fable is from the pen of a Spanish lady
who calls herself " Fernan Caballero."
3!». Use simpler words instead of sententious, beheld, plumag^e, re-
turned, excited hostility.
40. If the defence of our country becomes necessarj', how would the
Roman Horatius have us meet death ?
41. (P. 16-18.) Of the doj^s here described, which would you chooso
for a watch-doff? Which makes the best sledge-dog'/ Which have
webbed feet? Which dog has the keenest scent'/ Which the siiarpest
sight? Wliat dog is chieny used on our farms?
42. What breed of doj^s was used in bull-baiting, in the tracking of
slaves, in the finding of lost travellers?
43. Point out on the maps of the liemisjjheres the West Indies, the
Alps Mountains, Newfoundland, England, Switzerland, Spain. Give
the capital cities of the last four.
44. I3ivide .^ud explain as in No. 20 the.se words : employed, intelli-
gence, remarkable, monastery. Parse these sentences : The blood-
hound is of a reddish or brown color. He is remarkable for his keen
scent.
4.5. (P. 18, 19.) Of the birds named, which are musicians of the house-
top, which of the W(K)dlands, which of the fields? What minstrel
plays on our forest pines in tlie whiter?
4l>. As to these poor fishermen, why did they go oiit of the harbor
when the breakers on the sand-bar told them a storm was rising?
-^7. Write down the singular «)f women, wives, men, children,
Ibctvos; and tlie plural of harbor-bLr, squall, light-house, sparrow,
thrush. Whnt does night-rack mean ?
48. (P. 20, 21.) Tell what you fo\md woven into the sparrow's nest.
Name the animals or plants that yield us raw material for the follow-
ing: worsted, calico, muslin, silk, linen. Explain compacted. Ana-
lyze and i)arse : I never saw a nest like this. Write in the pliual :
washer-womsin, rubbish-bag. Write the singular of enemies.
41). (P. 21.) In the tn/" of the Pike, what was the otf.nice? Who
were his judges, and who was their legal advisor? What sentence
was first passed (m the Pike? What change was made in the sentence?
Was tlie Pike better, or was he worse on, for the change? \\'iiat is
the lesson to be learned from the fable ?
.50. Divide and explain as in No. 20: winnimously, uninhabitable,
competent, ignominious, supervision, assessor. Write words similiu-
in sound to the following: see, there, to, no, might, be, the, whole,
an, made, would, in. Distinguisli the meanings.
.51. Conjugate drown, flung, graze, made, brought, add, run, car-
ried, seen. Form nouns from tiie foUowing adjectives : happy, holy,
ready, busy. Analyze and i)arse this sentence : So the Pike was flung
int ) the river.
52. (P. 22.) What is the, lesson taught by the fable of The MiUrrf Wliat
does Krilof mean by collecting the candle ends ? I*arse : Hallo,
miller! don't stand gaping there! It's time you should set your
wits to work. Couipan; : worse, good, ready. Conjugate: stands,
sleeps, observes, cries.
.53. (P. 23.) Througli what rooms of his little house does the old vicjir
fW
QUESTIONS AND SUGO'ESTIONS.
277
Who is tho
ince ? Who
10 old vicar
lead tiH? What has he for dinner? How does he make his fire? Wlio
are his most frecjuent visitors? To Whom are all his liuiuhle comforts
due? How many vears have gone by wince the writer of this little
poem was horn ? Wh«>re did he live?
54. (P. 24 27.) Kxplam how cmniing ^Fr. T^ear found the honeycomh,
and how he brought it home, and how he divided it. What were tho
names of the young bears ? How did Mrs. Bear teach them neatness
of habits? At what hour were they put to bed?
• 5.'). Compare the adjectives : biggest, strongest, dismal, flat, little,
late, more, sweet-scented, hungry; and the adverbs, mildly, well,
more. Analyze and |)arse : This reminded Mr. Bear that he was
hungry too. "
"Mi, Howl: this word is intended to imitate the sound. Find other
soimd-imitationK in the words of the Ijosson.
57. (P. 27, 28.) Explain: Common Pleas, flippancies, prodigy, quizzed,
Jocosely, sardonic, on circuit, laconic. Whert^ is Yorkshire ? Name
its i)rincipal river and its chief cities. Write the plural of : elf, calf,
woman, prodigy.
58. (P. 29, 30.) Stormy sea: where? Why do He and His take
cajtital letters?
5U. Come, bear, g^ard, think, stood: by means of prefixes make
new verbs from these words, and conjugate.
00. (P. 31-33.) Write out tiie followmg words, and underline the
silent letters : Arctic, rheumatic, palmiest, adieu, beautiful, ghastly
hue. Write the following in the plural : difficult Journey ; the coat-
tail; his former-self ; on a dog's back. Analyze and parse the first
sentence on p. 31. Find on a map of Europe : Berne, the Pass of St.
Bernard, Mont Cenis, Scotland, the Pyrenees.
Gl. Name, in the nootical selection on p. 33, the marks of jnmctua-
ti<m which follow tnese words : brotherhood, fellowship, outward,
sublime, one. Write the plural of : this life, other yearning.
()2. (P. 34, 35.) Point out on a ma]) of Manitoba: Red River, Assini-
boine River, Lake Winnipeg, St. Boniface. Write in the plural :
pine-land, wild goose, oarsman, hunting-lodge, voyageur.
03. (P. 36-38.) What Hawaiian (//'rt//-wy-?/'^//j) game reminded La»ly
Brassey of our tobogganing? Why is lier book callerl a Vofiaifc in the
Sunbeam f Show on a globe or map the position of Hawaii and the
Sandwich Islands. What famous sailor was slain on Hawaii (or
Owhyhee)in 177»?
04. (P. 39, 40.) Form adjectives from the following words : trouble,
faith, hand, courage, need, death, sorrow, child, year, dew, music,
sheep, sun, play. Form adverbs from the following: weary, quiet,
tender, easy, equal, true, heavy. Analyze and parse the last stanza
of The TraveUers Return.
<i5. (P. 4L-4/1) Describe the conduct of the brave larls on tlie Gofiath.
What request did they make of tho captain? Who was the captain
of the (iolinth ( What i» the way at sea, my boys ? Form nouns cor-
responding to the following: know, grow, flow, think, bum. Form
adjectiv(^s from these words : Are, cheer, gold, Eng-land, please, differ,
order. In the Jihmne of the Hail find words imitative of scmuda.
()<». (P. 45, 46.) How does the Norwegian fable exi>lain the red head
and black body of tho woodpecker? What lessons may wo learn in
our country walks? Write down tho names of any half-do/en birds
and of any dozen wild-fiowcrs tliut you know, t'onjugate: think,
goes, chide, vrrites, was, loaded, walk, tax, tell, yield.
1
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.
i
278
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
!l- • :
67. (P. 47, 48.) What plants or trees are mentioned in those pages?
08. (P. 49-63.) What tree yields maple-sugar? Tell us all al3out the
making of maple-sugar, and describe the sights and sounds in the
bush. Analyze and parse: The sap stirs early a little. Form
nouns from relieve, busy, stingy, uneasy, excite, live, deep, broad,
long, high.
09. (P. 53-55.) What were the recollecticms that endeared the old
farm-gate? Explain : gaily bedlght; trellis of white; were all can-
vassed and weighed ; he'd stand for his freight ; winging our mo-
ments and gilding our name. — Road-side, a compound noun ; red-
rusted, a comiK)nntl adjective. Give other examiiles of compound
nouns and adjectives from the Lesson. Form adjectives from favor,
humor, labor.
70. (P. 56 59.) Tell in vour own way the story of The Minnows with
SiUn' Tails. Show that Tom's master was not his own master. Analyze
and parse: If father does not come too much done. Form nouns
from exhibit, acknowledge, compose, observe, perfect ; and adverbs
from sulky, real, composed, pretty.— For Robert Horrick, see p. 23.
71. (P. 60, 61.) The lit/ Green was set to music by Henry Russell.
(Where vocal music is taught in schools, our tine old songs ought to
receive attention, ar.d, after having been expresnively read, ouglit to
be sung with feeling.) Analyze and i)arse : Whole ages have fled
hearty green. In C(»npt}sin'e, 1st stanza, notice that in tlie lind and
4th lines the rhymes are double — follow'd, hoUow'd; while in the
Ist and 3rd lines the rhymes are single — roU'd, cold.
72. (P. 62 64.) Describe in your own words Harold's excursicm on
the swan's back, and what he saw. Divide and explain, as in No. 20 :
stupendous, precipitated, impenetrable, inexpressibly. Analyze and
parse : Now I should like shown to me.
73. (P. 65-68.) The air to which Home, Sweet Home is sung was
adapted by Sir H. R. Bishoj) from a Sicilian tune. Donizetti intro-
duced the air with slight alterations into his opera of Atina Bohiui. —
What wiis Hugh Miller's account of his school-boy days ? Form the
plurals of : pen-knife, copy-book, parent's, class-fellow.
74. (P. 69, 70.) Floweret means a little ,Hower; in other words, it is
the diminat'<e of flower, (iive the diminutives of river, hill, isle,
man, streaiu.. The Afton is a brov)k in Ayrshire ; the glen mentioned
by Rurns in the second stanza is called from the brook, (xlenafton.
(Conjugate : forbear, bereft, flow, fly, sow, sew. Write in the plural :
valley, echo, life.
75. (P. 71-73.) The story of the (Jolden Apples of the Hesnerides
was familiar to every school-l)oy of Old (Ireece. Tell us sometliing of
this adventure of the strong man Hercules. — Describe the sights and
sounds of Canadian woods and fi(»lds in May.
70. (P. 74-80.) What account d(. the Indians give of the origin of the
Canadian robin?— The poet Moore took down from the singing of his
vot/iKfeitrs the air to which he has set the Canadian Boat Song, and it
always remained a great favorite with him. He says : *' I remember
when we have entered at siuiset uiM)n one of those beautiful lakes
into which the St. Lawrence so grandly and unexnectedly opens, I
have he-ard this Hiini)le air with a jjleasure which tlie tinest composi-
tions of tlie first masters have never given me ; and now there is not a
note of it which does not recall to my memory tlie dip of our oars in
tlie St. Lawrence, the flight of our l)oat down the rapids, and all those
new and fanciful impressions to which njy heart was alive during the
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
279
whole of this very interesting voyage. Tlie stanzas are sii]>|»osed to
be Sling by those voinujcurs who go to the (irand Portage by the Utawa
River.' —(Jive from Sangster's Iheliufiid instances of doi>ble rhyme (see
No. 71). Divide and c\i)lain, as in No. 20: fascination, enthusiasm,
resistlessly, excitement. Form adverbs fr«jm gay, Joyous, merry,
angry.
77. (P. 81-84.) Carefully copy the little sketch-map given on p. 82.
The position of battle-fields is sh<»wn by cr()ssed swords. (Jive your
own account of the great tight near Hastings. Divide and explain:
ingenuous and Ingenious.
78. (P. 86 87.) Write in full: I'll, I've, I'm, we'll, can't, there's.
Writii in contracted form : we are, you are, you will, do not, I shall
not, I will not. Write in the plural : that yellow flower; the day's
as bright as then; this fortress. Form adjectives from boy, Joy,
child; and adverbs from weary, happy. Conjugate sleep, feed,
found, sit, spring, miss, keep, stands, lies, break, bid, go, shines,
forget. — Less-happier, infouUc comparative. The writer of The Irish
Emi(jrant was Helen Selina Sheridan, grand -daughter of Richard
Brin.;Ioy Sheridan, wife of the fourth Lord Dutferin, and mother of
the Marquis of J)ufferin, our late (iovernor-(Jeneral. Lady Dutferin's
sister (the Hon. Mrs. Norton) was also a poet as well as a novelist of
some repute. The music to which Lady Dutferin's song is usually set
was composed by Mr. W. R. Dempster, who used to sing it with
nnich feeling.
70. (P. 88-92.) Describe some recent improvements in bee-keeping.
Point out on a map : (1) Louisiana, New York, and Minnesota, with
their capitals ; (2) the cities of New York and Chicago ; the River Mis-
sissippi, its source, mouth, and chief tributaries. — Write in the plural :
evening's, man's, child's, lady's, deer's horn, sheep's back. W rite in
the singular: echoes, argosies, sparse: deep (p. 91); fire (p. 91); weary
not summer (p. 92).
80. (P. 93-97.) 'The scene of Trving's sketch is laid near Tarrytown,
on the Hudson River, where in after years Irving built liis famous re-
treat of Simnysido. Tappan Sea is a lake-like expansion of the Hud-
son, 12 miles long, and 3^ miles at its greatest breadth. — (Jeneral
Benedict Arnold agreed in 1780 to betray West Point to the English
general, Sir H. Clinton, and Major Andre was sent to make secret
arrangements with Arncjld. Amlre was arrested within half a mile of
Tarrytown, and, after court-martial, was hanged as a spy at Tappan,
which is nearly opposite Tarrytown. His body was in 1821 removed
to Westminster Abbey.— (Jive from the Lesson words imitative of
.sounds. Divide and explain, as in No. 20: desperation, tremendous,
unfortunate, mysterious, dimensions, stammering, lamentations,
superstition, accidentally, uncourteously, melancholy, uncomfort-
ably, eno;.'mous, perceiving.
81. (P. 97.) First stanza: in vain; because she will then be dead,
and be heedless of thy caresses. Fifth stanza: For thou mayest
with her, — for thou mayest i^i^i^ the hoin* when, in thy grief, thou wilt
regret that thou hast outlived thy mother. Explain: raven hair;
hour forlorn. — Defer: .set other prefixes before the root -fer, and give
the meanings of the verbs so formed.
82. (P. 98-l(K).) Write in the plural : deer, ox, buffalo, caribou, wa-
piti's, hunter's, moose. Write in tht^ singular : bells', canoes, eaves,
leaves, children's. — Native proof, English mettle: proof, in older
English, often niea,nii,P'm'l>/-teiii})ere(J armor.
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QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
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83. (P. 101-103.) Divide and explain, as in Xo. 20 : dexterously,
manufacture, diminution, delicacy, magnificent, congregate, pro-
tuberant, pemmican, unwieldy, especially.
84. (P. 104-107.) Divide and exi)lain, as in No. 20: immemorial,
consecrated, unadulterated, reminiscences, hospitality, antiquity,
promulgating, rubicund, titillation. Analyze and parse : (1) Your
pardon, good people ! (2) Are you all satisfied ? (3) Well, well,
sir! no harm done, I hope! — (The selection from Hawthorne affords,
from the variety of emotions, and from the frequent change of address,
an excellent training in the modulation of the voice.)
85. (P. 108-112.) Tell in your own words the curious adventures (^f
Billy and his sisters with the Barn Elves. — Write in full : don't, it's,
I'm, t'obey, there's, isn't, what's. Name the marks of jjunctuation in
the verses on p. 111. Write the present i)articiples of travel, grin,
quarrel, die, dye, sing, singe, cry, drop, argue, skip.
80. (P. 112-118.) After-math, the second crop of grass mown in the
Fall. — Tell in your own way the story of Gi^aif EafiJe and his Fife
Brothers. — Nest-mate : give other nouns compoimded with mate.
Write in the singular: The cold winds had all blown themselves
away. — Tuesday last : Write the names of the days of the week.
Write in full your address, and the date on which this Lesson is pre-
l)ared. — Pride of place, j^roud elevation ; mousing owl, an owl which
commonly flies at no more dangerous enemy than a mouse.
87. (P. 319-122.) Find on your maps : the Arctic Ocean, Spitzbergen,
Greenland; the North Atlantic, Europe, the British Isles; Ireland,
County Kerry, Killamey; Scotland, Argyleshire, Glencoe ^ north-east
corner of Argyleshire) ; Italy, Calabria (in ancient geography the south
eastern extremity of Italy; but in modern, the south-urstcrn). — For
the Massacre of (Jlencoe, the impil will refer to his EtuiJish Historif,
reign of William III., a.d. 1002. (Lord Macaulay's brilliant narra-
tive will enable the teacher to throw into the Lesson richer color and
deei)er interest.) — Latitude : what is meant by " latitude " ? In what
latitude do we live ? In what latitudes are Killarnev and Calabria ?
88. (P. 123-125.) Sir Walter Scott used to say of The Wet Sheet o»d
n Flowimi Sea, that it was "the best scmg going." It is sung to the
famous old military tune of the French, Le Petit Tambour ("The
Little Drum "). — The piteher-plant grows abundantly on swamjn' land
throughout Canada. (It will add nmch additional zest to the Lesson
to show th'^ impils a specimen of this curious plant.) — Explain : plain-
tive melody; pensive minstrelsy; grief's canker; passionate fare-
well.
81). (P. 126-129.) Analyze and parse: Some hand these pages pent
(p. 126). Write in full these tenses occurring in Tennyson Turner's
Sonnet : meant, hast left, gleam, were, will close, leave. Parse : art
gone.
1)0. Read the following sentence : " All blue birds are not Blue
Birds." Write a short account of the Blue Bird — his house, his haoits,
and his useful services. — Write dov/n the following words; underline
in them the silent letters, and overline the diphthongs: autumn,
caitiffs, bears, seizes, loath, leisure, meadows, reappearing.
1)1. (P. 130-132.) Find on a ma]), and then describe the i)()sition of:
New York, Boston, Philalelphia, Edinburgh.— (Jive any words from
the Lesson that are imitative of sounds. — Beguile, inherit, adjudge,
attend : give any other verl)s containing the prefixes be ; in : ad {ae, af,
Hi/, (if, (in, ar, as, «^).— Overspread : g
jg tne i»i
ive verb:
s compounded with over
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
281
and under. — What compensation does poverty bring to the ])oor
man's son? What corresponding dtsadrantaffCi^ are ii\^t to acc()mpany
^vealth? — Analyze and parse : rich white hands. Explain: sul-
try glebe ; dewy meads ; verdant landscape ; friendly crook ; dread-
ful shade. Addison's free rendering (and rearrangement) of tln^ L'.'^rd
Psalm would be described as a paraphrase. When and where did this
beautiful poem first appear ?
92-98. REVIEW, Parts I. and II.
92. Rule off a margin on your pa])er, take down the following names,
and opposite each describe its situation : Greenland, St. Boniface,
Berne, Dover, Hawaii, York, Chicago, Glencoe, Kingston, Lake St.
Clair, Pass of St. Bernard, Killamey, Tappan Zee, Quebec, Hastings,
Spitzbergen, Montreal, Afton Water, Isle of Orleans, River Thames,
Calabria, River Ottawa, Mont Cenis, Caucasus Mountains, River Mis-
sissippi, Cheviot Hills, New York City, Teviotdale, Newfoundland,
Boston, Edinburgh, West Indies, Philadelphia, Canterbury.
93. With the assistance of the Reader, arrange in order of senior-
ity, giving dates in margin, the following authors : Lord Macaulay,
Thomas Moore, B. G. Niebuhr, S. T. Coleridge, Eliza Cook, R. W.
Emerson, Miss Havergal, Dean Stanley, Horace Smith, Adelaide Anne
Procter, J. R. Lowell, Allan Cuningham, T. D'Arcy M'Gee, Lady
Dufferin.
94. As in No. 93, arrange in order of seniority, m ith dates in mar-
gin, the following authors : Robert Burns, Charles Dickens, Jean
Ingelow, J. G. Saxe, J. H. Payne, Thomas Aubrey de Vere, William
Wordsworth, Charles D. Warner, Rev. Hugh Macmillan, Mary
Howitt, Thomas Hood, William Motherwell, Mrs. Sigourney, N. P.
i^lllis.
9.5. As in No. 93, arrange in order of seniority, with d.ates in margin,
the following authors :— Lord Houghton, Robert, Lord Lytton, Robert
Souther, J. G. Whittier, Ivan Krilof, W. F. Butler, Charles Sangster,
Charles (Tennyson) Turner, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Alexander Wil-
son, Mrs. Hemans, Washington Irving, Rev. Charles Kingsley, Mrs.
Craik (Miss Mulock).
[To prevent pvipils from seeking their answers in the old note-books
of their class-mates, the Teacher would do well to frecpiently make
iietv combinations of the foregoing names. In such (luestions, easy but
most important stei)s are taken towards a systematic study of English
and General Literature.]
9(). Collect from the Reader, giving dates in margin, a dozen authors
who were born in the 18th century ; and a dozen who were born in the
19th century.
97. Name in order the authors of the following : The Pirkirir/c
Papers; A Voiiaf/e in the " »S'»»6m;» ;" Jark-in-t/ie-Piilpit ; Gatlur Ye
lioifcbads While Ye Map; 2'he He((dl('s.s Horsenutn of Sleep fi Hollow;
The Canadian Boat Sontf ; rm Sitting on the Stile, Marii ; Mij Schools
and Schoolmasters ; From Ocean to Ocean.
98. Name in order the authors of : Flov) Gentlit, Street Afton ; The
Irrj Green ; A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea ; Home, Sweet Home; The
Jihyme of the Rail ; 'The Excursion ; The Homes of England.
'I
282
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
I
n.
ii-
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;
1;
1
PART III.
90. (P. 133-137.) In the selection from RasseJas what meaning do you
take out of : This lake discharged its superfluities ; whatever might
contribute to make seclusion pleasant ; the musicians exerted the
power of harmony; new competitors for imprisonment? Where
does Johnson place the story of Rasselas ? When did he write it, and
how did he spend the mt^ney got for it ?
100. Explain: sprightly kid; subtle monkey; solemn elephant;
the little children's dower ; warm little housekeeper. — How would
Archbishop Trench explain the original meaning of a kind man ? Give
words formed from the root ki)i.
101. (P. 138-144.) In Longfellow's ballad, notice that, in each stanza,
there is but one rhyme — namely, that formed by the words at the end
of the 2nd and 4th lines. Excei)t therefore for the inconvenience of
])rintin'% the stanzas might have been thrown into two lines instead of
four. Thus :
1. The old liouse by the lindens stood silent in the shade,
And on the gravel pathway the light and shadow played.
2. I saw the nursery window wide open to the air ;
]3ut the faces of the children, — they were no longer there.
The T>upil will throw into this form any two of the remaining stanzas.
Analyze and i)arse : But the faces there.
102. Carefully copy the little sketch-map given on p. 141. Who is said
to have suggested the stratagem by which the Heights of Abraham were
reached ? When and by wliom was it carried out ? Tell in your own
way the incidents of that memorable night. The lines which Wolfe
repeated from (Cray's Ele(ji/ form the 9th stanza : —
((
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave,
Await alike the inevitable hour —
The paths of glory lead but to the grave."
The Elcffi/ was published in (February) 1751, little more than eight
years before the siege of (Quebec.
103. Reveille (pronounced ray-vay-yea), call to arms. Boscage
(accent on first syllable, old Norman-French word), wood, copse. Give
words similar in sound to the following, and distinguish their mean-
ings : one, cannon, threw, great, whole, there, air, new, the, all,
tide, two, vain.
104. (P. 144-147.) At what jioint does the Canada Pacific Railway
cross the Asshiiboine ? Find m your ma]), and then describe the i)osi-
tion of : Winnipeg, Portage La Prairie, Brandon, Qu'Appelle (pr.
Kappel'), Pembina (\)r. Pem'bina), Emerson, Red River, Rocky Mts.—
Writt^ in the i)lural : folio, bush, gipsy, grandchild, railway, camel's,
blackberry, yew, she was, my position, I was hurled.
105. (P. 148 163.) Divide and define, as in No. 20: fascination,
providential, Intoxicating, temperament, essentially, acknowledged,
intemperate. Explain: reedy brake; physical qualities; swept
into the vortex ; were bursting their brown. Analyze : Thousands
of .young men will give it up. -Buffalo and Niagara River: find
them on a map, and tlescribe their position. What canal opened
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
283
navigation between Buffalo and the Hudson River ? l?y what canal
has the bstacle of Niagara Falh' been overcome ? What lakes are
connected by this latter canal, and what names do the two gateways
bear ?
KM). (P. 154-158.) Find on your maps, and describe the sources and
chief tributaries of the following rivers ; also name the chief cities
which they or their tributaries pass : Amazon, Missouri, Thames,
Severn. Find in Tennyson's Brook exan)ples of words imitative of
sound or of motion. How do you understand : a sudden sally ; bicker
down a valley; many a silvery water-break; hazel covers; the
netted sunbeams dance; I linger by my shingly bars? How old
was the ])oet Tennyson in 1883? The Brook has been set to music by
W. G. Cusins, the editor of Soufis from the Published Writin<js of Alfred
l'e)niiisoi). (C. Kegan Paul and Co.. 1880.)
107. (P. 158-162.) How long is it since (ioldsmitli died ? From what
story is the Lesson taken? Tell in your ow"> way the adventmvs of
Moses Primrose at the Fair. — In the selection from jMilton, Morn
(Ain-ora) is spoken of as living and acting: give other examples of
this personification from tlie extract. Charms,— here in the old mean-
ing, son<is ; solemn bird, — the owl.
108. (P. 163-167.) Write in full: 'tis, don't, snored o' nights, I'd
had aught, I wouldn't have walked, I've seen. The Boatman here
describes the great Sea Eagle, or Fishing Eagle (or Bald Eagle) of
Canada and the United States. The bird is not really bald, but the
feathers of the head are white. This largest of the eagles frecjuently
reaches 3 feet in length, and its outspread wings measure 7 feet. This
is the bird figured upon the United States coinage. — Tell in your own
words the story of Madeline of Verrhtres. When and where did these
.scenes occur ? Where is Lake Champlain ? what river forms the out-
let ? Name the chief places on the lake and river. Describe the jiosi-
tion of Montreal City.
100. (P. 168-173.) Robert Blake, English Admiral (1500-1057) : fre-
quently defeated the Dutch fleet, 1052, 1053 ; chastised the Barbary
pirates, 1055 ; captured part of one Spanish fleet and destroyed another
fleet, 10.50, 1057. Blake died, as his ship, the St. Geonje, entered Ply-
mouth Sound, August 17, 1057 ; his system was worn out with .«curvy,
contracted from long-continued nava^ service. — Horatio, Lord Nelson
(1758-1805): his chief victories were the Battle of the Nile (Aboukir
Bay), 1708; Battle of Copenhagen, 1801; Battle of Trafalgar, in
which he fell mortally wounded, October 21, 1805. — Describe the posi-
tion of : Plymouth Sound, Aboukir Bay, Copenhagen, Trafalgar, Han-
over, the Harz Mountains, Loch Katrine, (iive from the poetical
selections examples of words imitative of sound or of m<»tion. Parse:
mom of toil (p. 174); days of danger (173); Bid every care be gone
(171) ; Pass, and the sky forgets thee (168).
Ye Mariners of Enyland is sung to the air of Ye GeiHUmcn of
Ent/land, arranged as a trio for male voices. This air, whicli was com-
posed by John Wall Callcot (})<»rn 1700), greatly ])leasi>d Cam])beirs
ear, and he composed his Ode in the same metre as the older song.
110. (P. 175-180.) Explain in your own way: azure main; foreign
stroke ; generous flame ; rural reign. Tell us briefly in your own
words something of the doings (»f the giant Hiawatha. — Parse (on p.
175) : Rule, Britannia ; All thine shall be the subject main ; And
every shore it circles, thine. The air to which Itu/e Britannia in
gang was composed by Dr. Thomas Arne.
284
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIOl^S.
• ■ \
■ 'il-:-
111. (P. 181-185.) Flowerets,— the diminutive oi flmrrs : give the
diminutives of : leaves, lord, wave, hill, rivers, islands. After find-
in<^ on your maps, describe the i)osition of Kentucky, Canterbury.
Analyze the second stanza on p. 182. — Of The AivjeVs Whii<per Lover
says : " The song was written to an old Irish air (one of the few Moore
left untouched) entitled, * Mary, do you fancy me?' "
112. (P. 186 192.) Write in the singular: moose deer; witches';
canoes; dry leaves; days'; small axes; hunting-knives. Analyze
(p. 191) : Suflace it to say penalty. Bryant's Death of the Flowers is,
on the surface, a lament for the flowers that have fallen before the
autumn frosts ; but the observant pupil will hear sounding through the
lines a deeper note of grief — the poet's lament for a beloved .sister
lately removed by death. With this hint, read over the poem again,
closely obsei ving the second and last stanzas.
113. (P. 193-191.) Describe in your own words the appearance of our
woods after the autumn frosts have set in. Sktj Farm, whence Miss
(iroodale and her sister send forth tlieir i)oems, is their witty name for
their father's farm, on the top of the Berkshire Hills in Massa-
chusetts.
Mrs. Willard's Rocked in. the (Jnidlc of the Deep was written during
her return from Europe in 1832 The JDuke de Choiseul supplied the
music, but the air to which it is now always sung was composed by J.
P. Knight.
PART IV.
What meaning
Analyze and parse the first stanza on p. 195.
114. (P. 198-202.) Boatswain,— pron(umced bo'sn.
do you take out of: a very choleric fellow; I had given him the
strappado; we were entertained with posthumous snarls; alto-
gether discomposed me ? Twentieth : write in full the first 20 of the
ordinal numbers. Who wrote Gullivers Travels, and how long ago?
Write in the plural : wife, husbandman, ox, mastiflf, mistress's, box,
huzza, her ladyship's.
115. (P. 203-205.) Imparadise the night (p. 203), make the night
deliditful. All-father (p. 205), the Universal Father, the Father of
us all. — Compare : wealthy, enchanting, narrow, severe. Soften, to
make soft : take six other adjectives and make corresponding verbs.
In The First Snow- Fall the snow is compared {a) to ermine (the fur of
an animal allied to the weasel) ; (6) to pearl ; (c) to the statuary marble
of Carrara (a city of Italy, 59 miles south-west of Modena); (d) to
swan's down. Sweet Auburn, — the poet no doubt intends Mount
Auburn Cemetery, about a mile from Harvard University, and 4 miles
from Boston. In Heavysege's Sonnet observe the fancy that in our
winter nights the stars glow and flare like torches in the wind. Parse:
Tenfold refulgent overy star appears ; And thrice illumine the ever-
kindled spheres.
IK). (P. 206-211.) The winter-scene in Denmark described (p. 207) by
Hans Andersen is a very familiar one to Canadian boys and girls ;
among us it is often called the Silrer Thaw. — Brazen, beautiful, count-
less: explain the terminations, and give other adjectives having tiiese
terminations, six examples of each. Icicles hang by the wall, hang
from the eaves ; blows his nail, warms his fingers with his breath ;
crabs, crab apples. This old-fashioned song of Shakspeare's gives
us a ])eep into an English farm-house as it was 300 years ago.
117. (P. 212 214.) Clouds. In this grand description Ituskin haa
pt
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
285
applied to the clouds (leagued leviathans of the sea of heaven) the
sublime language in which the Book of Job describes the leviathan of
the deep. Job xli. 18: "His eyes are like the eyelids of the morning."
Ver. 20, "Out of his nostrils goeth j«moke as out of a seething pot or
caldron.' Ver. 20, "The sword of him that layeth at him cannot
hold ; the spear, the dart, nor the habergeon." Haberge(m, — strictly,
armor for the neck, but here it means the whole coat of mail. Form
adjectives from honor, labor, vapor, favor, color.
[As a contrast to Ruskin's wild stornjy horizon, take Wilson's tran-
quil sunset, — two noble pictures, in which, with slight assistance, the
])upils will presently recognize such cloud-shai)es as they themselves
have often observed. — Shelley's little iioem contrasts a summer witii a
winter landscape. In the concluding lines the strain falls into a gra\ er
mood, and ends with sad thoughts of the sufferings that \\inter brings
to the homeless poor. The pupils should be encouraged to cultivate
their imagination, and till in such sketches with their own childish
fancies ; to find appro] aiate ejuthets, and afterwards to expand
epithets into little pictures.]
118. (P. 215-219.) Find on your map, and then describe the position
of the Victoria Bridge. What railway passes through this great tube ?
What river flows beneath the bridge? Trace the course of the (irand
Trunk Railway, and mention its chief branches. Birkenhead, a
large m.anufacturing town of Cheshire, England ; it is separated from
.Liveri)ool by the estuary of the Mersey. The building of the Ahibum<t
at the ship-yard of the Messrs. Laird gave the place much notoriety
during the American Civil War. — The engineer of the Victoria Bridge
was the famous Robert Stephenson, the builder of the Menai Bridge
in Wales. Who was the chief contractor? When and by whom was
the Victoria Bridge ©i^ened ?
Paul Kane, our Canadian painter and traveller, was born at Toronto.
By hard work and unconquerable pluck he won his way to fame as an
artist. His studies of the aborigines were i)ublished in 1851) under the
title of " Wanderings of an Artist among the Indians of North
America, from Canada to Vancouver's Island and Oregon, through
the Hudson Bay Company's Territory, and Back Again. ' The Lon-
tlon Athemcum, reviewing Kane's book, described the author as
" uniting the refinement of the Old World with the Indian energy o(
the New."
119. (P. 220-225.) Give words similar in sound to the following, but
differing in meaning : counsellor, soul, read (p. 220), time, one, knew,
whole, great, no, all, eye, there, heir, reigned (p. 222), lie, see,
might, some, two, feet, guilt, done, clothes, hour. Distinguish the
meanings of each pair of words. In a map of England find Shrews-
bury and Peterborough, and the counties of Northampton and Kent.
Fotheringay Castle (Co. Northampton), the scene of Mary's execution,
was razed to the ground by her son James I.
120. (P. 225-231.) Write in the plural: sleigh-bell's ; the father 's come;
I busy myself; his toilsome journey's o'er. Parse (p. 226): Which,
though more splendid, may not please him more; also explain and
parse, Transcends the what we know. This fine Sonnet was written
ni 1878, — less than foin* years before Longfellow's death. He had then
reached his threesci)re years and ten ; and fast-increasing infirmities
were taking away his playthings one by one. In a later So)nirty
December 27th, 1881 (see Foihth Reader, ]>. 3£o), he tearfully
laments that even his beloved books are now lying imused : —
286
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
\
,1 !
T-
*' ...I behold these books upoTi their shelf.
My ornaments and anns of other days ;
Not wholly useless, though no longer used,
For they remind me of my other self.
Younger and stronger, and the ])leaRant ways,
In which I walked, now clouded and confused."
Three months still later, this amiable poe^ gently fell asleep, finding
the truth (^f his own beautiful lines : —
Leads us to rest so gently that we go
Scarce imowlng if we wish to go or stay,
Being too full of sleep to understand
How far the unknown transcends the what we know.
121. (P. 227-231.) The teacher will do well to detain the iiupil's at-
tention on the selection from EOthen ; for, with the simplest words and
materials, Kinglake has succeeded in creating one of the most vivid
pictures to be found in any book of travel. The author himstlf says :
" Edthen is, I hope, almost the only hard word to be found in the book ;
it signifies ' from the early dawn '^' from the East.'" — The nmte taken
by our traveller will furnish a very interesting exercise in Sacred and
Oriental Geograi)hy : The narrative sets out from Semlin, on the
.southern frontier of Austria ; then enters Turkish territory at the for-
tress of Belgrade (R. Danube) ; crosses the Balkan Mountains to
Adrianoi)le, and then passes on to Constantinople ; takes us to the
Plain of Troy (N.W. corner of Asia Minor); thence to Smyrna;
thence by sea to Cyprus ; another sea voyage to Beyrout in Syria,
where the author visits the celebrated and eccentric Lady Hester Stan-
hoi)e ; then across the Plain of Esdraelon to Nazareth ; thence passing
Cana to Tiberias (Sea of Galilee). We next descend the bank of the
Jordan to the Dead Sea ; thence go up to Jerusalem ; visit Bethlehem,
five or six miles south of Jerusalem ; thence strike away to the south-
west, and rest at (raza. Gaza stands on a narrow brim that sei)arate8
two seas, — the Levant or Fastern Mediterranean, and that great sea
of sand in the midst of which our Lesson finds the traveller. With
his camel, — that " Ship o\ the Desert," — he is steering his course for
the Egyj)tian city of Cairo, where he will find the i)lague raging. He
will make an excursion to t,he Pyramids and to the Sphinx. Back to
Cairo ; thence due east to Suez, with a dromedary as his only com-
panion and escort ; from Suez to Gaza ; from Gaza northwards along
the Sea of Galilee, and so onward to Damascus ; then across the chain
of Mount Lebanon to the ruins of Baalbec, — whence our traveller
returned homeward by way of Asia Minor, taking ship for England
at Smyrmi.
122. Walk, march, stride, stalk: conjugate these verbs, and distin-
^lish their meanings. Canvas: distinguish from crtHra.s.9. Form nouns
from still, lonely, martyr. Write in the i)lural : valley, genius, jour-
ney, portmanteau, oratory (place of prayer), blush.
Moore's Sacred Lyric was set to n)usic by Sir John Stevenson. Ob-
serve the poet's development of his theme : —
The shrine : — the fragrant turf.
The temple : — the over-arching sky.
The incense : — the mountain airs.
Tlie prayers : — silent thrmghts.
The choir :■- moonlit waves with their musical murnmr, or with
their yet more expressive stillness.
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
287
The congregation : — by day the temple is occupied by liglit and
silence: by night the i)ale stars alone are the
poet's fellow-woi-shipi)ers.
The Sacred Book : — the spangled heavens with "their words of flame."
God's will may be read in
the very face of the sky : — His anger in the wild clond-rack that hides
the siui ; His mercy in the sunny blue that
shines through the rifted clouds ;
"^ay, earth as well as sky
discloses the Divine Presence : — evei-ything bright, from flowers to
stars, is but the radiance of (Jod's
face ;
everything dark is but His love for
a moment overcast with cloud.
123. (P. 232-237.) This lesson should be studied with the aid of ma])s.
Pillar of Hercules ; Ceuta. The gateway to the Mediterranean stands
between two lofty rocks, — the Rock of (Gibraltar in Europe, and the
mountain-i)eak of Ceuta in Africa. To these mighty gate-])osts the
ancients gave the name of the Pillars of Hercules. Geographically,
Ceuta belongs to Morocco, but ])()litically to 8[)ain. — Spit Of sand,
the famous Neutral Ground extending northwards from the rocky pen-
insula of Gibraltar to the Spanish mainland. — O'Hara's Tower, a pleas-
ure outlook built by Governor O'Hara on a pinnacle of Gibraltar that
stands 1,408 feet above the Mediterranean.— Drinking-water: in 1809
an abundant suijply of fairly good \\'ater was found beneath the sand
of the Neutral Ground.— Olympus of nations (p. 237): the abode of
the gods (" the rulers of the world ") was in Greek mythology i»laced
on Olympus, a lofty mountain of northern Greece : so that Lord
Dufferin's phrase, In the Olympus of nations, may be paraphrased,
Amonij the rulinft nations of the icorhl.
124. Find in your atlas, and then describe the geographical ])(»siti<m
of ; Sierra Nevada, Gibraltar, Ceuta, Malaga (accent on first syllable),
Valencia, Granada (accent on middle syllable), Tanglers, Algeciras,
Belfast, Mount Olympus, Gulf of St. Lawrence. Draw a sketch-mai>
of the Gulf of St. Lawrence. —Stupendous chain of lakes : name them,
and their connecting links ; name also the tributaries of the Great
Lakes, and the chief cities and towns on or near the lake-shores.
125. (P. 238-24/.) Analyze and parse the opening sentence of the
extract fr(»m Lord Macaulay. («) We should ; [h) the country gentle-
man would. Why not would in the first sentence? Suppose both
sentences thrown mto the future tense, how would thev stand ? Con-
sult the Vocabulary and your mai)s, then describe the i)osition of:
Dorsetshire, Cheddar Cliffs, Snowdon, Beachy Head, Windermere,
Greenwich, Guiana.
126. Explain these words and phrases : mirage, suburb, equi-
pages ; grind the faces of the poor ; Wars of the Roses ; England of
the Stuarts.
Write in the plural : That child was I. Parse There's a good time
coming, boys, a good time coming;— Wait a little longer. Write
the present i)articiples of : quarrel, supersede, sit, cry, benefit, envy,
die, dye, spring, springe, sing, singe, see, admit, outstrip. Charles
Mackay's A Good Time Coming is set to an old English air, and was
for several years the most popular of English songs.
127. (P. 243-248.) Dschingis Khan (Gengis or Jenghiz Khan), 11G2-
1227, — the Emperor of the Mongols and conqueror of a vast tract
288
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
v'4
'i I
J '!
^i I
rf-:
stretching from the Chinese Sea to the River DnieiKjr. The name by
which he is known was assumed, and means Greatest of Khans, or
Khan of Khans. The yountj warriors in our Lesson have sadly c(m-
fused the history : Dschingis Khan was not a Turk ; on the contrary,
the advance of his armies forced the primitive Turkish race to move;
westward, and finally to cross over into Europe. — (iive frowi the Les-
son examples of words imitative of sound or of motion. Explain min-
iature, commissariat, buccaneers, corsair, had taken sanctuary, con-
ventional laws. Parse : (a) Let him only grow a head taller, and no
kennel will hold him; (6) Honor be to him who prefers to be shot,
rather than throw away his drum-sticks !
128. (P. 249-253.) Standing on the walls of Hades, not knowing
each other: Hades is here used, as in (»reek mythology, for the reabnoj
ahiulrif. Homer reiiresents de[)arted si)irits as having no memory until
after they have drunk blood. — Chamouni (accent on first syllable, see
Vocabulaky),— the most celebrated valley in the Alps ; it is bounded
(m the south by Mont ]51anc, and, together with the latter, lies within
the confines of France.— The fiery change which has been noticed by
Shakspeare : Mr. Kuskin doubtle.is had before his mind the lines in
Bichard II., act iii. scene 2 :—
" When the searching eye of heaven is hid
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen,
Tn murders and in outrage bloody here ;
But when, from under this terrestrial ball.
He fires the proud top of the eastern pines,
And darts his light through every guilty hole,
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins —
The cloak of night being plucked from off their backrf—
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves."
120. Where is Strassburg (Strasbourg) ? Draw a little sketch-map
of Scandinavia (see Vocabulary). Explain : soft compliance (p. 249);
Elizabethan garden (p. 249); superstitious feeling (p. 250); collegi-
ate school (p. 250); monastic cell (p. 252); harmonious cadeuces (p.
252); ponderous chimes (p. 252). Parse: "Now, then, Eyes! I war-
rant you'll never dare to get up there ! " taunted a big boy called
Olaf. "Won't I?" said I.— Conjugate dare, stand, cry, hear, show,
ring, peal, climb, thrill, bury. Write in the plural : cliflf, echo, leaf,
fairy's.
130 (P. 254-260.) Thor; Woden:— in which of our names for week-
da /s do w'e find traces of the old Scandinavian worship of these ^ods?
Parse (p. 259) And sure enough in the night-time, eh? Write in
the plural: pocket-knife ; owl's; hero; pane of glass; he has been
in the steeDle all night by himself. Form an adjective and an adverb
irom each of the following : pluck, dream, spirit, monster, anger, blood.
131. (P. 260-262.) Parse: (a) Bade him make with them what word
he would ; (l) the word God would ; i ) which God meant should be.
Explain : parted (p. 260); boding sense (p. 261); ring out (1st stanza,
p. 261); ring out (2nd stanza, p. 261).
132-144. REVIEW, Parts I., IL, III., IV.
a. Geographical Questions to be answered with the assistance
of maps.
132. Having ruled off a margin on your ])aper, take do\\-n the fol-
lowing names, and opposite each describe its situation, and give the
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
280
he name by
■ Khana, or
1 sadly con-
le contrary,
ice to move
Dx.i the Les-
X plain min-
stuary, con-
Uer, and no
to be shot,
>t knowing
the realm of
emory until
syllable, see
is bounded
, lies within
, noticed by
the lines in
s hid
Jacks —
sketch-map
ice (p. 249) ;
0); collegi-
Eideuces (p.
res! I war-
boy called
lear, show,
echo, leaf,
s for week-
these ^ods ?
Write in
has been
i an adverb
iger, blood,
what word
should be.
Ist stanza,
isLstanco
11 the fol-
d give the
capital :— Sweden ; Greece; England; France; Scotland; Guiana;
Kentucky ; Ireland ; Newfoundland ; the Provinces of the Dominion
of Canada.
133. With i)aper ruled as in Xo. 132, describe the situation and di-
rection of :— Rocky Mountains ; Harz Mountains ; Andes Mountains ;
Cotswold Hills; Cheviot Hills; Alps Mountains; Caucasus Moun-
tains ; Balkan Mountains ; Senlac Hills.
134. With jiaper ruled as in No. 132 {a) name the i>rincipal lakes of
Old Canada and of the North- West ; (h) give the chief rivers that How
into or out of them ; (c) name the chief cities and towns on or near the
IojIvB shorGS
135. Trace the courses of these rivers: St. Lawre:^!^; Missouri;
Thames (Ontario); Thames (England); Mississippi; iVi jntmorency;
Ottawa; Saskatchewan; Assiniboine; Severn (England); Severn
(Ontario) ; Red River.
13*1. Describe minutely the situation of the following cities and
towns : — Chicago ; San Francisco; Edinburgh; Dublin; Lone on
(England); London (Canada) ; Ottawa; Windsor (England) ; Windsor
(Ontario); Windsor (Nova Scotia) ; Pembina; Winnipeg; Canterbury
(England); Quebec; Emerson; New York City; Qu'Appelle; Phila-
delphia ; Cairo (Egypt) ; Cairo (United States) ; Portage la Prairie ;
Point Levi ; Montreal ; Birkenhead ; Belfast ; Brandon ; Toronto.
137. Describe the position of the following : Crimea ; Loch Kat-
rine; Nova Zembla; Killamey; Lake St. Clair; Isle of Orleans;
Malaga; Eton; Tangiers; Lake Windermere; Mount Olympus;
Carrara; Rome; Chamouni; Gibraltar; Shrewsbury; Boston; Mont
Cenis; Glencoe (Scotland); Kingston (Canada); St. Boniface; Va-
lencia Falls ; Lake Champlain ; Granada ; Heights of Abraham.
6. Grammatical and Literary Questions.
138. By means of prefixes form verbs containing these termina-
tions : -cline; -fer; -struct; -tract; -trude.
139. What adjectives correspond to the following nouns? — fire, rtln,
gold, Rome, Greece (two forms), earth (two forms), dew, lion, wolf,
B urb, elephant, England, France, Switzerland, Scotland (two
ins), Italy, Ireland, Germany, Canada.
10. Write in full: 31st; 20th; 90th; 49th; 311th; 1004th;
l,OuO,OOOth; Wed., 28th Feby. ; Sat., the 17th ult.; Tues., the 30th
prox. ; the 24th inst. ; Henry VIL ; Louis XIV.
141. Having written the following words, underline the silent letters
and overline the diphthongs (if any): Psalm, shall, rheumatism,
through, reappear, cooper, cooperate, reinstate, seize, programme,
island, sovereign, field, catalogue.
142. With the aid of the Reader arrange in order of seniority, giv-
ing dates in margin, the following writers : — Ruskin, Hans Andersen,
Bryant, James Thomson, Sir Walter Scott, Parkmau, Thomas Moore,
Professor John Wilson, Lover, Campbell, Macaulay, Christina G.
RossettL
143. As in the previous question, arrange in order of seniority, giv-
ing dates in margin : Alfred Tennyson, Shakspeare, Mrs. Browning,
Shelley, Goldwin Smith, Landor, Longfellow, Bums.
144. As in previous question, arrange in order of seniority, giving
dates in margin : Wordsworth, Emerson, Swift, Dickens, Charles
Mackay, Matthew Arnold, Addison, S. T. Coleridge, 0. W. Holmes,
Jean Ingelow, Dr. Wilson.
290
QUESTIONS AND SUGGESTIONS.
I
w
From the authors represented in this Reader select a score who
were bom in the nineteenth century ; prefix dates.
145. EXERCISES IN DRAWING.
•
The illustrations in this Reader may with great advantage be used
to throw additional life and interest into school work ; they may be
used not only as object lessons, but as Excirises in Draiciny. For the
latter purpose we would suggest to the teacher the following selection :
— P. 16, one or more of the Dogs' Heads ; p. 19, Fishing Smacks ; p. 20,
the two CMmney-Stacks in foreground ; p. 47, Woodpecker and
Water-Lilies ; p. 64, Boy in foreground ; p. 66, Harebells and Straw-
berries; p. 69, Oak-Tree in foreground ; p. 73, Flower and Insects; p.
74, Robin in lower left-hand corner ; p. 86, Butterfly and Blossom ;
p. 86, Rustic Fence ; p. 88, the three large Blossoms in middle fore-
ground; p. 91, Sea-Birds and Surf; p. 98, Turrets and Castellated
wall ; p. 114, Falcon Swooping ; p. 131, Bees and Blossoms : p. 136,
Grasshopper and Oat-Ears in upper part of illustration ; p. 138, Old-
fashioned Home ; p. 167, Water-Fowl and Trees ; p. 170, Shadow-Pic-
ture ; p. 182, Birch-Trees in Moonlight ; p. 204, Winter Scene ; p. 211,
Birds in the Snow; p. 242, Bittern and Mediseval Castle; p. 261,
Church Spire ; p. 262, Boy Carrying Lantern.
if
|.^^
8:i
r
i
a score who
ifitage be used
; they may be
vin(j. For the
dng selection :
(macks; p. 20,
odpecker and
Is and Straw-
Dd Insects; p.
and Blossom ;
n middle fore-
id Castellated
ssoms : p. 136,
n ; p. 138, Old-
3, Shadow-Pic-
Scene ; p. 211,
:;astle; p. 251,
^
I .