IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // f^" «'. A 1.0 I.I 11.25 UUl- M. 11.6 V] v) °m ?% "* \^j>. *^ ,!>^ %• o ^/. >> / Hiotographic Sciences Corporation i\ s details ques du It modifier ciger une le filmage i/ lu^es lire }y errata ed to nt ine pelure, apon d 32X The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks to the generosity of: National Library of Canada The images appearing here are the best quality possible considering the condition and legibility of the original copy and in keeping with the filming contract specifications. Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed beginning with the front cover and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All other original copies are filmed beginning on the first page with a printed or illustrated impres- sion, and ending on the last page with a printed or illustrated impression. The last recorded frame on each microfiche shall contain the symbol —^> (meaning "CON- TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), whichever applies. Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at different reduction ratios. Those too large to be entirely included in one exposure are filmed beginning in the !. \ r very prudently, at least naturally, and as a child might be expected to do." The second son then began : '^ I picked up the stone which Alfred threw away, and broke it. There was a kernel in it which tasted as sweet as a nut. But I sold my peach and got so much for it, that when I go to town, I can buy half a dozen with the money." The ftithcr shook his head, and said, ^' This is prudent, indeed, but not childlike or natural. Heaven forbid that thou shouldst grow up a miser ! " " And tbou, Edmund ? ^' asked the father. Ediijund modestly replied, ^^ I carried my peach to poor George, our neighbor's son, who is ill of a fever. He would not take it, so 1 laid it on his bed and came away." '^ Well," said the father, '^ which of you has made the best use of his peach ? " " Brother Edmund ! " cried the other three. Edmund was silent, and his mother tenderly kissed him with tears ii? her eyes. * — Kriimmacher's Parables, * ■ i •., r.- NO PAY, NO WORK. *' Little boy, will you help an old man up the hill with his load ? " These words were spoken by an old gray-headed man, who was drawing a hand-cart with a bag of corn in it. '^ I can't; Fm in a hurry," said Hanson, the boy addressed, who was in a hurry to get to the play- ground, that he might play with the boys before school began. The old man sat down on a stone at the foot of the hill to rest himself, and gather strength for the ascent. He gazed after Hanson, and sighed as he thought of the days of his youth, now far back in the past. A THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 4- *i hill old rith boy )lay- Ihool tlio (ent. It of A ^i tear was beginning to gather in his eye when another little boy, John Wilson, came up to him and said, *' Shall I help you up the hill with your load ? ^' The old man brush.'id his eyes with the cuff of his coat, and replied, '^I shall be very glad to have your help." He then aldose, and taking the tongue of his cart, pulled with all his strength, while John pushed behind. When they reached the top of the hill, John discovered a rent in the bag on the under side, from which the corn was dropping out, and putting forth all his strength, he turned the bag so that there might be no further loss of corn. '^ I am much obliged to you," said the old man, as John set out upon a run for the school-house ; " and may the Lord reward you ! " But John was out of hearing before the last words were spoken. When John reached the school-house, he was about ten minutes too late, so that he received a bad mark for want of punctuality. This was a very unusual thing for him, as he was remarkable for punctuality. l:i ))} it 4 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. If he Had told the master what had detained him ho would have been excused; but he thought it would not look well to do so. So he took the mark without saying a word. When the school was over^ Hanson said to John^ " What did you get a bad mark for ?'^ '' Because I was too late/' said John. '*' I know that ; but why were you not in time ? 1 saw you at the foot of the hill, only a little way behind me. I suppose you stopped to help old Stevenson up the hill with his grist. He tried to stop me, but / did not work for nothing.'' " Nor I either." "Oh, you got a bad mark from the schoolmaster Do you call that pay for your work ? " You don't know what else I got.^ " Did you get anything else ? " *^ I did not do it expecting to get anything for it.^ '' Why did you do it then ? " " Because I thought I ought to help the poor old man." " If you have a mind to be such a fool as to work for nothing, you may. No pay, no luorlc, is my rule." To he hind and %isefid is my rule, John might have said with truth; but he did not say so. Nor did John really work for nothing when he performed acts of kindness. In the first place, he had the approval of his conscience, which was worth something. In the second place, he had the pleasure of doing good, which was worth something. In the third place, he had the gratitude and love of many, also worth something. And lastly, and best of all, he had the approbation of God, who has promised that even a cup of cold water given to a disciple shall not lose its reward. — Alden. a THIRD BOOK OF EEADINQ LESSONS. old for lave ohn IS of il of the Ihich the ling. In of rater V -I: THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. I LOVE it, I love it, and who shall dare To chide me for loving that old arm-chair ? IVe treasured it long as a sainted prize, I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs; 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to ray heart ; Not a tie will break, not a link will start. Would you learn the spell ? — a mother sat there, And a sacred thing is that old arm-chair. In childhood^s hour I lingered near The hallowed seat with listening ear ; And gentle words that mother would give " - ] To fit me to die and teach me to live. She told me shame would never betide. With truth for my creed and God for my guide ; She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer, As I knelt beside that old arm-chair. I sat and watch' d her many a day. When her eyes grew dim, and her locks were gray ; And I almost worshipped her when she smiled And turn'd from her Bible to bless her child. Years roll'd on, but the last one sped — My idol was shattered, my earth-star fled ; I learnt how much the heart can bear. When I saw her die in that old arm-chair. K 'Tis past ! 'tis past ! but I gaze on it now With jTjuiv'ring breath and throbbing brow ; 'Twas there she nursed me, 'twas there she died. And memory flows with lava tide. Say it is folly, and deem me weak, While the scalding drops start down my cheek ; But I love it, I love it, and cannot tear My soul from a mother's old arm-chair. — Eliza Cook. 6 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. COALS OF FIRE. Joe Benton lived in the country. Not far from his father's house was a large pond. His cousin Herbert had given him a beautiful boat, elegantly rigged with mast and sails, all ready to be launched. The boat was snugly stowed away in a little cave near the pond. At three o'clock on a Saturday afternoon the boys were to meet and launch the boat. On the morning of that day Joe rose bright and early. It was a lovely morn- ing. Joe was in fine spirits. He chuckled with de- light when he thought of the afternoon. " Glorious ! ^* said he to himself, as he finished dressing. " Now, I have just time to run down to the pond before break- fast, and see that the boat is all right. Then I'll hurry home and learn my lessons for Monday, so as to be ready for the afternoon." Away he went scampering towards the cave where the boat had been left ready for the launch. As he drew near he saw signs of mischief, and felt uneasy. The big stone before the cave had been rolled away. 'T- md. ^ere that )rn- de- * ',1 lak- Irii to lere he |sy- THIRD BOOK OF KEADING LESSONS. 7 The moment he looked within he burst into a loud cry* There was the beautiful boat, which bis cousin had given him, with its mast broken, its sails all torn to pieces, and a large hole bored in the bottom ! Joe stood for a moment motionless with grief and surprise ; then with his face all red with anger he exclaimed, " I know who did it ! It was Fritz Brown ; but V\\ pay him for this caper — see if I don't ! " Then he pushed back the boat into the cave, and, hurrying along the road a little way, he fastened a string across the footpath, a few inches from the ground, and care- fully hid himself among the bushes. Presently a step was heard, and Joe eagerly peeped out. He expected to see Fritz coming along ; but in- stead of Fritz it was his cousin Herbert. He was the last person Joe cared to meet just then, so he un- fastened the string and lay quiet, hoping that he would not observe him. But Herbert's quick eye soon caught sight of him, and Joe had to tell him all that had hap- pened; and he wound up by saying, '^ But never mind; I mean to make him smart for it ! " " Well, whaii do you mean to do, Joe ? " askev Herbert. " Why, you see, Fritz carries a basket of eggs td market every morning, and I mean to trip him over this string, and smash them all V Joe knew that this was not a right feeling, and ex- pected to get a sharp lecture from L.3 cousin. But, to his surprise, he only said, in a quiet way, *^ Well, I think Fritz does deserve some punishment: but the string is an old trick ; 1 can tell you something better than that.'' '^ What ?" cried Joe eagerly. » " How would you like to put a few ouals of fire on his head ?" " What I hnrn him ?" asked Joe, doubtfully His cousin nodded his head, and gave a queer smile. Joe clapped his hands. " Bravo I" said he, '^ that's just / 8 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. '( i the thing, cousin Herbeit. You see, his hair is so thick he would not get burned much before he had time to shake them ofi*; but I would just like to see him jump once. Now tell me how to do it — quick V* '' ' If thine enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink : for in so doing, thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head. Be not overcome of evil, but over- come evil with good.' There,^' said Herbert, '^ that is God's way of doing it ; and I think that is the best kind of punishment that Fritz could have."" You should have seen how long Joe's face grew while Herbert was speaking. " Now I do say, cousin Herbert," added Joe, " that is a real take in. Why, it is no punishment at all." '^ Try it once," said Herbert. " Treat Fritz kindly, and I am certain that he will feel so ashamed and un- happy, that kicking or beating him would be like fun in comparison." Joe was not really a bad boy, but he was now in a very ill temper ; and he said sullenly, " But you have told me a story, cousin Herbert. You said this kind of coal would burn, it does not burn at all." '^ You are mistaken about that," said Herbert. " I have known such coals burn up malice, envy, ill-feeling, and a great deal of rubbish, and then leave some cold hearts feeling as warm and pleasant as possible." Joe drew a long sigh. " Well, tell me a good coal to put on Fritz's head, and I'll see about it." '' You know," said Herbert, "that Fritz is very poor, and can seldom buy himself a book, although he is very fond of reading ; but you have quite a library. Now suppose — but no, I won't suppose anything about it Just think over the matter, and find your own coal. But be sure to kindle it with love, for no other fire, burns like that." Then Herbert sprang over the fence and went whistling away. Before Joe had time to collect his thoughts, he saw Fritz coming down the road, carrying a basket of eggf»^ r n THIRD BOOK OP READING .LESSONS. 9 in a have kind "I jling, cold coal )oor, very I Now it it icoal. fire- tence saw r »i • 11 in one hand and a pail of milk in the other. For a moment the thought crossed Joe's mind, ** What a grand smash it would have been, if Fritz had fallen over the string ! " but he drove it away in an instant and was glad enough that the string was in his pocket. Fritz started and looked very uncomfortable when he first caught sight of Joe ; but the good fellow began at once with, *' Fritz, have you much time to read now ? " " Sometimes," said Fritz, ^' when I have driven the cows home and done all my work, I have a little day- light left ; but the trouble is, I have read every book I can get hold of.'' " How would yoa like to read my new book of travels ? " Fritz's eyes fairly danced. " Oh ! may I, may I ? [ would be so careful of it." '^ Yes," answered Joe, " and perhaps I have some others you would like to read. And Fritz," he added, a little slyly, " I would ask you to come and help to sail my new boat this afternoon; but some one has gone and broken the mast, and torn the sails, and made a great hole in the bottom. Who do you sup- pose did it ? " Fritz's head dropped on his breast; but after a moment he looked up with great effort, and said — " Oh, Joe, I did it ; but I cannot tell you how sorry I am. You did not know I was so mean when you promised me the book, did you ? " " Well, I rather thought you did it," said Joe slowly. " And yet you never — " Fritz could not get any further. He felt as if he would choke ; his face was as red as a coal. He could stand it no longer, so off he walked without saying a word. " That coal docs burn," said Joe to himself. " I know Fritz would rather I had smashed every egg in his basket than that I had offered to lend him that book." Joe took two or three leaps along the roaa, 10 i THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. /i and weot home with a light heart and grand appetite for breakfast. When the boys met at the appointed hour, they found Fritz there before them, eagerly trying to repair the injuries ; and as soon as he saw Joe he hurried to present him with a beautiful flag, which he had bought for the boat with a part of his egg money ! The boat was repaired and launched, and made a grand trip ; and everything turned out as cousin HerJ)ert had said, for Joe's heart was so warm and full of kind thoughts, that he never had been happier in his life. And Joe found out afterwards that the more lie used of this curious kind of coal, the larger supply he had on hand — kind thoughts, kind words, and kind actions. I should be glad to have all of you, my young friends, engage in this branch of the coal business. If all families were careful to keep a supply of Joe Benton's coals on hand, and make a good use of them, how happy they would be ! — L. P. - r- t{ '\\ \. ' ■Smakt. A FRIEND IN NEED. Mary and her father still continued their painful journey, and had already walked more than twenty miles without being able to find a night's lodging. The little money which they had was nearly exhausted, and they knew not where to obtain subsistence. It cost them a THIRD BOOK OP URADTNG LESSONS. 23 great trial to solicit charity, but they were obliged to submit to it. They presented themselves before a great number of doors, but they met with scarcely anything but repulses, accompanied by abuse. Sometimes, they could only get a little piece of dry bread, and sorao water from the nearest fountain. Sometimes, indeed, they received a little soup or some greens, and here and there some remains of neat or pastry. After having passed several days in this manner, they were very glad to be allowed to sleep in a barn. One day the road appeared endless, as they travelled between hills and mountains covered with trees. They had walked a long time without seeing any village, when the old man i3egan to feel very weak. He fell, pale and speechless, at the foot of a hill covered with pines, on a heap of dried leaves. Mary was overcome with fear and anxiety, and overwhelmed with grief. In vain did she seek for a little fresh water in the neigh- borhood, she could not find the least drop ; in vain did she cry for assistance, the echo alone answered her. I ft [ 24 THIRD BOOK OP READINO LESSONS. On whatever side she looked, no house was to be seen. Almost worn out with fatigue, she ran to the top of the hill, in hopes of having a better view of the surrounding country ; and at last she discovered behind the hill, and quite at its foot, a cottage, surrounded by fields and meadows ezid completely shut in by the forest. She ran down and arrived quite out of breath. With tears in her eyes she asked assistance in a broken voice. In God's providence both the peasant and his wife, who were advanced in years, were kind-hearted people. The pale- ness, and tears, and agony of the poor girl touched them. " Put a horse to the little wagon,'' said the farmer's wife to her husband, '^ we will bring this sick old man here." The farmer went out to get his horse and to harness it, and his wife took two mattresses, an earthen pitcher of fresh water, and a bottle of vinegar. As soon as Mary knew that the wagon would bo obliged to go round the hill, and that it was a good half-hour's ride, she went before with the water and vinegar the same path by which she had come, and by this means arrived sooner where she had left her father. He had recovered a little, and was sitting at the foot of a pine tree, and it was with great joy that he saw the return of his dausrhter, whose absence had caused him some anxiety. As soon as the farmer and his wife arrived, they placed him in the wagon, and carried him to the farm, where they gave him a neat little room, a closet and a kitchen, which were then unoccupied. The farmer's wife made him a nice bed, and a bench was sufficient for Mary, who would not quit her father's pillow. The illness of James was but a weakness occasioned by bad food, bad rest, and the fatigue of the journey. The good farmer's wife spared nothing to relieve the sick man. These kind peOj. e had been in the habit of going every year to a fair in the neighboring village, but they agreed this time to remain at home, and to employ the money which they would have spent, in THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 25 procuring medicines and delicacies for the invalid. Mary thanked them with tears in her eyes. " Oh ! then/' said she, '^ there are kind people everywhere, and it is often in the most unlikely places that we find the most compassionate hearts."* As the old man grew better, Mary was constantly seated beside his bed ; but she did not sit there idle — she had her knitting and sewing, and in these employments she occupied herself with great industry for the farmer's household. The farmer's wife was enchanted with her taste for work, and her modest and reserved demeanor. By the great care which they had taken of James, and the excellent food which they had given him, he was so far restored as to be able to sit up ; and as idleness had always been contrary to his habits, he began again to resume his basket-making. Mary, as before, gathered for him branches of willow and hazel twigs, and his first production was a pretty little convenient basket which he offered to the farmer's wife as a token of grati- tude. He had exactly guessed her taste. The basket was elegant, but strong and solid; branches of willow, stained with deep red and interwoven in the cover, formed the initials of the farmer'': wife, and the date. The border was formed of green, brown, and yellow branches, representing a thatched cottage, on each side of which was a pine tree. This pretty basket was the admira- tion of the whole house. The farmer's wife received the present with great joy, and the allusion made to her farm, which was called " Pine Cottage," gave her peculiar pleasure. When James felt himself quite recovered, he said to his hosts, " We have been long enough a burden to you — it is time I should go and seek my fortune else- where." "What is the matter with you, my good James ?" said the farmer, taking him by the hjind. '^ I hope we have not offended you. Why, then, would you wish to leave us ? The year is already very far advanced. Do you not see the leaves on the 26 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. trees, how yellow they are turning ? Winter is at our doors. Do you wish to be sick again V James assured them he had no other motive for leaving them than the fear of being troublesome. "Troublesome, indeed!" said the farmer; "don't distress yourself about that — ^in the little room where you are you cannot incommode us in any way, and you gain enough to supply your wants.'' *^ Yes, yes," added the farmer's wife, " Mary alone earns enough with her needle and her knitting ; and you, if you wish to continue to exercise the trade of basket-maker, be easy. Not long since, when I went to the mill, I took with rae your pretty basket. All the countrywomen that were there wished to have one like it. I will under- take to procure customers. You will not soon be in want of work." So James and Mary consented to re- main, and their hosts expressed a sincere pleasure at this decision. : — Schmidt's Basket of Floivers. THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM. An old Clock, that had stood for fifty years in a farmer's kitchen without giving its owner any cause of complaint, early one summers morning, before the family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this the Dial-plate (if we may credit the fable) changed coun- tenance with alarm ; the Hands made ao ineffectual effort to continue their course, the Wheels remained motionless with surprise, the Weights hung speechless; each member felt disposed to lay the blame on the others. At length the Dial instituted a formal inquiry into the cause of the stoppage ; when Hands, Wheels, Weights, with one voice, protested their innocence. But now a faint tick was heard below the Pendulum, who thus spoke :— " I confess myself to be the sole cause of the present I'HIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 27 t( « stoppage, and am willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking." Upon hearing this, the old Clock became so enraged that it was on the point of striking. Lazy wire V exclaimed the Dial-plate. As to that," replied the Pendulum, "it is vastly easy for you. Mistress Dial, who have always, as every- body knows, set yourself up above me — it is vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people of laziness ! — you have had nothing to do all your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen! Think, I beseech you, how you would like to be shut up for life in this dark closet, and wag backwards and forwards, year after year, as I do !" " As to that," said the Dial, " is there not a window in your house on purpose for you to look through ?" "But what," resumed the Pendulum, "although there is a window, I dare not stop, ^vwi for an instant, to look out. Besides, I am really weary of my way of life; and, if you please, V\\ tell you how I took this disgust at my employment. This morning I happened to be calculating how many times I should have to tick in the course only of the next twenty-four hours — per- haps some of you above there can give me the exact sum ?" The Minute Hand, being quick at fignreny instantlj^ replied, "Eighty-six thousand four hundred times !" " Exactly so," replied the Pendulum. " Well, I ap- peal to you all, if the thought of this was not enough to fatigue one. And when I began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of months and years, really it is no wonder if I felt discouraged at the prospect. So, after a great deal of reasoning and hesitation, thought I to myself, Pll stop !" The Dial could scarcely keep its countenance during this harangue; but, resuming ita gravity, at last replied, 28 THIRD BOOK OF UEADINQ LESSONS. 11 III " Dear Master Pendulum, I am really astonished that such a useful, industrious person as yourself should have been overcome by this suggestion. It is true you have done a great deal of work in your time ; so have we all, and are likely to do ; and though this may fatigue us to think of, the question is, will it fatigue us to do ? Would you now do me the favor to give about half-a-dozen strokes to illustrate my argument V The Pendulum complied, and ticked six times at its usual pace. " Now,^' resumed the Dial, '' was that exertion at all fatiguing to you V "Not in the least!" replied the Pendulum; "it is not of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of iiiillions.^' " Very good," replied the Dial ; " but recollect, that though you may thi72k of a million strokes in an in- stant, you are required to execute but one; and that however often you may hereafter have to swing, a mo- ment will always be given you to swing in." " That consideration staggers me, I confess," said the Pendulum. "'*^' " Then, 1 hope," added the Dial-plate, " we shall all immediately return to our duty; for the maids will lie in bed till noon if we stand idling thus." Upon this the Weights, who had never been accused <)f light nduct, used all their influence in urging him to proceed; when, as with one consent, the Wheels began to turn, the Hands began to move, the Pendulum to wag, and, to its credit, it ticked as loud as ever; while a beam of the rising sun, that streamed through a hole in the kitchen shutter, shining full upon the Dial-plate, made it brighten up as if nothing had been the matter. When the farmer came down to breakfast, he de- clared, upon looking at the clock, that his watch had gained half an hour in the night. — Jane Taylor. THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 29 CONTENTED JOHN. One honest Jolm Tomkins, a Ledger and ditcher, Although he was poor, did not want to be richer ; For all such vain wishes in him were prevented, By a fortunate habit of being contented. Though cold was the weather, or dear was the food, John never was found in a murmuring mood ; For this he was constantly heard to declare, — What he could uot prevent, he would cheerfully bear. " For why should I grumble and murmur ? *^ he said ; *' If I cannot get meat, I can surely get bread ; And though fretting may make my calamities deeper. It never can cause bread and cheese to be cheaper. '* If John was afflicted with sickness or pain, He wish'd himself better, but did not complain, Nor lie down and fret in despondence and sorrow, But said, that he hoped to be better to-morrow. If any one wrong'd him, or treated him ill, Why, John was good-natured and sociable still ; For he said, that revenging the injury done Wouldbe makingtwo rogues, when thereneedbebutone. And thus honest John, though his station was humble, Passed through this sad world without even a grumble ,• And I wish that some folks, who are greater and richer, Would copy John Tomkins, the hedger and ditcher. —Jane Taylor. ■i 1: 30 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. THE COW'S BELL. Francis, a farmer's son, took care of his father's cows in the forest. Each of them had a bell tied round her neck ; but the most beautiful cow had the most beauti- ful bell. One day a man passing through the forest said to Francis, " What a beautiful bell that cow has ! how much did it cost ? " ^* Two dollars,'' answered Francis. " Not more than that ! " cried the stranger : *' I would gladly give four for it." The young shep- herd, when he heard that, took off the bell, and gave it to the man, at the same time gladly putting the four dollars in his pocket. But as the cow no longer had her bell, Francis could not hear in what part of the forest she was feeding. Soon she wandered far from the herd. The stranger, who was a thief, was watching for her, and hid behind some brushwood. When he saw her alone, he quietly drove her away. Poor Francis went home, his eyes swollen with cry- ing for the loss oi the cow. " Ah ! " said he, " how could I think the rogue paid me so much for the bell only to carry away the cow?" But his mother said, *' Did you never think, my dear Francis, why the cows wore bells ?" '^ No, indeed," said Francis. " I said to myself, here is two dollars to be gained ; the bell is useless ; the cow gives no more milk because of it. When the cow was lost, I at once sow the use of the bell." "Take care in future, my boy," said his father, " never to throw away an old custom as useless, till you have found out why it first came into use. You are not the first who has suffered from the folly of slighting ancient foot-marks, nor the first who has been sorry for it, when too late." — Laurie's Series, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 31 ler's cows round her Dst beauti- the forest b cow has 1 ' answered 3 stranger : )ung shep- and gave it ig the lour rancis could ms feeding, le stranger, L hid behind ,, he quietly jn with cry- i be, " how [for the bell mother said, Ihy the cows is. " I said , the bell is ^cause of it. |e use of the his father. useless, till J use. You [the folly of pst who haa E*3 Series, THE MISER PUNISHED. Francis [At Mr. Gripe's door,] Is the master at home ? Onpe, What do you want with the master ? Francis. Mr. Gripe has advertised that he has lost n bag containing a large sum of iWTfeey. Gripe. I am Gripe. Come in quickly, my worthy fellow ! my good fellow ! my brave fellow ! Have you found my lost treasure ? Francis. I don't know if this is your treasure ; but as £5 was offered to whoever found a bag containing £100, I should very much like to receive the £5. Gi'ipe. Nothing can be fairer. A promise is a pro- mise. Let me see the bag. Francis. Here it is ; and if it belongs to you, I 'II give it you for the £5. Gripe. It is my lost treasure. I will give you 10s. reward ! Francis. But you promised £5 to whoever would bring you a bag containing £100. Gripe. My bag contained £105. You have, I sus- pect, kept the £5 in your own hands. ^ Francis, 1 would not do such a base thing. If I had meant to do that, I might as well have kept the whole bag. The Justice will decide between us. Justice. Mr. Gripe, you advertised that you had lost a bag of money containing £1 00. Now, here is Francis, an honest man, well known to us all, who offers you a bag which you say is yours, and claims the promised reward. What have you to say ? Gripe. Mr. Justice, allow me to point out to you that the bag I lost contained £105. Justice. I understand you promised £5 to whoever brought you a lost bag containing £100. And now you offer only 10s. because you pretend that your bag Ii ' ll I! 32^ THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. contained £105. However, I shall count the money. [He counts the money.'] This money is not yours, for there are only £100 here. It is a clear case. Francis, you will keep this money till the proper owner re- claims it. Gripe. But, Mr. Justice Justice. Silence, Mr. Gripe ! The matter is settled. ANTHONY CANOVA, THE SCULPTOR. It was in the little village of Possagno, in the Vene- tian territory, that Canova first saw the light of day. Fulieri, the senator, was lord of this village. One day he gave a great dinner, and there was served up to his guests the image of a lion beautifully formed in butter. This unexpected dish gave as much surprise to the senator as to his numerous guests. He ordered his cook to come up stairs, that he might congratulate ' him in presence of the party, so much pleased was he wil;h the marvellous work of art. The cook was intro- duced into the banqu etingji all, and was so overwhelmed with praises that the tearscame into his eyes. ''You weep for joy?'' said his master to him, " No, my lord," he replied ; *'it is through despair at nc*-. having executed the work of art which is the object of so much admiration." " I should like to make the artist's acquaintance/' said the senator. The cook withdrew, assuring his master that his wish would be gratified; and in a few minutes re- turned, leading in the artist. He was a little peasant boy, about ten years old, meanly clad, for his parents were poor. Poor as they were, however, these worthy people had exposed themselves to great straits rather than deny their son lessons in the art of sculpture, which a professor had undertaken to give for a very moderate fee. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 33 Antony Canova had early exhibited a strong faculty for statuary. He modelled clay when he could get it, and, with the help of his knife, carved little figures out of all the chips of wood he could lay his hands on. His parents were acquainted with the cook of Senator Falieri. On the morning of the great dinner, he camci to impart the difficulty he had in giving a graceful finish to the table. He had exhausted all the re- sources of his skill ; but he still wanted one of those effective dishes, capable of producing a great sensation, which rear on a solid basis the reputation of the cook of a great house. The little Canova thought for a minute, and then said: "Do not trouble yourself; I shall soon come to you. Leave it to me, and I shall answer for it that your table will be-complete.^' The boy went as he had promised to the senator's house, showed the cook the design of the figure which he meant to execute, answered for the success of the attempt, and cut the block of butter with that purity of style and perfect taste which he afterwards displayed in cutting blocks of marble. Surprised as the guest» had been by the work, they were mi^ch more so when they beheld the workman. He was loaded with at- tentions, and from this time forth Falieri was the patron of the young Canova. The happy issue of the first attempt of the little peasant boy suddenly made his name famous, and opened up for him the road to permanent success. Falieri placed him as a pnpil in tho study of old Torretti, the best sculptor of the time. Two years after — that is to say, when "Canova was only twelve years of age — he sent to his patron a gift of two marble fruit-baskets of his own workmanship, which still adorn the Falieri palace at Venice. You will learn elsewhere tho claims of this great artist to the admiration of posterity. All the acade* mies of Europe solicited tbe honour of enrolling him among their members. All the kings vied with each i^ i I : ■|! I M THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. other in enriching their national museums with the beautiful products of his genius. He was elected Prince-perpetual of the Academy of St. Luke at Home — a title conferred on no other artist since his death. The funeral ceremony with which his remains were honored was the grandest which had ever occurred in connection with the fine arts since the death of Raphael. -LOOK ALOFT !^' [An anecdote is told by Dr. Godman of a ship boy who was about to fall from the rigging, when he was saved by the mate's calling out, " Look aloft, you lubber ! "J The ship boy was clambering up the high mast, When a glance on the deck far below him he cast ; His head swam with fear, and thick came his breath, " Look aloft ! " cried a sailor, and saved him from death. So do you, boy — since up life's rough hill you must go, And see the steep precipice far down below. Pause not to gaze over it, raise up your head, " Look aloft, look aloft ! '' and in safety you^ll tread. When you find in yourself some low petty desire. Feel cowardly, weak, lacking strength to aspire ; Take a noble example, don't stand still and fret, " Look aloft, boy, aloft !" you may gi'ow to it yet. When,, spite of all efforts, misfortune shall come. Or sorrow shall darken your life or your home ; Raise your head and your heart with hope and with prayer, " Look aloft, look aloft, boy ! " no sorrow is there. THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 35 ''MAN OVERBOAED!^' The order was given to reduce sail^ and the men lay out on the topsail yards. I noticed that my friend Fred Borders was the first man to spring up the shrouds and lay out on the maintop-sail yard. It was so dark that I could scarcely see the masts. While I was gazing up, I thought I observed a dark object drop from the yard ; at the same moment there was a loud shriek, followed by a plunge in the sea. This was succeeded by the sudden cry, '' Man overboard ! '^ and instantly the whole ship was in an uproar. No one who has not heard that cry can understand the dreadful feelings that are raised in the human breast by it. My heart at first seemed to leap into my mouth, and almost choke me. Then a terrible fear, which I cannot describe, shot through me, when I thought it might be my comrade Fred Borders. But these thoughts and feelings passed like lightning — in a far shorter time than it takes to write them down. The shriek was still ringing in my ear^, when the captain roared-— 36 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. " Down your helm ! stand by to lower away the boats/' At the same moment he seized a light hen-coop and tossed it overboard, and the mate did the same with an oar in the twinkling of an eye. Almost without knowing what I did, or why I did it, I seized a great mass of oakum and rubbish that lay on the deck satu- rated with oil ; I thrust it into the embers of the fire in the try-works,* and hurled it blazing into the sea. The ship's head was thrown into the wind, and we were brought to as quickly as possible. A gleam of hope arose within me on observing that the mass I had thrown overboard continued still to burn ; but when I saw how quickly it went astern, notwithstanding our vigorous efforts to stop the ship, my heart began to sink, and when, a few moments after, the light sud- denly disappeared, despair seized upon me, and I gave my friend up for lost. At that moment, strange to say, thoughts of my mother came into my mind. I remembered her words, *' Call upon the Lord, my dear boy, when you are in trouble.'* Although I had given but little heed to prayer, or to my Maker, up to that time, I did pray then and therO; most earnestly that my messmate might be saved. I cannot say that I had much hope that my prayer would bj answered — indeed I think I had none — still the mere act of crying in my distress to the Almighty afforded me a little relief, and it was with a good deal of energy that I threw myself into the first boat that w:4,s lowered, and pulled at the oar as if my own life depended on it. A lantern had been fastened to the end of an oar ana set up in the boat, and by its faint light I could see that the men looked vary grave. Tom Lokins was steering, and I sat near him, pulling the aft oar. " Do you think we've any chance, Tom ?" said I. * Try- works, or boilers for melting the blubber into oil, on board a whale ship. THIRD BOOS OF BEADIKG LRSSONS. 37 A nhake of the heaV. was the only reply. " It must have been here away/' said the mate, who stood up in the bow with a coil of rope at his feet, and a boat-hook in his hand. " Hold on, lads, did any one hear a cry ? " No one answered. We all ceased pulling, and lis- tened intently; but the noise of the waves and the whistling of the winds were all the sounds we heard. " What's that floating on the water ? '' said one of the men suddenly. " Where away ? '' cried every one eagerly. " Eight off the lee-bow- — there, don't you see it ? '' At that moment a faint cry came floating over the black water, and died away in the breeze. The single word "Hurrah ! " burst from our throats with all the power of our lungs, and we bent to our oars till we well-nigh tore the roUocks out of the boat. " Hold hard ! stern all ! " roared the mate, as we went flying down to leeward, and almost ran over the hen-coop, to which a human form was seen to be clinging with the tenacity of a drowning man. We had swept down so quickly, that we shot past it. In an agony of fear lest my friend should be again lost in the darkness, I leaped up and sprang into the sea. Tom Lokins, however, had noticed what I was about ; he seized me by the collar of my jacket just as I reached the water, and held me with a grip like a vice till one of the men came to his assistance, and dragged me back into the boat. In a few minutes more we reached the hen-coop, and Fred was saved. He was half dead with cold and exhaustion, poor fellow, but in a few minutes he began to recover, and before we reached the ship he could speak. His first words were to thank God for his deliverance. Then he ssid — " And, thanks to the man that flung that light over- board. I should h-we gone down but for that. Ifc showed me where th« hen-coop was." I HI I 38 THIRB BOOK OP READING LESSONS. T cannot describe the feeling of joy that filled my heart when he said this. " Ay, who was it that threw that fire overboard ? " inquired one of the men. " Don't know/' replied another, " I think it was th« cap'n." " You'll find that out when we get aboard/' cried the mate ; '' pull away, lads." In five minutes Frc^d Borders was passed up the side and taken down below. In two minutes more we had him stripped naked, rubbed dry, wrapped in hot blankets, and set down on one of the lockers, with a hot brick at his feet, and a stiff can of hot rum and water in his hand. — R, M. Ballantyne, I "f THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS. It was the schooner Hesperus, That sail'd the wintry sea ; And the skipper had taken his little daughter To bear him company. Blue were her eyes as the fairy flax. Her cheeks like the dawn of day ; And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds. That ope in the month of May. The skipper he stood beside the helm. His pipe was in his mouth ; And he watch'd how the veering flaw did blow, Th« smoke now west, now south. Then up and spake an old sailor. Had sail'd the Spanish main, ... " I pray thee put into yonder port, For I fear a hurricane. THIKD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 39 " Last night the moon had a golden ring, And to-night no moon we see ! " The skipper he blew a whiff from his pipe, And a scornful laugh laughs he. Colder and louder blew the wind, A gale from the north-east ; ITae snow fell4iissing in the brine, And the billows frothed like yeast. Down came the storm, and smote amain The vessel in its strength ; She shudder'd and paused, like a frighted steed. Then leap'd her cable's length. *^ Come hither ! come hither ! my little daughter, And do not tremble so, For I can weather the roughest gale. That ever wind did blow.'' He wrapp'd her warm in his seaman's coat Against the stinging blast ; He cut a rope from a broken spar, And bound her to the mast. '^ father ! I hear the church bells ring, O say, what may it be ? " '^ 'Tis a fog-bell on a rock-bound coast ! "— And he steer'd for the open sea. *' father ! I hear the sound of guns, say, what may it be ? " " Some ship in distress, that cannot live In such an angry sea ! " '' father ! I see a gleaming light, say, what may it be ? " But the father answer'd never a word, — A frozen corpse was he. iU THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. Lash'd to the helm, all stiff and stark, With his face turned to the skies, The lantern gleamed through the gleaming snow On his fix^d and glassy eyes. Then the maiden clasped her hands, and prayed That savM she might be ; And she thought of Him whq still'd the wave On the Lake of Galilee. And fast through the midnight dark and drear. Through the whistling sleet and snow. Like a sheeted ghost, the vessel swept Towards the reef of Hermanns Woe. And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. To the rocks and breakers right ahead She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck. She struck where the white and fleecy waves Looked soft as carded wool, But the cruel rocks they gored her side Like the horns of an angry bull. Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice, With the masts went by the board ; Like a vessel of glass she strove and sank— Ho ! ho ! the breakers roared ! At daybreak on the black sea-beach, A fisherman stood aghast, To see the form of a maiden fair Lash'd close to a drifting mast. THrRD BOOK OP KEADINQ LESSONS. 41 The salt sea was frozen on her breast, Th© salt tears in her eyes ; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed. On the billows fall and rise. Such was the wreck of the Hesperus, In the midnight and the snow ; Oh ! save us all from a death like this, On the reef of Norman's Woe. — Longfellow. THE VISION OF MIRZA. When I was at Grand Cairo I picked up several Oriental manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others, I met with one entitled the " Visions of Mirza,'' which I have read over with great pleasure. I intend to give it to the public, when I have no other entertainment for them ; and shall begin with the first division, which I have translated word for word as follows : — " On the fifth day of the moon, which, according to the custom of my forefathers, I always keep holy, after having washed myself, and offered up my morning de- votions, I ascended the high hill of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As T was here airing myself on the tor^s of the mountains, 1 fell into a profound contemplation on the vanity of human life ; and passing from one thought to another, surely, said I, man is but a shadow, and litis a dream. Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the summit of a rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of a shepherd, with a (f !; 42 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. musical instrument) in his hand. As I looked upon him, he applied it to his lips, and began to play. The sound of it was exceeding sweet, and wrought into a variety of tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different from anything I had ever heard ; they put me in mind of those heavenly airs that are played to the departed souls of good men, upon their first arrival in Paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify them for the pleasures of that happy place. My heart melted away in secret raptures. *'I had been often told, that the rock before me was the haunt of a genius, and that several had been entertained with music who had passed by it; but neve?^!leard that the musician had before made him- self visible. When he had raised my thoughts by those transporting airs which he played, to taste the pleasures of his conversation, as 1 looked upon him like one astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his hand directed me to approach the place where he sat. I drew near with that reverence which is due to a superior nature ; and, as my heart was entirely subdued by the captivating strains I had heard, 1 fell down at his feet and wept. The genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affability, that familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dis- pelled all the fears and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted me up from the ground, and taking me by the hand, ' Mirza,' said he, ' I have heard thee in thy soliloquies ; follow me.' '' He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing me on the top of it, ' Cast thy eyes eastward/ said he, 'and tell me what thou seest.' ' I see/ said I, * a huge valley, and a prodigious tide of water rolling through it.' ' The valley that thou seest,' said he, ' is the vale of misery, and the tide of water that thou seest is part of the great tide of eternity.' ' What is the reason,' said I, * that the tide I see rises out of a THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 43 chick mist at one end, and again loses itself in a thick mist at the other ? ' ' What thou seest/ said he, ' is that portion of eternity, which is called Time, measured out by the sun, and reaching from the beginning of the world to its consummation. Examine now,' said he, ' this sea that is thus bounded with darkness at both ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it.' ' I see a bridge,' said I, ' standing in the midst of the tide.' * The bridge thou seest,' said he, ' is human life ; con- sider it attentively.' Upon a more leisurely survey of it, I found that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches, with several broken arches, which, added to those that were entire, made up the number to about a hundrfed. As I was counting the arches, the genius told me that this bridge consisted at first of a thousand arches; but that a great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the ruinous condition I now beheld it. ' But tell me further,' said he, ' what thou discoverest on it.' ^ I see multitudes of people passing over it,' said I, ' and a black cloud hanging on each end of it.' As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the passengers dropping through the bridge into the great tide that flowed underneath it ; and upon furthe. examination, perceived there were innumerable trap- doors that lay concealed in the bridge, which the pas- sengers no sooner trode upon than they fell through them into the tide, and immediately disappeared. These hidden pitfalls were set very thick at the entrance of the bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud, but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner towards the middle, but multiplied and lay closer together towards the end of the arches that were entire. " There were indeed some persons, but their number was very small, that continued a kind of hobbling march on tho broken arches, but fell through, one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long a walk. i i! •T" 44 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. " I passed some time in the contemplation of this wonderful structure, and the great variety of objects which it presented. My heart was filled with a deep melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in the midst of mirth and jollity, and catching at every thing that stood by them to save themselves. Some were looking up towards the heavens in a thoughtful pos- ture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled and fell out of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles that glittered in their eyes and danced before them; but often, when they thought themselves within the reach of them, their footing failed, and down they sank. In this confusion of ob- jects, I observed some with scimitars in their hands, who ran to and fro upon the bridge, thrusting several persons on trap-doors, which did not seem to lie in their way, and which they might have escaped, had they not been thus forced upon them. " The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melan- choly prospect told me I had dwelt long enough upon it. ^ Take thine eyes off the bridge,' said he, ' and tell me if thou yet seest any thing thou dost not compre- hend.' Upon looking up, ' What mean,' said I, * those great flights of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling upon it from time to time ? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, comorants, and, among many other feathered creatures, several little winged boys, that perch in great numbers upon the middle arches.' * These,' said the genius, ' are envy, avarice, superstition, despair, love, with the like cares and passions that infest human life.' *'I here fetched a deep sigh. 'Alas,' said I, 'man was made in vain ! how is he given away to misery and mortality ! tortured in life, and swallowed up in death I' The^ genius, being moved with compassion towards me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a prospect. * Look no more,' said he, ' on man in the first stage of his exist- ence, in his setting out for eternity ; but cast thine eye 7S. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 45 lation of this jty of objects L with a deep ectedly in the t every thing Some were oughtful pos- stumbled and Y busy in the iieir eyes and they thought their footing ifusion of ob- 1 their hands, usting several seem to lie in escaped, had on that thick mist into which the tide bears the several generations of mortals tLat fall into it/ I directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no the good genius strengthened it with any supernatural force, or dissipated part of the mist that was before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw the valley opening at the further end, and spreading forth into an immense ocean, that had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst of it, and dividing it into two equal parts. The clouds still rested on one-half of it, insomuch that I could discover nothing in it; but the other appeared to me a vast ocean, planted with innumerable islands, that were covered with fruits and flowers, and inter- woven with a thousand little shining seas that ran among them. I could see persons dressed in glorious habits, with garlands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down by the sides of fountains, or rest- ing on beds of flowers ; and could hear a confused harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices, and musical instruments. Gladness grew in me upon the discovery of so delightful a scene. I wished for the wings of an eagle, that I might fly away to those happy seats ; but the genius told me there was no pas- sage to them, except through the gates of death, that I saw opening every moment upon the bridge. ' The islands,^ said he, ^ that lie so fresh and green before thee, and with which the whole face of the ocean appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number than the sands on the sea-shore : there are myriads of islands behind those which thou here dis- coverest, reaching further than thine eye, or even thine imagination can extend itself. These are the mansions of good men after death, who, according to the degree and kinds of virtue in which they excelled, are distri- buted among these several islands, which abound with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the reUshes and perfections of those who are settled in them: every island is a paradise accommodated to its ni I It i n 46 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. respective inhabitants. Are not these, Mirza, habit- ations worth contending for ? Does life appear miser- able, that gives the opportunities of earning such a reward ? Is death to be feared, that will convey thee to so happy an existence ? Think not man was made in vain, who has such an eternity reserved for him.* I gazed with inexpressible pleasure on these happy islands. At length said I, ' Show me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those dark clouds that cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of adamant.* The genius making me no answer, I turned about to address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left me. I then turned again to the vision which I had been so long contemplating ; but, instead of the rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands, I saw nothing but the long hollow valley of Bagdat, with oxen, sheep, and camels grazing upon the sides of it." — Addison. CAUTIgJ^ARY VERSES TO YOUTH. My little dears who learn to read, pray early learn to shun That very silly thing indeed, which people call a pun ; Read Entick's rules, and *twill be found how simple an offence It is to make the self-same sound afford a double sense. For instance, ale may make you uil, your aunt an ani may kill ; you in a vale may buy a veil, and Bill may pay the hill» Or, if to France your bark you steer, at Dover it may be, A peer appears upon the pier, who, bUiid, still goes to 8€a» f THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 47 double sense, ir aunt an anl Thus one might say, when to a treat good friends accept ourgreeti> g, 'Tis meet that men who meet to eat, should eat their meat when meeting. Brawn on the board's no bore indeed, although from boar prepared ; Nor can the fowl on which we feed, foul feeding be declared. Thus one ripe fruit may be a 2'>f^(^f'} and yet be pared again, And still be one, which seemeth rare until we do ex- plain. It therefore should be all your aim to speak with ample care. For who, however fond of game, would choose to swallow hair ? A fat man's gait may make us smile, who has no gate to close ; The farmer sitting on the stile, no stylish person knows. Perfumers men of scents must be; some Scilly men are bright; A brown man oft deep read we see — a blaclc, a wicked ivight. Most wealthy men good manors have, however wealthy they ; jAnd actors still the harder slave, the oftener they j)/"'— ss i.^ I . . MW1-IMU I THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 58 climbed the hill towards the place from whence th^ noise came, and when he reached the place, what do you think he saw ? Why, an axe that stood there hacking and hewing, all by itself, at the trunk of a tree. " Good-day!'* said Jack. "So you stand here all alone and hew^ do you V "Yes; here I have stood and hewed and hacked a long, long time, waiting for you,'' said the axe. " Well, here I am at last," said Jack, as he pulled off its hafo, and stuffed both head and haft into his wallet. So when he got down again to his brothers they be- gan to jeer and laugh at him. " And now, what funny thing was it you saw up yonder on the hillside ? " they said. " Oh, it was only ah axe we heard," said Jack. When they had gone a ^'ttle further, they came under a steep spur of rock, and up there they heard something digging and shovelling. " I wonder now," said Jack, " what it is that is digging and shovelling up yonder at the top of the rock!" " Ah ! you are always so clever with your wonder- ings 1" said Peter and Paul again ; " as if you had never heard a woodpecker hacking and pecking at a hollow tree ! " "Well, well," said Jack; "I think it would be a piece of fun just to see what it really is." And so off he set to climb the rock, while the others laughed and made game of him. But he did not care a bit for that ; up he climbed, and when he got near the top. What do you think he saw ? Why, a spade that stood there digging and delving ! " Good-day ! " said Jack. " So you stand here all alone and dig and delve ?" " Yes, that is what I do," said the spade, " and that is what I have done this many a long day, waiting for you." . 54 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. f 'i I !, ii ii • " Well, here I am," said Jack again, as he took the spade and knocked it off its handle, and put it into his wallet, and then he went down again to his brothers. " Well, what was it so rare and strange," said Peter and Paul, ''that you saw up there at the top of the rock ? " " Oh," said Jack, " nothing more than a spade, that was what we heard ! " So they went on again, a good way, till they came to a brook. They were thirsty, all three, after their long walk, and so they lay down beside the brook to have a drink. " I wonder now," said Jack, '^ where all this water comes from?" '^ I wonder if you are right in your head ! " said Peter and Paul in one breath. *' If you are not mad already, you will go mad very soon with your wonder- ings. Where the brook comes from, indeed ! Have you never heard how water rises from a spring in the earth?" " Yes ; but still I have a great fancy to see where this brook comes from," said Jack. So up alongside the brook he went;, in spite of all that his brothers bawled after him. Nothing could stop him. On he went. As he went up, and up, the brook got smaller and smaller; and at last, a little way further on, what do you think he saw ? Why, a great walnut, and out of that the water trickled ! " Good-day ! " said Jack again. " So you lie here, and let the water trickle and run down all alone ? " "Yes I do," said the walnut; "and here have I lain and let the water trickle and run this many a long day, waiting for you." " Well here I am," said Jack, as he took up a lump of moss and plugged up the hole that the water might not run out. Then he put the walnut into his wallet and ran down to his brothers. "Well, now," said Peter and Paul, " have you found THIRD BOOK OP KEADINQ LESSONS. 00 out where the water comes from ? A rare sight it must have been." " Oh, after all, it was only a hole it ran out of ! '* said Jack. And so the others laughed and made game of him again; but Jack did not mind that a bit. *^ After all, I had the fun of seeing it," said Jack. So, when they had gone a little further, they came to the king's palace ; but as every one in the kingdom had heard how they might win the princess and halt the realm, if they could only fell the big oak and dig the king's well, so many had come to try their luck, ihat the oak was now twice as stout and big as it had been at first, for two chips grew in the place of every one they hewed out with their axes, as I daresay you all bear in mind. Accordingly, the king had now laid it down as a punishment that if any one tried and could not fell the oak, he should be put on a barren island, and have both his ears clipped off. But the two brothers did not let themselves be scared by that ; they were quite sure they could fell the oak. Peter, as he was the eldest, was to try his hand first ; but it went with him as with the rest who had hewn at the oak — for every chip he cut out, two grew in its place. So the king's men seized him, and clipped off both his ears, and put him out on the island. Now Paul had to try his luck, but he fared just the same; when he had hewn two or three strokes, they began to see the oak grow ; and so the king's men seized him too, and clipped his ears, and put him out on the island. And they clipped his ears closer, be- cause they said he ought to have taken a lesson from his brother. So now Jack was to try. "If you will look like a marked sheep, we are quite ready to clip your ears at once, and then you will save yourself some trouble!" said the king, for he was angry with him for his brothers' sake. " Well, I should like just to try first," said Jack, 66 THIRD BOOK Olf' READING LESSONS. and so he got leave. Then he took his axe out of his wallet, and fitted it to its haft. "Hew away!" said he to his axe; and away it hewed, making the chips fly again, so that it was not long before down came the oak. When that was done, Jack pulled out his spade and fitted it to its handle. *' Dig away ! '* said he to his spade ; and so the spade began to dig and delve, till the earth and rock flew out in sphnters, and so he had the well soon lug out. And when he had got it as big and deep as he de- sired, Jack took out his walnut, and laid it in one corner of the well, and pulled the plug of moss out. "Trickle and run!'' said Jack; and so the nut trickled and ran, till the water gushed out of the hole in a stream, and in a short time the well was brimful. Thus Jack had felled the oak which shaded the king's palace, and dug a well in the palace-yard ; and so he got the princess and half the kingdom, as the king had said. But it was lucky for Peter and Paul that they had lost their ears, else they would have heard each hour and day how every one said: "Well, after all, Jack was not so much out of his mind when he took to wondering !" — Dasent. THE DISPUTED CASE. Between Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose ; The spectacles set them unhappily wrong : The point in dispute was, asall the world knows, To which the said spectacles ought to belong. So Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause With a great deal of wit, and a wig full of learning, While chief-baron Ear sat to balance the laws. So famed for his talent in nicely discerning. • - "^iiiiiji. J THIRD BOOK OP READING LEBSOKS. 57 " In behalf of the Nose it will quickly appear^ And your lordship," he said, "will undoubtedly find. That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear, Which amounts to possession time out of mind." Then holding the spectacles up to the court — " Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle, A.S wide as the ridge of the Nose is, in short. Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. "Again : would your lordship a moment suppose (Tis a case that has happened, and may be again) That the visage or countenance had not a Nose, Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then ? " On the whole it appears, that my argument shows. With a reasoning the court will never condemn. That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose, And the Nose was as plainly intended for them." Then shifting his side (as the lawyer knows how) He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes; But what were his arguments few people know. For the court did not think they were equally wise. So his lordship decreed, witL a grave, solemn tone, Decisive and clear, without one if or but. That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, By day-light, or candle-light, eyes should be shut. — COWPER. OBSERVATION. An Indian, upon returning home to his cabin, found that his venison, which had been hung up to dry, was stolen. After taking notice of the marks about the 58 THIBD BOOK OF BEADINO LESSONB. i place^ he set off in pursuit of the thief^ whom he tracked through the woods. Meeting with some persons on his route, he inquired if they had seen a little old white man with a short gun, and accompanied by a small dog with a bob-tail. They answered that they had ; and, upon the Indian assuring them that the man thus described had stolen his venison, they desired to be informed hcfw he was able to give so minute a description of a person whom, it appeared, he had never seen. The Indian replied, " The thief, I know, is a little man, by his having heaped up a pile of staves to stand upon, in order to reach the venison from the height at which I hung it, while standing on the ground ; that he is an old man, I know by his short steps, which I have traced over the dead leaves in the woods ; and that he is a white man, I know by his turning out his toes when he walks, which an Indian never does. " His gun I know to be short, from the mark which the muzzle made by rubbing the bark of a tree against which it had leant ; that his dog is small, I know by his track ; and that he has a bob-tail, I noticed from the mark it made in the dust where he was sitting, while his master was busied with my meat." THE LOST CAMEL. A Dervise, while journeying olone in the desert, was met by two merchants. " You have lost a camel," said he to them. " We have,^' they replied. *' Was the camel blind in his right eye, and lame in one of his legs ? " said the Dervise. " He was," an- swered the merchants. " Had he lost a front tooth?" said the Dervise. " He had," was the reply. *' And was he not loaded with honey on one side, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 59 a he tracked loticed from and wheat on the other ? '' '' Most certainly/' was the answer ; '' and as you have seen him so lately you can, doubtless, tell us where he may be found/' "My friends," said the Dervise, "I have neither seen your camel, nor even heard of him, except from you." "A strange assertion, indeed !" s: d the merchants ; " but where are the jewels which formed a part of his burden ?" " I have neither seen your camel nor your jewels," replied the Dervise. He was now seized by them, and hurried before the Cadi. After the strictest inquiry, however, no evidence was found against him, either of falsehood or of theft. They were then about to proceed against him as a sorcerer, when the Dervise, with perfect composure, thus addressed the court : — *' I have been greatly amused with your proceedings, and I confess there has been some ground for your suspicions ; but I have passed many years in this desert, and even here I find ample scope for observation. " I saw the track of a camel, and I knew it had strayed from its owner ; because there was no mark of any human footstep to be seen on the same route. " I perceived the animal was blind in one eye, as it had cropped the herbage only on one side of its path. " I knew that it was lame, from the faint impres- sions that one of its feet had made in the sand. "I concluded that the camel had lost one tooth; because wherever it grazed, the herbage was left un- cropped in the centre of the bite. " As to what composed tho burden of the beast, I had only to look at the ants, carrying away the wheat on the one side, and at the clustering flies that were devouring the honey on the other." ; i 60 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. THE POOR MATCH-GIRL. It was New Year's Eve and a cold snowy evening. On this night a poor little girl walked along the street with naked feet, benumbed with cold, and carrying in her hand a bundle of matches, which she had been try- ing all day to sell, but in vain ; no one had given her a single penny. The snow fell fast upon her pretty yellow hair and her bare neck ; but she did not mind that. She looked wistfully at the bright lights which shone from every window as she passed along ; she could smell the nice roast goose, and she longed to taste it : it was New Year's Eve ! Wearied and faint, she laid herself down in a corner of the street, and drew her little legs under her to keep herself warm. She could not go home, for her father would scold her for not having sold any matches ; and even if she were there, she would still be cold, for the house was but poorly protected, and the wind whistled through many a chink in the roof and walls. She thought she would try and warm her cold fingers by lighting one of the matches : she drew one out^ struck it against the wall^ .M^'l THIRD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. 61 and immediately a bright clear flame streamed from it^ like a little candle. The little ff irl looked at the flame, and she saw before her a beautiml brass stove with a nice warm Are in it ! She stretched out her feet to warm them — ^when, lo, the match went out ; in a moment the stove and fire vanished, she stt again in the cold -ight, with the burnt match in her hand. She struck another ; the flame blazed on the opposite wall, and she saw through it into a room where a table was laid out with handsome dishes^ — roast goose, and other nice things were there, — ^and, what was still more extraordinary, she saw the goose jump from the dish, knife, and fork, and all, and come running towards her. But again the match went out ; and nothing but the ^dark wall and the cold street was to be seen. The little girl drew another match ; and as soon as it struck a light, she saw a most beautiful Christmas tree, mucKTarger and more splendid than any she had over seen before. A vast number of lighted candles hung among the branches ; and a multitude of pretty variegated pictures, like those in the"lihpps, met her eyes. The girl lifted up her little hands in rapture at the sight ; but again the match fell ; and in the same moment one of the blazing candles shot through the skyTTike a falling stai\ and fell at her feet. "Now some one dies,^ cried she ; for she had been told by her good old grandmother, that when a star falls, a soul returns to GodT > • '^' Again she struck ; and, behold, a bright light shone round about her, and in the midst of it stood her kind grandmother, looking calmly and smilingly upon her. " Dear grandmother,^' said she, " take me, oh, take me ! You will be gone from me when the match goes out, like the bn'ght stove, the nice supper, and the Christmas tree ;" and saying this, she struck all the rest of the matches at once, which made a light round 62 THIBD COOK OF fiEADINO LESSONS. her almost like day. And now the good grandmother smiled still more sweetly upon her; she lifted her up in her arms, and they soared together, far, far away ; where there was no longer any cold, or hunger, or pain, — they were in Paradise ! But the poor little match girl was still in the corner of the street, in the cold New Yearns morning. She was frozen to death, and a bundle of burnt matches lay beside her. People said, " She has been trying to warm herself, poor thing ^ But ah, they knew not what glorious things she haa seen ; they knew not into what joys she had entered — nor how happy she was on this festival of the New Year ! — Hans Andersen. WE ARE SEVEN ; OR, A CHILD'S NOTION OF DEATH. A SIMPLE child That lightly draws its breath. And feels its life in every limb. What should it know of death ? I met a little cottage girl, She was eight years old, she said ; Her hair was thick with many a curl That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air. And she was wildly clad : Her eyes were fair, and very fair, — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid. How many may you be ? " " How many ? Seven in all," she said, And, wo ileriDg, lookM at mc. rrandmother THIRD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. *** And where are they ? I pray you tell/* She answerM, " Seven are we ; And two of us at Conway dwell. And two are gone to sea. *' Two of us in the churchyard lie. My sister and my brother ; And in the churchyard cottage, I Dwell near them with my mother. 63 » ^' You say that two at Conway dwell, And two are gone to sea ; Yet you are seven ! — I pray you tell. Sweet maid, how this may be." Then did the little maid reply, " Seven boys and girls are we ; Two of us in the churchyard lie, Beneath the churchyard tree.*' " You run about, my little maid, Your limbs they are alive ; If two are in the churchyard laid, Then you are only five." ^' Their graves are green, they may be seen,'* The little maid replied, " Twelve steps or more from my mother's door, And they are side by side. '^ My stockings there I often knit, My kerchief there I hem ; And there upon the ground I sit — I sit and sing to them. ' " And often after sunset, sir, When it is light and fair, I take my little porringer, .ind eat my supper there. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. '^ A '^ The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay^ Till God released her of her pain, And then she went away. " So in the churchyard she was laid : And all the summer dry, Together round her grave we play'd, My brother John and I. " And when the ground was white with snow, And I could run and slide, My brother John was forced to go, And he lies by her side." " How many are you, then," said I, " If they two are in heaven ?" The little maiden did reply, *^ master ! we are seven." *^ But they are dead ; those two are dead ; Their spirits are in heaven ! " *Twas throwing words away ; for still The little maid would have her will. And said, "Nay, we are seven." — Wordsworth. PROMPTNESS. There was once a young man who was commencing life as a clerk. One day his employer said to hira, " Now, to-morrow that cargo of cotton must be got out and weighed, and we must have a regular account of it." He was an in dustr ious young man, — a young man of great energy. "TKis was the first time he had been intrusted with the management of work like this. He made his arrangements the night before, THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 66 spoke to the men about their carts and horses^ and resolved to begin very early the next day. He in- structed the laborers to be there at half-past four o'clock in the morning. They set to work, and the thing was done, and about ten o^clock the master came in, and saw the young man sitting in the counting- house, and seemed very much displeased with him, supposing his command had not been executed. " I thought," said he, '^you were instructed to get out that cargo this morning ?" " It is all done, sir," said the young man, " and here is the account of it I" This one act made that young man's fortune. It fixed his character. It gave his employer a confidence in him that was never shaken. HUMPHREY'S OBSERVATIONS ON TIME. When I was a young lad, my father one day called m *o him, that he might teach me what o'cloc " it was. He told me the use of the minute-finger and the hour- hand, and described to me the figures on the dial-plate, until I knew the whole perfectly. No sooner was I quite master of this knowledge than I set off to join my companions at a game of marbles, but my father called me back. '^ Stop^ Humphrey," said he; "I have something else to say to you." Back again I went, wondering what else I had to learn, for I thought I knew all about the clock, quite as well as my father. " Humphrey," said he, " I have taught you to know the time of the day ; I must now teach you how to find out the time of your life." All this was strange to me ; so I waited with im- patience to hear how my father would explain it ; for I very much wished to go and play with my marbles. X 6Q THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. " We are told/' said he, " that the years of man are threescore and ten, or fourscore years. Now, life is very uncertain, and you may not live a single day longer ; but if we divide the fourscore years of an old man's life into twelve parts, like the dial of a clock, it would allow almost seven years for every figure. " When a boy is seven years old, then it is one o'clock of his life, and this is the case with you ; when you arrive at fourteen years, it will be two o'clock with you ; and when at twenty-one, it will be three o'clock, should it please God thus to spare your life. In this manner you .may always know the time of your life, and looking at the clock may perhaps remind you of it, *' My great-grandfather, according to this rule, died at twelve o'clock ; my grandfather at eleven, and my ^i ther at ten. At what hour you and I shall die^ Humphrey, is only known to Him to whom all things are known." Never since then have I heard the inquiry, " What o'clock is it ?" nor do I think I have ever looked at the. face of a clock, without being reminded of the words of my father. I know not, my friends, what o'clock it may be with you ; but I know very well what time it is with my- self; and if I mean to do anything in this world, which hitherto I have neglected, it is high time to set about it. The words of my father have given a solemnity to the dial-plate of a clock, which, perhaps, it never would have possessed in my mind, if these words had not been spoken. Look about you, my friends, I earnestly entreat you, and now and then ask yourselves what o'clock it is with you. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. G7 JOHN ADAMS AND HIS LATIN. John Adams, the second President of the United States, used to relate the following anecdote : — '^When I was a boy, I used to study the Latin Grammar ; but it was dull, and I hated it. My father was anxious to send me to c* ilege, and therefore I studied the^rammar till I couijl bear it no longer, and going tcTmy 'lather, I told him I did not like study, and asked for some other employment. It was oppos- ing his wishes, and he wa3 quick in his answer. * Well, John, if Latin grammar does not suit you, you may try ditching, perhaps that will; my meadow yonder needs a ditch, and you may put by Latin and try that.^ ' TL ji ?emed a delightful change, and to the meadow I w^nt . but I soon found ditching harder than Latin, and the first forenoon was the longest I had ever exp rienced. That day I ate the bread of labor, and ^ight glad was I when night came on. That night I made some comparison between Latin and ditching, but said not a word about it. I dug next forenoon, but wanted to return to Latin at din- ner ; but it was humiliating, and I could not do it. At night toil conque?83 pride ; and though it was one of the severest trials I ever had in my life, I told my father that if he chose I would go back to Latin grammar. He was glad of it; and if I have since gained any distinction, it has been owing to the two days' labor in that abominable ditch.'* Boys may learn several important lessons from this story. It shows how little they oftentimes appregjatiiw* their p ri v ileges. Those who are kept at stu^y fre- quently tBTnk it a hardship needlessly imposed on them. The opportunity of pursuing a liberal course of study is what few enjoy; and they are ungrateful who drag themselves to it as an intolerable task. Youth m ly also learn, from this anecdote, how much #r:/ <"<•• 68 THIRD BOOK OF RBADINQ LESSONS. better their parents are qualified to judge of these tilings than themselves. If John Adams had conti- nued this ditching instead of his Latin^ his name would not probably have been known to us. But, in follow- ing the path marked out by his parents, he rose to the highest honors which his country can bestow. tl- V- pi f'u^ AMONG THE ICE. For some hours the brig proceeded onward with a freshening breeze, winding and turning in order to avoid the lumps of ice. Many of the smaller pieces were not worth turning out of the way of, the mere weight of the vessel being sufficient to push them aside. Up to this time they had succeeded in steering clear of everything without getting a thump ; but they got one at last, which astonished those among the crew who had not been in the ice before. The captain, Gregory, and Dicey were seated in the cabin at the time taking tea. Ned Dawkins, the steward, an active little man, was bringing in a tea-pot with a second supply of tea. In his left hand he carried a tray of biscuit. The captain sat at the head of the table, Dicey at the foot, and the doctor at the side. Suddenly a tremendous shock was felt ! The cap- tain's cup of tea leaped from him and flooded the centre of the table. The doctor's cup was empty; he seized the table with both Lands and remained steady ; but Dicey's cup happened to be at his lips at the moment, and was quite full. The effect on him was unfortunate. He was thrown violently on his back, and the tea poured over his face and drenched his hair as he lay sprawling on the floor. The steward saved himself by dropping the bread-tray and grasping the handle of the cabin door. So violent was the shock that the ship's bell was set a-ringing. MM THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 69 "Beg pardon, gentlemen," cried the first mate, looking down the skylight. "I forgot to warn you. The ice is getting rather thick round us, and I had to charge a lump of it.^' *' It's all very well to beg pardon," said the captain, " but that won't mend my crockery ! " " Or dry my head," growled Mr Dicey, " it's as bad as if I'd been dipt overboard, it is." Before Mr Dicey's grumbling remarks were finished, all three of them had reached the deck. The wind had freshened considerably, and the brig was rushing in a somewhat alarming manner among the floes. It required the most careful attention to prevent her striking heavily. "If it goes on like this we shall have to reduce sail," observed the captain. " See, there is a neck of ice ahead that will stop us." This seemed to be probable, for the lane of water along which they were steering was, just ahead of them, stopped by a neck of ice that connected two floe-pieces. The water beyond was pretty fi'ee from ice, but this neck or mass seemed so thick that it became a question whether they should venture to charge it or shorten sail. "Stand by the fore and main-topsail braces!" shouted the captain. " Ay, ay, sir." "Now, Mr Mansell," said he, with a smile, "we have come to our first real difficulty. What do you advise? shall we back the topsails, or try what our little Hope is made of, and charge the enemy ? " " Charge ! " answered the mate. " Just so," said the captain, hastening to the bow to direct the steersman. " Port your helm." " Steady." The brig was now about fifty yards from the neck of ice, tearing through the water like a race-horse. In another moment she was up to it, and struck it fair '. Ill I i M W:- 70 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. in the middle. The stout little vessel quivered to her keel under the shock, but she did not recoil. She split the mass into fragments, and, bearing down all before her, sailed like a conqueror into the clear water beyond. "Well done the Hope!^* said the captain, as he walked aft, while a cheer burst from the men. "I think she ought to be called the Good Hope ever after this," said Tom Gregory. *' If she cuts her way through everything as easily as she has cut through that neck of ice, we shall reach the North Pole itself before winter/^ " If we reach the North Pole at all" observed Mr Dicey, " I'll climb up to the top of it, and stand on my head, I will ! " The second mate evidently had no expectation of reaching that mysterious pole, which men have so long and so often tried to find in vain. — R. M. Ballantyne. A CANADIAN BOAT SONG. Faintly as tolls the evening chime. Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time ; Soon as the woods on the shore look dim. We'll sing at St Anne's our parting hymn. Eow, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? There is not a breath the blue waves to curl ; But when the wind blows off the shore, Oh, sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. Utawas' tide ! this trembling moon Shall see ns float over thy surges soon. im? THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 71 Saint of this green isle 1 hear our prayers^ Oh, grant us cool heavens, and favoring airs. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast. The Rapids are near, and the daylight's past. — T. Moore. A GHOST STORY. One night those of us who had just been relieved from watch on deck, were sitting on the lockers down below telling ghost stories. It was a dead calm, and one of those intensely dark, hot nights that cause sailors to feel uneasy, they scarce know why. I began to feel so uncomfortable at last, listening to the horrible tales which Tom Lokins was relating to the men, that I slipt away from them with the intention of going on deck. I moved so quietly that no c ^e observed me; besides, every eye was fixed earnestly on Tom, whose deep low voice was the only sound that broke the stillness of all around. As I was going very cautiously up the ladder leading to the deck, Tom had reached that part of his story where the ghost was just appiring in a dark churchyard, dressed in white, and coming slowly forward, one step at a time, towards the terrified man who saw it. The men held their breath, and one or two of their faces turned pale as Tom went on with his description, lower- ing his voice to a hoarse whisper. Just as I put my head up the hatchway, the sheet of one of the sails, which was hanging loose in the still air, passed gently over my head and knocked my hat off. At any other time I would have thought nothing of this, but Tom's story had thrown me into such an excited and nervous condition that I gave a start, missed my footing, uttered a loud cry, and fbll dowr the ladder right in among tho men with a trenlfindc i crash^ knocking over two 72 THIKD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. • ■I Mk Vi\ V or three oil-cans and a tin bread-basket in my fall> and upsetting the lantern, so that the place was instantly pitch dark. I never heard such a howl of terror as these men gave vent to when this misfortune befell me. They rushed upon deck with their hearts in their mouths, tumbling, and peeling the ^in off their shins and knuckles in their haste; and it was not until they heard the laughter of the watch on deck that they breathed freely, and, joining in the laugh, called them- selves fools for being frightened by a ghost story. I noticed, however, that, for all their pretendedj^^jjifiygai- ence, there was not one man among them — not even Tom Lokins himself — ^who would go down below to re-light the lantern for at least a quarter of an hour afterwards. — R. M. Ballantyne. GRACE DARLING. In the month of September, in the year 1838, the For- farshire, a steam-vessel, proceeding from Hull in THIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 78 England to Dundee in Scotland, encounteFed some rough weather off the north coast of England. The vessel not being strong, and the machinery of the steam-engine being defective, she was wrecked on the rocks. Many of the crew and passengers were washed off the deck and drowned. In a situation of such great peril, no one expected to escape. Early in the morning, the family who dwelt in the North Sunderland lighthouse, beheld the vessel upon the rocks, with a powerful sea beating upon her, which threatened her with complete destruction. Dar- ling, the keeper of the lighthouse, would fain have gone in his boat to rescue a few of the dis tressed pasr sengers, but he despaired of carrying hifrlilfle Dark through such a heavy sea. When yielding to the difficulties before him, he was encouraged to make the attempt by his daughter Grace, a girl* of twenty-two years of age, who offered to accompany him and work one of the oars. They went ; they reached the vessel ; nine persons trusted their lives to the boat ; and, in spite of the raging of the sea, the whole party arrived safely at the lighthouse, where every necessary kind- ness was shown to the persons who had been rescued. As no other persons were saved from the wreck, it may be concluded that these would have perished, had it not been for the heroism of Grace Darling, who was willing to risk her own life rather than allow so many fellow-creatures to sink before her eyes, without an effort being made in their behalf. The generous con- duct of this young woman attracted much attention. Her praises were for a time in every mouth. Artists flocked to her lonely dwelling to take her portrait, and depict the scene in which she had been engaged. A sum exceeding five hundred pounds, collected by subscription, was presented to her ; and some of the most eminent persons in the land wrote letters to her, containing warm expressions of regard. It is probable that her name and her heroic act will 74 THIRD BOOK OV HZADINa LISBOMB. ^ not soon 'be forgotten ; for less admirable actions whicli took place several thousand years ago are still re- membered. Yet this excellent girl^ as modest as she "was brave, was heard to remark that she never would have supposed she had done anything surprising, if her conduct had not been so much spoken of by others. 1 m i FEMALE HEROISM. Upon the banks of the River Elkhorn, in the State of Kentucky, there was once a stockade fort to which the settlers frequently resorted as a place of refuge from the savages. Its gallant defence ?3y a handful of pioneers against the allied Indians of Ohio, led by two renegade white men, was one of the most desperate affairs in the Indian wars of the West. The pioneers had not the slightest idea of their ap- proach, when, in a moment, a thousand rifles gleamed in the cornfields one summer's night. That very even- ing the garrison had chanced to gather under arms, to march to the relief of another station that was similarly invested. It was a fearful moment : an hour earlier, and the pioneers would have been cut off; an hour later, and their defenceless wives and daughters must have been butchered or carried into captivity, r/hile their natural protectors were hurrying to the rescue of others. The Indians saw at a glance that the moment was not favorable -to them ; and having failed In sur- prising the Kentuckians, they attempted to decoy them from their fastness by presenting themselves in small parties before it. The whites were too wise to risk a battle t'll help should arrive, so they resolved to stand a siege. But the fort, which was merely a collection of log cabins arranged in a hollow square, was unhappily not supplied with water, and the q^j^^Sf^d were awaro that the en^my had concealed his reallorce in ambush THIRD BOOK OF KEADTNQ LESSONS. 75 near a neighboring spring. The sagacity of a back- woodsman is sometimes more than a match for the cunning of an Indian ; and the heroism of a woman may baffle the address of a warrior. The females of the station determined to supply it with water from this very spring. But how ? Woman's wit never de- vised a bolder expedient, and woman's fortitude never carried one more hazardous into successful execution. These brave women, being in the habit of fetching the water every morning, sa*\r that if armed men were now to take that duty upon them, the Indians would see that their ambuscade had been discovered, and instantly * commence the assault, which, in that case, it would be useless to protract. Morning came, and the random shots of the decoy party were returned with a quick fire from one side of the fort, while the women issued from the other, as if they apprehended no enemy in that quarter. Could anything be more appalling than the task before them ? But they shrink not from it ; they move carelessly from the gate ; they advance with composure in a body to the spring; they are within shot of five hundred warriors. The slightest alarm will betray them ; if they show any consciousness of their thrilling situation, their doom is iflgSJJiyjjl©' But their nerves do not shrink ; they wait calmly for each other till each fills her bucket in succession. The Indians are completely deceived, and not a shot is fired. The band of heroines retrace their steps with steady u^et ; their movements soon become more agitated ; anu are at last hurried. But tradition says that the only water spilt was as their buckets crowded together in passing the gate. A sheet of living fire from the garrison, and the shrieks of the wounded Indians around the spring, was at once a signal that the women were safe, and of the triumph of the white men. Insane with wrath jO be thus outwitted, the foe rushed from his covert., and advanced with fury upon the r 1 ^ III 76 THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESBOKfl, rifles of the pioneers. But tvIio could conquer the of 811 cli Tvoraoii ' Tha Indiafid but on fathers and broth were foiled, and '=»y ^'i'-hirew their counting the numbei' of iheiT slain, they burned with vengeance, and rt^iliefJ oare ir^jore to the fight. They were again and ugam repuised. Assistance at last came to the pioneers, and the savages were compelled to retreat to their wildwood haunts once moro. — C. F. Hoffman. ^ l> BRAVE JOHN MAYITARD. John was well known as a sturdy, intelligent, and God- fearing pilot on Lako Erie. Ho had charge of a steamer from Detroit to Buffalo one summer afternoon. At that time thoHO steamers seldom carried boats. Smok6 was seen ascending from below, and the cap-- TflIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 77 3onquer the [Tia Indiana :{;^; but on burned with ight. They nee at last e compelled oro. Hoffman. (■, and God- large of a ' afternoon, boats. id the cap- tain called out, '* Simpson, go down and see what that smoke is.'' Simpson en tec lip vith his lac^ a' ))f*.le ^s rvshes, and sa^d---" Captain, the s uip is on firt 1 '' Fire ' fire ! fire ! fire! instantly resouu Jed In all direc- tions. All hands were called up. I ickei=i of water were dashed upon the flames, but in r:;ir , There were large quantities of resin and tar on ;joard; nnd it was useless to try and save the ship. The passengers rushed forward and inquired of the pilot, "How far are we from land?" " Seven miles." " How long before we reach it ?" "Three-quarters of an hour at our present rate of steam." "Is there any danger?" " Danger enough here — see the smoke bursting out ! Go forward if you would save your lives ! " Passengers and crew, men, women, and children, crowded to the forward part of the ship. John May- nard stood at his post. The flames burst forth in a sheet of fire ; clouds of smoke arose ; the captain cried out through his trumpet, " Joh^ Mayi- ardP' "Ay, ay, sir!" responded the b'-avi- tar " How does she head ! " " South-east by east, t' ir." " Head her south-east, and ruu bt'T* on shore." Nearer, nearer, ^ et nearer site approached the shore. Again the captain cried out, " Job a Maynard I " The response came feebly, " Ay, ay, sir ! " " Can you hold on five minutes longer, John ? " "By God's holp I will!" The old man's hair was scorched from the scalp ; one hand was disabled, and his teeth were set, yot ho etood firm as a rock. He beached the ship; oveiy man, woman, and child was saved, as John Maynard dropped overboard, and h:s spirit took its flight to his G<'d. Noble John Maynard ! # —J. B. Gouqh. , mmimmmmtKm 78 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. I ■»"•«: CASABIANCA. [Casablanca, a boy about thirteen years old, son of the Admiral of the French fleet, remained at his post, in the Battle of the Nile, after his ship, the " Orient," had caught fire, and after all the guns had been abandoned. He perished in the explosion of the vessel, when the flames had reached the powder magazine. Vide " Battle of the Nile," p. 298.] The boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but he had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wrecks Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As bom to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form. The flames roll'd on — he would not go Without his father's word ; That father, faint in death below His voice no longer heard. He call'd aloud : — " Say, Father, say If yet my task is done ? '' He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. " Speak, Father I " once again he cried- " If I may yet be gone ! '^ And but the booming shots replied. And fast the flames roll'd on. Upon his brow he felt their breath. And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death, In still, yet brave dejpair. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 79 And shouted but once more aloud^ " My Father ! must I stay ?" While o'er him fast^ through sail and shroud. The wreathing fires made way. They wrapt the ship in splendor wild, They caught the flag on high, And streamed above the gallant child. Like banners in the sky. There came a burst of thunder sound — The boy — oh ! where was he ? Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea. With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part ! But the noblest thing that perish'd there Was that young faithful heart. . — Mrs Hemans. W: 80 THIRD BOOK OF KEADINQ LESSONS. PART II. DROWNING THE SQUIRREL. When I was about six years old, as I was going to school one morning, a ground squirrel ran into its hole in the path before me. I thought, now I will have fine fun. As thera was a stream of water just at hand, I determined to pour water into the hole till it should be full, and force the little animal up, so that I might kill it. I got a trough from beside a sugar- maple, used for catching the sweet sap, and was soon pouring the water in on the poor squirrel. I could hear it struggling to get up, and said, " Ah, my fellow, I will soon have you out now.'' Just then I heard a voice behind me, ^' Well, my THIRD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. 81 boy, what have you got in there V* I turned and saw one of my neighbors, a good old man with long white locks, that had seen sixty winters. " Why,'' said I, " I have a ground squirrel in here, and am going to drown him out." Said he, " Jonathan, when I was a little boy, more than fifty years ago, I was engaged one day just as you are, drowning a ground squirrel ; and an old man like me came along, and said to me, ^ You are a little boy ; now, if you were down in a narrow hole like that, and I should come along and pour water down on you to drown you, would not you think I was cruel ? God made that little squirrel, and life is sweet to it as if is to you; and why will you torture to death a little innocent creature that God has made?'" He said, " I have never forgotten that, and never shall. I never have killed any harmless creature for fun since. Now, my dear boy, I want you to bear this in mind while you live, and when tempted to kill any poor little inno- cent animal or bird, remember that God does not allow us to kill His creatures for fun." More than forty years ha.ve since passed, and I have never forgotten what the good man said, nor have I ever since killed even the least animal for amusement. Now you see it is ninety years since this advice was first given, and it has not lost its influence yet. How many little creatures it has saved from being tortured to death I cannot tell, but I have no doubt a great number^ and I believe my whole life has been influ- enced by it. — ^J. C. ANIMAL TRAINING. Francesco Michelo was the only son of a carpenter, who resided at Tempio, a town in the island of Sardinia. He had two sisters younger than himself, and was only ten years old when a fire, which broke out in the house " [i i • 82 THIRD BOOK OF KCADINQ LESSONS. of his father reduced it to ashes, and the unfortunate carpenter was burnt to death. The family was com- pletely ruined by this frightful event, and forced to implore the charity of strangers in order to supply their pressing wants. At length, tired of his vain attempts to support his mother by the forced kindness of others, and grieved at seeing her and his sisters pining in want before his eyes, necessity and tenderness conspired to urge him to exertion and ingenuity. He made with laths a cage of considerable diiflWwions, and furnished it with every- thing needful for the reception of birds ; and when spring returned he proceeded to the woods in the vicinity of Tempio, and set himself industriously to secure their nests of young. As he was active and skilful at the task, it was not long before he became tolerably successful. He climed from tree to tree, and seldom returned without his cage being well stored mth chaffinches, linnets, blackbirds, wrens, ringdoves, and pigeons. Every week, Francesco and his sisters carried their little favorites to the market of Sussari, and generally disposed of those which were most attractive and beautiful. Still, all the assistance they were able to procure for their mother was far from being enough to supply her wants. In this difficulty, Francesco conceived a new and original method of in- creasing his gains. Necessity is the mother of invention. He thought of no less a project than to train a young Angora cat to live harmlessly in the midst of his favorite songsters. Such is the force of habit, such the power of training, that, at last, he taught the mortal enemy of his winged pets to live, to drink, to eat, and to sleep in the midst of his little charges, without once attempting to devour or injure them. The cat, which he called Bianca, suffered the little birds to play all kinds of tricks with her, and never did she show her claws, or offer to hurt her companions. He even went further; fur, not contcut with teaching THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 83 them merely to live in peace and happiness together, he instructed the cat and the little birds to play a kind of game, in which each learned to perform readily its own part. Puss was instructed to curl herself into a circle, with her head between her paws, and appear buried in sleep. The cage was then opened, and tho playful birds rushed out upon her, and tried to awaken her by repeated strokes of their beaks ; then, dividing into two parties, they attacked her head and her whiskers, while the gentle animal never once appeared to take the least notice of their gambols. At other times she would seat herself in the middle of the cage, and begin to smooth her fur, and purr with great gentleness and satisfaction. The birds would some- times even settle on her back, or sit like a crown upon her head, chirruping and singing as if in all the secur- ity of a shady wood. The sight of a sleek and beautiful cat seated calmly in the midst of a cage of birds was so new and un- expected, that, when Francesco exhibited it at the fair of Sussari, he was surrounded instantly by a crowd of admiring spectators. Their astonishment knew scarcely any bounds when they heard him call each feathered favorite by its name, and saw it fly quickly towards him, till all were perched contentedly on his head, his arms, and his fingers. Delighted with his ingenuity, the spectators rewarded him liberally ; and Francesco returned in the evening, his little heart swelling with joy, to lay before his mother a sum of money which would suffice to support her many months. This ingenious boy next tvained some young par- tridges, one of which became exceedingly attached to him. This partridge, which he called Rosoletta, on one occasion did good service. A beautiful goldfinch had strayed from its cage, and was lost in a neighboring garden. Francesco was in despair at the loss, because it was a good performer^ and he had promised it to IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) V A A <5., •«» :/j 1.0 I.I 1.25 1^ |2.8 1.4 2.5 iiiiii 20 1.6 V] v^ '^ ^> ■^r*.'^' ^> Hiotographic Sciences Corporation 23 WeST MAIN STKEET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 (716) S73-4S03 \ M^ iV lV '^ c\ \ 1«y\'^C.^^ ^ -o-^"* >.1;^ i/x 't / L'i I 84 THIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. the daughter of a lady from whom he had received much kindness. On the sixth morning after the gold- finch had escaped^ Rosoletta^ the tame and intelligent partridge, was seen chasing the truant bird before her, along the top of the lime trees towards home ; after- wards she led the way by little and little before him, and at length, getting him home, seated him, in appar- ent disgrace, in a corner of the aviary, whilst she flew from side to side in triumph at her success. Francesco was now happy and contented, since, by his own industry and exertions, he was enabled to support his mother and sisters. Unfortunately, how- ever, in the midst of all his happiness, he was suddenly torn from them by a very grievous accident. He was one evening engaged in gathering a species of mush- room very common in the southern countries of Europe ; but not being able to distinguish the true mushroom from the toadstool, he ate of the latter to excess, and died in a few days, in spite of every remedy which skill could apply. During the three days of Francesco's ill- ness, his birds flew incessantly round and round his bed J some lying sadly upon his pillow ; others flitting backwards and forwards above his head ; a few uttering brief but plaintive cries, and all taking scarcely any nourishment. The death of Francesco showed in a lemarkable manner what affections may be excited in animals by a course of gentle treatment. Francesco's birds ap- peared to be sensible of the loss of a benefactor ; but none of his feathered favorites showed at his death such real and disconsolate grief as Rosoletta. When poor Francesco was placed in his coffin, she flew round it, and at last perched upon the lid. In vain they several times removed her : she still returned ; and even persisted in accompanying the funeral procession to the cemetery. During the burial she sat upon a neighboring cypress, to watch where they laid the re- mams of her friend j and when the crowd had departed^ THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 85 she forsook the spot no more, except to return to the cottage of his mother for her accustomed food. While she lived, she came daily to perch and to sleep upon the turret of the chapel, which looked upon his grave. Here she lived, and here she died about four months after the death of her beloved master. Chambers's Miscellany^ THE DOG. The dog stands to man in relation both of a valu- able servant and an engaging companion. In many employments, especially those of shepherds and herds- men, he performs services of great importance, such as could not be supplied without him. In those sports of the field, such as hunting and shooting, which many persons pursue with such eagerness, the assistance of the dog is essential to success. By his keenness of scent he discovers tho game, and by his swiftness of foot he runs it down. There is no period of time re- corded by history in which we do not find the dog the friend and the servant of man ; nor is there any litera- ture which does not contain some tribute to his faith- fulness and sagacity. A lon^ course of training, and peculiar modes of breeding and rearing, have divided the canine race into nearly a hundred varieties, many of which show marked 'differences in size and appearance. The savage bull- dog seems hardly to belong to the same race as the delicate lap-dog, that sleeps on the rug, and is washed and combed by its fair mistress almost as carefully as an infant. The swift and slim greyhound looks very little like the sturdy and square-built mastiff. But there are certain marks of character, which, in a greater or less degree, are common to all the kinds. Sagacity, docility, benevolence, a capacity to receive instruction. 11 ' 86 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. and attacHmeiit t' his master's person, are qualities which belong to the whole race. Many instances have been recorded in which persons have been saved from drowning by dogs, especially by those of the Newfoundland breed, which have a natural love for the water. A gentleman connected with the Newfoundland fishery, was once possessed of a dog of singularlMffiEy'and sagacity. On one occasion a boat and a crew in his employ were in circumstances of con- siderable peril, just outside a line of breakers, which, owing to some change in wind or weather, had, since the departure of the boat, rendered the return passage through them most hazardous. The spectators on shore were quite unable to render any assistance to their friends afloat. Much time had been spent, and the danger seemed to increase rather than diminish. Our friend, the dog, looked on for a length of time, evidently aware of there being a great cause for anxiety in those around. Presently, however, he took to the water, and made his way throug]j the raging waves to the boat. The crew supposed he wished to join them, and made various attempts to in- duce him to come aboard ; but no, he would not go within their reach, but continued swimming about at a short distance from the boat. After a while, and several comments on the peculiar conduct of the dog, one of the hands suddenly divined his apparent mean- ing, " Give Mm the end of a rope/' he said, " that is ivhat he wants." The rope was thrown, the dog seized the end in an instant, turned round, and made straight for the shore, where, a few minutes afterwards, boat and crew — thanks to the intelligence of their four- footed friend — were placed safe and sound ! One of the magistrates nt Harbor Grace, in New- foundland, had an old dog of the regular web-footed species, peculiar to that island, which was in the habit of carrvjji^tJiJgntern before his master, at night, as steadily as the mo'st attentive servant could do, stopping THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 87 short when his master made a stop, and pr seeding when he saw him disposed to follow. If his master was absent from home, and the lantern being fixed to his mouth, the command given, " Go fetch thy master,^^ he would immediately set ofif, and proceed directly to the town, which lay at a distance of more than a mile from his master^s residence; he would then stop at every house which he knew his master was in the habit of frequenting, and, laying down his lantern, growl, and strike the door until it was opened ; if his master was not there, he would proceed further in the same manner until he had found him. If he had ac- companied him only once into a house, this was sufficient to induce him to take that house in his round. — BiiiUh Workman, FIDELITY. A BARKING sound the shepherd hears, A cry as of a dog or fox ; He halts and searches with his eye Among the scatterM rocks ; And now at distance can discern A stirring in a brake of fern; And instantly a dog is seen. Glancing through that covert green. The dog is not of mountain breed ; Its motions, too, are wild and shy ; With something as the shepherd thinks. Unusual in its cry : ^ Nor is there any one in sight All round, in hollow or on height ; Nor shout nor whistle strikes his ear ; What is the creature doing here ? It was a cove, a huge recess, That keeps, till June, December's snow ; m S8 -■ THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONSi A lofty precip'ce in front, A silent tarn below ; Far in the bosom of Helvellyn, Remote from public road or dwelling, Pathway, or cultivated land ; From trace of human foot or hand. There sometimes does a leaping iish Send through the tarn a lonely cheer ; The crags repeat the raven's croak. In symphony austere ; Thither the rainbow comes, the cloud — And mists, that spread the flying shroud. And sunbeams ; and the sounding blast. That, if it could, would hurry past ; But that enormous barrier holds it fast. Not free from boding thoughts, awhile The shepherd stood, then makes his way O'er rocks and stones, following the dog As quickly as he may ; Nor far had gone before he found A human skeleton on the ground ; The appall 'd discoverer with a sigh Looks round to learn the history. From those abrupt and perilous rocks The man had fallen, that place of fear ! At length upon the shepherd's mind It breaks, and all is clear : He instant!^ ecall'd the name. And who he was, and whence he came, Remember' d, too, the very day On which the traveller pass'd that way. But here a wonder for whose sake This lamentable tale I tell ! A lasting monument of words This wonder merits well. THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 89 The dog, which still was hovering nigh, Kepeating the same timid cry, This dog had been through three months' space A dweller in that savage place. Yes, proof was plain that since .the day When this ill-fated traveller died. The dog had watched about the spot, Or by his master^ s side ; How nourished there through that long time, He knows who gave that love sublime ; And gave that strength of feeling great, Above all human estimate. — Wordsworth. If I THE NEWFOUNDLAND DOG'S EEYENGE. I WAS alwavs fond of dogs. Goldsmith, in his touch- ing and eloquent plea for the dog, in alluding to a soiii of mania for dog-killing, which prevailed at tb© I PI 90 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. time of whioh he speaks^ in consequence of an unrea- sonable apprehension of hydrophobia, says, among other fine things, that the dog is the only animal which will leave his own kind voluntarily to follow man. It is true, and the truth should bind man to be the dog's protector and friend. The American brig Cecilia, Captain Symmes, on one of her voyages, had on board a splendid specimen of the Newfoundland breed, named Napoleon, and his magnificent size and proportions, his intelligent head, broad, white f&et, and white-tipped tail, the rest of his body being black, made him as remarkable as his peer- less namesake,* who would, no doubt, have been proud to possess him. Captain Symmes, however, was not partial to ani- mals of any kind, and had an unaccountable and es- pecial repugnance to dogs — so much so, indeed, as if all his ancestors had died of hyarophobia, and he dreaded to be bitten like his unfortunate predecessors. This dislike he one day manifested in a shocking manner; for Napoleon had several times entered his room, and, by wagging his great banner of a tail, knocked paper and ink off his desk. On the next eocasion, the captain seized a knife and cut the poor animal's tail off. The dog's yell brought his master to the spot, and, seeing the calamity and the author of it, without a moment's hesitation he felled Captain Symmes to the cabin floor, with a sledge-hammer blow, which, had it hit the temple, would have for ever prevented him from cutting off any more dogs' tails. The result was that Lancaster was put in irons, from which he, however, was soon released. Captain Symmes repented his cruel deed on learning that Napoleon had once saved his owner's life. The white shark, as all my nautical friends are well aware, is one of the largest of sharks. It averages over twenty, and I have seen one twenty-seven and THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 91 a-half feet long. It is generally considered to be the fiercest and most formidable of sharks. But a few days elapsed after this catastrophe of poor Napoleon, ere he became the hero of a more thrilling occurrence, the very thought of which has often filled me with horror. During the interval, the noble beast was not at all backward in exhibiting his wrath at the captain, by his growls, whenever he approached. In vain did his master, fearful for the life of his dog, essay to check these signs of his anger. Captain Symmes, however, made allowance, and offered no further harm to him. . One morning, as the captain was standing on the bowsprit, he lost his footing and fell overboard, the Cecilia was then running at about fifteen knots. " Man overboard! Captain Symmes overboard !'* was the cry, and all rushed to get out the boat as they saw a swimmer striking out for the brig, which was at once rounded to ; and as they felt especially apprehensive on account of the white sharks in those waters, they regarded his situation with the most painful solici- tude. By the time the boat touched the water, their worst fears were realized ; for at some distance behind the swimmer they beheld, advancing toward him, the fish most dreaded in those waters. " Hurry ! hurry, men, or we shall be too late V* ex- claimed the mate. *' What's that ?" The splash which caused this inquiry was occasioned by the plunge of Napoleon into the sea. The noble animal, having been watching the cause of the tumult from the captain's fall, had heard the shout, and for a few moments had vented his feelings in deep growls, as if he was con- scious of the peril of his enemy, and gratified at it. His growls, however, were soon changed into those whines of sympathy which so often show the attach- ment of the dog to man, when the latter is in danger. At last he plunged, and lapidly made his way toward 92 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. the now nearly exhausted captain^ wHo^ aware of His double danger, and being but a passable swimmer, made fainter and fainter strokes, while his adversary closed rapidly upon him. ** Pull, boys, for the dear life ! " was the shout of the mate, as the boat now followed the dog. Slowly the fatigued swimmer made his way; ever and anon his head sank in the waves, and behind him the back of the voracious animal told him what fearful progress he was making, while Lancaster, in the bow of the boat, stood with a knife in his upraised hand, watching al- ternately the captain and his pursuer and the faithful animal which had saved his own life. There was a fixed look of determination in his face, which convinced all that, should the dog become a sac- rifice to the shark, Lancaster would revenge his death, if possible, even at the risk of his own life. " What a swimmer ! " exclaimed the men, who marked the speed of the animal. " The shark will have one or both if we don't do our best.'' The scene was of short duration. Ere the boat could over- take the dog, the enormous shark had arrived within three oars'-length of the captain, and suddenly turned over on his back preparatory to darting on the sink- ing man and receiviilglMti in his vast jaws, which now displayed their long triangular teeth. The wild shriek of the captain announced that the crisis had come. But now Napoleon, seemingly in- spired with increased strength, had also arrivec', and with a fierce howl leaped upon the gleaming belly of the shark, and buried his teeth in the monster's flesh, while the boat swiftly neared them. " Saved ! if we are half as smart as the dog is !" cried the mate, as we all saw the voracious monster shudder in the sea, and, smartii g with pain, turn over again, the dog retaining his hold and becoming sub- merged in the water. At this juncture the boat arrived, and Lancaster, his THIBD BOOK 07 READING LESSONS. 93 knife in His teeth, plunged into the water, where the captain also now had sunk from view. But a few mo- ments elapsed e 3 the dog rose to the surface, and soon after Lancaster, bearing the insensible form of the cap- tain. " Pull them in and give them a bar/^ cried the mate, '' for that fellow is preparing for another launch. ^^ His orders were obeyed, and the second onset of the marine monster was foiled by the mate's splashing water in his eyes. Ke came again, and but a lew seconds too late to snap off the captain's leg, as his body was drawn into the boat. Foiled the second time, the shark plunged and was seen no more, but left a track of blood on the surface of the water, a token of the severity of the wound made by the dog. The boat was now pulled towards the brig ; and not many hours elapsed before the captain was on deck again, very feeble, but abia to appreciate the services of our canine hero, and most bitterly to lament the cruel act which had mutilated him for ever. " I would give my right arm," he exclaimed, as he patted the Newfoundland who stooi by his side, " if I could only repair the injury I have "" e that splendid fellow. ' Lancaster, you are now av d, and so is he, and a most Christian vengeance it is, though it will be a source of ^ief to me as long as I live.'' — British Workman* COUNTING CHICKENS BEFORE THEY ARE HATCHED. A MILKMAID, who poised a full pail on her head. Thus mused on her prospects in life, it is said ; " Let me see — I should think that this milk will procure One hundred good eggs, or fourscore to be sure. ''Well then — stop a bit — ^it must not be forgotten, Some of these may be broken, and some may be rotten ; i.;'! 64 tHIRD BOOIt OE" READIKO LESSONS. But if twenty for accident should be detachM, It will leave me just sixty sound eggs to be hatchM. '' Well, sixty sound eggs — no, sound chickens, I mean : Of these some may die — we'll suppose seventeen. Seventeen ! not so many — say ten at the most, Which will leave fifty chickens to boil or to roast. ''But then there's their barley, how much will they need? Why they take but one grain at a time when they feed- So that's a mere trifle; now then, let us see. At a fair market price how much money there '11 be. *' Six shillings a pair — five — four — three-and-six, To prevent all mistakes, that low price I will fix : Now what will that make ? fifty chickens I said — Fifty times three-and-sixpence — I 'II ask brother Ned, "Oh ! but stop, three-and-sixpence a pair I must sell 'em; Well, a pair is a couple — now then let us tell 'em ; A couple in fifty will go — (my poor brain !) Why just a score times, and five pair will remain. '' Twenty-five pair of fowls — now how tiresome it is That I can't reckon up such money as this ! Well, there 's no use in trying, so let 's give a guess, I '11 say twenty pounds, a7id it can he no less, " Twenty pounds, I am certain will buy me a cow, Thirty geese and two turkeys — eight pigs and a sow ; Now if these turn out well, at the end of the year, I shall fill both my pockets with guineas, 'tis clear." Forgetting her burthen when this she had said. The maid superciliously toss'd up her head : When alas for her prospects her milkpail descended. And so all her schemes for the future were ended ; This moral I think may be safely attach'd. Reckon not on your chickens before they are hatch'd. THIRD BOOK Of" READINO LESSO^TS. 05 ''THE DARLING." Professor Youatt, of the Royal Veterinary College, gives the following interesting fact in one of his valu- able works : — A horse in the depot at Woolwich had proved so unmanageable to the rough-riders, that at length no one among them durst even mount him. His mode of throwing or dismounting his rider, consisted in lying down and rolling over him, or else crushing his leg against some wall, or post, or paling. All means to break him of these perilous tricks proving unavailing, the animal was brought before the commanding officer with the character of being " incurahly viciqus," and with a recommendation on that acCOUBt; tliat he should be cast, and sold out of His Majesty's service. Colonel Quest, hearing of this, and knowing the horso to be thorough-bred, and one of the best actioned and cleverest horses in the regiment, besought the com- manding officer to permit him to be transferred into the riding-school. This was consented to, and the transfer was no sooner accomplished than Colonel Quest determined to pursue a system of management directly opposite to that which had been already at- tempted. He had him led daily into the riding-school, suffered no whips even to be shown to him while there, but petted him, and tried to make him execute this and the other little manoeuvre, and as often as he proved obedient rewarde3*Tttth with a handful of corn, or beans, or a piece of bread, with which bribes his pockets were invariably well supplied. In this manner, and in no great distance of time, was the rebel not only subdued and tamed, but rendered so perfectly quiet that a little child could ride him. He became at length taught to kneel down while his rider mounted, and to perform several evolutions, and dances, and tricks in the menage which no other horse in the school could be brought to do. In fine^ so great a Ill 1) Hi lli 96 THIRD BOOK OB* BEADING LESSONS. favorite did he become, that his master gave him the appellation of " The Darling/^ THE ARAB AND HIS STEED. My beautiful ! my beautiful ! that standest meekly by, With thy proudly arched and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye ; Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy winged speed, I may not mount on thee again — thou ^rt sold, my Arab steed. _ <* Fret not with that impatient hoof, snufF not the breezy wind, The further that thou fliest now, so far am I behind : The stranger hath thy bridle-rein — thy master hath his gold— FIeet-limb*d and beautiful ! farewell ! thou 'rt sold, my steed, thou ^rt sold ! Farewell ! those free untired limbs full many a mile must roam, To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home : Some other hand, less fond, must novv thy corn and bed prepare ; The silky mane I braided once must be another's care. The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be : Evening shall darken on the earth ; and o'er the sandy plain Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear mo home again. THIKD BOOK O*' READING Lr.SSONS. 97 Yes, thou must go ! the wild free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky. Thy master's home — from all of these my exiled one must fly. 'Thy proud, dark eye will grow less pro^id, thy step become less fleet, tAnd vainly shalt thou arch tb neck, thy master's hand to meet. MM '.Only in sleep, shall I behold that dark eye glancing bright ; (Only in sleep, shall hear again that step so firm and light; And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed, Then must I, starting, wake to feel — thou 'rt sold, my Arab steed I Ah ! rudely thew, unseen by me, some cruel hand aay chide, Till foam-wreaths lie like crested waves, along thy panting side ; And the rich blood, that's in thee^ swells in thy indig- nant pain, Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count ©ach started vein. Will they ill-use thee ? If I thought — but nOj it oannoft be — Thou art so swift, yet easy curbed i so gei^tl©^ yet so free. And yet, if haply, when thouVt gone my lonely heart should yearn, Can the hand which casts tb99 frpw it n0W| command ^ theo to return ? 98 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. ill i Return ! alas ! my Arab steed ! wliat shall thy master doj When thou, who wert his all of joy, hath vanished from his view ? When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears. Thy bright form, for a moment, like the false mirage, appears. Slow and unmounted will I roam, with weary step alone, Where with fleet step and joyous bound thou oft hast borne me on ! And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think, It was here he bow'd his glossy neck when last I saw him drink ! When last I savj thee drink ! — Away ! the feverM dream is o'er ; I could not live a day, and hiow that we should meet no more ! They tempted me, my beautiful ! for hunger's power is strong. They tempted me, my beautiful ! but I have loved too long. Who said that T had given thee up, who said that thou wert sold ? 'Tis false — 'tis false, my Arab steed ! I fling them back their gold. Thus, thus I leap upon thy back, and scour the distant plains. Away ! who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains ! — The Honorable Mrs. Norton. 1(1! THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 99 STORY OF A GOAT. After the final suppression of tlie Scottish rebellion of 1715, by the decisive battle of Preston, a gentleman who had taken a very active share in it escaped to the West Highlands, to the residence of a female relative, who afforded him an asylum. As, in consequence of the strict search which was made after the ringleaders, it was soon judged unsafe for him to remain in the house of his friend, he was conducted to a cavern in a sequestered siti^^tijajj, and furnished with a supply of food. The 'approach to this lonely abode consisted of a small aperture, through which he crept, dragging his provisions along with him. A little way from the mouth of the cave the roof became elevated ; but, on advancing, an obstacle obstructed his progress. He soon perceived that, whatever it might be, the object was a living one ; but suspicious of danger though he was, he felt unwilling to strike at a venture with his dirk, so he stooped down and discovered a goat and a I; r iiii (I 100 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. kid lying on the ground. The animal was evidently in great pain, and on passing his hand over her body, he discovered that bii% of hei^ legs was fractured. He accordingly bound it up with his garter, and offered her some of hiiS breM; but she refused to eat, and stretched out l^r tonj^ue, as if her mouth was parched with thirst. He give her water, which she drank greedily, and then she afee the bread. At midnight he ventured out, pulled a iquantitjr of grass and tender branches of trees, and carried them to the poor suf- ferer, who received them with demonstrations of gratitude. ,i,.j._^ ., ,..:^. v^:----^'^ ^^ '^- The oiily tfiiiig whicK tte fiigitifie fead to occupy his attentioiil in his dreary abode wtk Administering com- fort tb tli^ igoat, and secluded and solitary as he was, he wai iMnkful to have any living creature beside him. Under his care, the arimal quickly recovered, and became tenderly attached to him. It happened that the servant who was entrusted with the secret of his retreat fell sick, when it became necessary to send another with the daily provision. The Roat, on this occasion, happening to be lying near the month of the cavern, violently opposed the entrance of the stranger, butting him furiously with her head. The fugitive, hearing the noise, advanced, and receiving the watch- word from his new attendant, interposed, and the faithful goat permitted him to pass. So resolute was the animal on this occasion, that the gentleman was convinced, she would, if necessary, have died in his defence. ~ SAGACITY OF THE SHEEP. The following instance of sagacity in an animal not distinguished for that quality, is given in the words of an eye-witness. Walking with a lady through some THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 101 meadows, lying between two villages, in the county of Gloucester, the path conducted us within a hundred yards of a small brook. Many ewes and lambs were in the meadow ; we were about half-way over it, when a ewe came up to pie and bleated very loudly, looking up in my face, and then ran off towards the brook. I could not help remarking this extraordinary behav- ior; but my attention was particularly roused when she repeated it, and bleating louder, seemed to wish to signify something in particular; she then ran off in the same direction, repeatedly looking behind her, till she reached the brook, where she stood still. After standing to look at her some time, we continued our walk, and had nearly reached the gate that led into the next meadow, when she came running after us the third time, and seemed, if possible, more earnest than before. I then determined to discover the cause of this singular procedure; I followed the ewe towards the brook ; seeing me advance, she ran as fast as she was able, looking behind hef several times ; when she came to the brook, she peeped over the hedge of a hil- lock into the water, looked up in my face, and bleated with the most significant voice I ever heard uttered by a quadruped. Judge of my surprise, when, on look- ing into the stream, I saw her lamb just under the hillock, nearly immersed m water, and unable to ex- tricate itself. I at once drew it out ; it was still alive. The fond mother instantly began to lick and suckh it, and looking up to me, muttered several sounds very different from those I had heard before, and evidenily expressing satisfaction and pleasure. I needed not her thanks, for I never performed an action that gave me more unmixed pleasure, nor did dumb creature ever appear more grateful. — British Workman, ^.^1 V 102 THIRD BOOK OF KEADINQ LESSONS. MY PET MONKEY. A CRICKET that had been singing merrily in the ashes came a little too far out on the hearthstone : hvs fate was sealed — the next jump he made was down the throat of Jacko, my pet monkey, who munched him up. as an epicure does the leg of a woodcock. The next tit-bit was a black-beetle, who ran out to secure a crumb dropped from the servants* supper-table: he, too, became a victim to his rashness ; and not he alone, but many of his black friends and relatives, who in- cautiously exposed themselves before the candles were put out. jy^ Having ascertained that these beetles were nuts to Jacko, I one day gave him a great treat by upsetting the kitchen beetle-trap in his presence. Both paws instantly went to work ; — whole bunches of the unfor- tunate insects he crammed into the pouches, (which he, like most other monkeys, has on the sides of his mouth, ' . and which serve as pockets,) munching awav as hard as he could at the same time. His paws could not catch the prey fast enough, so he set his feet to work, and (grasped with them as many as he could hold. This was not enough: he swept a lot together with his tail, and coiling it up closely, kept them there close prisoners, till his mouth was a little empty, and he had time to catch and devour them. This was really too greedy. I took him away from the feast, still, however, munching with all his might, and looking back at the box with wistful eyes. If we wanted at any future period to put him in a good humor, his flagging spirits were instantly roused by the sight of the bee tie- trap. \^ Almost all monkeys have pouches m their cheeks. I recollect, one Saturday night, hearing a man who was selling riddles at a penny per yard, in long slips of paper, in the neigiborhood of Westminster, pro* pose the following riddlCi as a specimen of the best of THIRD BOOK OP KEADING LESSONS. 103 the pennyworth : — " Why does a dog carry a bone in his mouth ?'^ He volunteered the answer imme- diately afterwards : — '^ Because he has no pocket to put it in." Now the monkey, like the dog, carries his food in his mouth; but that mouth contains a pocket. The skin of the cheek is very loose ; v/hen empty it falls in wrinkles, which gives the *^ old-man like" appearance to his face. In this natural pocket lie places his food, and keeps it there till he wishes to devour it. -\ Jacko^s insectivorous propensities were not confined to black-beetles alone. Spiders formed a pleasant variety ; not a spider was left alive either in the k. cable or outside the stable where he was confined ; and most enormous stones would he pick out of the wall with his nimble fingers, in search of a runaway web-spinner. He was really of great use in clearing the house of this housemaid's pest. I often used to put a bit of string to the end of his chain, and make him run up the curtains of the rooms of the house. He would then completely rummage out and devour every spider, who, having had their webs so frequently knocked down by the merciless broom, had thought to spin them in security on the top of the cornices and among the curtain rods. On one of these occasions, he watched his oppor- tunity, and suddenly snatching the string out of my hand, straightway bolted out of the window, the top part of which happened to be open. Away he went over the garden wall, down the road, up into the village. The parish school turned out from their lessons at this moment, and a regular pursuit took place : the boys shouted and threw up their caps, the girls did not know whether to laugh or be fright- ened. In an instant Jacko was on the top of the nearest cottage, and returned the derisive shouts of the boys by angry and incessant chattering : he grinned from ear to ear^ and showed an array of sharp teethe 104 IHIBD BOOK OF BEADlNa LESSONS. I' as much as to say, " Touch me if you dare/* His hair was all erect, as was always the case when he was alarmed or excited, so that he looked double his natural size, and he shook his tail in angry defiance. The- numerous stones and sticks thrown at him in fun by the boys — for they knew him well, and did not want to hurt him — soon made him decamp, and off he went along the roofs of the cottages, his chain. making a fearful clatter on the tiles, to the alarm of the aged inmates sitting at their ease within. The crowd collected, the excitement became immense ; the poHce were not called out, because there is only one con- stable : he, being a baker, turned out in his white cap, and sleeves tucked up, armed with the oflScial wand of office, determined to take up somebody. Next came the churchwarden. '^Lay hold of the rascal, boys,*' cries he, " and we will put him in the pound,*' " Likely 1*11 stay there,** chatters Jacko, " and, more- over, you must cafcch me first,** and off he goes again, followed by the whole village. The fun gets warm, Jacko begins to repent, jumps on to a tree, and slips d jwn one side while the boys are watching on the other. He bounds across the road, over the garden gate, through the broken stable-window, to his own bed in the hayloft, where he lies, his eyes closed, his little sides ready to burst from running, and his mouth half open. Doubtless, at this moment, he came to the determination never to leave home again, for he certainly never did, and likewise to have his revenge upon the parish boys for persecuting him ; for from this day he always flew at, and tried to bite, any boy wearing the parochial livery. Jacko once got loose again. Remembering his pre- vious adventure with the schoolboys, he ventured not beyond the premises, bui; quietly sneaked into the knife-house, and tried his hand at cleaning the knives. In this attempt he was evidently not successful, inas- much as the handles were the parts he attempted to THIBD BOOK OF BEADINQ lGSSONS. 105 polish on the brick-board, and a cut was found in the middle of his hand the next day. Resolved, however, not to be defeated, he set to work to clean the shoes in imitation of the man Willicim, his kind and indul- gent keeper. Again, he had not distinctly recollected the varic as steps necessary for the right performance of the Of aeration, for he covered an unfortunate shoe all over, 3ole and all, with the blacking which he got out of the blacking-bottle, and then he emptied what was left into the hollow of the shoe, nearly filling it : his coat was in a nice mess for some days afterwards. One morning, again, when the servants returned from the parlor into ihe kitchen, they found Jacko had taken all the kitchen candlesticks out of the cup- board and arranged them on the fender before the fire, as he had seen done before. Finding the black-lead in the same place, he took it to a bowl of water which was at hand, wetted it, and was diligently rubbing the table all over with it wheh he was caught in the act. On the entrance of the servants, he immediately re- treated to his basket in the corner, and tried to look as though nothing had happened. A great treat to this would-be kitchen-maid was to have a large bowl of warm water given him. He would first of all cun- ningly test the warmth with his hand, and then gradu- ally step into the bath, first one foot and then the other, finally completely sitting down in it. Comfortably placed, he would then take the soap in his hands or feet, as the case might be, and rub himself all over. Having made a dreadful mess on the table, and find- ing the water becoming cold, the next part of the play was to get out and run as quickly as he could to the fire, where his coat Svoon became dry. If anybody laughed at him during this performance, he would chatter and grin at them, and frequently even splash water out of the bath towards, and sometimes over^ them. — Ourumties ofNatuml History. > 106 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. It THE MONKEY. Monkey, little merry fellow. Thou art Nature's Punchinello ! Full of fun as Puck could be. Harlequin might learn o j ! Look now at his odd grimaces ! Saw you ever such queer faces ? , Now like learned judge sedate, Now with nonsense in his pate ! Look now at him ! Gently peep ! He pretends he is asleep ; Fast asleep upon his bed. With his arm beneath his head. Now that posture is not right, - And he is not settled quite — There ! that 's better than before. And the knave pretends to snore ! Ha ! he is not half asleep ; See, he slyly takes a peep. Monkey, though your eyes were shut; You could see this little nut. You shall have it, pigmy brother ! What ! another ? and another ? Nay, your cheeks are like a sack — Sit down and begin to crack. • There, tht little ancient man Cracks as fast as crack he can ! Now good -by, you merry fellow. Nature's primest Punchinello ! — Mary Howitt, THIRD BOOK OP KEADINO LESSONS. 107 I THE RABBIT. It is tbe fashion to say tliat only the regular domes|ii- cated rabbits can be tamed ; but experience proveTlnat such is not the case. As a proof of this, I cite 4n interesting account sent by a lady to Mr Jesse. " One evening last spring my dog barked at some- thing behind a flower pot that stood in the door porch. I thought a toad was there, but it proved to be a very young rabbit, a wild one. The poor thing was in a state of great exhaustion, as if it had been chased, and had been a long time without food. It was quiet in the hand, and allowed a little warm milk to be put into its mouth. Upon being wrapped in flannel and placed in a basket by the fire, it soon went to sleep. When it awoke, more milk was offered in a small spoon, which was this time sucked with right good will ; and the little creature continued to take the milk in this way for several days, until strong enough to help itself out of a cup. It appeared to become tame imme- diately^ soon learnt its name^ and I never saw a happier 108 THIRD BOOS OF READINO LESSONS. or merrier little pet. Its gambols on the carpet wei'e full of fun. When tired with play, it would feed on the green food and nice bits placed there for it ; and when satisfiisdi it used to climb up the skirt of the dress^ nestle in the lap or under the arm, and go to sleep. If this indulgence could not be permitted, then Bunny (as yr^ called it) '^p^ld spring into my work- basket and take a nap there. At nud-day it liked to sit in the sun on the window-seat^ when it would clean its fur and loiup f^ar^^ each being separately drawn down, and heljT Ifjr Qjie foot while brushed by the other. This duty performed, it would stretch at full length, and, basking in the sunbeams, fall asleep. Strange to tell, all this was going on with the dog in the room, who had been made to understand that the rabbit was not to be touched ; stranger still, the rabbit ceased to show any fear of the dog, but, on the con- trary, delighted in jumping on the dog's back, and running after his tail. These liberties, however, were not pleasing to Jewel; they were evidently only en- dm'ed in obedience to the commands of the mistress. Not approving of onu favorite being made happy at the other's expense, I was obliged to interfere on these occasions, and call Bunny to order. " Being frequently told that a wild rabbit could not be so thoroughly domesticated but that it would return to the woods if it regained its liberty, I feared that if mine got loose it would certainly run away. Yet I wished it should be sometimes in the garden to feed upon such green food as it liked best ; for this purpose I fastened it with a collar and small chain, and thus secured, led it about. One evening the chain unfortu- nately broke, and Bunny was free! At first we saw it running from place to place with wild delight, but after a little while we could not see it, and we hunted in vain under the shrubs, calling it by name, until it became dark ; we then ceased to search any longer, and I concluded my pretty pet was gone. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 109 " Before retiring for the night, I gave a last look out of the window, in the hope I might chance to see it once more. The moon was then shining brightly, and I distinctly saw my little rabbit sitting at the door, with head and ears erect, as if listening for its friends within; anxious, perhaps, for its accustomed nice supper, and soft warm bed. I hastened down-stairs to let it in, calling it by name, when, the moment I opened the door, a strange cat darted forward, seized it by the neck, and bore it screaming away ! *' I feel convinced that this fond little creature would not have left us to return to the wood. That it did not come when called was the effect of excessive joy for its newly found freedom, which must have been doubly delightful while we were near, as no doubt it saw us when we could not see it, and was only quietly feeding when we thought it was gone away. Four months must have been the extent of poor Bunny's short life." — Anecdotes of Animal lAfeP CANADIAN SQUIRRELS. Charles, — ^The ground squirrel is quite numerous now. It does not naigwite, I believe. Frank, — ^No: all our squirrels are residents, not sojourners here. I think the ground squirrel, however, retires to a burrow during the winter, and hybemates. I have never seen it, so far as I can recollect, abroad dur- ing that season ; but the red squirrel may often be seen" on a fine day at the foot of some beech or maple, and if disturbed, he quickly runs to his hole under the snow. 0. — The striped or ground squirrel is a very pretty animal. It has not the roguish saucy familiarity of the red, and has little of the appearance of a squirrel. Its bright fawn color is well marked by the three black stripes down its back and sides. Fn — He rarely, if ever, climbs trees, but is fond of no THIRT) LOOK OP READING LESSONS. IP playing bo-peep around old logs or among a neap of stones, now poking out his head to take a sly peep at you; then gone again. His note is a single chuck, uttered at intervals, like the cluck of a hen : he is commonly known here by the name of the chipmunk. 0, — The red squirrel is a very fantastic little gentle- He plays as many tricks as a monkey, and were man. it not that he is so fond of grain, and has such very loose ideas on the subject of meum and tuum, he would be a universal favorite. F, — As it is, however, he is sorely persecuted with powder and shot, and even periodical hunts are made up, as a kind of frolic, in which men and boys eagerly join — any old rusty musket being a sufficient qualifica- tion. Two leaders choose sides, each alternately taking a man, till the whole are engaged, just as in cricket, &c. ; then they sally forth, and the party that brings in most squirrels ia the victor. Notwithstanding all this, and the numbers that are shot about the bams in winter by vindictive farmers, they are not a whit less impudent or familiar, nor do they seem diminished ic numbers. His jerks and motions are very amusing. If you go under a tree where one is sitting, he sets him* self firmly on the branch, flourishes his tail over his back, and looks fiercely at you, making a most angry chattering all the time, or rather a reiterated chirping, every now and then giving a start as if he had a mind to fly at you, jerking his tail, too, with a convulsive sort of motion. If you are pretty close to him, you may hear at every chirp, and simultaneous with it, a sort of low undertone of a mournful sound, something like the coo of a pigeon, but much shorter. 0, — How very nimble they are. They leap to a great distance, and run very swiftly. I have often chased them along the rails of a fence, I running on the road beside it ; but though I ran with all my speed, and though the squirrel had to run nearly double the distance, from the zig-zag form of the fence, he THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. Ill would keep a-head of me. He is a cunning fellow, too ; for after running from rail to rail, he will often sud- denly croucli down on one of the projecting ends where they cross each other, in hope of remaining unseen. I have often lost them in that way. F. — Do you see that little grove in yonder bottom, exactly between our house and the village ? There I once put the agility of a little rogue of a red squirrel to a pretty severe test. The trees are chiefly maple, cherry, and elm ; all, or nearly all, though of consider- able height, so slender as to be easily shaken with my hands. My little gentleman was enjoying himself on one of those trees, when, as ^' his evil stars" would have it, I espied him. I knew that he would nof leave the grove, and for a frolic T commenced shaking the tree violently, which put him at his wit's end. He ran from bough to bough, and at length leaped to another tree ; this I instantly shook in the same manner, and so kept him flying from tree to tree, sometimes at an astonishing distance, backward and forward through the grove, for more than half-an-hour, without a mo- ment's cessation. He several times missed his hold, but always Ci'^glit a bough in his fall, except once, when he came rather heavily on the ground from one of the topmost branches. He was instantly on his feet again, and up in the tree before I could come near him. I don't know whether he was tired, but I was, and was fain to yield him the point, and leave him in quiet possession of his trees. - ^— P. H. Gosse. THE EAT. The rat is in nature, appearance, and habits, one of the least amiable of all the lower animals. Yet it is not wholly destitute of traits which recommend it to a leniggt judgment. Almost all animals are kind to their young ; but the aged and infirm among the brute 112 THIRD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. creation are usually left to perish of neglect^ when they are not designedly put to death by their fellows. Now, it is singular that we should have to say of a creature in other respects so unattractive as the rat, that it carefully tends the aged of its own species. Such, at least, would appear to be the case from anec- dotes sinailar to the following : — " One morning,^' relates a truthful and sharp-sighted observer,*^ as I lay in bed, I heard all at once a noise, such as rats or mice make be- hind a wainscot, when they are trying to gnaw their way through. It ceased for some minutes and then began anew. In a short^-time a rat came out of a hole, and, after quietly taking a survey of the room, disappeared again. In a few minutes it re-appeared, bringing with it a larger and older-looking rat, which it led by the ear. The first rat now left its companion at the hole, and, along with a third, which had followed them, ran about the room, gathering some crumbs which lay upon the floor. These they brought and laid before the old rat at the hole. Astonished at what I saw, I redoubled my attention, and now perceived that the one to which the other two brought food was blind, and only became aware of what was put before it by feeling. Mean- while some one entered the room, upon which the two younger rats immediately began to squeal, apparently with the view of warning the old one of impending danger ; but, great as their own alarm was, they refused to rescue themselves till their old companion was in safety. They kept close beside it, and seemed as if they wished to shield it from harm.'* Eats, both old and young, can be tamed, and taught various amusing performances. Bonnet informs us, in his " History of Music,^' that he saw rats in the market of St Germain dancing upon the tight-rope to music, and, like rope-dancers, holding little rods to balance themselves with in their forepaws. When the cele- brated French author, Crebillon, was sent to prison at Yincennes, he was awakened the first night by some* fHIBD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSORS. llB thing beside him in bed. It felt warm and soft, and taking it for a kitten, he threw it out and fell asleep again. Next morning he looked everywhere for the kitten, thinking it might be some company to him in his lonely captivity, but in vain. At dinner-time, however, he suddenly saw an animal sitting on the other side of the table, which he supposed was the kitten, for the gloom of his prison-chamber did not allow of his discerning objects clearly. He persuaded it to come nearer him, and then, to his horror, he per« ceived the creature to be a huge rat. The cry of astonishment and disgust, which he could not restrain, brought a turnkey to see what was the matter. When the man learned what had occurred he burst into a loud laugh, and told Crebillon, that a prisoner, who had formerly occupied the same room, had brought up this rat and tamed it. The turnkey then cried, " Naton, Naton, come here, won't you!'' and immediately Naton peeped slyly oiit of his hole ; but as soon as he saw his acquaintance, he jumped upon his arm, and began eat- ing some crumbs of bread with great satisfaction* After this Crebillon overcame his dislike for the rat, and, indeed, grew so fond of it, that he would have taken it with him to Paris when he was set at liberty, had not the turnkey wished to keep it. THE MOUSE'S PETITION. Oh, hear a pensive prisoner's prayer. For liberty that sighs ; And never let thine heart be shut Against the wretch's cries I For here forlorn and sad I sit, Within the wiry grate. And tremble at the approaching morn. Which brings impending fate. B I ^1 114 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. If e'er thy breast with freedom glgw^d, And spurned a tyrant's chain. Let not thy strong oppressive force A &ee-bom mouse detain ! Oh, do not stain with guiltless blood Thy hospitable hearth ! Nor triumph that thy wiles betrayed A prize so little worth. The scattered gleanings of a feast My frugal meals supply ; But if thy unrel ent ing heart Tkat slender Doon deny — The cheerful light, the vital air. Are blessings widely given ; Let Nature's commoners enjoy The common gifts of heaven. Beware lest in the worm you crush, A brother's soul you find ; And tremble lest thy luckless hand Dislodge a kindred mind. Or if this transient gleam of day Be all the life we share. Let pity plead within thy breast. That little all to spare. So ma) thy hospitable board With health and peace be crown'd ; And every charm of heartfelt ease Beneath thy roof be found. So when destruction works unseen, Which man, like mice, may share, May some kind angel clear thy path. And break the hidden snare. — A« L. Barbauld. I THIBD BOOK OF BEADINa LESSONS. 11& d. n i lRBAULD. THE HUMMING-BIRD. Humming-birds are natives of America, They are at once the smallest and the most brilliantly-colored of the whole feathered race. There are many species, all varying in size, from that of a wren to a humble bee^ and exhibiting a splendor and beauty of plumage which it is hardly possible to describe. TheSe gems of animated nature are to be seen clad in the loveliest crim^^5n!|^ blue, and green, laid on a ground of gold ; but much of their varied elegance is lost when they are not seen in their native woods. Nothing can be more beautiful than to see them glittering like gems among the highly-scented blossoms of the warm countries which they inhabit. They possess a long and extremely slender bill, with which they extract the nectar, and the small insects which lurk in the recesses of the flowers. They are formed for rapid flight, and are almost ever on the 116 *CHtED BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. wing. " Wherever a creeping vine opens its fragrant clusters^ or wherever a tree-flower blooms, these lovely creatures are to be seen. In the garden, in the woods, over the water, everywhere they are darting about, — of all sizes, from one that might easily be mistaken for a different variety of bird to the tiny hermit, whose body is scarcely so large as that of the bee buzzing about the same sweets. Sometimes they are seen chg,sing each other with a rapidity of flight and intricacy of path the eye is puzzled to follow. Again, circling round and round, they rise high in mid-air, then dart off to some distant attraction. Perched upon a little limb they smooth their plumes, and seem to delight in their dazzling hues ; then darting off again, they skim along, stopping now and then before a flower, and extracting its honey as they hover in the air. Their wings vibrate with such rapidity that the motion is scarcely visible; and it is from the constant murmur or humming sound caused by the rapid vibration that these beautiful little creatures derive their name.*' The nest of the humming-bird is very beautifully constructed of the softest down, gathered from the silk- cotton tree, and covered on the outside with bits of loaves and moss. The nest of the smallest species is about as big as the half of a walnut, and in this tiny cup the lovely creature rests. « Minutest of the feathered kind, Possessing every charm combined, Nature, in forming thee, designed That thou shouldst be A proof within how little space She can comprise such perfect grace, Kendering thy lovely fairy race Beauty's epitome. \ THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSOKS. 117 ANECDOTE OP THE HUMMING -BIED. i The most interesting anecdotes of tlie ruby-throat which I have x .ad, were published in a Quaker publica- tion of Philadelphia, called The Friend, The cor- respondent says, " Sometime in the seventh month of the present year, (1834,) one of my family caught a small humming-bird, which appeared quite debilitated for want of food. We presented it with some sugar and cream mixed together, which it sucked up with avidity ; after which it was restored to liberty. In the course of a short interval it again made its appearance, was taken in the hand, and a mixture of sugar made into the consistence of a syrup was poured into the corolla of a trumpet Honeysuckle, from which it eagerly extracted it. From that time forward it became quite familiar, and would come a dozen times a day, or more, to be fed. After fluttering a few seconds at the door or window to attract notice, it would alight on a neigh- boring tree or rose-bush until its food was prepared for it; and then, upon calling ^peet, peet,' it would dart in a straight line with the velocity of an arrow to re- ceive it. " We generally filled two or three tubes of the honey- suckle with syrup, which it extracted while on t le wing, buzzing around the flower held in our hand, and inserting its bill, which was about three-fourths of an inch in length, from which it protruded its tongue, at least half-an-inch longer, with which it sucked up the liquid. This generaUy sufficed it; but sometimes it did not appear satisfied, but would repair to its resting- place, and wait until the flowers were again filled, when, upon being called, it would return and finish its repast. "But if, after flying to its perch, it wiped its bill upon the limb, we were then assured it wanted no more at that time ; all the solicitations we could make would have no other eflect than to hasten its departure. In 118 THIRD BOOK OF REAWNQ LESSOtJS. the course of half-an-hour it would be back again after more food, and if the member of the family to whom he applied was engaged, and not ready to attend to him, he would try over and over again to excite atten- tion by flying into different apartments of the house, and buzzing within g* few inches. Peet's solicitations generally succeeded, as the younger branches of the femily were delighted with attending to him. He ap- peared to be more fond of syrup when made thick than any other food which was offered to him. If it was too much diluted, he would fly to his resting-place, and wait until it was altered. We also, at times, gave sugar and cream, wine and water mixed with sugar, and once some honey obtained from a humble bee^s nest/ which he appeared to treat with great contempt. Sometimes, when he was fluttering around the flower held outside of the doorway, a stranger of the same species, having less confidence in human nature, would dart at the little fellow, and drive him away, as if anxious for him to escape from so perilous a situation. But it only had a momentary effect on our little friend, as he would re- turn with as confiding an assurance of safety as before. His little twittering noise and averted eye, as he momentarily withdrew his bill from the flower, appeared to say, ' Surely thou wilt not hurt me.* After he had visited us every day so frequently for about three weeks, and been admired by numerous persons, he disappeared on the 11th of August, being fed about the middle of the day, which was the last time that he was seen. As the wild humming-birds, which were quite numer- ous before, disappeared about the same time, it is probable he accompanied them to more southern regions. As we were on terms of the most friendly kind, it is hoped our little traveller will again revip'^ us, after he has finished his peregrinations among thd flowers of the south, as it is very doubtful whether he will find them as sweet as he did the honeysuckles of Delaware/' — P. H. Gossb. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 11? THE MOCKING-BIRD, To bring up a young mocking-bird is rather a difficult task, as it must be taken from the nest at a very early period of its life, and therefore requires the most unremitting attention. In the work of Mr Webber is a veiyfnteresting account of the successful rearing of four very young mocking-birds. They had been cruelly taken out of their nests by some mischievous and hard- hearted person before they had opened their eyes on life, and left to die on a small piece of carpeting. Mr Webber and his sister happening to look at the nest, which they had long watched, discovered the poor little things lying cold and apparently lifeless on the carpet. He, however, found that the tiny hearts were still beating, and after inducing his sister to place them in her bosom, rode homewards at full speed. The rest of the story shall be told in his own words : — " We were at home, and we passed hurriedly into the garden. I called a little brother to join us ; in a moment we were all three standing beneath the eaves of the summer-house. There was a small hole in the cornice of the eaves^ and I knew that in this a pair of 120 THIRD BOOS OF BEADING LESSONS, blae<«birds had nested^ and supposed that they must be just about hatched now. My sister stood watching my proceedings with great anxiety, for they were en- tirely mysterious to her. She saw me take my little brother aside, and whisper my directions to him; then the little fellow prepared to climb up the columns of the summer-house, and with my assistance reached the cornice. His little hand was inserted into the hole, and with the greatest care not to touch either the sides of the hole, or the nest within, he daintily plucks out the young or'^s, one by one, and hands them down to me. They are the same age with the mocking-birds, but smaller. ^^ ^ Now, sister, give me those little ones ; and haste, dear, for I am afraid the old ones, who have gone out for food, will come back.' ^^ She is so flurried she does not realize what I am about to do, but hastily places the young birds, now warm and fully alive, in my hand. They are reached to my brother. "Drop them in quick, quick ! and come down. Jump ! I'll catch you,' ''Down he comes, and then, after my whispering some- thing more to him, he snatched the young blue-birds from my hand, and ran off among the shrubbery. At this moment we heard the sweet, clear warble of the blue-birds, and I drew my sister a short distance away, • where, from behind a tall rose-bush, we could watch the proceedings of the old birds. " What does all this mean, brother ? What do you expect?" she asked, in a low, puzzled voice, for she did not know that the young blue-birds had been taken out, so dexterously had we managed, and only under- stood that her charge had been transferred to the nest. ' Brother, you surely can't expect that little blue-bird to take care of eight young ones — ^your fairy will have to help, sure enough ! ' -•— • " 'Hush ! hush ! ' said I, all eagerness, for, with an insect in its mouth, one of the old birds, twitting THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 121 merrily, had alighted near the hole, and without hesita- tion glided in, and in a moment or two came forth again, without seeming to have observed that there was anything wrong. My heart beat more freely, for I saw that the insect had been left behind, clearly, in the throat of one of the intruders, for the bird plumed himself gaily outside, as if happy in having performed a pleasant duty. But this was the male bird, and it was the arriving of the female that I knew was most to be dreaded, — for if the sharp instinct of the mother did not detect the fraud, I felt that it would succeed. " In my elation at my success so far, I had explained my object to my sister, who, as she did not understand about the making away with the young blue-birds, was now infinitely delighted at the probable success of the scheme, and I could scarcely keep within bounds her dancing impatience to see what the mother would do, hear what the mother would say. Here she comes ! and in a business-like and straight-forward way glided directly into the hole. We held our breaths, and stood on tiptoe. Out she darts with a low cry, still holding the insect in her mouth. Our hearts sank ; she has discovered all, and refuses to adopt the strangers ! She flew to her mate, and seemed to communicate some sad intelligence to him, "He was busily engaged in trimming his feathers, and merely straightened himself up for a moment, and then, with an air of the coolest indifference, proceeded with his occupation. The poor female seemed to be sadly distressed and puzzled; she flew around the nest, uttering a low, mournful cry, then returned to her philosophical mate for sympathy, which he seemed to be too busy with his feathers to spare now. Then she would dart into the hole, stay a moment, and out again with the insect still in her mouth. Then she would circle round and round on the wing, as if searching for the cause of the disturbance, the nature of which she 122 THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. evidently did not clearly understand. So she continued to act, until the male, having arranged his feathers to his liking, flew off, with a pleasant call to her, in search of more food. This seemed to decide her uncertainty, for darting now into the nest, she immediately fed the worm to one of those lusty young fellows that had grown so wonderfully since she last went out, and then came forth chirping, and apparently reconciled, and followed her mate. " ' There ! it succeeds ! it succeeds ! they are safe now; these birds are more industrious than the mocking-birds, and will feed them better ! good I good ! ' "'Your fairy spell has succeeded, brother, sure enough ! ' and she clapped her hands and danced for joy j and I am not sure that I did not join her most obstreperously, for I never was more delighted in my life at the success of any little scheme. " I knew the birds were safe if the female over fed them once. So it proved ; for never did I see little fellows grow with greater lustihood than they. Daily we watched them ; and in ten days, or two weeks, were greatly amused to see the industrious old birds perse- veringly laboring to fill gaping throats that were nearly large enough to swallow them bodily whole. I now narrowed the hole with wire, so that the blue- birds could get in, and the mocking- »uii*ds could not get out, for they were quite double the size of their foster-parents. " When they were full fledged we took thein to the house, and placed them in an aviary I had prepared for them, in a, recess which contained a large window, and looked out upon the gardens. In two days I found, to my great astonishment, the old blue-birds endeavouring to feed them through the wires. They had found them out, the faithful creatures, and not content with having already spent double the amount of labor upon them that thev would have bestowed THIRD BOOK OF READHTQ LI8SON8. 123 upon their own offspring, they followed them up with their unwearying solicitude. " I was greatly shocked at first to observe the cool indifference with which the young aristocrats of song surveyed their humble foster-parents. Atter a while it came, in spite of the shameful ingratitude it exhibited, to be a constant source of merriment with us to watch the lordly and impudent nonchalance with which they would turn their heads to one side, and look down at the poor blue-birds, fluttering against the bars with tender cries to attract their notice, with an expression which seemed as plainly as could be to say, ' Who are you, pray ? get away, you common fellows ! ' " A fine pair of old mocking-birds found them, too ; but when they came, our gentry behaved very differ- ently, and seemed crazy to get out. They became very tame, and I linally fulfilled my vow of turning them loose, and for a long time they were so tame that they would take food from our hands anywhere. They lived on the place, and we felt ourselves for years afterwards plentifully, ay, bounteously rewarded for our anxiety on account of the little outcasts, by the glorious songs they sang for us the summer nights to dream by. Thus it was my fair sister helped me out of the scrape with my young mocking-birds \" — Wood's Natural History, THE SONG OF THE BEES. Wk watch for the light of the morn to break And color the eastern sky, With its blended hues of saffron and lake. Then say to each other, '' Awake ! awake ! For our winter's honey is all to make, And our bread for a long supply." 124 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. Then off we hie to the hill and the dell. To the field, the meadow, and bower ; In the columbine^s horn we love to dwell. To dip in the lily with snow-white bell, To search the balm in its odorons cell. The mint and the rosemary flower. We seek the bloom of the eglantine, Of the painted thistle and brier ; And follow the steps of the wandering vine. Whether it trail on the earth supine. Or round the aspiring tree-top twine, And reach for a state still higher. As each on the good of her sisters bent. Is busy and cares for all, We hope for an evening with heart's content. For the winter of life without lament, That summer is gone with its hours misspent. And the harvest is past recall. — Miss Gould, TRY AGAIN. It is related of Timour, the great conqueror, that he was once forced in flying from his enemies, to hide in an old ruined building, where he sat alone many hours. He tried to turn his mind from his troubles and to forget danger, by watching very closely an ant, that was carrying a grain of corn larger than itself, up a high wall. In ItiS efforts to get up, he found that the grain fell sixty-nine times to the ground; but the seventieth time, the ant reached the top of the wall with it. " This sight," said Timour, " gave me hope and courage at the moment, and I have never forgotten the lesson taught me by the little ant." THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 125 Now, children, when you have a difficult lesson to learn, and have tried sixty-nine times in vain to get it, try again ; there is yet hope of success in the seventieth effort. You surely would be ashamed to show less perseverance than this little insect. And yet how much might man learn even from the inferior animals, if he would but see and think ! I will tell you of one, who took a lesson of hope and courage from the conduct of a little spider. Robert Bruce was at one time almost in despair of making good his right to the throne, and of restoring freedom to Scotland ; he had been so often defeated, and there seemed so little chance of success, that he doubted whether it was his duty to try again. While thus doubtful what he should do, Bruce looked upward to the roof of the cabin where he lay on his bed, and saw a spider, which, hanging at the end of a lonff thread of its own spinning, was trying to swing itself from one beam in the roof to another, for the purpose of fixing the line for its web. |! i[ If 126 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. The insect made tlie attempt again and again with- out snccess ; and at length Bruce counted that it had tried to carry its point six times^ and had been as often unable to do so. It reminded him that he had himself fought just six battles, and that the poor, persevering spider was exactly in the same situation with himself, having made as many trials, and as often failed in what it aimed at. " Now,*' thought Bruce, " as I do not know what is best to be done, J will be guided by the spider. If the insect shall make another effort to fix its thread and shall be successful, I will venture a seventh time to try my fortune in Scotland ; but if the spider shall fail, I will go away and never return to my native country again.'* While Bruce was forming this resolution, the spider made another attempt with all the force it could muster, and fairly succeeded in fastening its thread on the beam, which it had so often in vain tried to reach. Bruce seeing the success of the spider, was encouraged to make one more effort for his country, and as he never before gained a victory, so he never afterwards met with any great defeat. LATREILLE AND THE BEETLE. At the end of last century there lived, in a town of France, a celebrated naturalist named Latreille. He spent much of his time m watching the habits of insects, and took little interest in anything else. Sus- pected, however, of being an enemy to the government, ho was seized and cast into prison. But it was the will of God to save Latreille, and a messenger was THIRD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 127 sent to deliver him. This messenger was a little blue beetle ! This little creature was crawling on the wall of his prison, and Latreille was watching it attentively at the very moment when the doctor of the prison was going his rounds. The doctor had a young fViend who was fond of Curious insects, and when Latreille told him that this little creature was a rare specimen, he carried it ofiF to his friend. This friend wished to see the man who had sent him such a rare beetle. He visited Latreille in prison, was delighted with his conversation, and as he happened to have some influence with the government, he per- suaded them to- set Latreille free. Soon after, Latreille's fellow-prisoners were banished. They were sent in a ship bound to Cayenne, which foundered in the Bay of Biscay, and every one on board perished. This would probably have been Latreille's fate, but for the visit to his prison of the little blue red- shouldered beetle. He ever after loved the little creature, which he called '^the miraculous cause of his liberty^' — "an insect very dear to him.^^ When he was an old man, one of these little beetles used to be his gift to his favorite pupils, and was highly prized by them, as a distinguished mark of his favor. This little insect was as truly the means used by God to deliver Latreille, as if God had sent an angel to open the prison doors. When it pleases God to delivier any one from prison, or from death, an insect may be His messenger, and do His will as well as an angel ; for the smallest and least of His creatures obey His will, and are not beneath Hia notice. I: 128 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ADVENTURE WITH AN ELEPHANT. Few sportsmen have been placed in a more terrible predicament than "was Mr Anderson, while halting at Kobis, on his road to Lake Ngami. Hearing that elephants and rhinoceroses were in the habit of fre- quenting certain pools to drink, he set out alone one moonlight night, carrying a blanket and two or three guns, and took up his position on a strip of land that divided two pools. "Just as I had completed my arrangements," says he, "a noise like that of the passage of artillery hroke the stillness of the air — it evidently came from the direction of one of the nume* rous stony paths, or rather tracks, leading to the water. Raising myself from my recumbent position, I fixed my eyes steadily on tho part of the bush whence the strange sounds proceeded, but for some time I was unable to make out the cause. All at once, however, the mystery was explained by the appearance of an immense elephant, immediately followed by others, amounting to eighteen. Their towering forms told me at a glance that they were all males* IS. THIBD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 129 SANT. lore terrible hile halting learing that labit of fre- alone one wo or three )f land that apleted my ihat of the the air — it the nume- ) the water. ion, I fixed whence the ime I was ), however, •nee of an by others, forms told ^' Crouching down as low as possible, I waited with beating heart and ready rifle the approach of the lead- ing male, who, unconscious of peril, was making straight for my hiding-place. The position of his body, however, was unfavorable for a shot ; and knowing from experi- ence that I had little chance of obtaining more than a single good one, I waited for an opportunity to fire at his shoulder, which, as before said, is preferable to any other part when shooting at night. But this chance, unfortunately, was not afforded me till his enormous bulk towered above my head. The consequeiice was that, while in the act of raising the muzzle of my rifle, my body caught his eye, and before I could place the piece to my shoulder, he swung himself round, and, with trunk elevated and ears spread, desperately charge J My life was now in imminent jeopardy ; and me. seeing that if I remained partially erect he would in- evitably seize me with his proboscis, I threw myself on my back with some violence, in. which position, and without shouldering the rifle, I fired upwards at random towards his chest, uttering, at the same time, the most piercing shouts and cries. The change of position, in all human probability, saved my life ; for at the same instant the trunk of the enraged animal descended precisely on the spot where I had been pre- viously crouched, sweeping away the stones like so many pebbles. In another moment his broad fore- feet passed directly over my face. " I now expected nothing short of being crushed to death ; but imagine my relief when, instead of renewing the charge, he swerved to the left, and moved off with considerable rapidity — most happily without my having received other injuries than a few bruisep, occasioned by the falling of the stones. Under Providence, I attribute my extraordinary escape to the confusion of the animal caused by the wound I had inhicted on him, and to the cries elicited from me when in my utmost need." ^Wild Sports of ihe World. 130 THIRD BOOE: of BEADING LESSONS. r : \\\ LION-HUNTTNG. Lions seldom choose to attack mankind, unless they are very hungry, or unless they are first assaulted. When, however, they have once tasted human blood, they are said to prefer it to any other food, and will seek their prey in the most determined manner. Such lions are significantly called by the natives, " man-eat- ers.'^ As an example of the resolute manner in which a hungry " man-eater " will attack a human Oeing, the account of Gumming will suffice : — "After supper, three of my men returner! before their comrades, and lay down ; those were John Stofo- lus, Hendrick, and Ruyter. In a few minutes an os came out by the gate of the kraal, and walked round the back of it. Hendrick got up and drove him in again, and then went back to his fireside and lay down : Hendrick and Ruyter lay on one side of the fire titider one blanket, and John Stofolus lay on the other. At this tr\ ment I was sitting taking some barley broth. THIBD BOOK Of BEADING LESSONS. 131 Oar fir© was very small, and the night was pitch-dark and windy. Owing to our proximity to the native vil- lage, the wood was very scarce, the Bakalahari having burnt it all in their fires. " Suddenly the appalling and murderous voice of an angry bloodthirsty lion burst upon my ear, within a few yards of us, followed by the shrieking of tha Hottentots. Again and again the murderous roar of attack was repeated. We heard John and Ruyter shriek, ' The lion ! the lion ! ' still for a few minutes we thought ho was chasing one of the dogs round the kraal ; but the next instant John Stofolus rushed into the midst of us, almost speechless with fear and ter- ror, his eyes bursting from their sockets, and shrieked out, ' The lion ! the lion ! he has got Hendrick ; he dragged him away from the fire beside me ; I struck him with the burning brands upon his head ; but he would not let go his hold. Hendrick is dead ! O God ! Hendrick is dead ! Let us take fire and seek him.' The rest of my people rushed about, shrieking and yelling as if they were mad. I was at once angry with them for their folly, and told them if they did not stand still and keep quiet, the lion would have an- other of us, and that very likely there was a troop of them. I ordered the dogs, which were nearly all fast, to be set loose, and the fire to be increased as far as could be. I then shouted Hendrick's name, but all was still. I told my men that Hendrick was dead, and that a regiment of soldiers could not now help him ; and hunting my dogs forward, I had everything brought within the cattle-kraal, when wu lighted our fire, and closed the entrance as well as we could. '^ My terrified people sat round the fire with guns in their hands till the day broke, still fancying that every moment the lion would return, and spring again into the midst of us. When the dogs were first let go, the stupid brutes, as dogs often prove when most required, instead of going at the lion, rushed fiercely on one an- 132 THIED BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 1 otHer^ and fought desperately for some minutes. After this they got his scent^ and going at him^ disclosed to us his position ; they kept up a continual barking till the day dawned^ the lion occasionally springing after them^ and driving* them in upon the kraal. The hor- rible monster lay all night within forty yards of us, con- suming the wretched man whom he had chosen foi> his prey. He had dragged him into a little hollow at the back of the thick bush, beside which the fire was kindled, and there he remained till the day dawned, careless of our proximity. "It appeared that when the unfortunate Hendrick rose to drive in the ox, the lipn had watched him to the fire-side, and he had scarcely lain down when the brute sprang on him and Ruyter, (for both lay under one blanket,) with his appalling murderous roar; and roaring as he lay, grappled him with his fearful claws, and kept biting him on the breast and shoulder, all the while feeling for his neck, having got hold of which, he at once dragged him away backwards round the back into the dense shade. " As the lion lay on the unfortunate man, he faintly cried out, ^Help ma, help me; God! men, help me ! * After wluch ^he fearful beast got a hold of his neck, and then all was still, except that his comrades heard the bones of his neck cracking between the teeth of the lion. John Stofolus had lain with his back to the tire on the opposite side ; and, on hearing the lion, he sprang up, and seizing a large flaming brand, he had belabored him on the head with the burning woo.d, but the brute did not take any notice of him. The bushman had a narrow escape ; he was not altogether scatheless, the lion having inflicted two gashes on him with his claws.^' It may be satisfactory to those who read the above passage to know that the lion had no more opportu- nities of exercising his man-eating propensities, for at the morrow's dawn the death of his servant was re- THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 183 venged by Mr. Camming^ who traced the lioii to his lair, and there shot him. -^Anecdotes of Animal Life, THE LION AND THE CUB. A LION cub, of sordid mind. Avoided all the lion kind ; Fond of applause, he sought the feasts Of vulgar and ignoble beasts. With asses all hSsTime he spent. Their club's perpetual president. He caught their manners, looks, and airs ; An ass in eveiything but ears ! If e'er his Highness meant a joke, They grinn'd applause before he spoke ; But at each word what shouts of praise ; Goodness ! how natural he brays ! Elate with flattery and conceit. He seeks his royal sire's retreat ; ^ Forward and fond to show his parts. Hie Highness brays ; the lion starts. " Puppy ! that cursed vociferation Betrays thy life and conversation ; Coxcombs, an ever-noisy race. Are trumpets of their own disgrace." *' Why so severe ?" the cub replies ; " Our senate always held me wise !" ^' How weak is pride," returns the sire ; " All fools are vain when fools admire ! But know, what stupid asses prize, Lions and noble beasts despise." — Gay. IM TBlItD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ANECDOTES OF THE TIGER. Mrs Lee tells us of a wild tiger actually frightened away by a simple stratagem. Her brother had just returned from the tent of a bro+her officer, when his servant came running up to him in a state of great alarm, saying that a tiger was near. Having given the alarm, they immediately ran away, leaving their master alone in his garden, rather wishing to see the tiger than otherwise. In a very short time the tiger actually did make his appearance, and, stopping short in front of the officer, began to growl, and then crouched in that most ominous attitude assumed by a cat when about to spring on a mouse. This convinced the officer that he had not escaped the animal's observa- tion, as he had at first supposed : and on the impulse of the moment, he tookoff his big bear-skin grenadier's cap, and putting it before his face, roared in it, ■■MM THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 135 Err^-rrS |& frightened r had just , when his e of great ring given iving their to see the 3 the tiger ping short and then amed by a convinced *s observa- le impulse renadier's •ed in it, fK endeavoring with some success to make his roar as different as possible from that of honest Snug, the joiner. The tiger, naturally astounded at such an uncouth sound, proceeding from such an uncouth object, turned tail and leaped into the thicket. All danger being over, the servants courageously came to help their master with drums and torches. Really the tiger's panic is not at all to be wondered at. We English are proudly pre-eminent among the nations for an execrable taste in hats, the officer's foraging cap and the " wide-awake'' being the only exceptions ; and among these caps, that of the grenadier is almost the most absurd, while as a soldier's cap it is most sense- less, its only recommendation being that the wearer is forced to walk very upright to prevent it from tumbling off. No wonder, then, that a shapeless mass of black fur, suddenly protruded in the tiger's face, and animated with a rough voice reverberatiug in its wicker recesses, should scare away an animal who was not sufficiently civilized to be accustomed to such monstrosities. The same writer heard from an eye-witness of the scene an anecdote showing that the tiger sometimes snatches away his prey without springing. A gentle- man was proceeding along a narrow, high-banked river, in a covered boat, on the roof of which his prin- cipal servant had gone to smoke. He did not long enjoy his quiet and elevated position, for a tiger put its paw out, dragged the man off the roof of the boat as it passed, and carried him away into the jungle. The tiger, as well as the lion, has often permitted the company of other animals in its cage ; and in one instance, after it had made friends with a dog, another was substituted, the precaution having been taken to make the exchange after the tiger h^d been fed. The second companion was welcomed 4s warmly aa the first, and was permitted to take a]l kinds of liberties with its enormous friend, who riven suffered it to 136 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Ill bark at and bite him without displaying the slightest resentment. It is a great mistake to imagine that the tiger is morose and untamable, as it can be tamed quite as easily as the lion, and displays as much affection for its keeper, if he treats it kindly. Great care, however, must be taken with all these animals, as, even although they are apparently quite tame, their savage nature sometimes breaks out on very slight o6casions, even though they had previously endured great provocations without complaint. Such was the case a short time since, when the celebrated "lion queen ^^ at WombwelFs fell a victim to the sudden irritability of the tiger. She had been forced to chastise the tiger for some dis- obedience of orders, when the animal suddenly turned upon her, grasped her by the throat, and in a very short time after she was taken out of the cage she died. Death in this case was probably as much occa- sioned by fear as by the injuries inflicted by the tiger, as, on examination, no wound was found that would have caused death. In all probability, the tiger had no intention of carrying his revenge so far, but, uncon- scious of his strength, turned on his assailant in a moment of irritability and bit at her, with no more intention of killing her than a cat has when she snaps at the hand which pulls her tail. The effects, however, of the pat of a cat's paw, or the snap of a cat's teeth, are very different from the effects of a blow from a tiger's talons, or the grasp of a tiger's jaws, although they may be dealt with equally harmless intentions. The strength of this creature is most extraordinary, espe- cially when we consider in what a small compass it is comprised. — Anecdotes of Animal Life. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 137 ADVENTURE WITH A BEAR. The position which Heywood occupied was rather dan- gerous. The tree lay on the edge of an overhanging bank of clay, about ten feet above the water, which was deep and rapid at that place. At first the young man sat down on the tree-trunk near its root, but after a time, finding the position not quite to his mind, he changed it, and went close to the edge of the bank. He was so much occupied with his drawing, that he did not observe that the ground on which his feet rested actually overhung the stream. As his weight rested on the fallen tree, however, he remained there safe enough and busy for half an hour. At the end of that time he was disturbed by a noise in. the bushes. Looking up, he beheld a large brown bear coming straight towards him. Evidently the bear did not see him, for it was coming slowly and lazily along, with a quiet meditative expression on its face. The appearance of the animal was so sudden and I I [ I* It-' iiiiiii 138 THIRD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. unexpected, that poor Heywood^s heart almost leaped into his mouth. His face grew deadly pale, his long hair almost rqse on his head with terror, and he was utterly unable to move hand or foot. In another moment the bear was within three yards of him, and, being taken by surprise, it immediately rose on its hind legs, which is the custom of bears when about to make or receive an attack. It stared for a moment at the horrified artist. Let not my reader thmk that Heywood^s feelings were due to cowardice. The bravest of men have been panic-stricken when taken by surprise. The young man had never seen a bear before, except in a cage, and the difference between a caged and a free bear is very great. Besides, when a rough-looking monster of this kind comes unexpectediy on a man who is unarmed, and has no chance of escape, and rises on its hind legs, as if to let him have a full view of its enormous size, its great strength, and its ugly appearance, he may well be excused for feeling a little uncomfortable, and looking somewhat uneasy. When the bear rose, «ti I have said, Heywood's courage returned. His hi\d- act was to fling his sketch- book in Bruin's face, and then, uttering a loud yell, he sprang to his feet, intending to run awa)% But the violence of his action broke off the earth under his feet. He dropt into the river like a lump of lead, and was whirled away in a moment ! . What that bear thought when it saw the man vanish from the spot like a ghost, of course I cannot tell. It certainly loolced surprised, and, if it was a bear of ordinary sensibility, it must undoubtedly have felt astonished. At atiy rate, after standing there, gazing for nearly a minute in mute amazement at the spot where Heywood had disappeared, it let itself down on its fore -legs, and, turning round, walked slowly back into the bushes. Poor Heywood could not swim, so the river did what THIRP POOK OP READING LESSONS. 189 it pleased with him. After sweeping him out into the middle of the stream, and rolling him over five or six times, and whirling him round in an eddy close to the land, and dragging him out again into the main current, and sending him struggling down a rapid, it threw him at last, like a bundle of old clothes, on a shftlow, where he managed to get on his feet, and staggered to the shore in a most melancholy plight. Thereafter he returned to the encampment, like a drowned rat, with his long hair plastered to his thin face, and his soaked garments clinging tightly to his slender body. Had he been able to see himself at that moment, he would have laughed, but, not being able to see himself, and feeling very miserable, he sighed and shuddered with cold, and then set to work to kindle a fire and drv himself. Meanwhile the bear continued its walk up the river. Arrowhead, after a time, lost the track of the bear he was in search of, and, believing that it was too late to follow it up further that night, he turned about, and began to retrace his steps. Not long after that, he and tho bear met face to face. Of course, the Indian's gun was levelled in an instant, but the meeting was so sudden, that the aim was not so true as usual, and, although the ball mortally wounded the animal, it did not kill him outright. There was no time to re-load, so Arrowhead dropped lis gun and ran. He doubled as he ran, and made for tho encampment ; but the bear ran faster. It was soon at the Indian's heels. Knowing that further flight was useless, Arrowhead drew the hatchet that hung at his belt, and, turning round, faced tho infuriated animal, which instantly rose on its hind legs and closed with him. The Indian met it with a tremendous blow of his axe, seized it by the throat with his left hand, and endeavored to repeat the blow. But brave and power- ful though he was, the Indian was like a mere child in the paw of the hear. The axe descended with a crash 140 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. on the mouster's head^ and sank into its sknll. Bnt bears are notoriously hard to kill. This one scarcely seemed to feel the blow. Next instant Arrowhead was down, and, with its claws fixed in the man's back, the bear held him down, while it began to gnaw the fleshy part of his||eft. shoulder. No cry escaped from the prostrate hunter. He deter- mined to lie perfectly still, as if he were dead, that being his only chance of escape ; but the animal was furious, and there is little doubt that the Indian's brave spirit would soon have fled, had not God mercifully sent Jasper Derry to his relief. That stout hunter had been near at hand when the shot was fired. He at once ran in the direction whence the sound came, and arrived on the scene of the struggle just as Arrowhead fell. Without a moment's hesitation he dropt on one knee, took a quick but care- ful aim and fired. The ball entered the bear's head just behind the ear and rolled it over dead ! Arrowhead's first act on rising was to seize the hand of his deliverer, while in a tone of deep feeling he ex- claimed, " My brother." " Ay," said Jasper with a quiet smile, as he reloaded his gun ; ^^ this is not the first time that you and I have helped one another in the nick of time. Arrow- head ; we shall be brothers, and good friends to boot, I hope, as long as we live." " Good," said the Indian, a smile lighting up for one moment his usually grave features. "But my brother is wounded, let me see," said Jasper. " It will soon be well," said the Indian carelessly, as he took off" his coat and sat down on the bank, while the white hunter examined his wounds. This was all that was said on the subject by these two men. They were used to danger in every form, and had often saved each other from sudden death. The Indian's wounds, though painful, wei*d trifling. THIBD BOOK OF BEADINO LESSONS. 141 Jasper dressed them in silence^ and then, c^ rawing his long hunting-knife, he skinned and cut uj. the bear, while his companion lay down on the bank, smoked his pipe, and looked on. Having cut off the best parts of the carcass for supper, the hunters returned to the canoe, carrying the skin along with them. — R. M. Ballantyne. THE BEARS AND BEES. As two you*rfg bears, in wanton mood. Forth issuing from a neighboring wood. Came where th' industrious bees had stored In artful cells their lu scio us hoard, O'erjoy'd they seized,^"!Wth eager haste, Luxurious on the rich repast. AlarmM at this, the little crew About their ears vindictive flew. The beasts, unable to sustain The unequal combat, quit the plain. Half blind with rage, and mad with pain. Their native shelter they regain ; There sit, and now discreeter grown. Too late their rashness they bemoan ; And this by dear experience gain — That pleasure ^s ever bought with pain. So when the gilded baits of vice Are placed before our longing eyes, With greedy haste we snatch our fill. And swallow down the latent ill ; But when experience opes our eyes. Away the fancied pleasure flies : It flies, but oh ! too late we find It leaves a real sting behind. — Merbick. 142 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. ■^- I THE WOLF. I SHALL not in these pages attempt to describe one species of wolf more than another, as the character of all wolves is so very similar. When a wolf is sup- ported by plenty of comrades, it is a most daring animal, fearing not ^o attack foes far superior to itself; but if it is pursued when alone, it instantly becomes a slinking cowardly animal, aud often yields the battle easily. Sometimes, however, when it sees no hope of escape, it turns upon its pursuers, and fights with obstinate valor until the very last. In no case is the cowardice of a wolf so congpicuous as when it is taken in a trap. Wolves are at all times very suspicious, and stand in great awe of anything that looks like a trap. There are many authenticated accounts of travellers who, when met by wolv "'j ^would have inevitably been devoured hcd they not terrified their enemies by letting a piece of cord trail behind their carriage. The wolves were so much afraid of this suspicious looking piece of cord, that they dared not venture to approach it, lest they should be caught. The hunters take advantage of this trait of characters and when they kill a beast too large to carry away^ THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 14S tliey keep off' the wolves by a similar stratagem. Sttp* pose a hunter has shot a bison^ he may only want the tongue, or a piece of the hump at present ; but next day he may want the skin, or wish to make another meal. Now, if he were to leave the carcass as he shot it, very few hours, or even minutes, would elapse before it would be converted into a skeleton. In order, then, to preserve his prey for himself, the hunter generally places a stick upright in the ground near the carcass, and to that stick he ties, by a loose string, the intoted bladder of the slaughtered animal. This so effectually terrifies the wolves that, although they run round it ail night, th?y dare not approach it, on account of the bladder, which is blown about in the wind. Sometimes a strip of skin is fastened to t le stick ; but anything to which wolves have not been accustomed will answer the hunter^s purpose. Major Strickland's account of the wolf closes with the following anecdote, which I must be permitted to give in his own words : — '' A perilous adventure once befell my brother-in-law, James. He was a bold brave boy, of ten years o)d at the time, and was on his return home with a pair of oxen, with which he had been assisting a neighbor, residing about six miles from his father's house. His road lay by the river shore, which was dreary enough in the fall of the year, and at the evening hoiT ; but the child was fearless, and saw the deepening shades sink into night without experiencing anything like apprehension. " He was trudging on steadily, singing cheerfuLy as he walked, when a sound came on the night air, that sent a shiver through the young pedestrian's frame — the war-cry of the wolves. At first, he hoped he waa not the object of pursuit ; but the hideous uproar came nearer and nearer, and then he knew that he must in- stantly adopt some plan for his escape. " His route lay by the river shore, and he could 144 tHiHD BOOK OS* ItEADtNG LESSONS. swim well ; but the night was dark, tt^nd he mi^ht be hurried into the rapids ; and to be dashed to pieces on the rocks was scarcely less dreadful than to be mangled and devoured by wolves. In this extremity, the child lifted up his brave young heart to Grod, and resolved to use the only chance left him of escape. So he mounted Buck, the near-ox, making use of his goad, shouting at the same time to the animal to excite him to his utmost speed. " In most cases, the horned steed would have flung off his rider, and left him for wolves' meat without hesitation j but Buck set off with the speed of a race- horse, as if fully aware of his" young rider's peril. Nor was his companion less tardy. Fast, however, as the trio fled, still faster came on the yelling pack behind j and James could ever hear * Their long hard gallop, which could tire The hounds' deep hate and hunters' fire.' " Fortunately for him, old Buck heard it too, and galloped on and on ; but still the wolves came nearer and nearer; James shouted to keep them off; the oxen almost flying ; their chains rattling as they went. This clanking sound, to which the hateful pack were unaccustomed, made them pause whenever they came close upon the oxen, whilst the latter redoubled their speed, till at length these gallant racers left the wolves behind ; and never stopped till they had brought the brave little fellow to his own door. " He had felt afraid but once, and that was when those dismal yells first broke upon his ear, but he never lost his presence of mind. He trusted in God, and used the means within his reach for preservation, and arrived safe at last. Few boys would have displayed ^o much sense and spirit; but the boy is almost always the father of the man ; and what James was then, he is now.*' — Anecdotes of Animal Life, ,a?3IRD BOOK OP READING LESSOaCG. ANECDOTE OP THE WOLF. 145 •>t Wj liave very limited means of arriving at any satis- factory conclusion respecting the period of life of wild animals, especially the carnivora. As they live by violence and rapine, and as the supply of their wanta necessarily becomes more and more precarious as the vigor of youth departs, it is probable they do not often nearly complete the period of life allotted to their respective species. Some instances, however, no doubt occur, in which the animal attains the utmost verge of existence. A few years ago, some men were going up Lee's Pond, a lake about six miles long, near Stanstead, which was frozen at the time, when they saw before them a party of wolves crossing the pond* One in the centre appeared sick, and was surrounded by the reso in the manner of a body-guard. One of the men, who had a gun, pursued them, when some of the wolves took to flight, leaving others with the sup- posed sick one, which, however, dropped off, one by one, as the pursuit grew hotter, leaving at last only two with it : the man then fired at one of these two, but without killing it, and they both then fled. On coming up to the remaining one, they found it wad an old she-wolf, completely blind, as was supposed from age alone, as her teeth were almost worn down. After her last attendants had left her, she attempted to con- tinue her course, but in a very uncertain manner, sometimes turning on her steps, or going in a circhi. The men put 9 rope round her and led her to the town. In the woods they found her den, strewed with a vast number of deers* bones, fragments of flesb, &c., all around which the snow, though three feet deep, was trodden hard and smooth; and from th(i number of paths leading to this spot, it appeared evident that this aged wolf had for a long time been supplied with prey by the assiduous attentions of others, . —P. H. Gosse. .i I i 140 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS THE BEAVER. One cannot; fail to "he struck witli admiration and astonisliment on visiting the haunts of the beaver ; nor can we wonder that the red men should place him at the head of animal creation, or make a manitou of him, when Egypt, the mother of the arts, worshipped such stupid and disgusting deities. Whether you call it instinct, or whether it be called reason, one thing is certain, that if half humanity were as intelligent, as provident, as laborious, and as harmless as the beaver, ours would be a very different world from what it is. The beaver is the original lumberman, and the first of hydraulic engineers. Simple and unostentatious, his food is the bark of trees, and his dwelling a mud cabin, the door of which is always open, but under water — conditions which secure retirement, and are favorable to cool contemplation. The single object of his existence being to secure bark enough for him- self and family, one would suppose there would not be THIRD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 147 much difficulty in that 5 but as neither beaver nor any other animal, except man, is addicted to works of supererogation, we may be sure that the former, in all his laborious arrangements, and those too which alter the face of nature to such an important degree, does no more than is absolutely necessary for him to do. Cast in an inhospitable climate, nearly the whole of his labor is for the purpose of laying in his necessary winter supplies, and water is the only medium by which he can procure and preserve these. Too highly civilized for a nomadic life, he builds permanently, and does not quit his habitation until driven from it, like other respectable emigrants, by stern necessity. We can- not better illustrate the habits of this interesting animal than by accompanying a beaver family, on some fine evening in May, in search of a new home. The papa beaver, with his sons and sons-in-law, wife, daughters and daughters-in-law, and it may be grand-children, sally forth "prospecting" the country for a good location — i.e., a stream of easy navigation, and having an abundant supply of their favorite food, the silver birch and poplar growing as near the river as possible. Having selected these "limits," the next step is to place their dwelling so as to command the greatest amount of food. For this purpose, they go as far be- low the supplies as the character of the stream will per- mit. A pond of deep, still water being an indispens- able adjunct to their dwelling, this is obtained by the construction of a dam ; and few engineers could select a site to produce the required result so efficiently and econo;nically. The dam and dwelling are forthwith commenced, the materials employed in both being sticks, roots, mud, and stones — the two former being dragged by the teeth, the latter carried between the forepaws and the chin. If the dam is extensive, whole trees are gnayved down, the largest of which are of the diameter of an orjlinary stovepipe, the stump being left 'standing about eighteen inches above the ground. 148 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. and pointed like a crayon. Those trees which stand upon the bank of a str^m, they contrive to fall into the water as cleverly as the most experienced wood- man ; those which are more distant are cut up by their teeth into pieces which can be dragged to the water. These trees aud branches are floated down to the site of the dam, where they are dragged ashore, and placed so that the tops shall be borne down by the current, and thus arrest the descending detriiiiSy and form a strong and tight dam. Critical parts are built up " by hand/' the sticks and mud, when placed, receiving a smart blow from the. beaver's tail, just as a bricklayer settles his work with the handle of his trowel. The habitation or hut of the beaver is almost bomb-proof, rising like a dome from the ground on the margin of the pond, and sometimes six or eight feet in thickness at the crown. The only entrance is from a level of three or four feet under the water of the pond. These precautions are necessary, because, like all enterprising animals, the beaver is not without its enemies. The wolverine, who is as fond of beaver tail as an old " nor'wester," would walk into his hut if he could only get there; but having the same distaste for water as the cat, he must forego the luxury. It is not, how- ever, for safety that the beaver adopts the submarine communication with his dwelling, although it is for that he restricts himself to it. The same necessity which compels him to build a dam, and thus create a pond of water, obliges him to maintain communication with that pond when the ice is three feet thick upon its surface. \ Living upon the bark of trees, he is obliged to provide a comparatively great bulk for his winter's consumption, and he must secure it t the season when the new bark is formed, and betore it commences to dry ; he must also store it up where it will not become frozen or dried up. He could not reasonably be expected to build a frost-proof house large enough to contain his family supply^ but if he THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 149 did, it would wither and lose its nutriment ; therefore, i I he preserves it in water. But the most remarkable 1 I evidence of his instinct, sagacity, or reason is one ' - which I have not seen mentioned by naturalists. His pond, we have seen, must be deep, so that it will not frev*?ze to the bottom, and so that he can communicate with his food and the dam, in case of any accidents to the latter requiring repairs ; but how does he keep his food — which has been floated down to his pond — from floating when in it, and thus becoming frozen in with the ice ? I said that in gnawing down a tree, the top of the stump was left pointed like a crayon ; the fallen tree has the same form — for the beaver cuts like a woodman, wide at the surface, and meeting in an angle at the centre, with this distinction, the four- legged animal does his work more uniformly, cutting equally all round the log, while the two-legged one cuts only from two opposite sides. Thus, every stick of provender cut by the animal is pointed at both ends, and when brought opposite his dwelling, he thrusts the pointed ends into the mud bottom of his pond, sufficiently firm to prevent their being floated out, at the same time placing them in a position in which the water has the least lift upon them, while he carefully apportions his differsnt lengths of timber to the dif- ferent depths of water in his pond, so that the upper point of none of them shall approach near enough to the surface to be caught by the winter ice. When the family is in comfortable circumstances, the winter supply nicely cut and stored away, the dam tight, and no indications of a wolverine in the neigh- borhood, the patriarch of the hut takes out the youth- ful " greenhorns'' to give them lessons in topographical engineering ; and in order to try the strength of their tails, encourages them to indulge in amateur dam- ming. The beaver works always by night; and to " work like a beaver " is a significant term for a man who not only works earnestly and understandingly, 150 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. I I! i \\ i '■ but one who works late and early — a species of '^mud- lark," not afraid of soiling his hands. From what has been said, it will be readily seen that the maintenance of the dam is a matter of vital importance to the beaver. Some say that the pilot beaver sleeps with his tail in the water, in order to be warned of the first mishap to the dam ; but, as there is no proof given for such a cool assertion, it may be set down as a very improbable tale. The Indians avail themselves of this well-known solicitude to catch them. Having broken the dam, the risk is immedi- ately perceived by the lowering of the water in the hut, and the beavers sallying forth to repair the breach, are slaughtered in the trenches. As the supply of food in the vicinity of the dam be- comes diminished, the beaver is obliged to go higher up the stream, and more distant from its banks, to procure his winter stores ; and this necessity gives rise to fresh displays of his lumbering and engineering re- sources. In consequence of the distance, and the limited duration of the high-water period favorable to transport, the wood is collected into a sort of raft, which, a lumberman has asserted, is manned by the beavers and steered by their tails, in the same manner as Norway rats are known to cross streams of water. When the raft grounds, forthwith a temporary dam is thrown across the stream below the *'jam,^' by which the waters are raised, and the raft floated off, and brought down to the dam, which is then torn suddenly away, and the small raft thereby flushed over the ad- joining shallows. — Keeper's Montreal and the Ottawa, ies of ^'mud- THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. THE FOX AND THE CAT. 151 The fox and the cat, as they travelled one day. With moral discourses cut shorter the way : " 'Tis great/' says the Fox, "to make justice our guide !'* " How god-like is mercy !" Grimalkin replied. Whilst thus they proceeded, a Wolf from the wood, Impatient of hunger, and thirsting for blood, Rush'd forth — as he saw the dull shepherd asleep — And seized for his supper an innocent sheep. ' In vain, wretched victim, for mercy you bleat, When mutton's at hand," says the Wolf, " I must eat." Grimalkin's astonish' d — the Fox stood aghast. To see the fell beast at his bloody repast. " What a wretch," says the Cat, " 'tis the vilest of brutes ; Does he feed upon flesh, when there 's herbage and roots ?" Cries the Fox, " While our oaks give us acorns good, What a tyrant is this to spill innocent blood !" Well, onward they march'd, and they moralized still. Till they came where some poultry pick'd chaff by a mill. Sly Reynard survey'd them with gluttonous eyes. And made, spite of morals, a pullet his prize. . A mouse, too, that chanced from her covert to stray, The greedy Grimalkin secured as her prey. A Spider that sat on her web on the wall, Perceived the poor victims, and pitied their fall; She cried, " Of such murders how guiltless am I !'^ So ran to regale on a new-taken fly. — F. Cunningham. ■i I 152 THIRD BOOK OF HEADING ^"--0-w» ^^^V'R*. /^";r BUFFALO HUNTING. In the Saskatchewan, the chief food both of white men and Indians is buffalo meat ; so that parties are constantly sent out to hunt the buffalo. They gener- ally chase them on horseback, the country being mostly prairie land, and, when they get close enough, shoot them with guns. The Indians, however, shoot them oftener with the bow and arrow, as they prefer keeping their powder and shot for warfare. They are very oxpert with the bow, which is short and strong, and can easily send an arrow quite through a buffalo at twenty yards off. One of these parties, then, was ordered to procure two calves alive, if possible, and lead them to the company's establishment. This they succeeded in doing in the following manner :T-Upon meeting with a herd, they all set off full gallop in chase ; away went the startled animals at a round trot, which soon increased to a gallop, as the horsemen neared them^ and a shot or two told that they yfere THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 153 coming within range. Soon the shots became more numerous, and here and there a black spot on the prairie told where a buflFaio had fallen. No slackening of the pace occurred, however, as each hunter, upon killing an animal, merely threw down his cap or mitten to mark it as his own, and continued in pursuit of the herd, loading his gun as he galloped along. The buffalo hunters, by the way, are very expert at loading and firing quickly while going at full gallop. They carry two or three bullets in their mouths, which they spit into the muzzles of their guns, after dropping in a little powder, and instead of ramming it down with a rod, merely hit the butt- end of the gun on the pommel of their saddles, and in this way fire a great many shots in quick succession. This, however, is a dangerous mode of shooting, as the ball sometimes sticks half-way down the barrel and bursts the gun, carrying away a finger, and occasion- ally a hand. In this way they soon killed as many buffaloes as they could carry in their carts, and one of the hunters set off in chase of a calf. In a short time he edged one away from the rest, and then, getting between it and the herd, ran straight against it with his horse and knocked it down. The frightened little animal jumped up again, and set off with redoubled speed, but another butt from the horse again sent it sprawling ; again it ^ ose, and was again knocked down ; and in this way was at last fairly tired out ; when the hunter, jumping suddenly from his horse, threw a rope round its neck, and drove it before him to the encampment, and soon after brought it to the fort. It was as wild as ever when I saw it at Norway House, and seemed to have as much distaste to its thraldom as the day it was taken. — B. M. Ballantyng. ,/ ^-^^ 154 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. ST NICHOLAS AND HIS REINDEER. 'TwAs tlie niglit before Christinas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse ; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there ; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads ; And mamma in her ^kerchief, and I in my cap. Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap ; When out in the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash. Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave the lustre of mid- day to objects below. When what to my wondering eyes should appear. But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer. With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it must be St Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And ho whistled, and shouted, and called them by name ; • " Now, Dasher ! now. Dancer ! now, Prancer ! and Vixen ! On, Comet ! on, Cupid ! on, Donder and Blitzen ! To the top of the porch ! to the top of the wall ! Now dash away ! dash away ! dash away all ! " As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky; So up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With a sleigh full of toys, and St Nicholas too. And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof, The prancing and pawing of each little hoof — As I drew in my head and was turning around^ THIRD BOOK OF READINa LESSONS. 155 ancer ! and Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound. He was dress'd all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnish'd with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, A.nd he looking like a pedlar just opening his pack. His eyes — how they twinkled ! his dimples — how merry ' His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ! His droll little mouth was drawn up like a b,ow, And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow ; The stump of his pipe he held tight in his teeth. And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath ; He had a broad face and a little round belly, That shook, when he laugh' d, like a bowlful of j ally. He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf. And I laughM when I saw him, in spite of myself; A wink of his eye and a twist of his head. Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread ; He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work, And fill'd all the stockings ; then turned with a jerk, And laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose ; He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle. And away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere ho drove out of sight, Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night ! *' <( ^ff-j: THE MOOSE-DEER. The real moose-deer, or oik, is nearly double the sizd of the wapiti, and boars large palmated horns. It is rather a clumsy animal in its movements, and . shuffles along in a very awkward way, but with great swift- m THIBp BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. ness. It is an easy animal to tame wlien it is taken very young ; but after it has attained to some age, it is very fierce, as the following anecdote, by Audubon, will show. He is speaking of a young moosQ-deer that had been captured : — " The moose was so exhausted and fretted, that it offered no opposition to us as we led it to the camp ; but in the middle of the night we weft awakened by a great noise in the hovel, and found that, as it had in Bome measure recovered from its terror and state of exhaustion, it began to think of getting homqi and was much enraged at finding itself so securely im- prisoned. We were unable to do anything with it; for if we merely approached our hands to the openings of the hut, it would spring at us with the greatest fury, roaring and erecting its mane in a manner that convinced us of the futility of all attempts to save it alive. We threw to it the skin of a deer, which it tore to pieces in a moment. This individual was a yearlbg, and about six feet high.'' THI3D BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 157 The moose is generally caught in the winter time by hunters mounted on snow shoes, which enable them to skim over the surface of the snow, whilst the moose breaks through the snow at every stride, and is soon wearied out. Enterprising individuals have tried the experiment of taming the moose, and employing it in various kinds of labor ; their efforts have mostly been successful, and the animal is found to answer very well as a beast of draught. The mouth is very tender, and the bit must bo applied and removed with great care. The docility of the young moose is quite on a par with that of the young horse or mule. " It is a rather remarkable circumstance, that when the moose is alarmed at a sudden noise, and endeavors to make its escape, it sometimes falls down suddenly, as if in a fit. The paroxysm only lasts for a very short time, and the moose leaps up again and runs as if nothing had happened. The flesh of the moose is tolerable; but is rather tougher and coarser than venison is expected to be. The tongue and nose, however, especially the latter, are c ^nsidered great dainties, the nose being said to resemble marrow. The skin is mostly used for heavy work, such as tent-covers and shoe-leather. The hair is very coarse indeed, brown towards the end, and whitish towards the base, which is also flattened, and rather wavy, pre- senting an appearance as if it had passed through a miniature crimping machine. — Anecdotes of Animal Life. A WHALER'S ADVENTURE. In the month of August 1819, the American whale- ship Essex sailed from Nantucket for the Pacifio Ocean. Sue was commanded by Captain Pollard. 168 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. I Late in the autumn of the same year, when in latitude 40^* of the South Pacific, a shoal, or '^ school/' of sperm whales was discovered, and three boats were imme- diately lowered and sent in pursuit. The mate's boat was struck by one of the fish during the chase, and it was found necessary to return to the ship to repair damages. While the men were employed at this, an enormous whale suddenly rose quite close to tke ship. He was going at nearly the same' rate with the ship — about three miles an hour; and the men, who were good judges of the size of whales, thought that it could not have been less than eighty-five feet long. All at once he ran against the ship, striking her bows, and causing her to tremble like a leaf. The whale immediately dived and passed under the ship, and grazed her keel in doing so. This evidently hnrt her back, for he sud- denly rose to the surface about fifty yards off, and comnjenced lashing the sea with his tail and fins as if suffering great agony* It was truly an awful sight to THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 159 behold that great monster lashing the sea into foam at so short' a distance. In a short time he seemed to recover, and started off at great speed to windward. Meanwhile the men dis- covered that the blow received by the ship had done her so much damage that she began to fill and settle down at the bows ; so they rigged the pumps as quickly as possible. While working them one of the men cried out — " God have mercy ! he comes again ! " This was too true. The whale had turned, and was now bearing down on them at full speed, leaving a white track of foam behind him. Rushing at the ship like a battering-ram, he hit her fair on the weather bow and stove it in, after which he dived and disappeared. The horrified men took to their boats at once, and in ten minutes the ship went down. The condition of the men thus left in three open boats far out upon the sea without provisions or shel- ter, was terrible indeed. Some of them perished, and the rest, after suffering the severest hardships, reached a low island called Ducies on the 20th of December. It was a mere sand-bank, whic*i supplied them only with water and sea-fowl. Still even this was a mercy, for which they had reason to thank God ; for in cases of this kind one of the evils that seamen have most cause to dread is the want of water. Three of the men resolved to remain on this sand- bank, for, dreary and uninhabited though it was, they preferred to take their chance of being picked up by a passing ship rather than run the risks of crossing the wide ocean in open boats, so their companions bade them a sorrowful farewell, and left them. But this island is far out of the usual track of ships. The poor fellows have never since been heard of. It was the 27th of December when the three boats left the sand-bank with the remainder of the men, and began a voyage of two thousand miles, towards tho 160 THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. island of Juan Fernandez. The mate's boat was picked up, about three months after, by the ship Indian of London, with only three living men in it. About the same time the captain's boat was discovered, by the Dauphin of Nantucket, with only two men living; and these unhappy beings had only sustained life by feed- ing on the flesh of their dead comrades. The third boat must have been lost, for it was never heard of; and out of the whole crew of twenty men, only five returned home to tell their eventful story. — R. M. Ballantyne. THE CH. m OP DESTRUCTION. (Scene -Amzrlcan Prairies,) Directly in front of the tent, and at no great dis- tance from it, a thick network of vines stretched be- tween two trees. Over the leaves grew flowers so thickly as almost to hide them ; the whole surface shining as if a bright carpet had been spread from tree to tree, and hung down between them. Francis, who had for some time kept his eyes in that direction, all at once exclaimed, " Look yonder — humming birds ! " " Where are they ?" inquired Lucien. *' Softly, bro- thers, approach them gently." '^Ah!" exclaimed Lucien, as they drew near, "I see one now ; it is the ruby-throat : see his throat how it glitters!" " Shall we try to catch it V* asked Francis. '' No, I would rather watch it a little. You may look for the nest, as you have good eyes." Their curiosity satisfied, they were about to return to the tent; but Lucien suddenly made a motion, which caused his brothers to look on the ground. Crouching among the leaves, now crawling side-ways, now making short springs, and then hiding itself, went » fearful-looking creature about the size of the hun\^ THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 161 ILLANTYNE. ming-bird. Its body consisted of two pieces joined about the middle, and covered all over with a reddish- brown wool or hair, that stood upright like bristles. It had eight limbs, long, crooked, and covered with hair like the body — two curved claw-like feelers in front, and two horns projecting behind, so that but for its sharp fiery eyes, it would have been difficult to tell which was its head. " The leaping- spider," whispered Lucien to his bro- thers ; " see, it is after the humming-bird ! '^ Sometimes the spider would hide itself among the leaves of the vine, then when the bird settled for a moment to feed, it would advance nearer by a quick run or a leap, concealing itself again to await a fresh opportunity. At last, the bird poised itself at the mouth of a flower, sucking out the honey wHh its long tongue, and in a moment the spider spn uf forward and clutched it round the body with its fee'.tr. The bird, with a wild chirrup, flew outwards and upwards as if to carry the spider away. But its flight was sud- denly checked ; and, on looking more ^osely, the fine thread of the spider was seen attached to the tree at one end and his body at the other, strong enough to prevent the poor bird from escaping from his enemy. Soon the little wings ceased to move. The boys could see that the bird was dead, and the mandibles of the spider were buried in its shining throat. And now the spider began reeling in his line, in or- der to carry up his prey to his nest among the branches. But the eyes of the boys were caught at this moment by a shining object stealing down the tree. It was a lizard of the most brilliant colors ; its back of golden green, the underneath part of its body a greenish- white^ its throat of the brightest scarlet. It was not more than six inches in length. As it was crawling onward, its bright eye fell on the spider and his prey. All at once the lizard stopped, its color changed; the red*, throat became white^ the green body brown^ so that it 162 THIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS, I ' i could hardly be distinguislied from the bark of the tree on which it crouched. Soon it was evident that it meant to attack the spider, and to do this it ran round the tree to the nest, waiting the return of the master of the house. The spider, little suspecting a foe so near, came up. In a moment the lizard sprang upon him, and lizard, spider, and bird fell to the ground. There was a short struggle between the first two, but the spider was no match for the lizard, who in a few moments had ground off his legs, and killed him by thrusting his sharp teeth into the spider's skull. From the moment the lizard sprang upon his prey all his bright colors had returned. And now the lizard began dragging the body of the spider across the grass, when suddenly, from a tree close by, out of a dark round hole, some twenty feet from the ground, a red head and brown shoulders were visible. It was moving from side to side, and evi- dently preparing to come down. Lucien when he saw the red head, olive -brown body, and fierce dark eyes, knew it for a scorpion-lizard. The little green lizard, rustling over the dead leaves with the spider, caught the scorpion's attention, and he tesolved to deprive him of the prey. But the green lizard was brave, and turned to fight — his throat swelled out, and looked brighter than ever. After a while they sprang at each other open-jawed —wriggled over the ground, their tails flying in the air; then separated, and again assumed defiant atti- tudes, their forked tongues shot forth, and their spark- ling eyes glittered in the sun. The weakest part of the green lizard lies in his tail. So tender is it that the slightest blow will separate it from the body. Its foe evidently knew this, and tried to attack the tail, but the lizard carefully faced him whichever way he turned. For several minutes they fought, and then the bright colors of the green lizard grew paler; the scorpion rushed forward, threw the Other on his backj and before he could recover himself ■ HK THIRD BOOK OF READIKO LESSONS. 163 )ark of the tree ivident that it is it ran round L of the master g a foe so near, upon him, and i. There was a the spider was moments had ^ thrusting his m the moment J bright colors I dragging the suddenly, from ), some twenty own shoulders ) side, and evi- 1 when he saw Tce dark eyes, 3r open-jawed flying in the defiant atti- i their spark- les in his tail, p separate it lis, and tried iy faced him linutes they green lizard I, threw the 2over himself bit off his tail. The poor little fellow, feeling he had lost more than half his length, ran off and hid himself. It was well for him that he did so, and it would have been better for the scorpion had he stayed in his hole, for a new enemy had drawn near while the battle was raging. From the leafy spreading branches of a mulberry-tree, a red snake, about the thickness of a walking-cane, was hanging down a full yard. Just as the lizard ran off without its tail, the scorpion perceived the long red body of the serpent dangling above him, and knowing it was a terrible enemy, ran off to hide him- self. But instead of taking to a tree, where he might have escaped, he ran out, in his fright, to the open ground. The snake dropped down, overtook him in a moment, and killed him on the spot. Snakes do not chew their food, but swallow it whole, sucking it gradually down their throats. This the red snake began to do with the scorpion-lizard, and the boys s watched it with much interest. But other eyes were bent upon the reptile. A dark shadow was seen moving over the ground ; and on looking up, the boys saw a large bird, with snow-white head and breast, wheeling in the air. It was the great southern kite, with his wide-spread tapering wings. Nearer and nearer he came, till the boys could see the red gleam of his eyes ; and now for the first time the snake caught sight of him too. It had hitherto been closely occupied with its prey, which it had just swallowed. When it looked up and saw the kite, its red color turned pale, and it struck its head into the grass as if to hide itself. It was too late. The kite swooped gently down, and when it rose again, the rep- tile was seen wriggling in his talons ! "%- But as the kite rose, it was evident that his flight was impeded. The cause soon appeared. The snake was no longer hanging from his talons, it had twined itself round his body. All at once the kite began to flutter, and both bird and serpent fell heavily to the gronnd. 164 THIRD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. A violent struggle ensued — the bird trying to free himself from the folds of the snake^ while the snake tried to squeeze the kite to death. How was it to end ? The ,kite could not free itself from the snake. The snake dared not let go the kite, for it would have been seized by the head, and have lost its power. At length the kite got his beak close to the head of the serpent, then seized the reptile's lower jaw; the serpent tried to bite, without effect, and now the kite had the best of it — ^planting his talons round his adver- sary's throat, he held him as in a vice. The coils of the reptile were seen to loosen and fall off. In a few moments its body lay along the grass motionless. The kite raised his head, extended his wings to make sure he was free ; then, with a scream of triumph, rose upward, the long body of the serpent traiHng after him. At this moment another scream reached the ears of the young hunters. All eyes were turned in the direc- tion whence it came. The boys knew very well that it was the white-headed eagle. The kite had heard the cry too, and at once tried to rise higher into the air, resolved to hold on to his hard-earned plunder. Up rose the kite, straining every pinion of his pointed wings ; and upward goes the pur- suing eagle. Soon both disappear beyond the reach of vision. Hark- ! there is a sound like the whirling of a rocket— something has fallen on the tree-top. It is the kite— dead, and the blood spurting from a wound in his shoulder ! And now the eagle has shot down with the snake in her talons, gliding slowly over the top of the trees, and alighted on the summit of a dead magnolia. Basil seized his rifle, sprang on his horse, and rode off among the bushes. He had been gone but a few minutes, when a sharp crack was heard, and the eagle was seen tumbling from her perch. This was the last link in the Chain of Destruction. — Abridged from SowiiVa Boy Muntera^ PART III. 1^ CREATION. The spacious firmament on higL, With all the blue ethereal sky, And spangled heav'ns, a shining frame, Their great Original proclaim. Th* unwearied sun, from day to day. Does his Creator's power display ; And publishes to ev'ry land The work of an Almighty hand. Soon as the evening shades prevail. The moon takes up the wondroas tale. And, nightly to the listening earth. Repeats the story of her birth ; While all the stars that round her bum, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll. And spread the truth from pole to pole. What, though in solemn silence all Move round the dark terrestrial ball : What, though no real voice, nor sound, Amid their radiant orbs be found ? In Reason^s ear they all rejoice. And utter forth a glorious voice, For ever singing, as they shine, *^ The hand that made us is divine.^^ —Addison. 106 THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. MANUAL LABOR. A LABORIOUS nail-maker worked all day at his forge, and under liis strong, quick blows, thousands of sparks arose round him and filled his workshop. The son of his rich neighbor, Mr. Von Berg, came to see him almost every day, and would watch him with deUght for hours. One day the busy nail-maker said to him in joke, '^ Would you not like to make some nails ? Just try, my young master, if it be only to pass time away. It may be useful to you some day." The young gentleman, having nothing else to do, consented. He placed himself before the anvil, and, laughing as he sat down, began to hammer. Before very lon^* he was able to finish ofi* a good shoe-nail. Some years after, the misfortunes of war deprived this young man of all his wealth, and forced him to emigrate to a foreign country. Far from his native land, stripped of all resources, he halted at a large village, where the majority of tha people wore shoe- makers. II(^ ascertained that they expended yoarly a large «am of money in the purchase of shoe-nails from a neighboring town, and that often they could not obtain the Quantity they needed, because so many were roquirea for the shoes of the army, most of which were made in that district. l^he young Von Berg, who already saw himself thruatened with starvation, remembered that ho knew perfectly the art of making shoe-nails. He offered to supply the shoemakers of the village with as largo a quantity of nails as they required, if they would only establish a workshop, and to this they cheerfully con- sented. Ho began to work with enthusiasm, and soon found himself in easy circumstances. " It is always good,'' he tsed often to say to himself, .'* to learn something, if it be only to make a shoe-nail. TfllBD BOOK OF BEADINO LESSONS. 167 There are positions in life where head-learning cannot be called into play, and when want may threaten even ' those who have been wealthy. It is well to provide for such exigencies, by having some useful trade at our finger ends/' THE PRISONER'S FLOWER. The Count, who is in prison for a political cause, and is not allowed books or paper to beguije his solitude, has found one little green plant growing up between tlie paving-stones of tlio prison yard in which ho is allowed to walk. lie watches it from day to day, marks the opening of the leaves and buds, and soon loves it as a friend. In dread, lest the jailer, who seems a rough man, should crush it with his foot, he resolves to ask him to be careful of it, and this is the conversation they have on the subject :— '^ " As to your gillyflower " — 168 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. I ! ; *' Is it a gillyflower ? " said the Count. " Upon my word/' said the jailer, " I know nothing about it, Sir Count ; all flowers are gillyflowers to me. But as you mention the subject, I must tell you you are rather late in recommending it to my mercy. I should have trodden on it long ago without any ill-will to you or to it, had I not remarked the tender interest you take in it, the little beauty ! " " Oh, my interest," said the Count, '^ is nothing out of the common." " Oh, it's all very well ; I know all about it," replied the jailer, trying to wink with a knowing look ; *' a man must have occupation — he must take to some- thing; and poor prisoners have not much choice. You see. Sir Count, we have amongst our inmates men who, doubtless, were formerly important people, men who had brains — ^for it is not small- fry that they bring here ; well, now, they occupy and amuse themselves at very little cost, I assure you. One catches flies— there's no harm in that; another carves figures on his deal table, without remembering that I am responsible for the furniture of the place." The Count would have spoken, but he went on. ''Some breed canaries and goldfinches, others little white mice. For my part, I respect their tastes to such a point, that I had a beautiful large Angora cat, with long white fur ; he would leap and gambol in the prettiest way in the world, and when he rolled himself «p to go to sleep, you would have said it was a sleep- ing muff*. My wife made a great pet of him, so did I ; well, I gave him away, for the birds and mice might have tempted him, and all the cats in the world are not worth a poor prisoner's mouse." " That was very kind of you, Mr. Jailor," replied the Count, feeling uneasy that ho should be thought capable of carmg for such trifles ; " but this plant is for me more than an amusement." *' Never mind, if it only recalls the green boughs THIBD B001C OF BEADINO LESSONS. 169 under wticli your mother nursed you in your infancy, it may overshadow half the court. Besides, my orders say nothing about it, so I shall be blind on that side. If it should grow to a tree, and be capable of assisting you in scaling the wall, that would be quite another thing. But we have time enough to think of that; have we not ?" added he with a loud laugh. " Oh, if you tried to escape from the fortress V '' What would you do ? " *' What would I do ! I would stop you though you might kill me ; or I would have you fired at by the sentinel, with as little pity as if you were a rabbit 1 That is the order. But touch a leaf of your gilly- flower ! no, no ; or put my foot on It, never ! I always thought that man a perfect rascal, unworthy to be a jailer, who wickedly crushed the spider of a poor prisoner — that was a wicked action — it was a crime !" The Count was touched and surprised. " My dear jailer," said he, '' I thank you for your kindness. Yes, I confess it, this plant is to mo a source of much interesting study." *' Well then. Sir Count, if your plant as done you such good service,''' said the jailer, preparing to leave the cell, " you ought to be more grateful, and water it sometimes, for if I had not taken care when bringing you your allowance of water, to moisten it from time to time, the poor little flower would have died of thirst." '' One moment, my good friend," cried the Count, more and more struck at discovering so much natural delicacy under so rough an outside ; '^ what, have you been so thoughtful of my pleasures, and yet you never said a word about it ? Pray, accept this little present, in remembrance of my gratitude," and he held out his > jilver drinking-cup. rj0f The jailer took the cup in his hand, looking at it with a sort of curiosity. '' Plants only require water. Sir County" he said, ''and one en treat them to a drink I r- I 170 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LBSSONS. without ruining one's-self. If this one amuses you, if it does you good in any way, that is quite enough /' and he went and put back the cup in its place. The Count advanced towards the jailer, a::' Ineld out his hand. * Oh TIC. no I" oaid the latter, moving back reRpeeL- fri J iis he spoke; '^ hands are only given to bquais or to friends. ^^ '' Well then, be my friend.'* ^' No, no, that cannot be, sir. One must look ahead, so as to do alwHiys to-morrow as well as to-day one's duty conscientiously. If you were my friend, and you attempted to escape, should I then have the courage to call out to the sentinel, ' fir ; !' No ; I am only your keeper, your jailer, and your humble servant." — Saintine's Ficdola, A NURSEBY SONG. As I walked over the hills ono day, I listened, and heard a mother-sheep say ; *' In all the green world there i^: "^thing so sweet As my little lammio with his nL 1 :e fact, * With his eye so bright. And his wool so white : Oh ! he is my darling, my heart's delight, The robin, he That sings in the tree, A D..arly may dote on his darlings four ; But I love my ono little lambkin moro.^ And the mother -sheep and her little one bide by * ide ky down in the sun, » THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 171 A? they went to sleep on the hill-side warm, While my littlo lammie lies here on my arm. T went to the kitchen, and what did I see But the old gray cat vnth her kitteiis cLree ! I heard her whispering sott — said she, ^'My kittens, with tails all so cunningly cuiled. Are the prettiest things that can be in th;) world. Tho bird on the tree. And the old ewe, she May love their babes exceedingly; Bat I love my kittens there, Under the rocking-chair. 1 love my kittens with all my might, I love them at morning, and noon, and night. Which is the prettiest, I cannot tell, — Which of the three, for the life of me, — I love them all so well. Now I ^11 take up my kitties, the kitties I love, And we'll lie down together beneath the warm stove." Let the kitties sleep under the stovo so warm. While my little darling lies here on my arm. I went to tho yard and saw tho old hci: Go clucking about with chickens ten. She cluck'd, and she scratched, and she bristleu away ; And what do you thirli I heard the hen say ? I heard her say, " The sun never did shine On anything like to these chickens of mine. You may hunt tho full moon, and the stars, if you please. But you never will find ten such chickens as these. The cat loves her kitten, the owe iovea her Iamb ; \ 172 THIBO BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. But they do not know what a proud mother I am ; Not for lambs nor for kittens will I part with these^ Though the sheep and the cat should get down on their knees : "No, no ! not though The kittens could crow. Or the lammie on two yellow legs could go. My own dear darlings ! my sweet Httle things ! Come, nestle now cosHy under my wings." So the hen said, And the chickens all sped As fast as they could to their nice feather-bed ; And there let them sleep, in their feathers so warm. While my little chick nestles here on my arm. THE SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA, Savages we call them, because their manners differ from ours, which we call tbe perfection of civility; they think the same of theirs. Perhaps if we could examine the manners of different nations with im- partiality, wo Rliouid find no people so rude as to be without any rules of politeness ; nor any so polite as not to have some remains of rudeness. Our laborious manner of life, .jcmparM d with theirs, they think slavish and base; and tbe Icarniiig on which we value ourselves they regard as frivolous und useless. An instance of this occured at the tveavy of Lancaster, in Pennsyl- vania, in the year 1744, between the government of Virginia and he Six Nations. After the principal business was .etfcioJ, the commissioners from Yii'ginia THIRD BOOK OF SEiDINO LESSONS. 173 acquainted tlie Indians, by a speech, that there was at Williamsburg a college, with a fund for educating Indian youth ; and if the chiefs of the Six Nations would send down half-a-dozen of their sons to that college, the government would take care that they should be well provided for, and instructed in all the learning of the white people. It is one of the Indian rules of politeness not to answer a public proposition the same day that it is made ; they think it would be treating it as a light matter, and they show it respect by taking time to consider it, as of a matter of import- ance. They, therefore, deferred their answer till the day following. Then their speaker began, by express- ing their deep sense of the kindness of the Virginia government, in making them that offer; "For we know,'^ said he, " that you highly esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, and that the mainten- ance of our young men, while with you, would be very expensive to you. We are convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us good by your proposal, and we thank you heartily. Bat you, who are wise, must know, that different nations have different conceptions of things ; and you will, therefore, not take it amiss if our ideas of this kind of education happen not to be the same with yours. We have had some experience of it; several of our young people were formerly brought up at the colleges of the northern provinces ; they were instructed in all your sciences ; but when they came back to us, they were bad runners ; ignorant of every means of living in the woods ; unable to bear either cold or hunger, knew neither how to build a cabin, catch a deer, or kill an enemy; spoke our language imperfectly; were therefore neither fit for hunters, warriors, nor councillors; they were totally ^ood for nothing. Wo are, however, not the less obliged by your kind offer, though wo decline accepting it ; and to show our grateful sense of it, if the gentle- men of Virginia will send at a dozen of their sons wo ii 25 r I j 174 THIBD HOOK or BEASINQ LKSSONS. * will take great care of their education, instruct them in all we know, and make men of them/' When any Indians come into our towns, our people are apt to crowd round them, gasse upon them, and in- commode them when they desire to be private; this they consider great rudeness, and the effect of the want of instruction in the rules of civility and good manners. "We have/' said they, '^as much curiosity as you, and when you come into our towns, we wish for oppor- tunities of looking at you; but for this purpose we hide ourselves behind bushes, where you are to pass, and never intrude ourselves into your company/^ Their manner of entering one another's villages has likewipe its rules. It is reckoned uncivil in travelling for strangers to enter a village abruptly, without giving notice of their approach. Therefore, as soon as they arrive within hearing, they stop and halloo, remaining there till invited to enter. Two old men usually come out to them and lead them in. There is in every vil- lage a vacant dwelling, called the stranger's house. Here they are placed, while the old men go round from hut to hut, acquainting the inhabitants that strangers have arrived, who are probably hungry and weary, and every one sends them what he can spare of victuals, and skins to repose on. When the strangers are re- freshed, pipes imd tobacco are brought ; and then, but not before, conversation begins, with inquiries who they are, whither bound, what news, etc., usually ending with offers of service ; and if the strangers have occa- sion for guides, or any necessaries for continuing their journey, these are freely given. The same hospitality, esteemed among them as a principal virtue, is practised by private persons. " If a white man," said an Indian to me, *' in travelling through our country, enters one of our cabins, we all treat him as I do you : we dry him if he is wet, we warm him if he is cold, and give him meat and drink that ho may allay his thirst and hunger; and we 'M':^ THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 175 spread soft furs for him to rest and sleep on ; we de- mand nothing in return. But if I go into a white man's house at Albany, and ask for victuals and drink, they say, ' Where is your money V and if I have none, they say, ' Get out, you Indian dog.' '' — Franklin. THE GRAND FALLS OF THE ST. JOHN. The falls are certainly fine, and consist of what may by courtesy be called a horse-shoe, but is in reality the junction of two walls of perpendicular rock, placed nearly at right angles to each other, down which the whole waters of the St. John tumble in one leap, and then rush boiling through a deep and narrow gorge of rock for nearly a mile. They are the scene of an Indian legend, which is probably not untinie. It is related, that a large war-party of Mohawka 176 THIRD BOOK OF READIKO LESSONS. made a descent on the upper St. John from Canada, for the purpose of exterminating the Melicetes. They carried their canoes with them, and embarked on the St. John, below Edmunston, from which pomt to the Grand Falls the river is perfectly smooth and deep. Not knowing the navigation, they landed and seized two squaws, whom they compelled to act as guides down the river. When night fell, the different canoes were tied together, so that the warriors might sleep, whilst a few only paddled the leading canoes under direction of the women, whose boats were tied, the one on the right, the other on the left, of the flotilla. They neared the falls, and still the women paddled on. The roar of the falling waters rose on the still night air. Those who paddled looked anxious ; some few of the sleepers awoke. To lull suspicion, the women spoke of the great stream which here fell into the Walloostook, the Indian name of the St. John, and still they paddled on. When they saw, at length, that the whole mass of canoes in the centre of the river was well entered on the smooth treacherous current, which, looking so calm and gentle, was bearing them irresistibly to the falls, the women leaped into the water, and strove to reach the shore by swimming in the comparatively feeble stream near the banks. Tied inextricably together, the centre canoes drew the others on, and the whole body of the invaders plunged down the cataract, and perished in the foaming waters of the gorge below. I asked eagerly whether the women escaped. It does not speak highly of Indian chivalry that no one knew, or seemed to think it matter worthy of recollection, whether the two squaws had, or had not, sacrificed their own lives in defending those of their tribe. This fall was also the scene of a tragedy of more recent occurrence. Two young men, in a canoe, found themselves sucked into the current, while engaged in drawing logs to the shore. They were still some woy THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 177 above the fall, and there was yet a chance of escape. Through vigorous exertion they might yet reach the bank — perilously near the fall, perhaps, but yet safely. They plied their paddles desperately— too desperately ; for one broke with the violence with which it was wielded, and then all hope was over; though some minutes elapsed before, in the sight of the horrified population of Colebrooke, utterly unable to render the least help, the canoe shot over the precipice. The man whose paddle broke threw himself down in the bottom of the canoe ; the other never ceased paddling towards the side, though hopelessly, till just before the final plunge, when, with his paddle^ he waved adieu to the spectators, and then folded his arms calmly on his breast. No trace of the canoe, or of the bodies, was ever seen again. — Hon. AiiTiiuii Hamilton Gordon. , THE POWER OF KINDNESS. William Penn, the founder of Philadelphia, in the United States, always treated the Indians with justice and kindness. The founders of colonies have too often trampled on the rights of the natives, and seized their lands by force. But this was not the method of Penn. He bought their land from the Indians, and paid them ; he made a treaty with them, and kept it. He always treated them as men. After his first purchase was made, Penn became desirous of obtaining another portion of their lands, and offered to buy it. They returned for answer that they had no wish to sell the spot where their fathers were buried ; but to please their father Onas, as they named Penn, they said that they would sell him a part of it. A bargain accordingly was concluded, that in return for a certain amount of English goods, Penn, %. ^ .0^. %%' %. # IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) h A ^y^^ A r/i ■^ 1.0 I.I ;^ «£ iiiiiM !.25 i u 1.6 % V] Sciraices Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. HSbO (716) 873-4503 iV V m '.'% *■ ^'%^^<^ ^1^ ^ ■^^ ,^ •«m« ! 1 178 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. should have as mucli land as a young man could travel round in one day. But after the land was measured, the Indians were greatly dissatisfied; for the young Englishman walked much faster and further than they had expected. Penn noticed their dissatisfaction, and asked the cause. — " The walker cheated us/' they re- plied. " Ah, how can that be ? '' said Penn, '' did you not yourselves choose to have the land measured in this way ? *^ — " True,'' answered the Indians, " but white brother make a big walk." Some of Penn's comrades became indignant, and insisted that as the bargain was a fair one, the Indians should be com- pelled to abide by it. " Compelled," exclaimed Penn ; *' how can you compel them without bloodshed ? " Then, turning to the Indians, he said, "Well, brothers, if we have given you too little for your land, how much more will satisfy you ?" This proposal gratified them. The additional cloth and fish-hooks which they asked were cheerfully given ; and the Indians, shaking hands with Penn, went away perfectly pleased. When they were gone, 'the governor, looking round on his friends, exclaimed, "Oh, how cheap and mighty a thing is kindness? Some of you spoke of compelling these poor creatures to abide by their bargain ; J have com- pelled them, but by another force than the sword — ^the force of kindness ! " Nor did Penn go unrewarded for this kind conduct. The red men of the forest became the warm friends of fche white stranger. Towards Penn and his followers they buried the war-hatchet. And when the colony of Pennsylvania was pressed for provisions during a time of scarcity, the Indians came cheerfully forward to its assistance with the produce of their hunting. — T^e Law of Aindness, THIRD BOOK OF KEABING LESSONS. 179 ould travel measured, the young • than they action, and ^' they re- , '' did you easured in ans, " but of Penn's hat as the d be com- ned Penn ; [?'' Then, bhers, if we how much ified them, ihey asked sing hands VTien they lis friends, a thing is ling these have com- word — ^the i conduct. friends of 3 followers ) colony of ing a time ard to its indness. POOR DIGGS ! The quarter-to-ten bell rang, and the small boys went off up-stairs, praising their champion and counsellor, who stretched himself out on the bench before the hall fire. There he lay, a very queer specimen of boyhood, by name Diggs. He was young for his size, and very clever. His friends at home having regard, I suppose, to his age, and not to his size and place in the school, had not put him into tails, and even his jackets were always too small, and he had a talent for destroying clothes and making himself look shabby. He was not intimate with any of the bigger boys, who were warned off by his oddnesses, for he was a very queer fellow ; besides, among other failings, he had that of lack of cash in a remarkable degree. He brought as much money as other boys to school, but got rid of it in no time, no one knew how. And then being also reck- less, he borrowed from any one ; and when his debts increased, and his friends pressed for their money, he would have an auction in the hall of everything he possessed in the world, selling even his school-books, candlestick, and study- table. For weeks after one of these auctions, having rendered his study uninhabit- able, he would live about the schoolroom and hall, doing his exercises on old letter backs and odd scraps of paper, and learning his lessons no one knew how. He never meddled with any little boy, and was popular among them, though they all looked upon him with a sort of compassion, and called him '' poor Diggs,^' not being able to resist appearances. However, he seemed equally indifferent to the sneers of big boys and the pity of small ones, and lived his own queer life with much apparent enjoyment to himself. Greatly were East and Tom drawn towards old Diggs, who, in an uncouth way, began to take a good deal of notice of them, and once or twice came to their «».j 1 1 ^^Bfl 1 ^B^9 1, 1 1 1 1 jjj Be ' Mb 1 * ^1h ILj. airf iii-iTimiTi 180 THIRD BOOK OP READINa LESSONS. study when Flashman, the bully of the school, was there, who immediately decamped in consequence. The boys thought that Diggs must have been watching. When, therefore, about this time, an auction was one night announced to take place in the hall, at which, amongst the superfluities of other boys, all Diggs\s household goods for the time being were going to the hammer. East and Tom devoted their ready cash (some four shillings sterling) to redeem, on behalf of their pro- tector, such articles as that sum would cover. Accord • ingly they duly attended to bid, and Tom became the owner of two lots of Diggs's things. Lot 1, price one -and- threepence, consisted (as the auctioneer remarked) of a '^ valuable assortment of old metals," in the shape of a mouse-trap, a cheese-toaster without a handle, and a saucepan ; lot 2, of a dirty tablecloth and green baize curtain. East, for one-and-sixpence, purchased aleather paper-case, with a lock, but no key, once handsome, but now much the worse for wear. But they had still the point to settle of liow to get Diggs to take the things without hurting his feelings. This they solved by leaving them in his study, which was never locked when he was out. Diggs remem- bered who had bought the lots, and came to their study soon after, and sat silent for some time, cracking his great red finger-joints. Then he laid hold of their exercises and began correcting them, and at last got up, and, turning his back on them, said/' You're un- common good-hearted little beggars, you two. I value that paper-case ; my sister gave it me last holidays. I won't forget : " and so he stumbled out into the pass- age, leaving them embarrassed, but not sorry that he knew what they had done. — Tom Beown's Schooldays* as there, [?he boys I* ion was t which, Diggs's g to the jh (some aeir pro- Accord* ame the me-and- ked) of a ape of a >, and a en baize a leather oiae, but w to get Feelings. r, which remem- :o their racking of their ast got re un- I value ays. I le pass- that he days* THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 181 A MOTHER'S LOVE. Hast thou sounded the depths of yonder sea. And counted the sands that under it be ? Hast thou measured the height of heaven above ? Then mayst thou mete out a mother's love. Hast thou talked with the blessed of leading on To the throne of God some wandering sonV Hast thou witnessed the angels' bright employ? Then mayst thou speak of a mother's joy. Evening and morn hast thou watch'd the beo Go forth on her errands of industry ? The bee for herself has gather'd and toil'd. But the mother's cares are all for her child. Hast thou gone, with the traveller Thought, afar. From pole to pole, and from star to star ? Thou hast — but on ocean, earth, or sea. The heart of a mother has gone with thee. There is not a grand inspiring thought. There is not a truth by wisdom taught ; There is not a feeling pure and high, That may not be read in a mother's eye. And ever since earth began, that look Has been, to the wise, an open book. To win them back, from the lore they prize. To the holier love that edifies. There are teachings on earth, and sky, and air, The heavens the glory of God declare ! But louder than the voice beneath, above. He is heard to speak through a mother's love. — EMILt Tayloii. ■t: ': Oti ui * r !i M I I' ^1 < if "I i^ '■■' (. !»^ .11. n it 182 THIRD BOOK OF READINtf^ THE ABENAQUrS STORY. I WAS going along my line of traps when I met an Indian with a sledge hauled by two dogs. He was a Montagnais, so that I could not understand much of his language, but he spoke English a little, and we could easily make one another out. I said to him, " You have a heavy load on your sledge.^' — '^ A heavy load/' he replied, in a mournful tone. I saw he did not like to talk, so I asked him to come to '^ V lodge and pass the night. We got there early ana cooked some supper. The Indian had plenty of caribou meat with him, and gave me some, which ho took from the sledge. After a smoke he began to talk, and said he came from Ste. Marguerite, which enters the Gulf a few miles above Seven Islands.* He had a nice little pack of furs with him, more than I had ; and the caribou were numerous about seventy miles up the river ; but there was a camp o& Nasquapees there * In Labrador. met an e was a Quch of and we to him, I heavy bo come •e early enty of hich he to talk, 1 enters Q had a I had; uiles up s there THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 183 who were killing them off. After a while, just as it was growing dusk, he asked me if he might bring his sledge into* my lodge, " For,^^ said he, " 1 have a body there, and I am afraid the dogs will eat it if it is left outside." He brought the body in and laid it in the coldest part of the lodge, where there was a little snow drifted through a crack. " Oh ! " said the Indian, " if the snow does not melt here, the body will take no hurt/^. We sat and smoked together. After a while I said, ^^Did you bring the body far?" " Six days up the Ste. Marguerite ; perhaps eight days from here. I came across the country with some Nasquapees, who had come from the Trinity River, and were following the caribou. The Nasquapees got enough meat and went back. I came on to go down the Moisie to Seven Islands, and leave it there till the spring." " How did he die ? " said I, at length. The Indian looked at the fire and said nothing. I knew there was some very sorrowful tale to tell, or he would have spoken at once. .After a long pause, the Indian said, ^'He is my cousin ; I am taking him to be buried at the Post. He asked me — I promised him. It is a long journey in winter, but he wished it, and he will soon be there." The Indian then began to tell me how it happened. '' He and I," he said, pointing to the body — but he mentioned no name — '^ were hunting together ; we came upon the track of a cat." " By cat you mean lynx, of course," said one of the listeners. " Yes, we always call them cats ; many white folk call them lynx. It 's an animal about the size of a big dog, only lower and stronger, with sharp -pointed ears, and a tuft at the end of each." !i; ■KtqMBH I i li » \ > -I I II V !!■ : i 164 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. )} '^ Yes, tliat's the lynx. Go on J ^'Well/^ the Indian said, *'w8 came upon the track of a cat, and we followed it. My cousin was first, and he turned round and jjaid to me, ' Fll go round that mountain if you go up the valley with the dogs, and we are sure to get him.'' We separated. In an hour I heard a gun, and then sat down, and I waited long. Night was coming on ; I thought I would go and look. I could find nothing, so as it was getting dark I fired my gun — no answer. I fired again — no answer. Some- thing, I said, has happened to my cousin ; I must fol- low his track as soon as it is daylight. "I pulled some sapin,* made a bed on the snow, drew some branches over me, and slept well. Next morning I followed the tracks, and before I got half round the mountain I saw my cousin. He was nearly dead— could just speak. Close to him was the cat, frozen stiff. My c^asin had slipped into a crack of the rock just after he had fired and wounded the cat, when he was within twenfcy yards of it. One of his legs was broken. As soon as he fell the cat sprung upon him, and toro off part of his scalp -, he killed it with his knife, but could not get out of \"he crack on account of his broken leg ; he could not r 3ach his gun to fire it off and let me know. There he must have remained, and died alone, if I had not chanced to come. I lifted him out of the crack, but his fingers snapped off — they were frozen. He just said to me, ^ Nipi ! nipi ! — water ! water ! ' I quickly made a fire, put some snow in my blanket, held it over the flame, and got him some water. He t61d me to take him to Seven Islands or the Moisie, and bury him there. He pointed to his gun. I brought it to him ; he put it into my hand, turned round his head, and died.^^ The Indian sat looking at the fire for many minutes. I did not want to interrupt his thoughts. After a while I filled his pipe, put a coal in it, and gave it to * Branches of the spruce. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 185 he track irst, and and that ogs, and an hour ;ed long, md look, k I fired . Some* must fol- be snow, 1. Next got half IS nearly the cat, crack of l the cat, p of his sprung killed it rack on his gun ist have o come. snapped /Nipi! Diit some and got Seven •e. He le put it linutes. After a Lve it to (( << him. He took it, still looking at the fire. Perhaps he saw the spirit of his cousin there, as Indians often say they do. He smoked for a long time. At length ho spoke, looking at the body, and pointing to it, saying, " He said last winter, that some one would die before the year was out.^' I knew well enough that it was one of their super- stitions that had troubled him, for he was a heathen not more than a year ago ; and a man does net get rid of his heathen notions by being touched with a drop of Manitou water. So I said to him, " Did he see any- thing ? " ^^ He came across tracks.^^ ^^ Tracks ?'' A Wendigo," said the Indian. Have you ever seen one ? ^^ I asked him. *' I have seen tracks." " Where ? " '' On the Ste. Marguerite, the Mingan, the Manitou, the Ou-na-ma-ne. My cousin saw1:racks on the Mani- tou last winter, and he said to me, and to many of us, ^ Something will happen.^" ^' What were the tracks like ? " I said to him. ^^ Wendigoes," he replied. "Well, but how big were they ? " He looked at me but said nothing, nor would ho speak on the subject again. " These Montagnais think," continued Pierre, ^^ that the Wendigoes are giant cannibals, twenty and thirty feet high. They think that they live on human flesh, and that many Indians who have gone hunting, and have never afterwards been heard of, have been de- voured by Wendigoes. They are dreadfully supersti- tious in the woods, but brave enough when they get on the coast." — H. Y. Hind. i li '* « f I T I t** 186 THIED BOOK OP READING LESSONS. THE LONELY CROSS. &' Midway between the St Louis River and Sandy Lake^ in tlie territory of Minnesota, is to be found one of the largest and most gloomy of tamarack swamps. From time immemorial it has been a thing of dread, not only to the Indians, but also to the traders and voyagers. For a good portion of the year it is blocked up with snow, and during the summer it is usually so far covered with water as only to consist of a number of islets. It is so desolate a place as to be uninhabited even by wild animals, and hence the pleasures of tra- velling over it are far from being exciting. In fact, the only way in which it can be overcome in spring is by employing a rude causeway of logs for the more dangerous places. As it happens to be directly on the route of a portage over which canoes and packs of furs are annually transported, we cannot wonder that it should frequently be the scene of mishaps and acci- dents. All along the trail lie the skeletons of canoes^ abandoned by their owners, together with broken pad- dles and remnants of camp furniture. But the most interesting object that we witnessed in this remote corner of the wilderness was a rude wooden cross, sur- mounting a solitary grave. And connected with this ^ grave is the following story, obtained from one who assisted at the burial :— It was a summer day, and many years ago, when a stranger arrived at St Marie. He reported himself as having come from Montreal, and he was anxious to obtain a canoe passage to the head waters of the Mis- sissippi. He was a Frenchman, of elegant address, and in eat^y circumstances, so far as one could judge from his stock of travelling comforts. His name and business, however, were alike unknown, and hence a mystery attended him. Haying purchased a new canoe mi «^ coriafortable tent, he secured the services *»4.,'* THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 187 iy Lake^ me of the s. From not only voyagers, up with ly so far umber of inhabited 3S of tra- in fact, spring is the more bly on the ks of furs r that it and acci- )f canoes, ken pad« the most s remote ross, sur- with this one who , when a limself as ixious to the Mis- address, lid judge lame and 1 hence a i a new ) services of four stalwart Chippeways, and started upon hia wpstern pilgrimage. He sailed along the southern shore of Lake Superior, and as its lovely features de- veloped themselves to his view one after another, he frequently manifested the pleasure he experienced in a manner so singularly enthusiastic as to increase the mystery which surrounded him. In due time they reached the superb and most picturesque St Louis Kiver, surmounted its water-falls by means of many portages, entered and ascended one of its tributaries, and finally drew up their canoe at the eastern ex- tremity of the portage which led over the swamp. The tent of the stranger was erected ; and wMle the Indians busied themselves in preparing the evening meal, the former amused himself by exploring the neighborhood of the encampment. He gathered a few roots of the sweet flag,^ of which he was particu- larly fond, and, on his return to the tent, ate a quantity of what he had collected. On that night he was taken sick; and while endeavoring to account for heart- burning and severe pt "ns that he experienced, he pulled out of his pocket a sp'^r'men of the root he had eaten, and handed it to the ans. They were surprised at this movement, but, on ^ ..amining the root, they found it to be a deadly poison. This intelligence was, of course, received with amazement and horror, and the unhappy man spent a most agonizing night. At day- break he was a little better, and insisted upon continu- ing his journey. The voyagers obeyed, and, packing up their baggage, started across the portage in single file. The excitement which filled the mind of the stranger seemed to give new energy to his sinews, and he travelled for about an hour with great rapidity; but by the time he reached the centre of the swamp, ** Sweet ftag^ or flower- do-luce, a useful plant ; the roots of which are used as a cure for toothache, and as a black dye; the leaves for thatch and chair-bottoms, and the seeds as a substitute for coffee. % 188 THIRD BOOK OP READn^O LESSONS. /it; ' ( 1 !5fi i his strength failed him^ and he was compelled to calif a halt. Upon one of the green islands, already mentioned, the Indians erected his tent, and, with all the blankets and robes belonging to the company, made him as comfortable as possible. The hours of the day were nearly numbered; the stranger had endured the se- verest agony, and he knew that ho was about to die! He divested himself of his clothes, and, with all his papers and other personal property, motioned that they should be placed in a heap a few paces from the door of his tent. His request was obeyed. He then handed them all the money he had, and despatched all his at- tendants upon imaginary errands into the neighboring woods ; and when they returned, they found the heap of clothes and other property changed into heaps of ashes. They supposed the sick man had lost his reason, and therefore did not consider his conduct surprising. They only increased their kind attentions, for they felt that the stream of life was almost dry. Again did the stranger summon the Indians to his side, and pulling from his breast a small silver crucifix, made signs to them that they were to plant upon his grave a similar memento ; and hiding it again in the folds of his shirt, cast a lingering and agonizing look upon the setting sun, and in this manner breathed his last. By the light of the moon the Indians dug a grave on the spot where the stranger died, in which they deposited his remains, with the crucifix upon his breast. At the head of the grave they planted a rude cross made of the knotty tamarack wood ; and after a night of troubled repose, started upon their return to St Marie, where they related the catastrophe of their pil- grimage. — Lanman. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 180 3d to caljf entioned, blankets e him as day were 1 the se- it to die! th all his that they the door ;n handed ill his at- ghboring the heap heaps of lis reason, irprising. they felt f n did the d pulling signs to a similar his shirt, le setting a grave lich they .is breast, ide cross r a night rn to St their pil- A.NMAN. FALLS OF NIAGARA. Where the river Niagara leaves Lake Erie, it is three quarters of a mile in width. Before reaching the falls, it is a mile broad, and twenty-five feet deep, and flows with great swiftness, having a descent of fifty feet in half a mile. An island, on the verge of the cataract, divides it into two sheets of water. One of these, called from its shape the Horse-shoe Falf, is six hun- dred yards wide and a hundred and fifty-eight feet in height. The other, called the American Fall, is two hundred yards wide, and a hundred and sixty-four feet high. About once in ten years, generally in January or the beginning of February, the ice, at the foot of the falls, makes a complete bridge from one shore to the other. A great frozen mass, of irregular shape, is formed on the edge next to the cataract, from masses of ice being forced under the surface and raising it up, and from the accumulafion of frozen spray, When 'I iin.i ' I 190 THIRD BOOK OF KEADINGf LESSONS. tMs breaks up in the springs the crasliing of the several fragments, driven together by the force of the waters, rivals the noise of the falls themselves. In a mild winter, the ice of Lake Erie sometimes breaks up, — ^Large pieces float ever the falls, — thev are smashed to atoms, and rise to the surface in immense quantities of a substance like wetted snow ; a severe night's frost binds this into a solid mass, and formal a large portion of the bridge. The rise and fall of the great body of the water are very slight at any season; but, as you watch the plunging stream, it seems to tumble down sometimes in gushes, as if an additional influence came into play every now and then. About the centre of the Horse- shoe, or Canadian Fall, there is a clear, unbroken spout of water twenty feet in depth before its leap; for seventy feet below it continues deep, and of a pure blue ; presently ib becomes shrouded in a soft spray, which waves like a plume in the wind, at times tinted with all »;he coloi's of the rainbow. When the weather is very calm, this beautiful mist rises to a great height iDto the air, becoming finer by degrees, till no longer perceptible There is already a list of fearful accidents at this place, though for so short a time frequented by civilized man : the last few years have been fertile in them. Per- haps the most frightful of all was one which happened in May, 1843. A Canadian of the village of Chippewa was engaged in drawing sand from the river three miles above the town. Seated in his cart, he backed the horses into the water, ignorant of the depth. It sank : but a box on which he sat floated, and was soon driven by a high wind off from the land into the strong but smooth cur- rent ; he, being unable to swim, clung to the box. A boat was on the shore, but, by the mismanagement of the bystanders, it was let loose into the stream, and floated past the unhappy man, empty and useless. THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 191 r of the ce of the es. In a »3 breaks smashed jaantitiea ht's frost e portaon water are ratch the ometimes into play le Horse- ken spout leap; for 3f a pure )ft spray, laes tinted 9 weather jat height no longer )S at this ' civilized m. Per- lappened engaged bove the 3 into the % box on y a high ooth cur- box. A ;ement of )am, and , useless. There was no other for two miles lower down ; beyond that, aid was impossible. The people on the banks, instead of hastening to get a boat ready in time below, ran along the shore talking to him of help, which their stupidity rendered of no avail : he knew that he was doomed. ' I'mlost! I'm lost !^^ sounded fainter and fainter as the distance widened. This dreadful pro- traction lasted nearly an hour, the stream being very slow. At first he scarcely appears to move, but the strength of the current increases, the waters become more troubled, he spins about in the eddies, still cling- ing with the energy of despair to his support. He passes close by an island, so close that the box touches and stop for one moment ; but the next it twists slowly round, and is sucked into the current again. The last hope is, that a boat may be ready on the shore at Chippewa. It is in vain; there are none there but frail canoes, all high up on the bank. By the time one of them is launched, the boldest boatman dares not embark. Just above the falls, they see the devoted victim whirled round and round in the foaming waves, with frantic gestures appealing foraid. His frightful screams pierce through the dull roar of the torrent, ''I'm lost ! I'm lost!'' He is now in the smooth flood of blue unbroken water, twenty feet in depth, the centre of the Canadian Fall. Yet another moment, he has loosed his hold ; his hands are clasped as if in prayer; his voice is silent. Smoothly, but quickly, as an arrow's flight, he glides over and is seen no more, nor any trace of him from that time. -^ — ^Wabburton's Koclielaga. ■nr it' ^;^ 192 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. Not a drum was heard^ not a funeral note, As his corpse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. / We buried him darkly at dead of night. The sods with our bayonets turning ; By the struggling moonbeam's misty hght^ And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast. Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest. With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said. And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead. And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought as we hoUow'd his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow. That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, . And we far away on the billow. Lightly they '11 talk of the spirit that 's gone, . And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,— But little he '11 reck, if they let him sleep on, In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring ; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down From the field of his fame fresh and gory ; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone. But we left him alone with his glory. — C. Wolfe. THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 103 eacl. s head^ LFE. HEROISM AND CATASTROPHE. We are accustomed to look for our heroes among those who encounter their fellow-men amid the din of battle, or who strive against the fury of the elements, but few brighter instances of heroism and noble self-sacrifice can be found than that related of a young gentleman aii St Liboire in Lower Canada, who at the peril of his own life saved a number of human beings from a mel- ancholy death. As a train on the Grand Trunk Railway was passing through that locality during the night, one of the passengers, M. Bachand, noticed that one of the houses was on fire. From tho absence of other lights, and seeing no persons near the house, he judged that the inmates were not aware of their dangerous position. With equal promptitude and thoughtfulness he at once informed the conductor of the train of the circumstance, but he, it seems, did not consider it part of his duty to stop the train for such a cause. M. Bachand, deeply grieved at this, could not allow his mind to be set at rest, but rushing out of the door of the car, he leapt out into the darkness, heedless of his own life, providing he could manage to save that of his fellow-creatures. Sad to relate, the poor fellow broke his leg in the fall, but even this did not diminish his generous anxiety. Notwithstanding the severe pain of the broken limb, he was. able to creep up to the burning house, and had only strength enough remaining to arouse the inmates. As M. Bachand had rightly conjectured, they were fast asleep, and totally unconscious of the devouring element so close at hand. The delay of a few moments would have been death to all, for even now the flames had almost enveloped the house, and had cut off the retreat of one poor young lady, a niece of the proprietor, who, unable to escape, perished in the flames. Thus several human beings were saved by tho courageous M. Bach- 9** i i t ill 194, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. and at such fearful risk to himself, when most people would only Lave given the danger a passing thought, without considering for a moment the fearful responsi- bility that might rest upon their head. A few moments and the whirl of the train would have carried them far past the scene, but in these few moments what a noble resolve was made^ and how heroically executed I LOSS OF THE SCHOONER '' DRAKE/* The Newfoundland coast is a peculiarly dangerous one, from the dense fogs that hang over the water, caused by the warm waters of the Gulf-stream, which, rushing up from the equator, here come in contact with the cold currents from the Pole, and send up such heavy vapors that day can scarcely be discerned from night, and even at little more than arm's length objects cannot be distinguished, while, from without, the mist looks liks a thick sheer precipice of snow. In snch a fearful fog, on the morning of the 20th of June 1822, the small war-schooner Drake struck sud- denly upon a rock, and almost immediately fell over on her side, the waves breaking over her. Her com- mander. Captain Baker, ordered her masts to be cut away, in hopes of lightening her, so that she might right herself—- but in vain. One boat was washed away, another upset as soon as she was launched, and there only remained the small boat, called the captain^s gig. The ship was fast breaking up, and the only hope was that the crew might reach a small rock, the point of which could be seen above the waves, at a distance that the fog made it difficult to calculate, but it was hoped might not be too great. A man named Lennard seised a rope, and sprang into the sea, but the current was too stronff for him ; he was carried away in an opposite directiwi/ and was obliged to be dragged on b people bought, 3sponsi- loments hem far a noble I THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LXSSONS. 195 mgerous B water, L, which, j&ct with up such led from I objects the mist 20th of ick Bud- ell over [er com- be cut might \d away. Id there |n's gig, )pe was )oint of listance it was 3nnard Icurrent iy in an rged on board again. Then the boatswain, whose name was Turner, volunteered to make the attempt in the gig, taking a rope fastened round his body. The crew cheered him after the gallant fashion of British seamen, though they were all hanging on by ropes to the ship, with the sea breaking over them, and threatening every moment to dash the vessel to pieces. Anxiously they watched Turner in his boat, as he made his way to within a few feet of the rock. There it was lifted higher and higher by a huge wave, then hm*led down on the rock and shattered to pieces ; but the brave boatswain was safe, and contrived to keep his hold of the rope, and to scramble upon the stone. Another great wave, almost immediately after, heaved up the remains of the ship, and dashed her down close to this rock of safety, and Captain Baker, giving up the hope of saving her, commanded the crew to leave her, and make their way to it. For the first time he met with disobedience. With one voice they refused to leave the wreck unless they saw him before them in safety. Calmly he renewed his orders, saying that his life was the last and least consideration ; and they were obliged to obey, leaving the ship in as orderly a manner as i£ they were going ashore in harbor. But they were so benumbed with cold, that many were unable to climb t? e rock, and were swept off by the waves, among them the lieutenant. Captain Baker last c^ all joined his crew, and it was then discovered that they were at no great distance from the land, but that the tide was rising, and that the rock on which they stood would assuredly be covered at high water, and the heavy mist and lonely coast gave scarcely a hope that help would come ere the slowly rising waters must devour them. Still there was no murmur, and again the gallant boatswain, who still held the rope, volunteered to make on effort to save his comrades. With a few words of eamoBt prayer, he secured the rope round his waist^ ! 'fii 196 THIBD BOOK OF BKADIN/^ LEf^SOKS* struggled hstrd witli the waves^ and leaclied the shore, whence he sent back the news of his «!f. THE EAILROAD. Through tlie mould and througli the clay, Through the corn and through the hay, By the margin of the lake. O'er the river, through the brake. On we hie with screech and roar ! Splashing ! flashing ! crashing ! dashing ! Over ridges, gullies, bridges ! By the bubbling rill, and mill — Highways, byways. Hollow hill- Jumping — bumping — rocking — roaring Like forty thousand giants snoring ! O'er the aqueduct and bog, On we fly with ceaseless jog. Every instant something new ; Every moment lost to view, Now a tavern — now a steeple — Now a crowd of gaping people — Now a hollow — now a ridge — Now a crossway — now a bridge. Grumble — stumble — rumble — ^tumble — Fretting — getting in a stew ! Church and steeple, gaping people, Quick as thought are lost to view ! Everything that eye can survey Turns hurly-burly, topsy-turvy ! Glimpse of lonely hut and mansion, Glimpse of ocean's wide expansion, Glimpse of foundry and of forge. Glimpse of plain and mountain gorge. Dash along ! slash along ! flash along ! On ! on with a bump and a thump, i And a roll ! Hies the flre-flend to its destined goal. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 199 gl TWENTY YEARS AGO— THE SCHOOL-BOY'S REMINISCENCE. I've wander'd in the village, Tom, I've sat beneath the tree, [you and me, Upon the school-house playing-ground, which sheltered But none were there to greet me, Tom, and few were left to know. That play 'd with us upon the green, some twenty years ago. The grass is just as green, Tom, — barefooted boys at piav ^ ... fe^y* Were sporting just as we did then, with spirits just as But master sleeps upon the hill, which, coated o*er with snow. Afforded us a sliding-place, just twenty years ago. The old school-house is alter'd now, the benches are replaced [faced ; By new ones very like the same our pen-knives had de- But the same old bricks are in the wall, the bell swings to and fro, — [^go. Its music just the same, dear Tom, as twenty years The spring that bubbled 'neath the hill, close by the spreading beech, [reach ; Is very low, — 'twas once so high that we could almost And kneeling down to get a drink, dear Tom, I started so. To see how much that I had changed since twenty years ago. Near by the spring, upon the elm, you know I cut your name, — [mine the same ; Your sweetheart's just beneath it, Tom, — and you did Some heartless wretch hath peel'd the bark — 'twas dying sure, but slow, [ago. Just as the one whose name we cut, died twenty years 200 THIRD BOOK OF READING LI880KS. My eyelids had been dry, Tom, but tears come in my eyes, [ties ; I thought of her I loved so well — those early broken I visited the old churchyard, — and took some flowers to strew [ago* Upon the graves of those we loved some twenty years And some are in the ch^irchyard laid — some sleep be- neath the sea, But few are left of all our class, excepting you and me ; And when our time shall come, Tom, and we are call'd to go, I hope they^U lay us where we play'd just twenty years ago. Anonymous, LOST IN THE WOODS. Before the discovery of gold at Vancouver's Island, when the only European residents were confined withiq the quadrangle of a wooden fort, or, more properly speaking, a stockade, I was on one occasion very nearly perishing in the woods of that beautiful island. The abundance of game of all sorts^ and my OYm love o! '1, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 201 3 m my [ties ; ' broken lowers to [ago. ty years leep be- and me ; ive caird twenty i/mou8. m Island^ d within Droperly y nearly d. The love of adventure, tempted me to set out alone, thereby hoping to have a better chance of securing a deer than if ac- companied by a comrade. I started for a small stream running into Esquimalt harbor, where the Indians had informed me the animals came at daybreak to drink. I soon found myself following a trail, which I believed led to the desired spot : of this, however, I gradually became doubtful, as the ground began to rise, and the trail grew less distinct as I advanced. The grand trunks of pine trees, towering far above the rest of the forest, and the thick dark foliage they supported, im- pressed my mind with that indescribable feeling of awe which we experience in the broad silent desert or the perfect calm at sea. I had seen no traces of deer, and the only sounds which had met my ear were the sharp tapping of the large woodpecker and the flapping wings of the pigeons. The stems of the trees were blackened by the action of fire, and in many places some giant trunk, felled by the wintry gales, lay across my path. I toiled onward, but without finding the stream for which I was in search. The sun was high in the heavens, and all chance of reaching the drink- ing place of the deer in time to meet them was at an end. After taking a biscuit from my pocket and a sip From my flask, I turned to retrace my steps ; but in this I was even less successful, for the trail I had fol- lowed appeared to be growingless distinct, and branched off in several directions. Hearing a rustling sound in the underwood, I stood quite still ; and presently, to my delight, I detected the head of a deer, about two hundred paces in front of me. I raised my gun and fired, when the animal gave a bound, and, as I fancied, fell. Without thinking of the trail, I ran forward until I reached the exact spot at which the creature was when I puUe*^, the trigger, but he was nowhere to be seen ; upon the leaves, however, there were traces of blood,' rMi 202 fHIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. wliicli I followed, hoping soon to come up with the wounded buck. The difficulty of tracing the blood upon the ground became greater, and at length I was compelled to stop and again try to find my way back. After many fruitless attempts, I was forced to give up, and sit quietly down to think as to my wisest course. The usual expedients by which the Indians regain the lost trail were at that time unknown to me, and having no compass, or any knowledge of the trend of the coast line, I was uncertain in which direction to proceed. I had no watch, and was therefore compelled to guess the hour, by which means alone I could determine my posi- tion by the sun, as it was impossible to obtain a sight of the sun's disk. My scanty stock of biscuit was ex- hausted, and the difficulty of struggling through the scrub had wearied me, so that I fancied it would be wiser to remain where I was until I could determine my course by the sunset : then I knew that by travel- ling westward I must reach the coast. A wolf came near me while seated upon a fallen tree, but I failed to obtain a shot at him, and soon heard his unpleasant howl far iway in the forest. As soon as the twilight commenced, I began to think the night would prove the most uncomfortable part of my adventure ; so, to relieve the gloom, I kindled a fire, and collected all the dry wood I could lay my hand on, previously choosing a bare spot of open ground, where there could be no fear of the forest taking fire. Sleep was out of the question, for as soon as darkness set in, I could hear the various predacious animals busy in the distance, and occasionally the light would fall upon the shining eyeballs of a wolf or bear, several of which were bold enough to approach so near that I could see their forms distinctly. One gaunt old wolf drew so close to me that I could see the glistening of his ugly fangs, and perceive that his skin hung loosely upon his bones. Several times this brute endeavored to summon courage to face the flames, but a Jbnrmng THIBP BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 203 h the blood I was back, re up, ourse. in the laving I coast 3d. I iss the ' posi- k sight as ex- ^h the lid be jrmine :ravel- came failed easant Irmng piece of wood thrown at him sent him howling back into the gloom. Nothing daunted, he returned to the attack whenever the flames died away, until I put an end to his intrusion by sending a ball through his chest. At the report of my gun, the whole of the forest seemed alive ; birds, bats, and animals of every descrip- tion, added their sounds to the unearthly screaming of the stricken wolf. Although I had collected a large stock of wood before nightfall, yet keeping three fires burning, between which I placed myself, soon dimin- ished my supply, and made me impatiently long for the morning j added to this, I now began to suffer from great thirst, not having been able to find any water from the time of my leaving for the woods. As the sun gradually threw its beams high into the heavens, the excitement of the nocturnal feeders grew less, and at sunrise I found myself alone once more. After casting a careful glance around on every side, I stepped from my lodging in quest of the wolf I had shot. To my surprise, not a trace of the carcass was to be found. I had no doubt he was killed by my ball, from the quiet way in which he lay for an hour or two after- wards; he must therefore have been carried off by hia comrades. Directly the sun showed, I turned my back to it, and pushed my way through the underwood, having previously reloaded my double-barrelled gun. The further I went the thicker the tangled shrub became. My thirst was increasing, and my want of rest did not improve my condition. For hours I toled on, yet never seemed to find the trace of human beings. Some- times I went through gigantic ferns, where it was quite impossible to steer my course, as, once amongst them, everything else was hidden, they rising many feet above my head. I could hear the deer push through them. I occasionally fired at a squirrel or a bird, in the hope that the report of my piece might reach a stray Indian^ I i; ; ; I I 204 THIRD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. and thus bring me help. Another night at length stared me in the face. I searched for berries^ but could find none^ and water was nowhere to be seen. The ground and wood were parched and dry. I was so exhausted that it was with difficulty I could make a fire ; nothing but the stimulus which the idea of a prowling wolf^ or the loud sniffing of the black bear^ gave to my fears, induced me to exert myself. Towards the morning I noticed a thickness in the air, coming up with the wind, and soon perceived the smell of smoke to windward of my fires. At first 1 hoped it was some party sent to search for me, and therefore discharged one barrel of my gun. What was my horror, however, while listening for an answer to it, when I heard the crackling of sticks and the roar of flames ! The forest was on fire. In my fear I rushed madly forward away from the flames, but they were evidently fast overtaking me ; and past me on every side galloped deer, wolves, and bears, while birds of various kinds flew before the clouds of pursuing smoke. In the horror of the moment my thirst was forgotten ; the two dreadful nights I had passed were obliterated from my memory, and I struggled on, exerting all my remaining strength. As I burst through a dense growth of ferns I observed an Indian lad running, not away from the fire, but across it. I shouted, and the boy beckoned. In a moment it occurred to me that my only chance of safety was to follow the lad. Throw- ing my gun and powder away, I gave chase, and not- withstanding his fleetness, managed to keep him in sight. Every nerve was strained, every sense on the alert, for already I could feel the heat from the roar- ing flame. Onward I staggered, the smoke now blinding me, and the oppression being so great that I felt my efforts must soon terminate. Still, I fancied through the distant trees I could see the fire gleam upon the sea. From this time I know no more, for I reeled forward and fell to the ground. THIBD BOOK OS BBiDUia LIS80NS. 205 i<*\\ When I recovered myself I was lying upon the sea- shore, close to the water, with several Indians squat- ting by my side. As I recovered, I became aware of my hair having been burnt, and my clothes very much scorched. It appears that the Indian boy told two of his tribe that I was following him, whereupon they had entered the forest in time to see me fall, and had at great peril dragged me after them to a place of safety. These men proved to be Indians of a friendly tribe, who had been despatched in search of me, upon the promise of some twenty blankets if they brought me in alive. They started the morning after I failed to return, and had followed my trail as far as the first night- fires, but could not proceed, the underwood hav- ing caught light from them ; and so they were obliged to take to the coast, where they providentially met with, the boy, who stated my being Close at hand ; and thus my life was saved when lost in the Vancouver Island woods,, — Leisure Koiii\ % '1 I )1 THE FOREST FIRE. The huge forests of North America are being gradually destroyed by the woodman's axe, and still more i*apidly by the fires that break out in them and destroy the trees for many miles. These fires break out from different causes ; sometimes lightning strikes a dry tree, sometimes a spark from a pipe falls on the dry grass, or a heap of brushwood being set on fire to clear it away, kindles the grass near, and the mischief is done. The undergrowth of the forest feeds the flames. They mount the fir-trees, which have turpentine in them, and burn easily. The fire leaps from tree to tree; wild animals fly when they hear its roar. The poor back- woodsman leaves his home and fields, and carries off Ms wife and children to seek safety. As the fire passes i'll 206 THIBD BOOK OF SEADIKO LESSONS. on^ it leaves behind it black smoking ground^ with bare trunks like charcoal rising up from it : a most dreary scene where lately all was ^reen and fertile. No one who has not seen them can form an idea of the terrible grandeur of these fires. The clouds of smoke obscure the brightness of a noonday sun^ and darken the country ; they suffocate those whom they overtake with their hot breath. To see the forked tongues of flame leaping forward as if seeking more food, and to hear their roar as of a hungry monster calling for its prey, is to hear and see what will never be forgotten. The best way to stop the fire is to set fire to some piece of grass or brush in front of it, that when it reaches it the flames may die out for want of food; but this is not easily done. The fire will dart across a wide space of clear ground, and begin burning on the other side be- fore you are aware of it.* A very broad river will some- times stop it, but in other cases it has been known to cross over and burn for miles on the other side. One fire of this kind, some years ago, burned a hundred and forty miles of country on each side of a large river, and this fire was more than sixty miles in breadth. It is supposed that five hundred human beings lost their lives in it. One poor woodman had just built his log- hut, and was beginning to cut timber, when the fire broke out. He was told of it by some of his men who had passed through the wood to bring him food, but he thought nothing of it, till one of them, leaving the hut for a minute, came back hastily with the news that the fire was a bad one, and within a mile of the hut. They instantly looked out, and as far as they could see, there was nothing but fire waving high above the forest. Its roar, like that of a huge furnace, was broken in upon from time to time by the crash of falling trees. Not a moment was to be lost. Without staying to save anything, they ran to a small stream a little way off. Some of them thought this would be a sufficient check to the flames^ and bo contented themselves with lome- NU to One I and , and It is their log- fire who but 5 the that hut. isee, )re8t. 't THIBD BOOS OV BEADING LISSOKS. 207 crossing it, and going a short distance down its opposite bank to a spot which they had partially cleared. The woodman, however, felt sure the fire would soon leap such a narrow stream, and resolved to stay in the water until the fearful enemy had passed by. He waded into it up to his shoulders, and stood under an overhanging bank to await his fate. The flames advanced, burning up all before them, and filling the sky with a fearful glare. Their hot breath almost stifled the poor trembling man in the river. Another minute, and the trees overhead were alight, and he was obliged to plunge his head under water and keep it there as long as he could. When he was able once more to stand erect, the flames were still raging on before him, while behind were glowing trunks soon to die out for want of fuel. It was hours before he could leave his refuge with safety ; but at last he managed to escape from the ruined neighborhood, Happily, he had some food lying in a cellar which had not been injured, and this kept him from starving till he got beyond the blackened country. His companions were lost in the forest. On one occasion a man^s life was saved by one of these fires in a remarkable way. He had been riding about the prairie in search of a camp in which his comrades were expecting him, and had more than once lost his way. At last he came within sight of the camping-ground, and spurred his horse forward, pleased to think he should soon be among his friends. No comrades were there to greet him; no living thing was to be seen. The dead body of an Indian lay across the extinguished fire, and all around were the marks of a deadly struggle. It was evident that the camp had been attacked by the savages, and his friends tad been carried off. He followed in their tracks, and about a mile off, coming to a rising-ground, he saw below a large party of Indians camped upon tho plain. They saw him tooj and he turned Ms horse's head^ and ;i *■ i I' 208 THIRD BOOK Of BEADINQ LESSONS. rode for his life. To make matters worse, they were mounted on his friends' horses, which he well knew were as good as his own. He turned to the wood for shelter, and the savages came yelling behind him. His horse was already weary, and there was little chance of his escaping, until near at hand rising clouds of smoke told him that the forest was on fire. If he could dash through the flaming woods he was safe. No Indian would dare to follow him there. At once he spurred forward to meet the fire. The smoke half suflPocated him. He sprung from his horse, tore up his blanket, bound one piece over his horse's eyes, and with the other loosely covered his own face. This he knew would keep out the thickest smoke, while its coarse texture Jet in air enough to sustain life for a short time. Thus muffled he mounted again, and as the warwhoop of his fierce enemies sounded nearer, he spurred his poor beast into the fire. Scorching, crackling, blazing as it was, he went through it for a few short moments of agony, and then found himself in the clear sweet air beyond. The blazing wood was passed, and tearing away their bandages, horse and rider were safe. Great was the triumph of the Indians as they saw them dash into the flame, for they felt sure both had perished. They were, indeed, half dead with the heat and the thirst it created, but soon they reached a river, and horse and rider both plunged gladly into its cool waters. THIRD BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 209 were knew >d for Hiff ace of moke . dash ndian lurred )cated mket, h. the knew coarse > time. ?7hoop ed his lazing ments et air aring Great dash ished. d the and raters. THE SOLITUDE OF ALEXANDER SELKIRK. I AM monarch of all I survey ; My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute. Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity^ s reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech ; I start at the sound of my own. ^ The beasts that roam over the plain My form with indifference see ; They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me. Society^ friendship, and love Divinely bestow d upon man. Oh had I the wings of a dovo How soon would I taste you again My sorrows I then might assuago In the ways of religion and truth. Might learn from the wisdom of ago. And be cheer'd by the sallies of youth. Ye winds that have made me your sport. Convey to this desolate shore Some cordia! endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more : My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? Oh tell me I yet have a friend. Though a friend I am never to boo - Q r •^' 210 THIRD BOOK OF REiDINO LESSONS. How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight. The tempest itself lags behind. And the swift wing'd arrows of ligjit. When I think of my own native land In a moment 1 seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the sea fowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair ; Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair. There's mercy in every place. And mercy, encouraging thought ! Gives even affliction a grace. And reconciles man to his lot. — W. COWPER. A HUDSON BAY STORE. The store or shop at a Hudson Bay trading-post is a most interesting and curious place. To the Indian, especially, it is a sort of enchanted chamber, out of which can be obtained everything known under the sun. As there can bo only one shop or store at a trading- post, it follows that that shop must contain a few articles out of almost every other style of shop in the world. Accordingly, you will find collected within the four walls of that little room, knives and guns from Sheffield, cotton webs from Manchester, grindstones from Newcastle, tobacco from Virginia, and every sort of thing from I know not where all ! You can buy a blanket or a file, an axe or a pair of trousers, a pound of sugar or a barrel of nails, a roll of tobacco or a tin kettle, nearly everything, in short, that amau can think of THIBD BOOK OF EEWINQ LESSWS. 211 H- OWPER. lost is a Indian^ out of Itlie sun. irading- a few- ill the ihin the s from Idstones >ry sort buy a pound lor a tin thinkof or desire. And you can buy it, too, without money ! Indeed, you must buy it without money, for there is not such a thing as money in the land. The trade is carried on entirely by barter, or exchange. The Indian gives the trader his furs, and the trader gives him his goods. In order to make the exchange fair and equitable, however, everything is rated by a certain standard of value, which is called a made-ljaver in one part of the country, a castore in another. The first man that stepped forward to the counter was a chief. A big, coarse-looking, disagreeable man, but a first-rate hunter. He had two wives in conse- quence of his abilities, and the favorite wife now stood at his elbow to prompt, perhaps to caution, him. He threw down a huge pack of furs, which the trader opened, and examined with care, fixing the price of each skin, and marking it down with a piece of chalk on the counter as he went along. There were two splendid black bear-skins, two or three dozen martens, or sables, ^yb or six black foxes, and a great many silver foxes, besides cross and red ones. In addition to these, he had a number of minks and beaver-skins, a few otters, and sundry other furs, besides a few buffalo and deer-skins, dressed, and with the hair scraped off. These last skins are used for mak- ing winter coats, and also moccasins or the feet. After all had been examined and valued, the whole was summed up, and a number of pieces of stick were handed to the chief — each stick representing a castore ; so that he knew exactly how much he was worth, and proceeded to choose accordingly. First he gazed earnestly at a huge thick blanket, then he counted his sticks, and considered. Perhaps the memory of the cold blasts of winter crossed his mind, for he quickly asked how many castores it was worth. The trader told him. The proper number of pieces of stick were laid down, and the blanket was handed over. Next a gun attracted his eye. The guns sent out for f !] 'uglit it. L kettle, at this . She seemed bright off, and moment like the inery. ious and the one d at this •ide; he 'as to be lot^ a:^es Dwn and anend- his little g-point, youVe ou have Indian hese for r, hand- counte- for an- ■irs. TYNE. LIFE IN THE WILDERNESS. The next turn in the river revealed a large waterfall, up which it was impossible to paddle, so they prepared to make a portage. Before arriving at the foot of it, however, Jasper landed Heywood, to enable him to make a sketch, and then the two men shoved off, and proceeded to the foot of the fall. They were lying there in an eddy, considering where was the best spot to land, when a loud shout drew their attention towards the rushing water. Immedi- ately after, a boat was seen to hover for a moment on the brink of the waterfall. This fall, although about ten or fifteen feet high, had such a large body of water rushing over it, that the river, instead of falling straight down, gushed over in a steep incline. Down this in- cline the boat now darted with the speed of lightning. It was full of men, two of whom stood erect, the one in the bow, the other in the stem, to control the movements of the boat. .1!, 'A ?! ! 1 11 !•! 2U THIRD DOOE OF READING LESSONS. For a few seconds there was deep silence. The men held their breath as the boat leaped along with the boiling flood. There was a curling white wave at the foot of the fall. The boat cut through this liko a knife, drenching her crew with spray. Next moment she swept round into the eddy where the canoe was floating, and the men gave vent to a loud cheer of satisfaction at having run the fall in safety. But this was not the end of that exciting scene. Scarcely had they gained the land, when another boat appeared on the crest of the fall. Again a shout was given and a dash made. For one moment there was a struggle with the raging flood, and then a loud cheer as the second boat swept into the eddy in safety. Then a third and a fourth boat went through the same opera- tion, and before the end of a quarter of an hour, six boats ran the fall. The bay at the foot of it, which had been so quiet and solitary when Jasper and his friends arrived, became the scene of the wildest con- fusion and noise, as the men ran about with tremen- dous activity, making preparations to spend the night there. Some hauled might and main at the boats; some carried up the provisions, frying-pans, and kettles; others cut down dry trees with their axes, and cut them up into logs from five to six feet long and as thick as a man's thigh. These were intended for six great fires, each boat's crew requiring a fire to themselves. While this was going on, the principal guides and steersmen crowded round our three travellers, and plied them with questions; for it was so unusual to meet with strangers in that far-off wilderness, that a chance meeting of this kind was regarded as quite an import- ant event. *' You're bound for York Fort, no doubt," said Jasper, addressing a tall handsome man of between forty and fifty, who was the principal guide. Ay, that ^s the end of our journey. You see we ^se €< m lemen th the at the liko a Loment oe was tieer of scene. 3r boat ut was ire was d cheer Then 3 opera- Dur, six ;, which and his est con- tremen- le night 3; some kettles ; 5ut them f}hick as jat fires, s. des and nd plied meet chance import- . Jasper, orty and 36 we're THIRD BOOK OF BEABINO LESSONS. 215 taking our furs down to the coast. Have you come from York Fort, friend?" ''No, IVe come all the way from Canada/' said Jasper, who thereupon gave them a short account of his voyage. " Well, Jasper, you'll spend the night with us, won't you?" said the guide. '' That will I, right gladly." '' Come, then, I see the fires are beginning to burn, We may as well have a pipe and a chat while supper is getting ready." The night was now closing in, and the scene in the forest, when the camp-fires began to blaze, was one of the most stirring and romantic sights that could be witnessed in that land. The men of the brigade were some of them French-Canadians, some natives of the Orkney Islands, who had been hired and sent out there by the Hudson's Bay Company, others were half-breeds, and a few were pure Indians. They were all dressed in what is called voyageur costume — coats or capotes of blue or gray cloth, with hoods to come over their heads at night, and fastened round their waists with scarlet worsted belts ; corduroy or gray trousers, gar- tered outside at the knees, moccasins, and caps. But most of them threw off their coats, and appeared in blue and red striped cotton shirts, which were open at the throat, exposing their broad, sun-burned, hairy chests. There was variety, too, in *^^he caps — some had Scotch bonnets, others red nightcaps, a few had tall hats, ornamented with gold and silver cords and tassels, and a good many wore no covering at all except their own thickly-matted hair. Their faces were burned to every shade of red, brown, and black, from constant exposure, and they were strong as lions, wild as zebras, and frolicsome as kittens ! It was no wonder, then, that Hey wood got into an extraordinary state of excitement and delight as he beheld these wild fine-looking men smoking their pipes !«!; » I' H III 216 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. and cooking their suppers, sitting, lying, and standing, talking, and singing, and laughing, with teeth glisten- ing and eyes glittering in the red blaze of the fires-— each of which fires was big enough to have roasted a whole ox ! The kettles were soon steaming. These hung from tripods erected over the fires. Their contents were flour and pemioan, made into a thick soup called Rub- biboo. As pemican is a kind of food but little known in this country, I may as well describe how it is made. In the first place, it consists of buffalo meat. The great plains, or prairies, of America, which are like huge downs or commons hundreds of miles in extent, afford grass sufficient to support countless herds of deer, wild horses, and bisons. The bisons are called by thp people there buffaloes. The buffalo is some- what like an enormous ox, but its hind quarters are smaller and its fore quarters much larger than those of the ox. Its hair is long and shaggy, particularly about the neck and shoulders, where it becomes almost a mane. Its horns are thick and short, and its look is very ferocious, but it is in reality a timid creature, and will only turn to attack man when it is hard pressed and cannot escape. Its flesh is first-rate for food, even better than >"^9f, and there is a large hump on its shoulder which ii considered the best part of the animal. Such is the bison, or buffalo, from which pemican is made. When a man wishes to make a bag of pemican, he first of all kills a buffalo — not an easy thing to do by any means, for the buffalo runs well. Having killed him, he skins him and cuts up the meat — also a diffi- cult thing to do, especially if one is not used to that sort of work. Then he cuts the meat into thin layers, and hanffs it up to drv. Dried meat will keep for a bales and sent about long packed up THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 217 bnding, jlisten- fires— asted a g from IS were i Kub- own in made. ). The ire like extent, erds of ) called 1 some- bers are 1 those icularly almost ts look eature, s hard 'ate for hump of the loan is an, he do by killed a diffi- to that layers, p for a ) about that country to be used as food. The next thing to be done is to make a bag of the raw hide of tho buffalo. This is done with a glover's needle, the raw sinews of the animal being used instead of thread. The bag is usually about three feet long, and eighteen inches broad, and the hair is left on the outside of it. A huge pot is now put on the fire, and the fat of the buffalo is melted down. Then the dried meat is pounded between two stones, until it is torn and broken up into shreds, after which it is put into the bag, tho melted fat is poured over it, and the whole is well mixed. The last operation is to sew up the mouth of the bag and leave it to cool, after which the pemican is ready for use. In this state a bag of pemican will keep fresh and good for years. When the search was going on in the polar regions for the lost ships of Sir John Franklin, one of the parties hid some pemican in the ground, in- ' tending to return and take it up. They returned home, however, another way. Five years later some travellers discovered this pemican, and it was found, at that time, to be fit for food. Pemican is extensively used throughout Rupert's Land, especially during summer, for at that season the brigades of boats start from hundreds of inland trading-posts to take the furs to the coast for shipment to England, and pemican is found to be not only the best food for these hard- working men, but exceedingly convenient to carry. Supper finished, the wild-looking fellows of this brigade took to their pipes, and threw fresh logs on the fires, which roared and crackled and shot up their forked tongues of flame, as if they wished to devour the forest. Then the song and the story went round, and men told of terrible fights with the red men of the prairies, and desperate encounters with grizzly bears in the Eocky Mountains, and narrow escapes among the rapids and falls, until the night was half spent. Then, oae by one, each man wrapi)ed himself in his i' !i i 218 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. blanket, stretched himself on the ground with his feet towards the fire, and his head pillowed on a coat or a heap of brushwood, and went to sleep. With the first peep of dawn the guide arose. In ten minutes after his first shout the whole camp was astir. The men yawned a good deal a*, first and grumbled a little, and stretched themselves violently, and yawned again. But soon they shook off laziness and sprang to their work. Pots, pans, kettles, and pemican bags were tossed into the boats, and in the course of half-an-hour they were ready to continue the voyage. . — R. M. Ballantyne. WINTER IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS. Winter in the Polar regions extends over eight months of the year — from September to May. But so much of ice and snow remains there ad the summer, that winter can scarcely be said to quit those regions at all. It is difficult to imagine what the Arctic winter is. We cannot properly understand the tremendous diffi- culties' and sufferings that men who go to the Polar seas have to fight against. Let the reader think of the following facts, and see if he does not draw his chair closer to the fire and feel thankful that he has not been born an Esquimaux, and is not an Arctic seaman ! Winter within the Arctic circle, as I have said, is fully eight months long. During that time the land is covered with snow many feet deep, and the sea with ice of all degrees of thickness — from vast fields of ten or fifteen feet thick to bergs the size of islands and mountains — all frozen into one solid mass. There is no sunlight there, night or day, for three out of these eight winter months, and there is not much during the remaining five. In summer there is per- THIRD BOOS OF BEADING LESSONS. 219 is feet kt or a B. In p was t and lently, ziness 3, and in the lie the rNE. lonths much t that ^t all. ber is. diffi. Polar of the chair ,s not iman 1 aid, is and is I with often s and three much s per- petual sunlight, all night as well as all day for about two months, — for many weeks the sun never descends below the horizon. It i;:i seen every day and every night sweeping a complete circle in the bright blue sky. Having been so free of his light in summer, the sun seems to thin,k he has a right to absent himself in winter, for the three months of darkness that I have spoken of are not months oi partial but of total dark- ness — as far at least as the sun is concerned. The moon and stars and the " Northern Lights '' do indeed give their light when the fogs and clouds will allow them ; but no one will say that these make up for the absence of the sun. Then the frost is so intense that everything freezes solid except pure spirits of wine. Unless you have studied the thermometer you cannot understand the intensity of this frost ; but for the sake of those who do know something about extreme cold, I give here a few facts that were noted down during the winter that my story tells of. ^ On the lObh of September these ice-bound voyagers had eighteen degrees of frost, and the darkness had advanced on them so rapidly that it was dark about ten at night. By the 1st of October the ice round the brig was a foot and a half thick. Up to this time they had shot white hares on the island, and the hunting parties that crossed the ice to the mainland, shot deer and musk oxen, and caught white foxes in traps. Gulls and other birds, too, had continued to fly round them ; but most of these went away to seek warmer regions further south. Walrus and seals did not leave so soon. They remained as long as there was any open water out at sea. The last birds that left them (aiid the first that returned in spring) were the " snow-birds " — little creatures about the size of a sparrow, almost white, with a few brown feathers here and there. The last of these fled from the darkening winter on the 7th Novomberi and did not return until the 1st of the follow- ni 'i If 220 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. ing May. When they left, it was dark almost all day. The thermometer could scarcely be read at noon, and the stars were visible during the day. From this time forward thick darkness set in, and the cold became intense. The thermometer fell below zero, and after that they never saw it above that point for months together ; 20, 30, and 40 degrees below, were common temperatures. The ice around them was ten feet thick. On the 1st of December noon was so dark that they could not see fifty yards ahead, and on the 15th the iingers could not be counted a foot from the eyes. The thermometer stood at 40^ below zero. The darkness could not now become greater, but the cold still continued to grow more intense. It almost doubled in severity. In January it fell to 67° below zero ! So great was this cold that the men felt im- pelled to breathe guardedly. The breath issued from their mouths in white clouds of steam, and instantly settled on their beards and whiskers in hoar frost. In the cabin of the pope they had the utmost diflficulty in keeping themselves moderately warm at this time. Things had now reached their worst, and by slow degrees matters began to mend. On the 22nd of Jan- uary the first faint sign of returning day appeared— just a blue glimmer on the horizon. By the middle of February the light tipped the tops of the mountains on shore, and the highest peaks of the icebergs on the sea, and on the 1st of March it bathed the deck of the Hope, Then the long- imprisoned crew began to feel that spring was really coming. But there was little heat in tho sun's rays at first, and it was not till the month of May that the ice out at sea broke up, and summer could be said to have begun. During all this long winter — ^during all these won- derful changes, our Arctic voyagers had a hard fight in order to keep themselves alive. Theij' life was a con- stant struggle. They had to fight the bears and the lyalrus ; to resist the cold and the darkness ; to guard tHIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 221 against treachery from the natives ; and to suffer pains, sickness, and trials, such as seldom fall to the lot of men in ordinary climates. — R. M, Ballantyne. THE ARCTIC REGIONS. Up ! up ! let us a voyage take. Why sit we here at ease ? Find us a vessel, tight and snng. Bound for the Northern Seas. I long to see the Northern Lights, With their rushing splendors fly. Like living things with flaming wings, Across the sunless sky. I long to see those icebergs vast. With heads all crown'd with snow ; Whose green roots sleep in the awful deep, Two hundred fathoms low. Theie shall we see the fierce white bear. The sleepy seals aground, And the spouting whales that to and fro Sail with a dreary sound. We '11 pass the shores of solemn pine, Where wolves and black bears prowl. And away to the rocky isles of mist, To rouse the northern fowl. And there in wastes of the silent sky, With silenfc earth below, We shall see far off to his lonely rock The lonely eagle go. We've visited the northern clime, Its isles and icebound raain ; So now let us back to a dearer land — To Britain back again. 222 THIRD BOOK OF KEADINd LESSONS. LOSS OF THE "LADY ELGIN/' Few catastrophes have taken place more serious id their nature than that caused by the loss of this ill- fated vessel — not tossed upon the billows of the Atlan- tic, nor striking on some iron-bound shore— but* over- come by the concussion of a lesser vessel, as, with 400 passengers on board, bent upon an excursion from Chicago to Lake Superior, she sank a helpless and ruined craft beneath the surface of Lake Michigan. The number of passengers on board much overpassed the amount of sleeping accommodation to be found in the steamer; — consequently, unthinking of danger, the larffer proportion of them resolved on passing the night with songs, music, and dancing. The saloon continued to be lighted up ; the gay groups indulged in merriment ; ever and anon a lady^s voice was heard giving forth the notes of some familiar air, and feet swept swiftly round in the mazy dance. All within was enjoyment, harmless in itself, but soon to present an awful contrast with the scene without. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 223 tt began to blow hard^ and there was a squall ; but the dashing of the wave? and howling of the winds for a time only added zest to the enjoyment of the scene within the vessel. Soon, however, peril was at hand. When it was half-past two in the morning the dance still went on — the strains of music were still heard. But, just at this time, a schooner, the Augusta, scudded near; the captain of which vessel stated afterwards that he had descried the steamer's lights at about half- a-mile's distance, as he then considered, but when, in fact, the Augusta was almost close upon the broadside of the Lady Elgin, The helm of the Augusta was turned hard a-port, but it was too late, and the fatal hour had come. There was a fearful crash — the schooner's bow cutting in the steamer's bow, close by one of the paddle-boxes. For a moment the Augusta remained wedged into the side of the steamer, but got free, on which the captain of the Lady Elgin made all speed to get one of her boats lowered, in order to ascer- tain the extent of the injury. But — as has too fre- quently happened in similar cases — no proper supervi- sion seems to have been exercised over any of the boats connected with the vessel. That which was manned was provided with but a single oar, and was, conse- quently'; useless; the waves, while vain efforts were being made to remedy this deficiency, nearly driving it to pieces against the vessel's side, while it ultimately drifted upon an island not far distant from the spot where the disaster had occurred. While this was going gn, it was, after much search and confusion, ascertained that the hole in the side of the Lady Elgin lay too deep to admit of being reached. The water was, consequently, pouring in. An attempt made to heel her over waa vain, though a large amount of cattle, numbering not far from 200, were now thrown overboard by order of the captain. Rapidly as these incidents may be told, the carrying out of the requisite evolutions demanded much time. • '< ■| . i\ 224 THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. Two other boats, launclied as soon as possible, remained in connection with the steamer, the passengers being meanwhile advised to provide themselves with life-pre- servers, of which there seems to have been a store on board. The life-preservers had been, however, as little attended to as the boats. They had either been spoiled, or were improperly fitted on, and, amidst the hurry and alarm, though the current had set in right towards the island already mentioned, only but few of those who adopted this help to escape succeeded in reaching the shore. About a quarter of an hour after the collision, and presenting a parallel to tho case of the Royal Charter, the engines fell through the bottom. The immediate consequence of this was, that the hull began rapidly to sink, the hurricane deck alone continuing to float, to which many had clung as their last place of refuge. Soon, however, tlr ' i deck became split up into five frag- ments, the waves washing over it, and engulfing all who had sought refuge upon it— among others the captain of the steamer. Of the two remaining boats which had been launched one contained thirteen persons, all of whom were safely got on land ; the second contained only eight persons, half of whom were swept away by the hurricane and squall. The melancholy event was uescribed by one of the subordinate officers connected with the Lady Elgin, whose account, as it has been to a great extent already anticipated, we now abridge: — "The schooner collided vvith the steamer when she was about thirty-five miles from Chicago, and ten miles from land. When the collision occurred there was music and dancing going forward in the principal cabin. Immediately after the crash of the collision both ceased, and the steamer sank half an hour after. Passing through the cabins I saw the ladies pale, motionless, and silent. There was no cry, no shriek on board ; no sound of any kind but that of the escaping THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 225 mined being ■e-pre- ore on 3 little polled, hurry )wards those aching n, and harter, lediate lidly to ioat, to refuge, ^e frag- all who captain ich had all of tained svay by of the Elgin, already en bd she ten there incipal llision after. s pale, iek on caping steam and surging waves. Whether the ladies were silent from fear, or were not aware of the imminent fate which they stood quietly awaiting, I could not say." Four of those who were on board the boaii last mentioned in this narrative were drowned near the beach, as the boat drifted onwards to it. The engines had entirely ceased to work before this narrator left the steamer, the rush of water through the leak having quite extinguisned the fires. The wind was blowing a fierce gale. The boats, the fragments of the wreck, and the bodies of the drowned, were being driven up the lake. At least 330 persons perished by this unlooked-fot casualty. Among these was one notable in the annals of commercial England — Mr Herbert Ingram, the pro- jector and proprietor of the Illustrated London News, and M.P. for Boston, who, with his son, a youth of about fifteen years of age, were passengers. — Perils and Adventures on the Deep, THE PILOT. PILOT, ^tis a fearful night, — there's danger on the deep ; I'll come and pace the deck with thee, — I do not dare to sleep. Go down ! the sailor cried, go down ; this is no place for thee ; Fear not ; but trust in Providence, wherever thou mayst be. Ah ! pilot, dangers often met we all are apt to slight, And thou hast known these raging waves but to subdue their might. It is not apathy, he cried, that gives this strength to me ; Fear not ; but trust in Providence, wherever thou mayst be. 226 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. On such a night the sea engulfed my father's lifeless form ; My only brother's boat went down in just so wild a storm. And such perhaps may be my fate j but still I say to thee, Fear not ; but trust in Providence, wherever thou mayst be. — Haynes Bayley. I THE PINE-TEEE SHILLING. Captain John Hull wa& the mint-master of Massa- chusetts, and cfiined all the moneytEaFwas made. His was a newjine of business ; for, in the eg,r}iei*„da^ of the colony, the cu,iTent coinage consisted of the gold and silver money of England, Portugal, and S£ain. These coins being scarce, the people were often force3r to barter their commodities instead of selling them. Tor instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he ex- changr»d a bear-skin for it ; if he wished for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it for a pile of pine boards. Musket bullets were used instead of farthings. The Indians had a sort of money called wampum, which was made of rjgrQ pliftlls ; and this strange sort of specie was likewise taken in payment of debt by Eng- lish" settlers. Bank-bills had never beenTieard of. There was not money enough of any kind, in many parts of the country, to pay their ministers ; so that they had sometimes to take quintals of fish, bushels of ^rn, or cqrds of wood, instead^Df silver and gold. ^ As the people grew more numerous, and their trade vf ith one another increased, the want of current money was still more sensibly felt. To supply the demand, the general court passed a law for establishing a coinage of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain Hull was appointed to manufacture this money, and was to THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 227 feless irild a lay to mayst [jET. Massa- la^ of e gold Spain, forcer them, he ex- rrel of )oards. The which ort of Eng- rd of. many 30 that hels of d. ^ — trad6 Imoney ^mand^ (oinage In Hull ras to have about one shilling out of everj twenty to pay him for his trouble in making them. Hereupon all the old silver in the colony was handed over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver cans and tankards, I suppose, and silver buckles, and broken spoons, and silver hilts of swords that had figured at court, — all such curious old articles were doubtless thrown into the melting-pot together. But by far the greater part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines of South America, which the English buccaneers (who were little better than pirates) had taken from the Spaniards and brought to Massachusetts. All this old and new silver being melted down and coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the date of 1652 on the one side and the figure of a pine- tree on the other side. Hence they were called pine- tree shillings. And for every twenty shillings that he coined, you will remember. Captain John Hull was entitled to put one shilling in his own pocket. The magistrates soon began to suspect that the mint-master would have the best of the bargain. They offered him a large sum of money if he would give up that tweuh tieth shilling which he was continually dropping into his pocket. But Captain Hull declared that he was perfectly satisfied with the shilling, jtvud well ho might . be ; for so diligently did he labor, that in a few years his pockets, his money-bag, and his strong-box were overflowing with pine-tree shillings. This was pro- bably the case when he came into possession of his grandfather's chair ; and, as he had worked so hard at the mint, it was certainly proper that he should have a comfortable chair to rest himself on. When the mint-master was grown very rich, a young man, Samuel Sewell by name, came courting his only daughter. His daughter — whose name I do not know, but we will call her Betsy — was a fine, hearty damsel, by no means so slender as some young ladies of our 228 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. own day. On tbe contrary, bavmg always fed heartily on pumpkin-pies, dough-nuts, Indian puddings, and other Puritan dainties, she was as round and plump as a pudding. With this round, rosy Miss Betsy did Samuel Sewell fall in love. As he was a young man of good character, industrious in his business, and a member of the Church, the mint-master very readily gave his consent. " Yes, you may take her," said he in his rough way; " and you will find her a heavy burden enough.^' On the wedding day we may suppose that honest John Hull dressed himself in a plain coat, all the but- tons of which were made of pine-tree shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were sixpences ; and the knees of his small-clothes were buttoned with silver three- pences. Thus attired, he sat with great dignity in his grandfather's chair ; and, being a portly old gentleman, he completely filled it from elbow to elbow. On the opposite side of the room, between her bridesmaids, sat Miss Betsy. She was blushing with all her might, and looked like a full-blown peony, a great red apple, or any other round and scarlet object. There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine purple coat and gold-lace waistcoat, with as much other finery as the Puritan laws and customs would allow him to put on. His hair was cropt close to his head, because Governor Edincott had forbidden any . man to wear it below his ears. But he was a very personable young man; and so thought the brides- maids and Miss Betsy herself. The mint-master was also pleased with his new son- in-law, especially as he had said nothing at all about her portion. So when the marriage ceremony was over, Captain Hull whispered a word or two to his men-servants, who immediately, went out, and soon returned lugging in a large pair of scales. They were such a pair as wholesale merchants use for weighing ; a bulky commodity was now to be weighed in them. THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 229 leartily s^ and plump tsy did g man and a readily h way; honest be but- 1. The J knees three- I in his tleman, On the ids^ sat ht, and pie, or a fine much would to his en any a very brides- jw son- 1 about ly was to his d soon jy were ghing ; Hem. '' Daughter Betsy/' said the mint-master, '' go into one side of the scales/' Miss Betsy— or Mrs Sewell, as wo must now call her — did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without any question of a why or wherefore. But what her father could mean, unless to make her husband pay for her by the pound, (in which case she would have been a dear bargain,) she had not^he least idea. " And now,'' said honest John Hull to his servants, '' bring that box hither." The box to which the mint-master pointed was a huge, square, iron-bound oaken chest; it was big enough, my children, for all four of you to play hide- and-seek in. The servants tugged with mig-ht and main, but could not lift this enormous receptacle, and were finally obliged to drag it across the floor. Captain Hull then took a key out of his girdle, un- locked the chest, and lifted the ponderous lid. Behold ! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree shillings, fresh from the mint, and Samuel Sewell began to think that his father-in-law had got possession of all the money in Massachusetts treasury. But it was the mint-master's honest share of the coinage. Then the servants, at Captain Hudl's command, 'heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of the scales, while Betsy remained on the other. Jingle, jingle went the shillings, as handful after handful were thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, they weighed the young lady from the floor. " There son Sewell," cried the honest mint-master, resuming liis seat in his grandfather's chair, ^'take these shillings for my daughter's portion. Use her kindly, and thank Heaven for her; for it is not every wife that's worth her weight in silver!" The children laughed heartily at this legend, and would hardly be convinced but grandfather had made it out of his own head. He assured them faithfully, 230 THIRD BOOK OF KEADIIVG LESSONS. however^ that he had found it in the pages of a grave historian, and merely had tried to tell it in a somewhat funnier style. "Well, grandfather/' remarked Clara, ''if wedding- portions now-a-days were paid as Miss Betsy's was, young ladies would not pride themselves upon an airy figure, as many of them do." ^-Sitarpe's London Magazine, THE SLEIGH-BELLS. '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; THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 231 ^ r^U i»y 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; Hark ! he has pass'd 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 merry sleigh-bells ! My fond heart swella 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 here ; And childhood springs to be caress'd 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. From the cedar- swamp the gaunt wolves howl, From the oak loud whoops the felon owl; The snow-storm sweeps in thunder past. The forest creaks beneath the blast ; '*^ No more I list, with boding fear. The sleigh-bells' distant chime to hear. The merry sleigh-bells, with soothing power Shed gladness on the evening hour. Ding-dong, ding-dong, what rapture swells The music of those joyous bells. —Mrs Moodje. 232 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. AN ACADIAN HEROINE. By the treaty of St Germains in 1632, Charles X. resigned all his claims upon Acadia and Canada to the French, thus inaugurating a state of things which led to much bloodshed and misery in subsequent years. The large province of Acadia comprised the whole of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick, extending to the British coionies in New England. The government of this extensive province was divided between two Frenchmen of very opposite interests, Charles Etienne La Tour, and Daubre de Charnise. Each of these men was anxious to secure the supremacy in the country, and to expel the other from his possessions. After sevoral encounters, in which Charnise wasworsted. La Tour visited Boston in order to gain such assist- ance from the colonists as might enable him completely to crush his rival. In the meantime, the affairs of his province were managed by his wife, Madame La Tour, who made her headquarters at a fort on the St John River. T^i^ fort was strongly built of stone, and con- tained tiV > stone houses, a chapel, and a magazine, with a small court of guard, and wooden outhouses for cattle. Upon the ramparts of the fort were mounted some twenty pieces of cannon, mostly of iron, and the garrison consisted of a mere handful of La Tour's devoted followers. In this fort Madame La Tour remained, waiting the return of her husband. Charnis^, you may be sure, was only too glad of the opportunity thus afforded him by the absence of La Tour to avenge himself upon his hated rival. Collect- ing his forces at Penobscot, he embarked with them in a frigate, and set sail for the St John River. Arriving opposite the fort, he sent a haughty summons to his lady antagonist to surrender unconditionally, with all her garrison, stores, and ammunition. This insolent demand met with an indignant. refusal^ and Charnise THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 283 •les X. da to which years, lole of to the nment n two Itienne these in the Bsions. orsted, assist- pletely of his I Tour, John d con- jazine, ses for ounted nd the Tour's Tour of the of La ollect- hem in rriving to his ith all Solent • \ arnise immediately began to bombard the fort. Nothing daunted, the heroic lady ordered her feeble garrison' to bring the guns of the fort to bear upon the frigate, and herself superintended all the means of defence. The ship's guns of those days were not so formidable as the Armstrong cannon of our own times, so that, poor as the fortifications were, they resisted the force of the frigate's fire. Now and then a stone would be knocked out of its place, and a heavy ball come crash- ing through the shingled roofs of the buildings ; but the little garrison was under good cover, and their devoted mistress, moving from place to place, with the greatest coolness and intrepidity, inspired them with a similar courage and contempt of danger. Skilfully they pointed every rusty iron gun, and carefully de- livered their fire against the wooden walls of the enemy, breaking in bulwarks, cutting away masts and spars, and dismounting the guns afc the port-holes. The frigate at last became unmanageable, owing to the injuries she had sustained from the fire of the fort; her guns could not be brought to bear upon the garri- son; twenty of Charnise's men lay dead upon the decks, and as many wounded gunners were crying for relief. The commander of the expedition, full of rage and disappointment, at length reluctantly gave orders for an ignominious retreat. By dint of warping, the frigate was got out of range of the enemy's guns, and, after undergoing the necessary repairs, returned to Penobscot. Here we should be glad if our story ended, but, unfortunately, there is a darker part of it yet to come. We cannot do better than give it in the words of Haliburton : — " The time had now arrived for the ter- mination of this contest, Charnise, seizing the oppor- tunity which the absence of La Tour with a number of his men again offered to him, sailed up the river St John, and laid siege to his fort, which, he had reason to hope, from the weakness of the garrison, would fall 234 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. an easy prey. Madame La Tour, though left with only a handful of men, was resolved to defend the place to the last extremity, a determination which she main- tained with so much spirit, during the three first days of the attack, that the besiegers removed to a greater distance ; but, on the fourth, which was Easter Sunday, she was betrayed by a mutinous Swiss, whom the enemy had found means to bribe to their interests. This unto- ward event did not, however, intimidate her, and when she found that Charnise had mounted the wall, she ascended at the head of her little garrison to contest the possession of it with him, " Charnise, who supposed, from their vigorous de« fence, that the number of the soldiers must have been greater than he had been led to believe, dreaded tho idea of being twice repulsed by a female, and proposed a capitulation, which Madame La Tour accepted, to save the lives of the few brave men who had defended the place against such a superior force. He had, how- ever, hardly entered the fort, ere he repented having signed a formal treaty with a woman, who had no other resources for defending tho place than her own courage. Pretending to have been deceived in the terms of the capitulation, he held himself absolved from the observ- ance of them all, and immediately hanged the survivors, with the exception of one to whom he granted an ex- emption, on condition of his becoming the executioner of his comrades. Not satisfied with this act of bar- barity, he compelled Madame La Tour to witness this tragical and inhuman scene, and, in order to degrade a spirit he could not subdue, and to give her the appear- ance of a reprieved criminal, he forced her to appear at the gallows with a halter round her neck. "The violent and unusual exertions which Madame La Tour had made, the dreadful fate of her household and followers, and the total wreck of her fortune, had such a powerful effect upon her health that she died soon after this event.'' £ ] I t T I C \ t s I only ;ce to nain- days •eater nday, nemy untO" when l^ she mtest IS ie* been id tho id, to ended how- aving other irage. f the fserv- tivors, m ex- ioner bar- Is this *adea »pear- »pear [dama lehold had died TfllBO BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 235 A few years later, in "• 651, Chamise died, and La Tour returned from his t die, and took possession of the territory he had lost. Strange to say, he filled the place of his noble lady with the widow of the bitter enemy who had been the cause of her death. After many vicissitudes of fortune, La Tour was confirmed in his possessions by Oliver Cromwell, when the English again conquered Acadia ; but, fearing for the future, he disposed of his rights for a considerable sum of money, and left the scene of his many trials and mis« fortunes. THE TAKING OF LOUISBURG. On the 19th of February 1758, a magnificent fleet sailed from Portsmouth, which carried out General Amherst, and an army of 10,000 men. It was long detained by contrary winds, and after a stormy passage reached Halifax on the 28th of May, where Boscawen's fleet was met coming out of the harbor, the gallant admiral being weary of inaction. At dawn, on the 2d of June, the entire armament, embracing 22 ships of the line, 15 frigates, 120 smaller vessels, and 11,600 troops, arrived off Louisburg. Amherst indulged in the hope that he would be able to surprise its garrison, and issued orders for the silent landing of the troops. But for six days a rough sea, and the heavy surf which broke upon the rugged beach, rendered a disembarka- tion impdfesible. During this interval the French toiled night and day to strengthen their position, andflred upon the ships at every opportunity. On the evening of the 7th the wind lulled, the fog cleared off, and the heavy sea gradually subsided, but a violent surf still continued to break on the beach. On the following morning, just before daylight, three divi- sions of boats received the troops ; at dawn Commodore Durell examined the shore, and reported a landing to 236 THICD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. be practicable. Seven frigates now opened fire to cover the advance to land. In a few minutes afterwards, the left division, led by Brigadier Wolfe, began to row in shore, and was speedily followed by Whitmore and Lawrence, with their brigades, while the small vessels were sent past the mouth of the harbor, to distract the attention of the enemy, and induce them to divide their force. The left division was the first to reach the beach, at a point about four miles from the town. Wolfe would not allow a shot to be fired, stimulated the rowers to fresh exertions, and on coming to shoal water, boldly jumped out into the sea to lead on his men. The French stood firm, and reserved their fire till their assailants were close to land. Then, as the boats rose on the last swell, which brought them into the surf, they poured in a close and deadly volley from every gun and musket they could bring to bear. Wolfe's flag-staff was shivered by a bar- shot ; many soldiers were killed; several boats were wrecked by the surf; but still he cheered on his men, who had not yet returned a shot, and in a few minutes, with fiery valor, they had burst through the breast- works of the Freach, who fled in disorder. The victors pressed rapidly on in pursuit, and, despite a fugged country, inflicted a severe loss on the fugitives, captured seventy prisoners, and invested Louisburg the same day. For the two succeeding days a rough sea rendered it impossible to land the siege artillery, and provisions were conveyed to the army with the greatest* diflSculty. On the 11th the weather moderated, when tents were landed, and some progress made in the preparations for lihe siege. On the 12th, M. de Drucor, the French general, withdrew all his outposts, and even destroyed a battery which commanded the entrance of the har- bor, being desirous to reserve all his force for the defence of the town. The garrison of Louisburg was composed of 3000 regular troops and militia^ with a THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 237 cover cds, the row in re and vessels distract ) divide eacli, at B would iwers to , boldly French isailants the last poured musket shivered pal boats d on his n a few lUgh the V. The espite a igitives, >urg the dered it ovisions ifficulty. its were bions for French jstroyed }he har- for the irg was with a few Indians. In addition to this force, six line-of- battle ships and two frigates guarded the harbor, at the entrance of which three other frigates had been sunk, to prevent the passage of the British ileet. Wolfe's light troops were speedily in possession of the vdifferent posts deserted by the French, and on the 20th a battery opened upon the ships and land defences. For many days the slow operations of the siege con- tinued, under great difficulties to the British, owing to the marshy nature of the ground, and heavy rains which flooded the trenches. But science, a sufficient force, union among the principal officers, and courage and endurance in sailors and soldiers, overcame every T)bstacle, and promised speedy success. A sortie on the 9th of July by the besieged "vn as speedily repelled, and day and night the batteries thundered against the ramparts, the citadel, and the shipping. On the 21st, three of tho French men?of-war were set on fire by a shell, the following day the citadel was in a blaze, the next the barracLd were burned down, while Wolfe's trenches were pushed close to the town, and the French driven from their guns by the British sharp-shooters. On the night of the 25th, two captains of Boscawen's fleet swept into the harbor with a squadron of boats under a furious fire, and burned one of the remaining men-of-war, and carried off" another. Boscawen pre- pared to send in six ships of the line to attack the other French vessels ; but the town was already a h^ap of ruins, thl3 greater part of its guns dismounted, and its garrison without a safe place t< T-^st in, so the Chevalier de Drucor resolved to capitulate at discretion, such being the only terms he could get. Skilfully fortified, and defended by a sufficient garri- son, aided by a po>verful fleet, Louisbarg had been bravely won. Its capture shed fresh lustre on the genius of Pitt, a^ well as on the gallant men he had wisely chtspn to effect it. It was indeed a triumph for British arms, so long stained by sad reverses : 5600 Ir !! !. h if:. f 238 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. soldiers and sailors W6)re made prisoners, and eleven ships of war taken or destroyed. About fifteen thousand stand of arms, and large quantities of military stores and provisions, also fell into the hands of the victors, as well as eleven stand of captured colors, which were laid at the feet of the British sovereign, and subse- quently deposited with due solemnity in St Paul's. With Louisburg fell Cape Breton and Prince Edward Island ; and thus terminated the power of France for ever on the eastern sea-board of North America. Hali- fax being the British naval station, Louisburg was deserted ; and, although the harbor still affords shelter from storms, a few hovels only mark the spot which so much treasure was expended to fortify, and which so much courage and endurance were needed to conquer. — 'M'Mullen's History of Canada, THE SOLDIEK'S DREAM. Our bugles sang truce, for the night cloud had lowerM, And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky; And thousands had sunk on the ground overpowered. The weary to sleep and the wounded to die. When reposing that night on my pallet of straw. By the wolf- scaring fagot that guarded the slain, At th^ dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array. Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track ; 'Twas autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way. To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back. I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating alofb. And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 239 jleveii usand stores Lctors, . were 3ubse- Paul's. dward ce for Hali. □r was shelter licli so licli so mquer. ada. had er'd, im, back. roung; sung. Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore From my home and my weeping friends never to part; My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er, And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. tc Stay — stay with us ! — rest ! — thou art weary and worn I " — And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay ; But sorrow returned with the dawning of mom, And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away. — ^T. Campbell. THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTON HEIGHTS. Qoeenston, a Tillage on iho Niogar^ river, seyen mileB from the town of Niagara. The 13th of October 1812 is a day ever to be re- membered in Canada. All along the Niagara river the greatest excitement had prevailed; many of the inhabitants had removed with their portable property into the back country ; small bodies of soldiers, regu- lars and volunteers, were posted in the towns and vil- lages ; Indians were roving the adjacent woods ; and sentinels, posted along the banks of the river, were looking eagerly for the enemy, that was to come from the American shore, and attempt the subjugation of a free, a happy, and a loyal people. In the little village of Queenston, that nestles at the foot of an eminence overlooking the mighty waters of Niagara on their way to Lake Ontario, two companies of the 49th regi- ment, or " Green Tigers " as the fearful Americans afterwards termed them, with 100 Canadian militia, were posted, under the command of Captain Dennis. When tattoo sounded on the night of the 12th, the little garrison retired to rest. All was silent but the elem3nts, that raged furiously throughout the nighty ' '_^;'^^ jp ^ y. > _■» I 240 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. the howling of the wind and the sound of falling rain mingling with the distant roar of the great cataract. Dripping with rain, and shivering with cold, the sentries paced their weary rounds, from time to time casting a glance over the swollen tide of the river towards the American shore. At length, when the gray dawn of morning appeared, a wary sentinel de- scried a number of boats, filled with armed men, push- ing off from the opposite bank, below the village of Lewiston. Immediately the alarm was given, the soldiers were roused from their peaceful slumbers, and marched down to the landing-place-. Meanwhile, a battery of one gun, posted on the heights, and another about a mile below, began to play upon the enemy^c boats, sinking some, and disabling others. Finding it impossible to effect a landing in the face of such opposition, the Americans, leaving a few of their num- ber to occupy the attention of the troops on the bank, disembarked some distance up the river, and succeeded in gaining the summit of the height by a difficult and THIRD BOOiC OF RUADINQ LESSONS. 241 ng rain jataract. )ld, the to time he river hen the inel de- ll, push- illage of en, the ers, and while, a another enemy'c rinding of such leir num- e bank, cceeded ult and unprctecfced pathway. With loud cheers they captured the one gun battery, and rushed down upon daptain Dennis and his command, who, finding themselves fax outnumbered by the enemy, retired slowly toward the north end of the village. Here they were met by General Brock, who had set out in advance of rein- forcements from the town of Niagara, accompanied only by two officers. Placing himself at the head of the little band, the gallant general cried '^ Follow me," and led his men back to the height from which they had been forced to retire, amid the cheers of regulars and militia. At the foot of the hill the general dis- mounted under the sharp fire of the enemy's riflemen, who were posted among the trees on its summit, climbed over a high stone wall, and, waving his sword, charged up the hill at the head of his soldiers. This intrepid conduct at once attracted the notice of the enemy; one of their sharpshooters advanced a few paces, took deliberate aim, and shot him in the breast ; it was a mortal wound. Thus fell Sir Isaac Brock, the hero of Upper Canada, whose name will outlive the noble monument which a grateful country has erected to his memory, The fall of their beloved commander infuriated his followers ; with loud cries of " Bevenge the General,^' they pressed forward up the hill, and drove the enemy from their position. But reinforce- ments were continually pouring in from the American shore ; and, after a deadly struggle, in which Colonel Macdonell, Captain Dennis, and most of the other officers fell, these brave men were again compelled to retire. They took refuge under the guns of the lower battery^ there awaiting the arrival of reinforcements from Niagara. About mid-day the first of these arrived, consisting of a band of fifty Mohawks under their chiefs Norton and Brant. These Indian allies boldly engaged the enemy, and maintained, for a short time, a sharp skirmish with them, but finally retired on the main reinforcement. These arrived in the 242 THIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. t course of the afternoon under the command of Major- General Sheaffe. Instead of meeting the enemy on the old ground, the officer now in command moved his whole force of 1000 men to the right of the enemy's position, and sent forward his left flank to attack the American right. This left flank was of a very varied character, consisting of one company of the 41st regi- ment of the line, a company of colored men, and a body of volunteer militia and Indians, united, in spite of their difference of colour an d race, by loyalty to the British crown, and heart-hatred of foreign aggression. This division advanced in gallant style ; after deliver- ing a volley, the whole line of white, red, and black charged the enemy, and drove in their right wing at the point of the bayonet. General Sheaffe now led on the main body, and forced the lately victorious Ameri- cans to retreat rapidly over the ridge. The struggle on their part was of short duration. In front was a foe thirsting for revenge, behind the steep banks and swiftly flowing waters of the Niagara. The " Green Tigers,'^ the Indians, their once despised slaves even, and last, but certainly not least, the gallant Canadian militia, were objects of terror to them. Some few in despair threw themselves over the precipices into the river; but the majority of the survivors surrendered themselves prisoners of war to the number of 950, among whom was their commander. General Wads- worth. The leader of the expedition. General Van Eensellaer, had retired to Lewiston, as he said, for rein- forcements in an early part of the day. The loss of the Americans in this memorable action was about 500 killed and wounded, while that of the Canadian forces amounted to 150. Throughout Canada the news of the victory of Queenston Heights awakened universal joy and enthusiasm, second only to that with which the taking of Detroit was hailed ; but the joy and enthusiasm were damped by the sad tidings that he who had first taught Canada's sons the way to TQIBD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 243 on the 2d hia lemy^s :k the varied b regi- and a n spite to the 'ession. leliver- l black ving at r led on Ameri- itruggle t was a pks and ^f Green s even, nadian few in nto the endered of 950, Wads, al Van ■or rein- loss of s about anadian ida the /akened tat with the joy Igs that Iway to victory, had given his life for her defence, and slept in a soldier's grave with many of her best and bravest. PONTIAC'S ATTEMPT TO CAPTURE FORT DETROIT. In the year 1763, a celebrated chief of the Ottawas, called Pontiac, succeeded in forming a confederacy of the Ottawas, Hurons, Chippawas, and some other tribes, with the avowed object of expelling the British from the lake regions of the country. With the craftiness peculiar to the Indian race, an ingenious stratagem was devised, by means of which it was hoped that the allies would easily gain possession of the forts. For this purpose a grand Lacrosse match was organized at each post, and the officers of the garrison invited to become participators in the game. Having thus disarmed suspicion, at a moment when the soldiers were off duty and deeply interested spectators of the play, the ball was designedly thrown into the middle of tihe fort, and the Indians, rushing in after it, easily secured possession. Seven or eight British posts, including Machilimackinac and Sandusky, thus fell into the hands of the savages, and more than two thousand whites were inhumanly massacred. Fort Detroit alone, owing to the vigilance of its command- ant, escaped this fate ; and the rage and mortification of the disappointed savages are well depicted in the following sketch. Pontiac and his attendant chiefs had, while the warriors and braves were engaged in the game of Lacrosse on the common, sought an audience of the governor of the fort. He received them in the mess- room, apparently not suspecting any artifice on their part. 244 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. ,1 :• 1 '' The pale warrior, tlie friend of the Ottawa chief, is not here,^^ said the governor, as he glanced his eye along the semicircle of Indians. '' How is this? Is his voice still sick, that he cannot come? or has the great chief of the Ottawas forgotten to tell him ? '' '* The voice of the pale warrior is still sick, and he cannot speak,'' replied the Indian. " The Ottawa chief is very sorry; for the tongue of his friend, the pale- face, is full of wisdom.'' Scarcely had the last words escaped his lips when a wild shrill cry from without the fort rang on the ears of the assembled council, and caused a momentary commotion among the officers. It arose from a single voice, and that voice could not be mistaken by any who had heard it once before. A second or two, during which the officers and chiefs kept their eyes intently fixed on one another, passed anxiously away ; and then nearer to the gate, apparently on the very drawbridge itself, was pealed forth the wild and deaf- ening yell of a legion of fiendfsh voices. At that sound, the Ottawa and the other chiefs sprang to their feet, and their own fierce cry responded to that yet vibrating on the ears of all. Already were their gleaming tomahawks brandished wildly over their heads, and Pontiac had even bounded a pace forward to reach the governor with the deadly weapon, when, at the sudden stamping of the foot of the latter upon the floor, the scarlet cloth in the rear was thrown aside, and twenty soldiers, their eyes glancing along the barrels of their levelled muskets, met the startled gaze of the astonished Indians. An instant was enough to satisfy the keen chief of the true state of the case. The calm composed mien of the officers^ not one of whom had even attempted to quit his seat amid the din by which his ears were so alarmingly assailed, — the triumphant, yet dignified, and even severe expression of the governor's counten- ance ; and, above all; the unexpected presence of the THIRD OOOK OF READING LESSONS. 245 a chief, Ids eye lis? Is has the ^ 9 *' 1 I , and he iwa chief the pale- ips when g on the omentary Q a single n by any d or two, iheir eyes isly away ; 1 the very and deaf- At that jg to their ,0 that yet ere their lover their je forward jon, when, iatter upon |as thrown Icing along te startled len chief of )Osed mien attempted ears were It dignified, fs counten- ance of the prepared soldiery, — all these at once assured him of the discovery of his treachery, and the danger that awaited him. The necessity for an immediate attempt to join his warriors without was now obvious to the Ottawa; and scarcely had he conceived the idea before it was sought to be executed. In a single spring he gained the door of the mess-room, and, followed eagerly and tumultuously by the other chiefs, to whose depart- ure no opposition was offered, in the next moment stood on the steps of the piazza that ran along the front of the building whence he had issued. The surprise of the Indians on reaching this point was now too powerful to be dissembled ; and incapable either of advancing or recediug, they remained gazing on the scene before them with an air of mingled stupefaction, rage, and alarm. Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed since they had proudly strode through the naked area of the fort, and yet even in that short space of time its appearance had been entirely changed. Not a part was there now of the surrounding buildings that was not replete with human life and hostile preparation. Through every window of the officers' low rooms was to be seen the dark and frowning muzzlo of a field- piece bearing upon the gateway, and behind these were artillerymen holding their lighted matches, supported again by files of bayonets that glittered in their rear. In the block-houses the same formidable array of field- pieces and muskets was visible ; while from the four angles of the square as many heavy guns, that had been artfully masked at the entrance of the chiefs, seemed ready to sweep away everything that should come before them. The guard-room near the gate presented the same hostile front. The doors of this, as well as of the other buildings, had been firmly secured within ; but from every window affording cover to the troops gleamed a line of bayonets, rising above the threaten- ing fieldpieces, pointed, at a distance of little more than twelve feet, directly upon the gateway. In addition to —^ M 246 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. his muskefc^ each man of the guard held a hand grenade, provided with a short fuse that could be ignited in a moment from the matches of the gunners, and with immediate effect. The soldiers in the block-houses were similarly provided. Almost magical as was the change thus suddenly effected in the appearance of the garrison, it was not the most interesting feature in the exciting scene. Choking up the gateway, in which they were completely wedged, and crowding the drawbridge, a dense mass of dusky Indians were to be seen casting their fierce glances around, yet paralyzed in their movements by the unlooked-for display of a resisting force, threatening instant annihilation to those who should attempt either to advance or recede. Never, perhaps, were astonishment and disappointment more forcibly depicted on the human countenance, than they were now exhibited by these men, who had al- ready in imagination secured to themselves an easy conquest. They were the warriors who had so recently been engaged in the manly yet innocent exercise of the ball; but, instead of the harmless hurdle, each now carried a short gun in one hand and a gleaming tomahawk in the other. After the first general yelling heard in the council- room, not a sound was uttered. Their burst of rago and triumph had evidently been checked by the unex- pected manner of their reception ; and they now stood on the spot on which the further advance of each had been arrested, so silent and motionless, that, but for the rolling of their dark eyes, as they keenly measured the insurmountable barriers that were opposed to their progress, tbey might almost have been taken for a wild group of statuary. Conspicuous at the head of these was he who wore the blanket ; a tall warrior on whom rested the startled eye of every officer and soldier who was so situated as to behold him. His face was pctiated black ad death ; and as he stood under th^ THIRD BOOK OF EEADINQ LESSONS. 247 renade, edin a id with -houses addenly it was exciting Ley were vbridge, be seen ilyzed in lay of a ation to ►r recede. lointment mce, than had al- an easy recently :ercis6 of Idle, each gleaming _ council- It of rage Ithe unex- low stood leach had mt for the lisured the to their ten for a [e head of rarrior on id soldier face was [under tha arch of the gateway, with his white turbaned head towering far above those of his companions, this for- midable and mysterious enemy might have been likened to the spirit of darkness presiding over his .errible legions. In order to account for the extraordinary appearance of the Indians, armed in every way for death, at a moment when neither gun nor tomahawk was appar- ently within miles of their reach, it was necessary to revert to the first entrance of the chiefs into the fort. The fall of Pontiac had been the efi*ect of design ; and the yell pealed forth by him, on recovering his feet, as if in taunting reply to the laugh of his comrades, was in reality a signal intended for the guidance of the Indians without. These now following up their game with increasing spirit, at once changed the direction of their line, bringing the ball nearer to the fori. In their eagerness to effect this object, they had overlooked the gradual secession of the unarmed troops, spectators of their sport from the ramparts, until scarcely more than twenty stragglers were left. As they neared the gate, the squaws broke up their several groups, and, forming a line on either hand of the road leading to the drawbridge, appeared to separate solely with a view not to impede the players. For an instant a dense group collected around the ball, which had been drawn to within a hundred yards of the gate, and fifty hurdles were crossed in their endeavour to secure it, wben the warrior, who formed the solitary exception to the multitude, in his blanket covering, and who had been lingering in the extreme rear of the party, came rapidly up to the spot where the well-affected struggle was maintained. At his approach the hurdles of the other players were withdrawn, when, at a single blow from his powerful arm, the ball was seen flying in an oblique direction and was for a moment lost altogether to the view. When it again met the eye, it was descending perpendicularly into the very centre of the fort. < !l 248 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Witli the fleetness of thought now commenced a race that had ostensibly for its object the recovery of the lost ball, and in which he who had driven it with resistless force outstripped them all. Their course lay between the two lines of squaws; and scarcely had the head of the bounding Indians reached the opposite extremity of those lines, when the women suddenly threw back their blankets, and disclosed each a short gun and a tomahawk. To throw away their hurdles and seize upon these, was the work of an instant. Already, in imagination, was the fort their own ; and, such was the peculiar exaltation of the black and tur- baned warrior when he felt the planks of the draw- bridge bending beneath his feet, all the ferocious joy of his soul was pealed forth in the terrible cry which, rapidly succeeded by that of the other Indians, had resounded so fearfully through the council-room. What their disappointment was, when, on gaining the interior, they found the garrison prepared for their reception, has already been shown. — Majok Richardson. Wi ced a ery of t with rse lay [y had Dposite ddenly a short aurdles nstant. i; and, nd tur- e draw- ious joy r which, LBS, had n. gaining for their RDPON. PART IV. SOMEBODY^S DARLING. Into a ward of the whitewashed halls, Where the dead and dying lay, Wounded by bayonets, shells, and balls, Somebody's darling was borne one dav — Somebody's darling, so young and so brave, Wearing yet on his pale sweet face. Soon to be hid by the dust of the grave. The lingering light of his boyhood's grace. Matted and damp are the curls of gold. Kissing the snow of that fair young brow, Pale are the lips of delicate mould — Somebody's darling is dying now. Back from his beautiful blue-veined brow Brush all the wandering waves of gold, Cross his hands on his bosom now, Somebody's darling is still and cold. Kiss him once for somebody's sake, Murmur a prayer soft and low ; One bright curl from its fair mates take. They were somebody's pride you know. Somebody's hand had rested there — Was it a mother's, soft and white ? And have the lips of a sister fair Been baptized in the waves of light? I. • ♦ 250 THIRD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. God knows best ; he haS' somebody^s love. Somebody's heart enshrined him there. Somebody wafted his name above, Night and morn on the wings of prayer. Somebody wept when he marched away. Looking so handsome, brave, and grand; Somebody's kiss on his forehead lay. Somebody clung to his parting hand. Somebody 's waiting and watching for him. Yearning to hold him again to their heart ; And there he lies with his blue eyes dim, And the smiling childlike lips apart. Tenderly bury the fair young head. Pausing to drop on his grave a tear ; Carve on the wooden slab at his head, " Somebody's darling slumbers here." * — ^Anonymous. THE STORY OF FINE-EAR. Ten or twelve years ago, there was in tho prison at Brest a man sentenced for life to the galleys. I do not know the exact nature of his crime, but it was some- thing very atrocious. I never heard what his former condition in life had been; for even his name had passed into oblivion, and he was recognised only by a number. Athough his features were naturally well formed, their expression was horrible : every dark and evil passion seemed to have left its impress there ; and his character fully corresponded to its outward indica- tions. Mutinous, gloomy, and revengeful, he had often hazarded his life in desperate attempts to escape, which hitherto had proved abortive. Once, during winter, he succeeded in gaining the fields, and supported for several days the extremity of cold and hunger. He yi THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 251 r. jart; lOUS. son at do not some- former le had ly by a [y well Irk and ; and indica- often whicb iter, he id for . He • was found, at length, half frozen and insensible, under a tree, and brought back to prison, where, with diffi- culty he was restored to life. The ward-master watched him more closely, and punished him more severely by far than the other prisoners, while a double chain was added to his heavy fetters. Several times he attempted suicide, but failed, through the vigilance of his guards. The only results of his experiments in this line were an asthma, caused by a nail which he hammered into his chest, and the loss of an arm, which he fractured in leaping off a high wall. After suffering amputation, and a six months' sojourn in the hospital, he returned to his hopeless, life-long task- work. One day, ^his man's fierce humor seemed softened. After the hours of labour, he seated himself, with the companion in misery to whom he was chained, in a corner of the court; and his repulsive countenance assumed a mild expression. Words of tenderness were uttered by the lips which heretofore had opened only to blaspheme ; and with his head bent down, he watched some object concealed in his bosom. The guards looked at him with disquietude, believing he had some weapon hidden within his clothes; and two of them approaching him stealthily from behind, seized him roughly, and began to search him., before he could make any resistance. Finding himself com- pletely in their power, the convict exclaimed : " Oh, don't kill him ! Pray, don't kill him !" As he spoke, one of the guards had gained posses- sion of a large rat, which the felon had kept next his bosom. "Don't kill him!" ho repeated. "Beat me; chain me; do what you like with me; but don't hurt my poor rat ! Don't squeeze him so between your fingers ! If you will not give him back to me, let him go free !'* And while he spoke, for the first time, probably, since his childhood, tears filled his eyes, ana ran down his cheeks. / I; I *t it 252 THIRD BOOK OF READINO LESSONS. Rougb and hardened men as were the guards^ they could not listen to the convict^ and see his tears^ with- out some feeling of compassion. He who was about to strangle the rat^ opened his fingers and let it fall to the ground. The terrified animal fled with the speed peculiar to its species^ and disappeared behind a pile of beams and rubbish. The felon wiped away his tears, looked anxiously after the rat, and scarcely breathed until he had seen it out of danger. Then he rose, and silently, with the old savage look, followed his companion in bonds, and lay down with him on their iron bedstead, where a ring and chain fastened them to a massive bar of the same metal. Next morning, on his way to work, the convict, whose pale face showed that he had passed a sleepless night, cast an anxious, troubled glance towards the pile of wood, and gave a low, peculiar call to which no- thing replied. One of his comrades uttered some harmless jest on the loss of his favourite ; and the reply was a furious blow, which felled the speaker, and drew down on the ofifender a severe chastisement from the task-master. Arrived at the place of labor, he worked with a sort of feverish ardor, as though tr3ring to give vent to his pent-up emotion; and, while stooping over a large beam, which he and some others were trying to raise, he felt something gently tickle his cheek. He turned round, and gave a shout of joy. There, on his shoulder, was the only friend he had in the world — his rat! — who, with marvellous instinct, had found him out, and crept gently up to his face. He took the animal in his hands, covered it with kisses, placed it within its nest, and then, addressing the head gaoler, who happened to pass by at the moment, he said : " Sir, if you will allow me to keep this rat, I will solemnly promise to submit to you in everything, and never again to incur punishment.'' THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 253 3, they , with- about fall to speed pile of jciously seen it ith the ds, and 5 a ring le same 3onvict, leepless the pile ich no- d some e reply id drew om the h a sort t to his a large o raise, turned loulder, rat! — )ut, and 1 in his ts nest, ened to f, I will [ngi and The ruler gave a sign of acquiescence, and passed on. The convict opened his shirt, to give one more fond look at his faithful pet^ and then contentedly resumed his labor. That which neither threats nor imprisonment, the scourge nor the chain, could effect, was accomplished, and rapidly, by the influence of love, though its object was one of the most despised among animals. From the moment when the formidable convict was permitted to cherish his pet night and day in his bosom, he be- came the most tractable and well-conducted man in the prison. His extraordinary strength, and his moral energy, were both employed to assist the governors in maintaining peace and subordination. Fine-Ear, so he called his rat, was the object of his unceasing tender- ness. He fed it before he tasted each meal, and would rather fast entirely than allow it to be hungry. He spent his brief hours of respite from toil in making various little fancy articles, which he sold, in order to procure daintib^ which Fine-Ear liked, — gingerbread and sugar, for example. Often, during the period of toil, the convict would smile with delight when his little friend, creeping from its nestling place, would rub its soft fur against his cheek. But wheu, on a fine sunshiny day, the rat took up his position on the ground, smoothed his coat, combed his long moustaches with his sharp nails, and dressed his long ears with his delicate paws, his master would testify the utmost de- light, and exchange tender glances with the black, roguish eyes of Master Fine-Ear. ♦ The latter, confiding in his patron's care and pro- tection, went, came, sported, or stood still, certain that no one would injure him; for to touch a hair of the rat's whisker would be to incur a terrible penalty. One day, for having thrown a pebble at him, n prisoner was forced to spend a week in the hospital, ere he recovered from the efiects of a blow bestowed on him by Fine-Ear's master. 254 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. The animal soon learned to know tlio sound of the dinner-bell, and jumped with delight on the convict when he heard the welcome summons, * ^^ «j^ ^^ ^fe ^^ ^^ ^* ^^ Four years passed on in this manner, when one day poor Fine- Ear was attacked by a cat, which had found her way into the workshop, and received several deep wounds, before his master, flying to the rescue, seized the feline foe, and actually tore her to pieces. The recovery of the rat was tedious. During the next month tho convict was occupied in dressing his wound It was strange the interest which every one conneco ' \^ i h the prison took in Fine-Ear^s misfor- tune. iNot OL- y did the guards and turnkeys speak of it as the topic of the day, but the hospital nurses fur- nished plasters and bandages for the wounds; and even the surgeon condescended to prescribe for him. At length the animal recovered his strength and gaiety, save that one of his hind paws dragged a little, and the wound still disfigured his skin. He was more tame and affectionate than ever, but the sight of a cat was sufficient to throw his master into a paroxysm of rage, and, running after the unlucky puss, he would, if possible, catch and destroy her. A great pleasure was in store for the convict. Thanks to his good conduct during the past four years, his sentence of imprisonment for life had been com- muted into twenty years, in which were to be included the fifteen already spent in prison. '' Thank God ! '* he cried ; " under His mercy it is fco Fine-Ear I owe this happiness ! " and he kissed the animal with transport. Five years still remained to be passed in toilsome imprisonment, but they were cut short in an unlooked-for manner. One day, a mutinous party of felons succeeded in seizing a turnkey, and, having shut him up with them- selves in one of the dormitories, they threatened to put him to death if all their demands were oot instantly THIBD BOOK OF IlEAOINO LESSONS. 255 >ftlie mvict e day found I deep seized ig the ng bis ry one nisfor- jeak of jes fur- i; and him. ;th and a little^ IS more of a cat iiysm of ould, if jonvict. years, n com- cluded ;y it is jsed the lined to rere cut jded in them- ;ned to istantly complied with, and a full amnesty granted for this re- yolt. Fine-Ear's master, who had taken no part in the nproar, stood silently behind the officials and the sol- diers, who were ready to fire on the insurgents. Just as the attack was about to commence, he approached the chief superintendent, and said a few w* ;ds to him in a low voice. " I accept your offer," replied the governor. " Ee- member, you risk your life; but if you succeed, I pledge my word that you shall be strongly recom- mended to the government for unconditional pardon, this very night.'' The convict drew forth Fine -Ear from his bosom, kissed him several times, r d then placing him within the vest of a young fellow -j 'isoner, with whom the rat was already familiar, iie said in a broken voice : — " If I do not return, be k^'nd to him, and love him as I have loved him." Then, having armed ..imself with an enormous bar of iron, he marched with a determined step to the dor- mitory, without regarding the missiles which the rebels hurled at his head. With a few blows of his bar, he made the door fly open, and darting into the room, he overturned those who opposed his entrance, threw down his weapon, and seizing the turnkey, put him, or rather flung him, out safe and sound into the pas- sage. While in the act of covering the man's escape from l;he infuriated convicts, he suddenly fell to the ground, bathed in blood. One of the wretches had lifted the iron bar and struck down with it his heroic comrade. He was carried dying to the hospital, and, ere he breathed his last, he uttered one word — it was " Fine- Ear ! " Must I tell it? the rat appeared restless and un- happy for a few days, but he soon forgot his master, and began to testify the same affection for his uew 256 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. owner that he had formerly shown to him who was dead. Fine-Ear still lives, fat and sleek and strong; in- deed, he no longer fears his feline enemies, and has actually succeeded in killing a full-grown cat and three kittens. But he no longer remembers the dead, nor regards the sound of his master's number, which for- merly used to make him prick up his ears, and run from one end of the court to the other. Does it only prove that rats, as well as men, may be ungrateful? Or is it a little illustration of the wise and merciful arrangement, that the world must go on, die who will ? BETH GELERT. The spearman heard the bugle sound, And cheerily smiled the morn ; And many a brach, and many a hound, Attend Llewellyn's horn : And still he blew a louder blast. And gave a louder cheer : " Come, Gelert ! why art thou the last Llewellyn's horn to hear ?, '' Oh ! where does faithful Gelert roam ? The flower of all his race ! Sd true, so brave ; a lamb at home, A lion in the chase ! " 1 1 In sooth, he was a peerless hound. The gift of royal John ; But now no Gelert could be found ; And all the chase rode on. THIRD BOOK OF.IU^ADINQ LESSONS. 10 was ig; in- ,nd has d three lad, nor ich for- ind run may he he wise t go on, And now^ as over rocks and dells The gallant chidings rise ; All Snowdon's craggy chaos yells With many mingled cries. That day Llewellyn little loved The chase of hart or hare ; And small and scant the booty proved, For Gelert was not there. Unpleased, Llewellyn homeward hied, "When, near the portal seat. His truant Gelert he espied. Bounding his lord to greet. But when he gained the castle door, Aghast the chieftain stood ; The hound was smear 'd with gouts of gore, His lips and fangs ran blood ! Llewellyn gazed with wild surprise. Unused such looks to meet : His favorite checked his joyful guise. And crouch'd and licked his feet. Onward in haste Llewellyn pass'd — And on went Gelert too ; And still, where'er his eyes were cast. Fresh blood-gouts shocked his view ! O'erturn'd his infant's bed, he found The blood-stain'd covert rent ; And all around, the walls and ground With recent blood besprent. He call'd his child — no voice replied ; He searched — with terror wild; Blood ! blood ! he found on every side, But nowhere found the child ! ** Hell-hound ! by thee my child's devoured ! " The frantic father cried ; HI I ! a 258 THIRD BOOK OF RBADINO LESSONS. And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side ! His suppliant, as to earth he fell, No pity could impart ; But still his Gelert's dying yell Pass'd heavy o'er his heart. ^. Aroused by Gelert's dying yell Some slumberer waken'd nigh ; What words the parent's joy can tell. To hear his infant cry ! ConceaFd beneath a mangled heap, His hurried search had miss'd. All glowing from his rosy sleep, ^ His cherub-boy he kiss'd ! Nor scratch had he, nor harm, nor dread- But the same couch beneath Lay a great wolf, all torn and dead—- Tremendous still in death ! Ah ! what was then Llewellyn's pain ! For now the truth was clear : The gallant hound the wolf had slain, To save Llewellyn's heir. Vain, vain was all Llewellyn's woe ; " Best of thy kind adieu ! The frantic deed which laid thee low. This heart shall ever rue ! " And now a gallant tomb they raise With costly sculpture deck'd ; And marbles storied with his praise, Poor Gelert's bones protect. Here never could the spearman pass, Or forester, unmoved ; Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass Llewellyn^s sorrow proved. s n d n< re THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. And here lie hung his horn and spear ; And^ oft as evening fell, In fancy's piercing sounds would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell ! ihr DANIEL IN THE LIONS' DEN. For some time before Nebuchadnezzar quite de- stroyed the kingdom of Judah, it had been in sub- jection to him. And he carried away to Babylon a number of young men of the chief famiHes of Judah, who were instructed in all the leamir of the Chal- deans, and then appointed to places in Nebuchad- nezzar's court. Daniel, one of them, by his wisdom, rose to great favor with the king, who made him 260 TfllfiD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. fovernor of the provinces of Babylon; and when the ingdom of the Chaldeans was taken by the Modes and Persians, the conquerors made him one of the chief rulers of the country. Seeing him preferred to themselves, the other oflScers and princes who were placed over the kingdom, became so envious of Daniel, that they sought how they might ruin him. And finding that they could not accuse him of any wrong-doing in his government, they determined to make his continuing to worship the true God the means of his destruction. So these idolaters persuaded Darius the king to make a law, that, if any one during thirty days, should offer a petition or prayer, either to God or man, except to the king, he shooid be thrown into a den of lions. Daniel knew this ; but^ still, as formerly, three times a-day he kneeled to pray sad give thanks to the Lord God. His enemies found him praying, and immediately accused him before the king of breaking, the law. Darius, when he saw Daniel in dnnger, was ffrieved with himself for what he had done. Bat a6 he had no power to alter tlio'llffr^ he was obliged to condemn him to be thrown into tbe den; the mouth of which was afterwards secured with a large stone, sealed with the king's seaL Then the king returned to his palace with a heavy heart; though he had told Daniel that his God would deliver him. And in the morning he rose, hastened to the don, and found that God had sent His angel, and shut the mouths of the lions, so that they had done him no hurt. Immediately the king commanded his people to raise the stone; and when Daniel was brought up out of the den, they saw that the fierce creatures had not even touched him. Then Darius in his anger ordered that the men who had accused Daniel should themselves be thrown to the lions. But they had no God to protect them. So the lions tore these wicked men in piieces instantly. THIBD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 261 en the Medes le cliief officers became r might ise liim srmined jod the rsuaded 5 during ither to thrown ee times ihe Lord mediately the law. grieved had no emnhim doh was with the lace with that his he rose, sent His they had nmanded miel was he fierce Darius in accused Dus. But lions tore THE GOOD SAMAEITAN. One day when Jesus was with His disciples, a lawyer — that is, a teacher of the law which Moses gave to the Jews — asked Him what he must do in order that he might live for ever with God in heaven. He asked this, not because he wanted to know, but just to see what kind of answer Christ would give him. Jesus in reply asked him what was written in the law which God had given to them. The lawyer answered, That the law told him that he must love God with all his heart, and mind, and soul, and strength ; and tbat he must love his neighbor as well as he loved himself. Jesus told him that he had answered rightly ; if he did so, he should live for ever with God ia heaven. But then the lawyer wanted to know who was his neighbor. And this Jesus taught him by means of a parable. He said, A certain man, as he went from Jerusalem to Jericho, was set upon l3y thieves, who stripped him even of his clothing, wounded him; and then went off, leaving him half dead. And, as he lay there, a priest came along the same road, but, instead of stopping to help the wounded man as he ought to have done, he passed on on the other sido of tho way. Next came a Levite, — tbat is, an inferior kind of priest, — who just looked at the poor man, and then went away without doing anything for him. Last of all, there was a Samaritan travelling on that road ; but he, instead of passing on as the others had done, hastened to him, dressed and bound up his wounds, and then, setting him on tho beast that ho was himself riding, took him to an inn, where he got him food and lodging. Then tho next day, when he went on his journey again, he gave some money to tho landlord of the inn, bidding him take care of the wounded Jew^ and telling him that if he spent '!l •* 262 THIRD BOOR OF BEADING LESSONS. anything more he would repay him when he came back. Wlien Jesus had told the lawyer this story, He asked him which of the three was really neighbor to him who had been set upon by thieves — his own country- men, or the Samaritan ? The lawyer answered. He was his neighbor who had showed him such kindness. Then Jesus told him to consider every man his neighbor who needed a kindness from him. WHO IS MY NEIGHBOR? Thy neighbor ? It is he whom thou Hast power to aid and bless. Whose aching heart or burniog brow Thy soothing hand may press. Thy neighbor ? *Tis the fainting poor. Whose eye with want is dim. Whom hunger sends from door to door : Go thou and succor him. Thy neighbor? *Tis that weary man. Whose years are at their brim. Bent low with sickness, cares, and pain : Go thou and comfort him. Thy neighbor ? 'T\s the heart bereft Of every earthly gem ; Widow and orphan, helpless left : Go thou and shelter them. Thy neighbor ? Yonder toiling slave, Fetter'd in thought and limb, Whose hopes are all beyond the grave : Go thou and ransom him. Oh, pass not — pass not heedless by : Perhaps thou canst redeem The breaking heart from misery : Oh, share thy lot with him. — Anonymous. THIBO BOOK OF BEADINQ LESSONS. 263 came SCRIPTURE MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. In reading lessons from Scripture, you may some- times have found things which you could not under- stand, for want of knowing something concerning the habits and customs of the people and countries about which you were reading. A few of these I will try to explain : In the first place, you must always bear in mind that the Israelites and Egyptians, and other nations mentioned in Scripture, lived in a much warmer climate than we do; now, that circumstance alone would make a great difference in their way of living. )I3S. The houses in Judea were built with flat roofs, upon which the people used to sit or walk, as wo should in a room ; they had stairs or fixed ladders outside, for going up and down, and within-side of the house they had often what we call a trap-door, which opened m the roof itself. In the time of our Lord, when the friends of the poor man who was sick 264 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. of the palsy, found that the house in wlii :3h Jesus was teaching was so crowded that they ^ould not get in at the Joor, they uncovered the rooi', -vs are t^ld, and let thi;^ sick man down in his bed. No" , T^ith a roof like ours, this would be impossi])le; but ^i^h such a roof as I have been describing, they might either let him down by means of a trap -door, or if the house were of wood, they might lift up some of the beams which formed the roof. Houses, in that part of the vvorH, are luilt very much in the same manner now that they were hundreds of years ago ; 1 : iCy are sometimes made of stone or brick, but often of wood, and, among the poorer people, of mud, dried in the sun. Inside the houses, instead of having chairs, a part of the floor is raised like u step, and covered with a mat or carpet, upon which they sit. They appear frequently to have reclined at their meals, instead of sitting round tho table; and ate only with their fingers, as is still ohe habit of many Eastern nations. There are many allusions in Scripiiure to the preparation of food, and especially of brdftd. Both among the Jews and o^her neighbor- ing nations, bread was not made into loav^ like ours, but into flat cakes, resembling what we call griddle bread; somv. times i' - -iS made thin, like a biscuit, and merely baked on vl^o ashes. This appears to have been the case When bread was wanted in great haste. When Abraham received the visit of the angels, he told his wife Sarah to take three measures of meal, knead it; and make cakes upon the hearth. But this kind of iDread was not that usually eaten by the Jews ; they commonly made their bread with leaven, which answered the same purpose as our yeast. At the feast of the Passover, they were commanded to eat nothing but imleovejied bread, in remembrance of t>eir flignt from Egypt, in which they had been obliged ^o take their dough before it was leavened, as provision for their hasty journey. THIRD BOOK OF 2EADING LESSONS. 205 ius was 3t in at Ifl, and L a roof such a her let ) house beams lit very mdreds tone or people, instead I like iJk n which lined at le ; and balDit of aions in pecially lighbor- ke ours, griddle biscuit, to have t haste, gels, he of meal, But this le Jews 5 n, which imanded mbrance iad been renod, as Tho Jews do not seem to have eaten me^t ordv narily, but rather to Lave considered it as a feast When they wished to do honor tc a, gutzu or ^*nj other person; or to celebrate auy joyful eveut, a ki.l or calf was killed • but usually their food coue* ae<3 of milk, vegetables, and bread. We find in Scripture frequent mention of 'mder, as the greatest blessing, and even as the greater & luxury of life. Now, though we are aware that we could not live without water, yet from our scarcely ever know- ing the want of it in this country, we can hardly conceive what the inhabitants of very hot climates sometimes endure, when their springs and wells are dried up, and they can with difficulty procure enough water to keep themselves and their cattle alive. Dur- ing a great part of the year no rain faiis, and the heat of the sun is such, that often it is only in very deep wells that any water can be found. The gmss and other plants are then withered and parched, so that, except on the banks of a stream or river, not a spot of green is found to refresh the eye. Ix* travel- ling, especially, the sufferings from want of "vvater are often dreadful ; people take with them as r^uch as they can carry, in goat skins, which tht-*^ ny^ instead of glass bottles.* But if their stoc {\i ; xhausted before they arrive at their journoy's end, ^^oth they and their horses and camels sometime- perish from thirst. You may rememb t, in your labi book of lessons, an account of this in the Story of a DesoH. You see, therefore, that to have plenty of water was quite a luxury to tho Jews. In Scripture we often find the knowledge oF God compared to rivers or pools of water ; and one of tho prophets, who forotola tho coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, says that *^ the parched ground shall become a pool, and the thirsty • Wine waa also kept in thi . kind of bottle, which is in uie io this day, not only in Asia, but in some p:*rtc of the South of Europe, 266 THIB0 BOOK OF BEADINO LESSONS. land springs of wat much more used and more valued among the Jpiws than they are with us. They were not only the corimon beasts of burden, but were ridden upon coustantlv, instead of horses, which were only used in war. A horse was, in those times, almost an emblem or sign of war; on all peaceful occasions^ no one THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 267 r would J it fer- into tlie Spirit, [escend- . usually X better resem- Doumry. , which, El person iid aside girdle, or I in any- explains of gird- mded to \ girded, i^ho were of their people [red into mt, that or outer \g honor So that ihe East, |d, along jripture. among lot only |en upon used in emblem no one thought of riding any animal but an ass or mule. Camels, indeed, are mentioned in Scripture, especially in the earlier parts. We hear that Hebekah alighted from her camel when she met Isaac walking in the field ; and camels formed part of the present which Jacob gave to his brother Esau. But in the later times of the Jews asses appear to hare been chiefly used for everything in which we should employ horses. Our Lord^s entering Jerusalem, which I alluded to just now, riding upon an ass, might have shown the Jews that He came, not as a conqueror, to free their city from the Romans, but as a king, who ruled only in the hearts of men, especially as this entrance was fore- told hundreds of years before it took place by one of the prophets. — Ivinh National Series, THE THREE SONS. I HAVE a son, a little son, a boy just five years old. With eyes of thoughtful earnestness, and mind of gentle mould ; They tell me that unusual grace in all his ways appears. That my child is grave and wise of heart, beyond his childish years. I cannot say how this may be, I know his face is fair ; And yet his chiefest comeliness is his sweet and seri- ous air : I know his heart is kind and fond, I know he loveth me, But loveth yet his mother more, with grateful fervency : But that which others most admire, is the thought which fills his mind. The food for grave inquiring speech, he everywhere doth find. Strange questions doth he ask of mo, when we together walk; Ho scarcely thinks as children think, or talks as chil- dren talk, 268 THIRD BOOK OP ITEADINQ LESSONS. li i> Nor cares he macli for childish sports^ dotes not on bat or ball. But looks on manhood's ways and works, and aptly mimics all. His little heart is busy still, and oftentimes perplexed With thoughts about this world of ours, and thoughts about the next. He kneels at his dear mother's knee, she teacheth him to pray, And strange, and sweet, and solemn, then, are the words which he will say. Oh! should my gentle child be spared to manhood's years like me, A holier and a wiser man, I trust that he will be ! And when I look into his eyes, and stroke his thought- ful brow, I dare not think what I should feel, were I to lose him now. I have a son, a second son, a simple child of three ; I'll not declare how bright and fair his little features be, THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 269 not on bat and aptly perplexed 1 thouglits chetli him J tlie words manhood's Ul be 1 is thouglit- Isebimnow. three ; features be, How silvery sweet those tones of his, when he prattles on my knee : I do not think his light blue eye is, like his brother's, keen; Nor his brow so full of childish thought, as his hath ever been ; But his little heart 's a fountain pure, of kind and ten- der feeling, And his every look 's a gleam of light, rich depths of love revealing. When he walks with me, the country folk, who pass us in the street. Will speak their joy, and bless my boy, who looks so mild and sweet. A playfellow is he to all, and yet with cheerful tone He'll sing his little song of love when left to sport alone. His presence is like sunshine sent to gladden home and nearth, To comfort us in all our griefs, and sweeten all our mirth. Should he grow up to riper years, God grant his heart may prove As sweet a home for heavenly grace, as now for earthly love ! And if, beside his grave, the tears our aching eyes must dim, God comfort us for all the love which we shall lose in him ! I have a son, a third sweet son ! his age I cannot tell, For they reckon not by years and months, where he is gone to dwell. To us for fourteen anxious months his infant smiles were given, And then he bade farewell to earth, and went to live in heaven. I cannot tell what form he has, what looks he weareth now. :— _"r' 270 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. i ' I ' Nor guess how bright a glory crowns his shining seraph brow. The thoughts that fill his sinless soul, the bliss \f hich he doth feel, A.ro numbered with the secret things which God will not reveal ; But I know (for God hath told me this) that he is now at rest. Where other blessed infants be, on their Saviour's loving breast. I know his spirit feels no more this weary load of flesh, But his sleep is blessed with endless dreams of joy for ever fresh. , I know the angels fold him close beneath their glitter* ing wings. And soothe him with a song that breathes of heaven's divinest things. I know that we shall meet our babe, (his mother dear and I,) Where God for aye shall wipe away all tears from every eye. Whatever befalls his brethren twain, his bliss can never cease ; Their lot may here be grief and fear, but his is certain peace. It may be that the tempter's wiles their souls from bliss may sever. But if our own poor faith fail not, he must be ours for ever. When we think of what our darling is, and what we still must be ; When we muse on that world's perfect bliss and this world's misery ; When we groan beneath this load of sin, and feel this grief and pain — Oh ! we'd rather lose our other two, than have him here again. "^" — Rev. J. MouLTRTE. THIRD BOOK OF READING L-ESSONS. 271 sbining 3 Vfliich Jod will e is now 5aviour*s >f fiesh, ,f joy for r glitter- heaven's ther dear ;rom every can never is certain louls from e onrs for wliat we s and this d feel thia have him ULTRIE. KING MIDAS; OR, THE GOLDEN TOUCH. Once upon a time there lived a very rich man, and he was a king besides, whose name was Midas. This King Midas was fonder of gold than of anything else in the world. He valued his royal crown chiefly be- cause it was composed of that metal. At length — as people always grow more and more foolish, unless they take care to grow wiser and wiser — Midas had got to be so very unreasonable, that he could scarcely bear to see or touch any object that was not gold. He made it his custom, therefore, to pass a large portion of every day in a dark and dreary room underground at the bottom of his palace. It was here that he kept his wealth. To this dismal hole, for it was little better than a dungeon, Midas betook himself whenever he wished to be particularly happy. And then would he reckon over the coins in the bag, and whisper to him- self: " Midas, rich King Midas, what a happy man art thou ! '* Midas was enjoying himself in his trea- sure-room one day as usual, when he saw a shadow fall over the heaps of gold, and looking suddenly up, what should he behold but the figure of a stranger standing in the bright and narrow sunbeam ! It was a young man with a cheerful and ruddy face. The stranger gazed about the room upon all the golden objects that were there, and then he turned again to Midas. " You are a wealthy man, friend Midas ! *' he ob- served. "I doubt whether any other four walls on earth contains so much gold as this room.^' "I have done pretty well — pretty well,'' answered Midas in a discontented tone. " But, after all, it is but a trifle when you consider that it has taken me my whole life to get it together. If one could live a thousand years, one might have time to grow rich I " " What! '^ exclaimed the stranger ; " then you are not content ? '' IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A 1.0 I.I u& 2.0 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" - ► VJ then," said the stranger, " and plunge into the river that glides past the bottom of your garden. Take likewise a vase of the tsame water, and sprinkle it over any object that you may desire to change back again from gold into its former substance. If you do this in earnestness, it may repair the mischief which your avarice has caused." King Midas bowed low; and when he lifted his head, the stranger was gone. You will easily believe that Midas lost no time in snatching up a great earthen pitcher — but, alas me ! it was no longer earthen after he touched it — and hastening to the river side. On reaching the river's brink, he plunged headlong in. Then, as he dipped the pitcher into the water, it gladdened his very heart to see it change from gold into the same good honest earthen vessel which it had been before ^he touched it. He felt also a change within himself. A cold, hard, and heavy weight seemed to have gone out of hia M 276 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. !ii i\ bosom. Seeing a violet that grew on the banks of the river, Midas touched it with his finger, and was over- loyed to find that the delicate flower retained its purple hue, instead of undergoing a yellow blight. The curse of the Golden Touch had, therefore, really been re- moved from him. King Midas hastened back to the palace; and I suppose the servants knew not what to make of it when they saw their royal master so carefully bring- ing home an earthen pitcher of water. When he had sprinkled everything his touch had changed to gold, and it had become as it was before, he went into the garden, where he threw the rest of the water over the rose-bushes, and with such good effect, that above five thousand roses recovered their beautiful bloom. And so ends the story of King Midas and the Golden Touch. • % , • . HOHENLINDEN. On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night. Command g fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd. Each horseman drew his battle-blade. And furious every charger neigh'd. To join the dreadful revelry. Then shook the hills, with thunder riven ; Then flew the steed, to battle driven ; (C « nks of the was over- its purple The curse ' been re- 36 ; and I nake of it all) bring- touch had ms before, the rest of such good vered their LS and the THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 277 And, louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashM the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow, On Linden^s hills of stained snow ; And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. ' Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, VVTiere furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave. Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave ; And charge with all thy chivalry ! Few, few shall part, where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier^s sepulchre ! % — Campbell. f I ir I W r ■ ; 1 ih r; t, iven ; THE SAW AND THE AXE. Early one spring morning, when the sun had scarcely melted the hoar-frost from the brown face of the wrinkled earth, an old axe happened to fall in with a saw. There was s." cutting air'' abroad, that threat- ened the newly-shaven chin with chaijs! "Ah! mj old blade!'' said the Axe, ^'how goes it with you ? I came purposely to see how you do.^^ " I really feel much obliged to you,^^ said the Saw, "but am sorry to say that my teeth are very bad. My master has sent for the doctor, who, (between you and me,) is no better than an * old file!' I was in the workshop last night, where " 278 THIRD BOOK OP READING L'JSSONS. " Where, no doubt^ you saw a great deal/* facetiously interrupted the Axe. The saw showed his teeth in a sort of grin betwixt melancholy and mirth, and resumed — " Why, I may say so with some truth ; and I con- sider it no more than a duty I owe Mr. Carpenter to do as much as I can, in spite of my teeth, for he is really liberal — in point of hoard,'* ^' And do you never grow rusty ?" asked the Axe. "Not with(wer work,'^ replied the Saw; " and, indeed, I have always found that constant employment best preserves our polish ; which, after all, is only artificial." " You are quite a philosopher." " Not exactly so ; for I sometimes do grow exceed- ingly hot, and lose my temper,'* " And what says your master V "Why, he generously desists a '''hile, and I soon grow cool again, and then I cut away like a razor through a piece of mottled soap \" f ''You are a happy fellow," said the Axe. "How lifferently am I situated. My master is a ' choppimj hoy,* with a thick block, which is tantamount to saying he is a fat fool. He is very sharp with me sometimes ; and when he finds I am inclined to be hlunt, he grinds me most cruelly." " Alas I " cried the Saw ; " it's the way of the world, my friend; for I have invariably remarked that the rich always grind the poor for the sake of the ' chips,* ** " Bravo ! " exclaimed the Axe. " You see Fve not lived in the world all this time without getting a notch or two," said the Saw. "Nor I either," replied the Axe; "although in obtaining the said notches I have not only lost my courage, but a portion of my metal too ! " "Well, I never saw!** exclaimed his friend; "how you talk! I am sure your teeth do not give you any trouble, at any rate." " I ax your pardon, old boy," remonstrated the Axe; facetiously nn betwixt and I con- arpenter to I, for he is the Axe. md, indeed, ^ment best y artificial )3 ow exceed- and I soon ike a razor .xe. ct How a ' choppinij nt to saying sometimes ; it, he grinds of the world, zed that the :he ' chi'ps* " all this time 5aw. although in >nly lost my riend; "how jive you any bted the Axe; THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 279 '^for, although I do not complain of my teeth exactly, my chops give me a considerable deal of trouble, I can tell you.'' The Saw grinned an approval of the Axe's wit. " Peace 1 ^' exclaimed the Axe. " Here comes Mr. Cijrpenter; so don't show your teeth, till you can bite,' — I believe that is the maxim of a relation of yours ? " " Not a relation," said the other ; " though they are the words of a ^ wise old saw ! ' " TRAVELLERS' WONDERS. One winter's eveninpf, as Captain Compass was sitting by the fireside with his children all around him, little Jack said to him, " Papa, pray tell us some stories about what you have seen in your voyages. 1 have been vastly entertained, whilst you were abroad, with ^ Gulliver's Travels,' and the ' Adventures of Sinbad the i if ill ■:m : i:.. 280 THIRD BOOK OP REA^DINQ LESSONS. Sailor ; ' and I think as you have gone round and round the world, you must have met with things as wonder- ful as they did/' "No, my dear/' said the captain, " I never met with Lilliputians or Brobdignagians, I assure you; and never saw the black loadstone mountain, or the valley of diamonds ; but, to be sure, I have seen a great variety of people, and their different manners and ways of living ; and if it will be any entertainment to you, 1 will tell you some curious particulars of what I ob- served/' " Pray do, papa,'' cried Jack, and all his brothers and sisters. So they drew close round him, and he began as follows : — *' Well, then, I was once, about this time of the year, in a country where it was very cold, and the poor in- habitants had much ado to keep themselves from starving. They were clad partly in the skins of beasts, made smooth and soft by a particular art, but chiefly in garments made from the outer covering of a middle- sized quadruped, which they were so cruel as to strip oflF his back while he was alive. They dwelt in habit- ations, part of which were sunk under ground. The materials were either stones, or earth hardened by fire ; and so violent, in that country, were the storms of wind and rain, that many of them covered their roofs all over with stones. The walls of their houses had holes to let in the light ; but to prevent the cold air and wet from coming in, they were covered with a sort of transparent stone, made artificially of melted sand or flints. As wood was rather scarce, I know not what they would have done for firing, had they not discovered in the bowels of the earth a very extraor- dinary kind of stone, which, when put among burning wood, caught fire and flamed like a torch. ^' " Dear me," said Jack, '' what a wonderful stone ! 1 suppose it was somewhat like what we call firestones, that shino so when we rub them together/" » Lnd round wonder- ' met with yon ; and )he valley 1 a great and ways at to you, hat I ob- 5 brothers 1, and he f the year, e poor in- jlves from 3 of beasts, }ut chiefly • a middle- ,s to strip in habit- lund. The ed by fire ; storms of )heir roofs ouses had e cold air itha sort leltcd sand know not they not y extraor* g burning fful stone! firestones, TflIRD BOOK OP REAt)lNO Ii:sS0NS. 281 " I don't think they would burn/' replied the cap- tain ; " besides, they are of a darker color. "Well, but their ""iet too was remarkable. Some of them ate fish that had been hung up in the smoke, till it was quite dry and hard ; and along with it they ato either the roots of plants, or a sort of coarse black cake made of powdered seeds. These were the poorer class ; the richer had a white kind of cake, which they were fond of daubing over with a greasy matter that was the product of a large animal among them. This grease they used, too, in almost all their dishes, and, when fresh, it really was not unpalatable. They like- wise devoured the flesh of many birds and beasts, when they could get it ; and ate the leaves and other parts of a variety of vegetables growing in the country, some absolutely raw, others variously prepared by the aid of fire. Aiiother great article of food was the curd of milk, pressed into a hard .aass and salted. This had so rank a smell, that persons of weak stomachs often could not bear to come near it. For drink, they made great use of water, in which certain dry leaves had been steeped. These leaves, I w s told, came from a great distance. They had likewi? method of preparing a grass-like plant steeped in \ . , with the addition of a bitter herb, and then set to work or fer- ment. I was prevailed upon to taste it, and thought it at first nauseous enough, but in time I liked it pretty well. When a large quantity of the ingredients is used, it becomes perfectly intoxicating. But what astonished me most was their use of a liquor so ex- cessi'^ely hot and pungent that it seems like liquid fire. I once got a mouthful of it by mistake, taking it for water, which it resembles in appearance ; but I thought it would instantly have taken away my breath* Indeed, people are not unfrequently killed by it ; and yet many of them will swallow it greedily whenever they can get it. This, too, is said to be prepared from the seeds above mentioned, which are innocent and i i |i! 282 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. salutary in their natural state, though made to yield such a pernicious juice. The strangest custom, that I believe prevails in any nation, I found here; which was, that some take a mighty pleasure in filling their mouths full of abominable smoke; and others, in thrusting a nasty powder up their nostrils." '^ I should think it would choke them," said Jack. " It almost choked me," answered his father, '' only to stand by while they did it ; but use^ it is truly said, is second nature. " I was glad enough to leave this cold climate ; and about half a year after, I fell m with a people enjoying a delicious temperature of air, and a country full of beauty and verdure. The trees and shrubs are fur- nished with a great variety of fruits, which, with other vegetable products, constituted a large part of the food of the inhabitants. I particularly relished certain berries growing in bunches, some white, and sotne red, of a pleasant sourish taste, and so transparent that one might see the seed at their very centre. Here were whole fields full of extremely odoriferous flowers, which they told me, were succeeded by pods bearing seeds, that afforded good nourishment to man and beast. A great variety of birds enlivened the groves and woods ; among which I was entertained with one, that, without any teaching, spoke r Imost as articulately as a parrot, though indeed it was all the repetition of a .single word. The people were tolerably gentle and civilized, and possessed many of the arts of life. Their dress was very various Many were clad only in a thin cloth made of the long fibres of the stalks of a plant culti- vated for the purpose, which they prepared by soaking in water, and then beating with large mallets. Others wore cloth woven from a sort of vegetable wool growing in pods upon bushes. But the most singular material was a fine glossy stuff, used chiefly by the richer classes, which, as I was credibly informed, is manufactured out of the webs of caterpillars; a most wonderful THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. 283 bo yield L, that I ; wliich ig their bers, in Jack. ^ " only uly said, ite ; and enjoying •y full of are fur- ith other ' the food I certain sotae red, J that one !ere were rs, which ng seeds, )east. A d woods ; ;, without a parrot, a .single civilized, leir dress thin cloth lant culti- ly soaking Others d1 growing br material ,er classes, lufactured wonderful circumstance, if we consider the immense number of caterpillars necessary to the production of so large a quantity of stuff as I saw used. These people are very fantastic in their dress, especially the women, whose apparel consists of a great number of articles impos- sible to be described, and strangely disguising the natural form of the body. In some instances they seem very cleanly ; but in others, the Hottentots can scarce go beyond them ; particularly in the manage- ment of their hair, which is all matted and ptiffened with the fat of the swine and other animals, mixed up with powders of various colors and ingredients. Like most Indian nations, they use feathers in the head- dress. One thing surprised me much, which was, that they bring lip in their houses an animal of the tiger kind, with formidable teeth and claws, which, notwith- standing its natural ferocity, is played with and caressed by the most timid and delicate of their women.'' " I am sure I would not play with it,'' said Jack. " Why, you might chance to get an ugly scratch, if you did," said the captain. " The language of this nation seems very harsh and unintelligible to a foreigner, yet they converse among one another with great ease and quickness. One of the oddest customs is that which men use on saluting each other. Let the weather be what it will, they un- cover their heads, and remain uncovered for some time, if they mean to be extraordinary respectful.'^ '' Why, that's like pulling off our hats," said Jack. "Ah, ah ! papa," cried Betsy, " I have found you out. You have been telling us of our own country, and what is done at home, all this while." " But," said Jack, " we don't burn stones, or eat grease and powdered seeds, or wear skins and cater- pillars* webs, or play with tigers." " No !" said the captain; "pray what are coals but stones; and is not butter, grease; and corn, seeds; and leather, skins; and silk^ the web of a kind of , 1. m I i iM ffi III jti ft i 284 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. caterpillar; and may we not as well call a cat an animal of the tiger-kind, as a tiger an animal of the cat-kind ? So, if you recollect what I have been de- scribing, you will find, with Betsy's help, that all the other wonderful things I have told you of are matters familiar among ourselves. But I mean to show you, that a foreigner might easily represent everything as equally strange and wonderful among us, as we could do with respect to his country ; and also to make you sensible that we daily call a great ir* any uings by their names, without inquiring into their nature and pro- perties; so that, in reality, it is only the names, and not the things themselves, with which we are ac- quainted/' — Evenings at Home, BINGEN ON THE RHINE. A 30LDIER of the Legion lay dying in Algiers, There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears ; But a comrade stood beside him, while his life-blood ebb'd away, And bent, with pitying glances, to hear what he might say. The dying soldier falter'd, as he took that comrade's hand. And he said : " I never more shall see my own, my native land ; Take a message and a token to some distant friends of "t>' mme. For I was born at Bingen— at Biugen on the Rhine. " Tell my brothers and companions, when they meet and crowd around. To hear my mouraful story, in the pleasant vineyard ground, "♦> THIBD BOOK OF READINQ LESSONS. 2«5 cat an of the sen de- all the tnatters iw you, hing as re could ake you by their nd pro- aes, and are ac- Uonne, eartli of life-blood e might lomrade s own, my Viends of lEbine. ey meet vineyard That we fought the battle bravely ; and when the day was done, Full many a corpse lay ghastly pale beneath the setting sun. And midst the uead and dying were some grown old in wars — The death-wound on their g 'lant breasts, the last of many scars; But 3ome were young, and suddenly beheld life's morn decline ; And one had come from Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine. " Tell my mother that her other sons shall comfort her old age, And I was aye a truant bird, that thought his home a cage; For my father was a soldier, and, even as a child. My heart leap'd forth to hear him tell of struggles fierce and wild ; And when he died, and left us to divide his scanty hoard, I let them take whatever they would, but kept my father's sword ; And with boyish Jove I hung it where the bright light used to shine, Ou the village-wall at Bingen — calm Bingen on the Rhine ! " Tell my sister not to weep for me, and sob with drooping head. When the troops are marching home again, with glad and gallant tread ; But to look upon them proudly, with a calm and stead- fast eye. For her brother was a soldier too, and not afraid to die. And if a comrade seek her love, 1 ask her in my name To listen to him kindly, without regret or shame ; And to hang the old sword in its place, (my father's sword and mine,) For the honor of old Bingen — dear Bingen on the Rhino ! \'\ I ^'S\ 286 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESSONS. ^^There'p another — not a sister; in the happy days gone by, STou 'd have known her by the merriment that sparkled in her eye ; Too innocent for coquetry — too fond for idle scorning ! friend, I fear the lightest heart makes sometimes heaviest mourning ! Tell her the last night of my life (for ere this moon be risen My body- will be out of pain — my soul be out of prison) 1 dreamed I stood with her, and saw the yellow sun- light shine On the vine-clad hills of Bingen — fair Bingen on the Ehine ! " I saw the blue Ehine sweep along ; I heard, or seem'd to hear. The German songs we used to sing in chorus sweet and clear ; And down the pleasant river, and up the slanting hill, The echoing chorus sounded, through the evening cahn and still ; And her glad blue eyes were on me, as we passed with friendly talk Down many a path beloved of yore, and well-remsm- ber'd walk ; And her little hand lay lightly, confidingly in mine ; But we'll meet no more at Bingen — loved Bingen on the Ehine r His voice grew faint and hoarser ; his grasp was child- ish weak ; His eyes put on a dying look ; he sigVd, and ceased to speak. His comrade bent to lift him, but the spark of life had fled, The soldier of the Legion in a foreign land — was dead ! And the soft moon rose up slowly, and calmly she lookM down On the red sand of the battle-field, with bloody corpses strown ; /i n( THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 287 days arkled ming ! etimes e risen prison) w sun- on tlio seem'd eet and ng hill, 3g calm s'd with renrem- inine ; igen on ls child- Id ceased Ihadfled, LS dead 1 Imly she corpses Yea, calmly on that dreadful scene her pale light seem'd to shine, As it shone on distant Bingen — fair Bingen on the Rhine ! — Hon. Mrs Norton. FEEDERICK THE GREAT. Frederick the Great, king of Prussia, having rung his bell one day, and nobody answering, opened the door -v/here his servant was usually in waiting, and found him asleep on a sofa. He was going to awake him, when he perceived the end of a billet or letter hanging out of his pocket. Having the curiosity to know its contents, he took and read it, and found it was a letter from his mother, thanking him for having sent her a part of his wages to assist her in her dis- tress, and concluding with beseeching God to bless him for his filial attention to her wants. The king re- turned softly to his room, took a roll of ducats, and slid them with the* letter into the page's pocket. Re- turning to his apartment, he rung so violently that the page awoke, opened the door and entered. " You have slept well,^' said the king. The page made an apology, and, in his embarrass- ment, happened to put his hand in his pocket, and felt with astonishment the roll. He drew it out, turned pale, and looking at the king, burst out into tears, without being able to speak a word. *'What is the matter?^' asked the king. "What (lils you ? " " Ah ! sir," said the young man, throwing himself at iiis feet, '* somebody has wished to ruin me. I know not how I came by this money in my pocket." " My friend," said Frederick, '^ God often sends us good in our sleep : send the money to your mother ; salute her in my name ; and assure her that I shall take care of her and you" I'i ] I i I u i I' 288 THIED BOOK OP READING LESSONS. This story furnishes an excellent instance of the gratitude and duty which children owe to their aged, infirm, or unfortunate parents. And if the children of such parents will follow the example of Frederick's servant, though they may not meet with the reward that was conferred on him, they shall be amply recom- pensed by the pleasing testimony of their own minds, and by that God who approves, as Ho has commanded every expression of filial love. THE CHESAPEAKE AND THE SHANNON. " And as the war they did provoke, We'll pay them with our cannon ; The first to do it will be Broke, In the gallant ship the Shannon J" — Old Song. The 1st of June has long been a glorious day in the annals of the British navy. It was then, in the year 1665, that the Duke of York and Sir William Penn defeated the Dutch Fleet at Solebay ; and on the same w: A th me %i ) of the iir aged, ildren of ^derick's 3 reward y reconi- n minds, nmanded THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 289 •H-" *!:'£• eST^ ^NNON. Old Song. day in the in the year illiam Penn on the Bame day, in 1794, Lord Howe gained his famous victory over the French. But the 1st of June upon which our story opens was that of 1813, the second year of the American war. Great Britain had, for many years, been engaged in an unequal contest with the giant power of the first Napoleon; victorious upon her native element, she was also driving his armies from the soil of Spain, and was tasking all her powers in men and money to the utmost, in order to bring a long and exhaustive struggle to a happy conclusion. Take ing advantage of her embarrassed situation, the new republic of the United States availed itself of a sup- posed insult which Great Britain had offered in search- ing its ships for naval deserters, and declared war on the 18th of June 1812, exactly three years before the battle of "Waterloo. Then commenced a sad and unjust war ; sad, because it was between people of the same blood and language; and uujust, because the Ameri- cans had no real ground of provocation. The United States carried on the war both by land and by sea, invading Canada with their armies, and attacking British frigates and merchant vessels upon the ocean. No large men-of-war could be spared from their duty upon the European coast to oppose the ships of the enemy, which, on account of their superior size and armament, had already succeeded in capturing several of the smaller British craft. '^ England had so long regarded her naval supremacy as indisputable, and had been rendered so confident by a long series of ocean victories, that, at first, she treated the American war with undisguised contempt. On the other hand, the Americans introduced into their military operations the same ' smartness * which characterized their com- mercial dealings, and, aware of the importance of damaging the world's belief in England's invincibility, they quickly put to sea several powerful men-of-war, heavily armed and fully manned, which they, never- theless^ designated * frigates ' and ' sloops.' It was I! i\t^ 290 THIRD BOOK OF KEADING LESSONS* then with a burst of indignation, wrath, and wonder, that England heard of disgrace after disgrace, disaster upon disaster, — of English frigates captured by Ameri- can frigates and English sloops by American sloops, — until it seemed as if the boasted prowess of our sailors had suddenly disappeared, and the knell of England's power was to be rung by her youthful and aggressive offspring. The war spirit, which had hitherto slum- bered in the Saxon heart, shot up into a sudden flame, and from north to south, and east to west, went forth the cry that the honor of England must be avenged. It was while public feeling was thus unnaturally excited, that a single ship restored the old and just belief in our maritime renown. That ship was the frigate SJiaimon, whose gallant encounter with the Chesapeake is one of the most stirring episodes in all our naval history.'* "On the 21st of March 1813, Captain Broke sailed from Halifax, in company with a frigate of the same size as the Shannon, the Tenedos, commande 1 by an equally zealous officer. Captain Hyde Parker. Looking into Boston harbor, the two British captains saw, to their great delight, two heavily-armed United States frigates, the President and the Congress, ready for sea. Notwithstanding the disparity of force, they resolved, if possible, to engage the Americans, and took up a station off the harbor to intercept their escape. Meanwhile, by another channel, the American 36-gun- frigate Chesapeake had run into port. During a thick fog on the 1 st of May, the two Americans contrived to olude the vigilance of their sentinels, and put out to sea ; and the English captains had the mortification of finding only the Chesapeake left in the harbor. They were too brave to think of opposing their united strength to a single frigate, and, moreover, it was evident that the Chesapeake would hardly venture from her place of sht^lter to encounter two British ships of war. Captain Broke, therefore, as senior \\ ■.' wonder, disaster f Ameri- ;loops , — ir sailors Ingland's ygressive to slum- en flame, ent forth avenged, maturally and just was the with the ies in all pke sailed the same le 1 by an Looking IS saw, to ,ed States lyfor sea. resolved, took up a r escape, n 36-gun- ig a thick ntrived to )ut out to fication of or. They eir united er, it was y venture WffO British as senior THIRD BOOK OF BEADINa LESSONS. 291 officer, ordered the Tenedos to proceed on a cruise, with instructions not to rejoin him until the 14th of June.'' During the long month of May the Shannon blockaded Boston harbor, waiting for the Chesapeake to come out and fight a %ir battle upon the open sea. The two ships were well matched, but the advantage was on the side of the American ; for, although it had DO more guns than the British ship, they were of heavier calibre, and threw not only the legitimate shot and ball, but star and chain shot, with other equally dangerous and barbarous missiles. Its crew, also, was stronger than that of the Shannon by seventy men. and the vessel was about seventy tons larger, so thai one would have ^nought Captain Lawrence had little to fear in the event of an encounter. In spite, how- ever, of the many challenges which Captain Broke sent to him during the month of May, he obstinately refused to emerge from his secure position in Boston harbor. About noon, however, on the 1st day of June, just as Captain Broke had sent off a discharged prisoner with a formal challenge to the commander of the GhesapeaJce, that vessel set sail from the har- bor, accompanied by a large fleet of pleasure-boats, in which the good people of Boston expected to witness a great naval victory ; and so they did, but, unfor- tunately for them, the victory was on the wrong side. Five long anxious hours were spent by both vessels in getting out into the open sea, so that they might there fight a fair battle upon neutral waters. When about six leagues' distance from the harbor, the Shannon lay to and waited for ^-he Chesapeake to come within range. On she came with a fair wind, the stars and stripes flying gaily from the mizzen royal topmacthead, the peak, and the main rigging; contrasting strangely with the Shannon's plain union-jack at the fore, and her " old rusty blue ensign at the mizzen peak." But old and rusty as the British colors were, they were worth all the bran new bunting in the world, for the 292 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING liHeSONS. flag was there " that has braved a thousand years the battle and the breeze/' In addition to the ensigns above mentioned, the Chesapeake hung out at the fore a large white flag, inscribed with the motto, " Sailors' Eights and Free Trade/' which the Americans foolishly thought would make the British tars turn traitors to their country. About a quarter to six o'clock the Chesapeake came up within fifty yards of the Shannon. *' As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath For a time.*' TLen a cheer arose from the American ship, followed by a shot from the British frigate. Thirteen such single shots passed from vessel to vessel, followed by crashing timbers, and the groans of wounded and dying men. Then the Chesapeake poured in a broad- side; the Shannon replied, and, for a few minutes, the decks of the opposing frigates were swept by the iron hail, driving the men from their quarters in which no human being could live. Now a well-aimed shot, for the Shannon's crew are splendid gunners, brings down the steersman of the Cliesapeake ; she falls sharp to the wind, and exposes herself to the full sweep of the British fire. Already Captain Lawrence has fallen mortally wounded, exclaiming with his last breath, *' Don't give up the ship ; " for he was a brave man and a good officer. A terrible volley is poured into the sternports of the Chesapeake, and the second officer in command wishes to get the vessel away from her gallant British enemy ; but Broke will not let him, and so the two ships fall aboard one another. *' Lash them together," cries the captain of the Shannon, and brave men strive to bind the frigates fast, while the enemy is raining musketry upon them, and Stevens, the veteran boatswain, has his left arm literally hacked off with repeated swordcuts. The rest of the Shannon's crew are boarders ; the Americans are expecting them^ THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 293 j^ears tHe J ensigns t the fore '' Sailors' 3 foolishly ,raitors to clock the Shannon. ), followed teen such )llowed by mded and 1 a broad- V minutes, rept by the 3 in which imed shot, ers, brings falls sharp 1 sweep of e has fallen ast breath, brave man joured into he second away from ot let him, jr. *' Lash hannon, and ;, while the id Stevens, •ally hacked [e Shcmnon's itiiig them, and a large barrel of unslacked litiie is at band to throw in the faces of the British seamen ; but, by a just retribution, a shot strikes the barrel, and its con- _tents are dashed into the eyes of those who contrived the cowardly stratagem. In less time than it requires to tell the story, the boarders are ready, seamen with pike, pistol, and cutlass, and marines with musket and bayonet. Over the enemy's taffrail they go, led into action by Captain Broke and Lieutenant Watt, and form upon the deck of the Ghesapealce, Then follows a scene of confusion and horror, in which shots and cuts and thrusts are succeeded by ghastly wounds and dying groans. The enemy ;;3 beaten forward; some escape down the fore hatchway, others over the bow, and others throw themselves into the sea; several surrender as prisoners of war.. But the fight is not over. A large number of men are in the hold ; they fire through the hatchways and kill a marine. The men who have surrendered take up arms again and attack Captain Broke, one wounding him in the face with a pike, another laying bare his skull with the butt-end of a musket, and a third aiming a blow at him with a cutlass ; but his brave seamen cut down the treacherous Americans. Lieutenant Watt now hauls down the stars and stripes, and on the halliards bends a British ensign above them. The halliards are twisted, the stars and stripes rise uppermost, and the Shannon's gunners, supposing the act to be performed by the enemy, aim at the lieutenant, who falls, with five seamen, the victims of a melancholy blunder. The marines fire a volley into the hold, where the Americans still keep up a dropping fire upon the victorious enemy. Then follows a summons to surrender from Captain Broke, who, with bandaged head, is sitting upon a gun carriage. Sullenly they comply, the British flag floats above the American colors and the Ch€snpea,Jce becomes the prize of her gallant enemy. In this fight the loss of the United States was one huudred and m 294 THIBD BOOK OF BEADINQ LEBfiONS. seventy men, that of the British vessel eighty^ three. It was some little time before the shattered frigates were in a fit state to set sail ; soon however, they were repaired and made their way to Halifax. Into that splondid harbor the Shannon entered with flying colors and her well-won prize on the 6th of June, amid the booming of artillery and the " 3 of loyal British subjects. " The moral effect of this memorable action, both in England and America, was immense ; it restored con- fidence to the public mind of Great Britain, while it proved to the Americans that they were by no means able to contend with English sailors, when the terms were at all equal. We do not doubt that if a paraioidal war should again — which God forbid 1 — break out between the mother country and the commonwealth, nurtured of her strength and bred from her loins, our seamen would still maintain the honor of the Bed Cross, and repeat, if necessary, that gallant encounter between the Shannon and the Chesapeake^ which, in the stirring times of the great war, fired with patriotic ardour the hearts of our forefathers, and reasserted our sovereignty of the seas ! " — Adams' Famous Ships of the British Navy, HOME. There is a land, of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven, o'er all the world beside ; Where brighter suns disperse serener light. And milder moons ^mparadise the night j A land of beauty, virtue, valor, truth, Time-tutor'd age, and love-exalted youth; The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enohantine; shores, THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 295 eiglity* frigates ley were [nto that h flying of June, \ of loyal 3, both in ;ored con- , while it no means the terms paraicidal )reak out Lon wealth, loins, our the Red encounter which, in h patriotic sserted out jside ; rht, Views not a realm so beautiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every clime the magnet of his soul, ToucVd 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 of 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 found ? Art thou a man ? a patriot ? look around ; Oh, thou shalt find, however thy footsteps roam, Tliat land thy country, and that spot thy home ! / ^ — Montgomery. HURRAH ! HURRAH FOR CANADA. Hurrah ! hurrah for Canada, Her woods and valleys green ; Hurrah for dear old England, Hurrah for England's Queen ! Good ships be on her waters. Firm friends upon her shores; Peace, peace, within her borders, And plenty in her stores ! m >re3 » shores, Right loyally we 're singing. To all nations make it known. 29G THIRD ROOK OF READING LESSONS. That we love the land we live in, And our Queen upon her thi'one. Long may the sons of Canada, Continue as they We been, True to their native country, And faithful to their Queen. I WESTMINSTER ABBEY. When I am in a serious humor, I very often walk by myself in Westminster Abbey, where the gloominess of the place and the use to which it is applied, with the solemnity of the building and the condition of the people who lie in it, are apt to fill the mind with a kind of melancholy, or rather thoughtfulness, that is not disagreeable. I yesterday passed the whole afternoon in the churchyard, the cloisters, and the church, amusing myself with the tombstones and inscriptions that I met with in those several regions of the dead. Most of them recorded nothing eV'=i of the buried person "hnt that he was born upon one day, and died upon an- other — the whole history of his life being compre- hended in those two circumstances that are common to all mankind. I could not but look upon these registers of existence, whether brass or marble, as a kind of satire upon the departed persons, who had left no other memorial of them but that they were born and that they died. Upon my going into the church, I entertained my- self with the digging of a grave ; and saw in every shovel-full of it that was thrown up the fragment of a bone or skull, intermixed with a kind of a fresh moul- dering earth, that some time or other had a place in the composition of a human body. Upon this, I began to consider with myself what innumerable multitudes of people lay confused together under the pavement of that ancient cathedral, — ^how men and women, friends THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 297 walk by tniness of witb the n of the ith a kind at is not afternoon , amusing ihat I met Most of 3rson l>ut upon an- compie- ommon to registers a kind of ,d left no ^ born and lined my- in every ment of a esh moul- a place in s, I began nultitudes vement of 3n, friends and enemies, priests and soldiers, monks and preben- daries, were crumbled amongst one another, and blended together in the same common mass, — how beauty, strength, and youth, with old age, weakness, and de- formity-, lay undistinguished in the same promiscuous heap of matter ! I know that entertainments of this nature are apt to raise dark and dismal thoughts in timorous minds and gloomy imaginations ; but, for my own part, though I am always serious, I do not know what it is to be melan- choly, and can therefore take a view of Nature in her deep and solemn scene, with the same pleasure as in her most gay and delightful ones. By this means I can improve myself with objects which others consider with terror. When I look upon the tombs of the great, every emotion of envy dies in me ; when I read the epitaphs of the beautiful, every inordinate desire goes out ; when I meet with the griefs of parents upon a tombstone, my heart melts with compassion; when I see the tomb of the parents themselves, I consider the vanity of grieving for those whom we must quickly follow > when I see kings lying by those who deposed them, when I consider rival wits placed side by side, or the holy men that divided the world with their con- tests and disputes, J reflect with sorrow and astonish- ment on the little competitions, factions, and debates of mankind. When I read the several dates of the tombs, of some that died yesterday and some six hun- dred years ago, I consider that great day when we shall all of us be contemporaries, and make our appearance together! — Addison. THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS. . The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year. Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sear. 298 THIBD BOOK OF BEABING LESSONS. Heap'd 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 ? Alas ! they are all 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 No- vember rain Calls net from out the gloomy earth thelovely ones again. The wild-flower and the violet, they perished long ago. And the brier-rose and the orchis died amid the sum- mer 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 up- land, glade, and glen. And now, when comes the calm mild day, 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. THIRD BOOK OF READINO LE3SON9. 299 L leaves 3 tread, shrubs all the •s, that irhood ? race of d good )ld No- s agaiu. ag ago, le sum- le wood, autumn as falls [•om up- till such • winter though :he rill, [•agrance e stream 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, And 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. So gentle and so beautiful, should perish with the flowers. ALFRED THE GREAT. A THOUSAND years ago — a royal lady, in one of the rush-strewn halls of her rude English palace, is read- ing aloud to her children from an illuminated manu- script of Saxon poetry. Among the group of eager listeners around her is a boy named Alfred, whose eye flashes at the stirring and heroie thoughts of the Saxon verses. The royal lady is his step-mother, wife of Ethelwolfe, King of the West Saxons. Holding out the book in her hand, she offers it to whichever of her sons shall first learn to read it. Alfred, though in his twelfth year and a king's son, has not been taught to read. Such, however, is the boy's desire to gain the prize, that he at once sets to work to master the Anglo-Saxon letters. Steadily persevering in his task, ere long he is able to read the book, and triumphantly claims it asihis own. That boy is the future King of England, Alfred the Great, justly esteemed one of the noblest characters that grace the page of English history. He was born in 848, at Wantage in Berkshire. At the age of twenty-three, after the death of his father and his three elder bro- thers, he succeeded to the throne of Wessex. 300 THIRD BOOK OF HEADING LESSONS. From the very first he was engaged in fierce struggles with the Danes, and other Northmen, who at that time frequently landed on the coasts of England. In 878, these j'overs of the German Ocean arrived in such numbers that a general panic prevailed among the people. Such of the inhabitants as were able fled from the country, and sought safety beyond the seas ; while others took refuge in the least accessible parts of the kingdom, and abandoned their wealth and the fruits of the land to the invaders. Alfred himself, thus deserted by his people, was compelled to flee be- THIRD BOOK 0^ RBiADtKd LtlSSOKS. 301 rugglea at time arrived among .ble fled \Q seas ; e parts md the himself, flee be- fore the enemy; and, smTOunded by only a small body of faithful followers, he sought concealment amid the woods and fastnesses of his kingdom. Ere long, quitting his companions, he wandered about for 'some time in the disguise of a common soldier, not knowing whither to go or whom to trust. At last, reaching Somersetshire, he found a place, surrounded by marshes, which offered an asylum ; and, looking about, he observed the humble cottage of a cowherd, into which he at once entered, a homeless fugitive. He told that he had fled from a fatal battle, and sought concealment from pursuit. His distress in- terested the kindly feelings of the humble occupants, and he was sheltered for many days in the hovel, poor and unknown. ' One day, while sitting polishing his bow and point- ing his arrows, the peasant's wife set him to watch some cakes she had put on the fire to bake. Alfred, absorbed in thought, and musing over the past, forgot his allotted task, and suffered the bread to burn. The woman, who had gone to the forest to gather firewood, on her return upbraided the supposed soldier for his carelessness, and told him that he was good at eating cakes, but bad at turning them ! Alfred heard her with patience, and said that he should indeed ill re- ward her kindness if he could not mind so small a piece of business. He then cheerfully applied himself to the new and homely work, and carefully baked the bread. In after years Alfred remembered and munificently rewarded the hospitable peasant. The period of Alfred's seclusion lasted about seven months; but no portion of it seems to have been wasted in inactivity. With the utmost skill and judg- ment he selected, in his place of retreat, a spot well adapted for defence. It was a small piece of ground, now called Athelney Isle, completely surrounded by r ■vl i 302 THIRD BOOK OF BEADING LESS0K8. marslies. Thither he soon attracted the scattered bands of his countrymen, and it became the point from which he sallied at the head of small parties to harass the enemy day and night with unlooked-for assaults, whenever they exposed themselves to attack. The number of his followers gradually increased, and their spirits rose with their success, and with the animating cheerfulness and courage of their leader. They supported themselves by hunting and fishing, and by the spoils which they snatched from time to time from foraging parties of the enemy. After a time, Alfred formed a scheme for surprising the great Danish army, which still continued in Wilt- shire^ and he resolved to inspect cheir encampment in person, that he might frame his plan of attack. His early predilection for the arts of poetry and music had qualified him to assume the disguise of a harper. In this garb he went among the Danish tents. His harp and his talents attracted notice : he was admitted to the royal table, heard the secret counsels of his foes, and beheld their exposed condition unsuspected. He soon left the encampment, and reaching Athelney Isle again in safety, he speedily despatched messengers to his principal friends in the three adjacent counties, Wiltshire, Hampshire, and Somersetshire, announcing his existence, and requiring them secretly to collect their followers and meet him in military array on the east of Selwood Forest. As his countrymen had suffered severely in his absence, the tidings of their brave king being still alive again raised their hopes. All who were in- trusted with the secret crowded to che place of meeting. Alfred met them at the stone of Egbert, on the east of the great wood, and was received with immense joy. Two days afterwards, when the morning light was tint- ing the &ky, Alfred and his little army, by rapid march- ing, had reached Eddinf»ton, near Westbury ; and there they beheld the Danisl hosts overspreadi'^ \ \id plain. THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. 808 ottered point ties to :ed-for a,ttack. peased;, ith the leader, ig, and ,0 time prising . Wilt- ipment attack. I music harper. 3. His imitted lis foes, d. He ley Isle gers to )unties, mncing collect on the in his g still ere in- eeting. east of joy. rastmt- maioh- d there Q plain. Led by Alfred, the Anglo-Saxons rushed on their enemies with an impetuosity which nothing could withstand. Astounded at his name and presence, sur- prised in all the carelessness of fancied security, the Danes gave way before the skilful assault of the Eng- lish king. The plain was strewed with their hosts, part fled to a neighbouring stronghold, and Alfred was left master of the field. This great victory raised him from the marshes and the penury of Athelney to the throne of England. The king followed the Danes to their place of retreat, and laid siege to it. By this decisive measure he cut them off from all reinforcement. During the siege the strength of Alfred increased to a degree which de- stroyed in the enemy every hope of relief. They con- trived,^ however, to hold out for fourteen days ; and then, exhausted by cold and hunger, and worn out by fatigue, the imprisoned chiefs humbly supplicated the mercy of their conqueror. On the face of a hill near Eddington, there still exists a curious monument — an immense horse cut out on the face of a chalk cliff; which is believed to have been constructed as a memorial of this great victory. Alfred's career after this was generally successful ; and owing to his activity, bravery, and perseverance, in 886 he became, by common consent, sovereign of all England, excepting those parts in the north and east of which the foreigners still retained possession. A few years' interval of peace followed, but in 893 a more formidable invasion than any he had yet encountered awaited him. Again, however, after a long season of danger and dijfficulty, the energy of the Saxon king prevailed. During the last two years of his reign, Alfred seems to have enjoyed tranquillity. He died in 901, at the age of fitty-two, after a reign of twenty-nine years. One of Alfred's many merits^ entitling him to grate- |9 304 THIRD BOOR OF READING LESSONS. ful remembrance^ was his attempt to build a fleet. He saw the necessity of having ships ready to meet the Danes on the sea^ should fresh bands of these corsairs ever again threaten the coasts. The principal Saxon chiefs readily agreed to Alfred's proposal, and under his direction measures were taken to form a navy. He had many dijSiculties to encounter, espe- cially in procuring sailors to man the ships ; but at last he succeeded, and the fleet was ready for sea. Great multitudes assembled on the shore to witness the spectacle. This was the first English fleet, and it is celebrated as the origin of that vast and unrivalled naval power that has since made itself the wonder and admiration of the world. But Alfred, during his eventful reign, was as eminent in cultivating the arts of peace as in the struggles of warfare. He built up and restored cities and towns ; he compiled a code of laws, and organized the administration of justice. He encouraged the use- ful arts, and was the friend and correspondent of the most eminent scholars. He invited learned men from France to preside over the leading schools; and he himself spent much of his scanty leisure in literary work, translating into Anglo-Saxon some valuable authors, and also portions of the Holy Scriptures, for the benefit of his countrymen. Such was the life-work of one who deservedly lives for all time in the pages of history, as Alfred the Great THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. SHOWING HOW HE WENT FURTHER T^AN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN. • John Gilpin was a citizen Of credit and renown, A train-band captain eke was he Of famous London town. THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. mo a fleet, io meet f these rincipal sal, and form a r, espe- ; but at for sea. witness t, and it Qrivalled ader and was as s in the red cities )rganized L the use- mt of the aaen from and he n literary valuable tures, for edly lives Ifred the JILPIN. HE John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, " Though wedded we have been These thrice ten tedious years, yet wo No holiday have seen. "To-morro.'^ is our wedding-day, And we wili then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair. ^' My sister and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, AVill fill the chaise, so you must ride On horseback after we.'' He soon replied, ^^ I do admire Of womankind but one. And you are she, my dearest dear, " Therefore it shall be done. " I am a linen-draper bold. As all the world doth know. And my good friend the calender Will lend his horse to go.'^ ^aoth Mrs Gilpin, '^That^s well saidj And for that wine is dear^ We will be furnish'd with our own, Which is both bright and clear." John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife ; O'erjoy'd was he to find, That though on pleasure she was bent, She had a frugal mind. So three doors off the chaise was stay'd. Where they did all get in ; Six precious souls, and all agog To dash through thick and thin. Smack went the whip, round went the wheels, Were never folks so glad, ni m m , 306 THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. » The stones did rattle underneath, As if Cheapside were mad. John Gilpin at his horse's side. Seized fast the flowing mane. And up he got, in haste to ride. But soon came down again. For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, His journey to begin. When turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came ; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew. Would trouble him much more. 'Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down-stairs, " The wine is left behind ! '' *' Good lack ! " quoth he ; " yet bring it me. My leathern belt likewise, In v/hich I bear my trusty sword, When I do exercise." Now Mrs Gilpin (careful soul !) Had two stone bottles found, To hold the liquor that she loved. And keep it safe and sound. Each bottle had a curling ear, Through which the belt he drew, And hung a bottle on each side, To make his balance true. Then over all, that he might be Eqaipp'd from top to toe, His long red cloak, well-brush'd and neat, He manfully did throw. THIRD BOOK 07 BEADING LES90NS. 307 it me, , neat| Now see liim mounted once again Upon his nimble steed. Full slowly pacing o'er the stones. With caution and good heed. But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet^ The snorting beast began to trot. Which gall'd him in his seat. '^ So, fair and softly ! " John he cried, But John he cried in vain ; That trot became a gallop soon. In spite of curb and rein. So, stooping down, as needs he must. Who cannot sit upright. He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before. What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more. Away went Gilpin, neck or nought ; Away went hat and wig ; He little dreamt, when he set out. Of running such a rig. The wind did blow, the cloak did fly. Like streamers long and gay. Till, loop and button failing both. At last it flew away. Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung ; A bottle swinging at each side As hath been said or sung. L— > " '■'■ ' ' ' WW " 308 THIRD BOOK OP READING LESSONS. ^m.TiLai )> The dogs did bark, the children scream'd. Up flew the windows all ; And ever/ soul cried out, '' Well done ! As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin— who but he ? His fame soon spread around : He carries weight ! he rides a race ! ^Tis for a thousand pounds ! And still as fast as he drew near, ^Twas wonderful to view, How in a trice the turnpike-men Their gates wide open threw. And now, as he went bowing down His reeking head full low. The bottles twain behind his back Were shattered at a blow. THIRD BOOK OF BEADIKe^ LESSONS. Down ran tlie wine into tlie road^ Most piteous to be seen, Which haade his horse's flanks to smoke As they had basted been. But still he seemed to carry weighty With leathern girdle braced ; For all might see the bottle-necks Still dangling at his waist. Thus all through merry Islington These gambols did he play. Until he came unto the Wash Of Edmonton so gay ; And there he threw the Wash about On both sides of the way. Just Hke unto a trundling mop. Or a wild goose at play. At Edmonton his loving wife From the balcony spied ^ Her tender husband, wondering much To see how he did ride. 809 €( (( Stop, stop, John Gilpin ! — Here's the house V^ They all at once did cry ; The dinner waits, and we are tired.'' Said Gilpin,—" So am I ! " But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ! For why ? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew. Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my 8ong. i '!i m-' n ! iii I 310 THIED BOOK OF READING LESSONS. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still. The calender, amazed to see His neighbour in such trim, Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, And thus accosted him : " What news? what news ? your tidings tell; Tell me you must and shall ; Say, why bareheaded you are come. Or why you come at all ? " Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit. And loved a timely joke ; And thus unto the calender In merry guise he spoke : " I came because your horse would come; And, if I well forebode. My hat and wig will soon be here. They are upon the road/' The calender, right glad to find His friend in merry pin, Eeturned him not a single word. But to the house went in ; Whence straight he came with hat and wig, A wig that flowed behind, A hat not much the worse for wear. Each comely in its kind. He held them up, and in his turn, Thus showed his ready wit, " My head is twice as big as yours. They therefore needs must fit. *' But let me scrape the dirt aw/»y. That hangs upon your face ; THIRD BOOK OF READING LESSONS. 311 And ^stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case/' Said John, " It is my wedding-day, And all the world would stare, If wife should dine at Edmonton, And I should dine at Ware/' So, turning to his horse, he said — " I am in haste to dine : ^Twas for your pleasure you came here. You shall go back for mine/' Ah ! luckless speech, and bootless boast. For which he paid full dear ; For, while he spake, a braying ass Did sing most loud and clear. Whereat his horse did snort, as he Had heard a lion roar. And gallop' d off with all his might. As he had done before. Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig ; Ho lost them sooner than at first. For why ? — they were too big. Now, mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country — far away, She pulled out half-a-crown ; And thus unto the youth she said That drove them to the Bell, '^ This shall be yours, when you bring back, My husband, safe and well." The youth did ride, and soon did meet John coming back amain : Whom in a trice he tried to stop, By catching at his rein; mt 312 THIRD BOOK OF BElDING L£SSONS. But not performing what he meant, And gladly would have done. The frighted steed he frighted more. And made him faster run. Away went Gilpin, and away Went postboy at his heels. The postboy's horse right glad to miss The lumbering of the wheels. , Six gentlemen upon the road. Thus seeing Gilpin fly. With postboy scampering in the rear. They raised the hue and cry. « Stop, thief ! stop, thief ! — a highwayman ! " Not one of them was mute ; And all and each that passed that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike-gates again Flew open in short space ; The toll-men thinking, as before, That Gilpin rode a race. And so he did, and won it too, For he got first to town ; Nor stopped till where he had got up He did again get down. Now let us sing, loug live the king, And Gilpin long live he ; And when he next doth ride abroad, May I be there to ace ! — Cow PER. VOCABULARY FOR THIRD BOOK. The Syllabication of the Words in this Vocabulary is that which gives the Pronunciation of the Words rather than their Etymology (see Spelling -Book, p. 20, •[ 2). The division is that adopted by Wor- cester. ii man 1 " fore-thought prn-dence mis-er mod-est-ly par-a-ble The Pbaches (page 1). the habit of thinking about what the future may require wisdom one who hoards up money, while ho lives in poverty and misery ♦ in a meek manner ; humbly a short tale or fable founded on something real ■COWPER. as- cent dis-cov-er-ed punc-tu-al-i-ty re-mark-able ex-cus-ed de-taiu-ed grist con -science ap-pro-ba-tion dis-ci-ple ireas-nr-ed (tr^zh'-tlrd) saint- ed No Pay, No Work (page 2). a hill found the habit of being at a place at the proper Irno notable pardoned; forgiven delayed corn or grain to be ground moral sense of right or wrong approval a follower The Old Arm Chair (page 5). kept as a treasure holy 3U VOCABULABT. lial-low-ed be-tide la-va lannch-ed (Idncht) ez-claim-ed lee- tore donbt-ftil-ly en-e-my coxu-par-i-8on sol-len-ly mal-ice ll-bra-ry im-com-fort*a-ble ea-ger-ly cu-ri-ons Q|iz-i-on8 en-dare per-chance el-e-ments eter-ni-ty saored; holy happen to ; befall the melted matter that issaes from a volcano, bearing down all before it; hence *MaTa< tide " means irresistible Coals of Firb (page 6). set afloat, made to slide into the water cried oat a scolding in a hesitating manner, as though he did not understand one who is not a friend being compared with in a sulky manner spite; ill-will a collection of books for use -^ uneasy earnestly strange, singular Speak Gently (page 10). vexing; unquiet to bear ; to suffer by chance ; perhaps earth, air, fire, and water were formerly called elements; the word here means the wind and the waves endless time The Little Hebo of Haarlem (page 12). var-i-ety man-u-fac-tures in-ven-tions in-un-date ) (in-un'-date) j per-mifl-slon grad-n-al-ly 8ol-i-ta-ry per-celv-ed dii-tin-gaiih-a-blt change things made by the hand or by machines foi wear or other use contrivances ; new modes of doing things to flood ; to overflow with water leave; liberty slowly ; by degrees lonely saw; observed; noticed i,e, , he could not tell the blue from the green suf-fi de.li{ total cul-pj or-na char-i VOCABUTART. difl-may fear; alarm; terror per-cep-ti-l)le seen; visible volcano, in-jonc-tiou command; instmetion u lava- ray-ine a deep narrow glen or valley oon-se-qnence result 1 de-vice plan ; contrivance ; scheme mo-men-ta-ry lasting only for a very short time fail-nre loss; cessation dyke a bank to keep oat water 8im-pli-ci-ty freedom from guile did not e-vin-cing showing; exhibiting he-ro-ic {hc-rd-ic) brave; gallant; fearless for-ti-tude courage; endurance • pos-ter-i-ty succeeding generations; the after ns Ig-no-rance want of knowledge 315 people who live min-ster fag-ot wan-ton dis-pers-ed lone-some erly called the wind 1 ad her-ence 1 re-com-mend-ed I con-fi-dence 1 re-conrse achines foi 1 or-i-gin 1 car-di-nal igs 1 8uffi-ci-ent 1 de-light-ed 1 total-Iy 1 cul-prit 1 or-na-ments 1 Ghar«aot-er green " Lucy Gray (page 15). a cathedral or other church a bundle of sticks bound together with a band for the fire n;^ playful ' scattered lonely Adherence to Truth (page 17). the keeping to ^ made acceptable firm belief that others ai'e to be trusted resort the beginning a dignitary, or oflUcer in the Church of Rome. next in rank to the Pope enough pleased completely a guilty person decorations ; things which adorn or beautify the set of qualities by which one person is dia- tinguiihed from another 316 VOCABULARY. The Diligent Employment of ?ims (page IS), em-per-or the ruler of an empire ; a monarcii higher than a king jot-a-ble (ndt-a-ble) remarkable con-fes-sion admission; statement ex-pir-ed ended di-a-ry a daily record of the events and transactions in the life of any person I The Farmer and the Lawyer (page 18). lei-sure (le'-zhur) vacant, or unoccupied time power of bestowing determined character ; public esteem place of residence those seeking the advice of a lawyer property which has been received on the death of relations con-tract {conf -tract) an agreement pro-fes-sion occupation; business op-por-tn-ni-ty chance occasion fa-tigued (fa-tegd!) tired ; weary con-se-quent-ly dis-po-sal re-solv-ed re-pn-ta-tion ad-dress cli-ents in-her-i-tance , / ^ , . 5 as a necessary result {con-se-quent-ly) ) *' Better than Gold (page 21). gran-deur greatness; pomp; splendor sym-pa-thy tenderness ; fellow-feeling en-no-ble make noble gen-u-ine(j«»'-?/u-t?i)true; real draughts (dra/^s) drinks dainties; things which are not really necessary for living co'^afortably a medicine to produce sleep learning; knowledge play ; event of life empty pleasures lux-u-ries op-i-ate lore dra-ma (drd-ina) van-i-ties ex-hanst-ed A Friend in Need (page 23). -hanst-ed ) ^ ^ / » . - n !• "Md ; spent ex- ex- de-8 so-c: fid- VOCABULARY. her tbon a Qsactions ia on the dftftth lally necessary sab-sist-ence 8ol-i-cit peas-ant (pez'ant) dO'li-ca-cies in-va-lid {in-va-Ud') com-pas-sion-ate en-chant-ed con-tra-ry {con' tra-ry) iprat-i-tude in-i-ti-als al-lu-sion in-com-mode sin-cere de-cl-sion food ask for ; beg ; importune a poor person ; a laboring man finer kinds of food ; dainties a sick person kind, pitying pleased; delighted opposite thankfulness first letters of a name indirect mention inconvenience; trouble true; heartfelt conclusion ; determination The in-effec-tu-al in-sti-tnt-ed pro-test-ed as-sign cal-cu-lat-ing hes-i~ta-tion ha-ranp'ue as-ton-ish-ed sug-ges-tion (sug'-jes-tion) ex-e-cnte ez-er-tion -^ (egz-ef'Shon) ) iu-fln-once con-sid-e-ra>tion im-me-di-ate-ly ] Discontented Pendulum (page 26}. useless ; unsnccessfal set in operation ; commenced declared to state counting up doubt ; uncertainty speech surprised hint ; intimation - to complete ; to perform ^ eflfort , I :! i i ! mnr-nrar-ing ca-lam-i-ties de-spond-ence 80-ci-a-bIe ad-ver-tisecl authority; sway; control thought '* . instantly; directly Contented John (page 29). grumbling disasters ; misfortunes despair ; helplessness ; dejection friendly; companionable The Miser Punished (page 31). annoacced; proclaimed (1 318 VOCABULARY. Antont OakotAj the Scdl?tor (page S2). I Fossa^o ) {P{>8-8an-yo) ) tcr-ri-to-ry Palieri {Fahi-d-ri) con-gratn-late mar -vel Ions o-ver-wbelmed ad mi-ra-tiou sculp ture fac ul-ty statu ary per-ma*nent a-cad-emies cer-e-mo-uy tract of country to compliment ; praise wonderful; surprising overcome ; covered wonder the art of cutting statues out of stone expertness ; inclination ; capacity the art of forming statues lasting schools, or colleges a rite, or observance ; a solemnity Man OvERBOAr»D (page 35). ter-ri-ble fearful; frightful oak-um loose hemp obtained by untwisting old ropes a-stern behind the ship aft-oar the stern oar ; or one nearest the stern, or back of the boat lee-bow the bow of a boat is the front part ; the lee is uhe side sheltered from the wind ; off the ^ lee -bow would be somewhat before the boat, and to the side toward i hich the wind was blowing roMocks a hollow cut in the side of a boat, into which the oars are placed while rowing te-nac-i-ty determination lock-era cupboards, or chests, on board ship^ in which things are locked The Wreck of the ** Hesperus" (page 38). skip-per the master, or captain of a vessel vter-ing turning about flaw & sudden gust of wind nudn a part of the ocean ad- ac-( vi-sion or-i-ent-al man-u-scripts en-ter-tain-ment trans-lat*ed med-i-ta-tion cou-tem-plation in-ez-pres-si-bly mel-o-di-ous par-adise rap-ture ge-ni-us rev-e-rence sub-du-ed affa-bil-i-ty fa-mili-ar-iz-ed appre-hen-sions sb-lil-o-quy pin-na-cle pro-di-gi-ous con-8umxna-tion in-nii-mer-a-ble mel-an-cho-ly scim-i-tar com-pre-heud av-a-rice su-per-sti-tion mor-tali-ty geu-er-a-tion super-natural dis-si-pated pen-e-trate ad-a-mant ac-com-mo-df.t-ed VOCABULARY. **rHE Vision op Mibza (page 41). that which appears to be seeu in one's sleep eastern written documents amusement ; pleasing occupation changed from one language into another thought meditation ; reflection unspeakably; unutterably sweet; musical heaven joy; bliss; pleasure a spirit veneration ; awe ; high respect overcome ; conquered civility, courtesy made him well known fears ; alarms a talking to one's-self the summit ; the top great; mighty the end ; the completion countless ; that cannot be numbered sadness ; gloominess ; dejection a sword with a curved blade understand greed ; fondness for money false religion ; senseless beliefs death all the people of the same age or period more than natural dispelled ; drove oflf to go through a very hu.d stone, the diamond made suitable 319 "-1 peer pier brawn man-or Cautionary Verses to Youth (page 16). a nobleman a wharf the flesh of the boar an estate 320 VOCABULARY. baize mews sed-u-lons-ly a kind of cloth places for keeping horses ; stables diligently Joseph II. and the Grenadier (page 48). con-vey-ance dis-guis-ed mon-arcb mous-tach-ps saur-kraut ex-traor-di-na-ry (ex-trof-de-na-re grea-a-dier liea-te-nant "^ {lev-ten' -ant) ) a carriage dressed so as not to be known a king or emperor hair on the upper lip of men a German dish composed of salted cabbage has become sour . wonderful ; remarkable ; uncommon one of a regiment of tall soldiers an oflScer next in rank below a captain The Disputed Case (page 56). Umt dis-cem-iug seeing; distinguishing un-doubt-ed-ly unquestionably ; certainly vis-age countenance; face ar-gu-ment mode of reasoning de- creed decided de-ci-sive {de-ci-siv) final Observation (page 57). ven-i-son (ven'-zn) min-ute {me-nfit') the flesh of the deer ' exact der-vise as-ser-tion ca-di 8or-cer-er com-po-sure sns-pi-cion mnl-ti-tnde var*i-e-gfit-ed The Lost Camel (page 58). one of a religious sect among the followers o\ Mahomet statement ; declaration an inferior judge among the Turks a magician ; a conjurer coolness ; quietness distrust; doubt The Poor Match Girl (page 60). a great number of many colors) h in enl del \ bbage tlmt foUo^fers o\ soar-ed fes-ti-val prompt-ness car-go CH-er-gy in-dus-tri-oos VOCABULARY. flew upwards a time of feasting ; an anniversarj PBOMPTNESs,(page 64). readiness ; quickness the freight or load ol a ship force; vigor hard working 321 Humphrey's Obsebtatzons on Time (page 65). im-pa-ti-ence 80-lem-ni-ty restlessness ; unquietade seriousness; reverence John Adams and his Latin (page 67). ex-per-i-en-ced hu-mil-i-&t-ing a-bom-i-na-ble ap-pre-ci-ate lV6-quent-ly lib-er-al in-tol-er-a-ble tre-men-dons con-sid-er-a-bly floe {floe) re-coil xnys-ter-i-ons hatch-way watch on deck in-dlf-fer-ence en-conn-tdr-ed de-fM-tive met with humbling; disgraced , hateful to set a true Talue upon often ; many times becoming a gentleman; ample; not stinted unendurable ; irksome Among the Ice (page 68). great; mighty much; greatly a mass of floating ioa fly back obscure ; hidden ; unknown A Ghost Story (page 71). the opening in a ship's deck for communicating^ with the parts below the men whose duty it is to keep watch and have charge of the ship carelessness Grace DABLXNa (page 72). met with cut of repair ; tome part wanting 322 8ob-scrip-tion •m-i-nent prob-a-ble 8tock-ade pi-o-neer ren-e-gade de-co/ am-bush Bagac-i-ty haz ardous ambuscade in-ev-i-ta-ble VOCABULARY. by a number of persons writfng down opposite their names the sums they are Trilling to con- tribute or give noble; celebrated; well known likely Female Heboism (page 74). a line of stakes, t posts forced into the ground a first settler a deserter; one who has gone over to the enemy entice; coax a place of concealment discernment ; wisdom ; penetration dangerous; perilous men in ambush not to be avoided in-gen-u-i-ty con-ceiv-ed se-cur-i-ty spec-ta-tors In-tel-U-gent ap-par-eat griev-ous in-cess-ant-ly dis-con-so-late cem-e-ter-y cy-press Animal Training (page 81). cleverness ; skill thought of * safety persons looking on well-iuformed ; wise seeming sad; unfortunate continually; ceaselessly hopeless ; sorrowful ; not to be comforted a place where the dead are buried an evergreen tree like a cedar « The Doa (page 85). necessary ability to learn kindliness love es den tial do-cil-i-ty be-nev-o-lence at-tacbment Newfound-land ") . , , . ^, ,i. » oi t (.Vc»./«nd.laml) j »'' "'""^ '» ""> 8"" «f St. L.wre»c. fi-del-i-ty faithfulness bretUc-ers waves broken by the rocks di-min-lsh to become less Are-qii«at-ing visiting TOCABULART. 323 opposito to con- le ground the enemy brake co-vert preci-pice tarn sym-pho-ny ans-tere lam'-en-ta-ble mon^n-ment Fidelity (page 87). e thicket a thicket a cliff ; a nearly perpendicniar descent a mountain lake a concord of sounds harsh ; stern ; severe sad; melancholy a memorial The Newfoundland Dog's Revenge (page 87). el-o qaent )rted ap-pre-hen-sion hy-dro-phob i-a vol-un-ta ri-ly magnlM-cent pro*por*tions par*t;al re-pug-nance an'*ces-tors pre-de-ces-sors man-i*fest-ed ca-lam-i-ty nau-ti-cal ca-tas-tro-phe in-ter-val bow-sprit knot BO-lic-i-tude grat-i-fi-ed ad-V2r-8a-ry sac-ri-fico tri-an-gu-lar vo-ra-ci-ous snb-merg-ed e-laps-ed oft*]iin« that which is given in well-ohosen words : well expressed dread; fear madness in the dog of his own accord great; enormous shape ; form 'jnd dislike ; distaste ; dread forefathers forefathers, or those going before shewn misfortune sea-going disaster ; misfortune time intervening the large boom, or spar which projects over the bow, or front part of a ship the sailors' term for a mila anxiety pleased opponent victim three-sided or three-cornered hungry; greedy buried beneath , passed dog 324 VOCABULARY. Counting ths Chickens before thet are Hatched (page 93). pois-ed balanced su-per'Cil-i-ous-ly haughtily pro-fes-sor vet-er-i-na-ry un-man-age*a*ble vi-cious ma-noeu-vre "J (manoo'ver) > iftva-riably e-vo-ltttions men age {me-nazh) ap'pel-la-tion The Darling (page 95). a teacher in a college belonging to diseases of the domestic animals, as the horse, cow, sheep, &c. not to be controlled or managed bad; -wicked; unruly movement ; change of position always; constantly movements ; change of position a collection of brute animals; a place for train- iiig horses ^ a name Story of a Goat (page 99). snp'pres-sion the act of crushing, or destroying re-beMion a revolt ; open resistance to lawful authority a-sy*lnm (a-sy'-lum) a place of refuge se-qnes-ter-ed lonely ; retired ap-er-tare an opening ob-sta-cle something standing in the way of frac-tur-ed broken . de*mon-stra'tions tokens; evidences Sagacity op the Sheep (page 100). pro-c5d-aro manner of acting signif-i-cant full of meaning ex-tri-eate to free itself ; to get out M7 Pet Moneet (page 102). hearth-stone {hdrth'Stone) } the stone forming the hearth of ep-i-cure a person fond of good eating In-sec-tlv-or-ous insect-eating pTO-ptn-ii-ty disposition pe pei VOCABULARY. ^25 age 93). ic animals, ice for train- athority a fireplace de-ri-iive per-ie-oa-ting pa-ro-chi-al Uv-e-ry pun-clii-neMo har-le-qoin "> (har^U-Mn) i gri-inao6 pig-my an-cient in-ter-est-ing {in'-ter-est-ing) do-mes-ti-cat-ed mi-grate 80-joiiru-ers {8o''jum-er8) hy-ber-nates fan-tas-tic memn and tuum Al-ter-nate-ly vin-dic-tive re-it-er-at-ed Bi-mul-ta-ne-ons am-i-a-ble des-ti-tate of le-ni-ent de-sign-ed-ly turn-key } ] xnooldng teasing; annoying belonging to the parish a servant's dress The Monkey (page 106). a punch ; a clown ; a boffooa a buffoon ; a clown a distortion of the countenance Utile old; aged The Babbit (page 107). ^ pleasing tamed pe-ti-tion pen-live Canadian Squibrel (page 109). to travel from one country to another visitors sleepo during winter funny mine and thine ; to have loose ideas of meum and tuum is to be a thief by turns angry; vengeful repeated at the same time . The Rat (page 111). lovable i.e., without ; lacking mild; kindly intentionally ; on purpose a person whose duty it is to lock up the prisoners in a prison or jail The Mouse's Petition (page 113}. a prayer; a request sad; unhappy ml I pi 826 VOCABULAET. hos-pi-ta-ble tran-sient *> {tran-shent) j nn-re-lent-iug pln-mage an-i-mS,-t-ed e-pit'-o-me friendly; sooiable brief; short hard ; cruel ; having no pitj The Hummikg-Bibd (page 115). feathers living ; animal that which contains a great deal in a very small space Anecdotes of the Humsukq-Bibo (page 117). cor-res-pond-ent de-bil-i-t&t-ed con-sist-ence per-e-gri-na-tions ] nn-re-mit-ting mis-chiev-ons {mis'-che-vuij re-al-ize dez-ter-ons-ly e-la-tion ob-step-er-ons-ly Ins-ti-hood a-ris'-to-crats in-grat-i-tnde non-cha-lance *) (mon'-sha-lans) ) one who writes weakened ' thickness wanderings The MorK7NG-BiBD (page 119), constant burtfal ; making misobieii understand cleverly joy noisily ' strength; vigor kings; nobles thanklessness indifference; unconcern cel-e-brat-ed nat-u-ral-ist Latreille and the Beetle (page 126). la-treille (La-irdl') a celebrated French naturalist notad ; well-known one who has devoted liimself to the study (bilm-proof) Ji protected against the bursting of shells thrown against them by cannon sub-ma-rine under water re-strict to limit nu-tri-ment nourishment ; value as food ev-i-dence proof in*Btinct reason so far as it belongs to the inferior animals prov-en-der food pa-tri-arch the aged sire or head of the family am-a-teor dam-ming making dams for their own amusement, that is, not as regular workmen, but as unprofes* • sional men main-ten-ance defence ; support ; protection vi-tal chief as-ser-tion statement im-prob-a-ble unlikely ^ sal-ly-ing issuing The Fox and the Oat (page 151). gri-maMdn an old cat a-ghast amazed ; astonished re-gale to feast Buffalo Hunting (page 152). a region of British America in the Hudson Bay Territory bondage ; slavery ; restraint ^as-kat-che-wan thral-dom St. Nicholas and his Beindeeb (page 154). min-iature conri-ers pal-mat-ed small ; tiny ; diminutive horses The Moose-Deer (page 155). shaped like the hand with the fingerg ipr«ftd 330 VOCABULARY. fa-til-i-ty uaelessnesi par-ox-ism a fit ; a convalBion crimp-ing machine a machine for forming a kind of plaiting or fluting on frills and ruflles A Whaler's AnyENTDRES (page 157). heel • the sharp ridge at the bottom of a vessel wind- ward the side from which the wind was blowins; ctove broke rigged the pumps made the pumps ready for use prai-ries man-di-bles tal-ojs jnag-uo-li-a The Chain op Destruction (page 160). natural meadows ; plains covered with grass jaws claws a kind of tree opa-ciou8 fir-ma-ment e-the-re-al sky 0-rig-i-nal ter-res-tri-al ra-di-aut Cbkation (page 165). wide; mighty the heavens sky formed of air or ether God ; the Creator of or belonging to the earth bhining ma-jor-i-ty en-tha-si-asm Gx-i-gen-cies Manuai. Labor (page 166). the greater number ardent zeal ; heartiness pressing necessities ; sudden emergencies or occasions po-lit-i-cal The Prisoner's Flowers (page 167). gil-ly-flow-3r small try sen-ti-nel con-sci-en-tious-ly civil ; public (i.e., his offence was against the government, not a criminal one) a variety of stock or wall-flower • common people a soldier or other person on guard scnipulously; in an upright, just manner per TOCABULARY. 881 •» Thb Sataqes or Nobth Auebica (page 172). friv-o-loos com-miB-sion-ers prop-o-si-tion con-cep-tions trifling; silly; ofnoTsJae those wlic are sent to transact certain bnsinesf an offer; a thing presented for consideration ideas ; opinions The Grand Falls of the St. John (page 175). coar-te-sy politeness per-pen-dic-u-Iar upright ; pointing directly to the zenith flo-til-la a little fleet of boats treach-erous (^heating ; betraying ; false cat-a-ract a fall of water chiv-al-ry(«/ii'i;-a2-r£)character as showu in the estimation in which valor and gallant behaviour are held trag-e-dy a shocking deed in which human life is taken c r lost pop-u-Ia-tion the people living in a place cham-pvon de-cftmp*ed super-flu-i-ties em-bar-rass-ed car-i-bon canni-bal Poor Diqgs (pago 179). one who defends another ran away things not necessary confused; discontented t The Abenaqui's Stobt (page 182). a species of reindeer one who eats human flesh tarn- a rack immemori-al por-tage {port-aje) stal-wart Chip-pe-waya pil-grim-aga pict-n-resque *rib-u-ta-ry The Lonely Cross (page 186). a species of spruce tree beyond the memory of man a carrying place round rapids or waterfalls, where the canoes have to be unloaded and carried from one spot to another strong : hardy a tribe of Indians a journey beautiful ; like a pictar«> ene of the rivers which rnn into the maia stream 332 VOCABULARY. CTXL Ci'iLx me-men-to a cross ^th a figure of our Saviour on it memorial; remembrancer pro-trae-tion fran-tic The Falls of Niaoaba (page 189}* continuance ; postponement wild Heboisu and Catastrophe (page 193). di-min-ish lessen con-jec-tur-ed thought; inferred re-spon-si-bil-i-ty the state of being accountable, or answerable for. Loss OF THE SoHOONEB <* Dbake " (page 194], vol-nn-teer-ed esti-ma-tion Ad-mi-ral-ty sur-viv-ing com-mem-o-rates offered value ; esteem the Board, or Court of ofiScers who have control of all the war- vessels of Great Britain still living honors ; calls to remembrance Twenty Teabs Ago— The Schoolboy's Eeuiniscenge (page 199). rem-i-nis-oence *) a calling back to mind of what has occurred io (rem-i-nis'-cence) i the past a-non-y-mous without the name of the real author or writer Lost in the Woods (page 200). a four- sided place not to be expressed ; unspeakable low-branched bushes and trees living by prey hungry ; lean an unwelcome visit wounded of or belonging to the night ; nightly search large ; giant-like something exciting the senses, the mind, or spirit quad-ran-gle in-de-scrib-a-ble scrub pre-da-ciou8 gaunt (gdnt) in-trn-sion , ttrick-en noc-tur-nal quest gi-gan-vlc -i (ji-gan'-tic) ) stim-n-luB le fox. control e 199). urred in iter VOCIEULABY. ter-mi-nate end de-spfttched sent proY-i-den-tlaMy by the direction of Providence Thb Forest Fire (page 205). oI)-8Ciire hide; conceal snf-fo-cate smother ; render unable to breathe 8ti-fled sufTocated re-fage a place of safety ex-tin-guish-ed put out ; dead A Hudson Bay Store (page 210). e-qni-ta-ble jnst; honest; fair sqaaw an Indian woman Life in the Wilderness (page 218). con-trol guide; govern prin-ci-pal chief ; first in rank ro-mantic mid; fanciful bri-gade a party or company voy-a-geur {vwa'ya-zhur' V i voyager ; traveller cos-tTiine dress; attire cor-da-roy a kind of corded cloth moo-ca-sins soft shoes made of buckskiD, w 833 nind« or and voyageurs Winter in the Arctic Beoions (page 218). p«r-pet-u-al ■ unending par-tial incomplete ther-mom-e-ter an instrument for measuring heat and cold in-ten-si-ty severity tem-per-ature state of the weather as to heat and cold Wreck op the •* Ladt Elgin " (page 223). /-ron-bound rocky Gon-cuB-sion violent shaking caused by a blow against an< other body ex-cur-dion a short journey; a pleasure trip eTtr-and-anon every now and then loiid-dtd lan before the wind 334 VOCAfiULART. ■ ^ the helm or mdder was put close to the lee- helm was turned ward side of the vessel — i.e., the side harda-port opposite to that from which the wind « ) was blowing Bu-per-vi-sion oversight nlt-i-mate-ly at last dis-as-ter misfortune; calamity heal her over turn the vessel partly on her side req-ni-site ) rek'-we-ztt ) necessary; essential coMi-sion a striking of two bodies against one Another par-al-lel a similar event or occurrence hur-ri-cane a fierce istorm of wind hur-ri-cane deck the uppermost flat or deck of a Earner sub-or-di-nate inferior an-ti-ci-pat-ed given beforehand col.Ud-ed [col-lid'- ed) struck against cas-n-al-ty accident \ an-nals history com-mer-cial relating to trade or commerce j pro-ject-or one who starts or begins a thing pro-pri-e-tor an owner ' The Pilot (page 225). ap-a-thy want of feeling The Pine Tree Shilling (page 226). 1 ! mint a place where money is made or coined 1 com-mod-i-ties goods . spe-cie money ; gold and silver coins { tank- aids silver or metal jugs ^ bul-lion bars or ingots of gold and silver dil-i-gent-ly industriously Par-i-tan laws ' laws made by the Puritans, as the first settlers in New England were called j per-Bon-a-ble 1 good-looking; handsome I pon-der-ons heavy ; weighty treas-u-ry place where money is placed or stored his-to-ri-an one who writes history 1 The SLXian Belli (page 280). rt-ipon-ilTt aniweriDg ter- mu- nn-td in-til ca-p^ ab-s< ex-e- bar- re-pi vi-ci M-mi dis-ei VOCABULAET. 335 he lee- le side I wind er at settlers toil-some felon weary; difficult thieTish An Acadian Herozni: (page 2S2\. a female hero establishing; beginning; commonciog following included; embraced her-o-ine in-ang-u-rat-iug snb-se-qnent com-pris-ed Et-i-enne {Et'-e-en) Dau-bre Char-ni-se (Do'-bre Shar-ne-se) sn-prem-a-cy mag-a-zine an-tag-o-nist snr-ren-der ^ nn-con-di-tion- al-ly am-mn-ni-tion in-so-lent in-dig-nant chief position a place to store powdeir an adversary ; an opponent to give up ; to submit without condition ; trusting to the mercy of the enemy powder and balls impudent; insulting angry bom-bard (&/^?;i-&a}'<2') to fire cannon-balls and bombs against for-mi-da-ble for-ti-fi-ca-tions in-tre-pid-i-ty re-lne-taut-ly ig-no-min-i-oas warp-ing ter-mi-na-tion mu-ti-nous nn-tow-ard in-tim-i-date ca-pit-u-la-tion ab-solv-ed ex-e-cn-tion-er bar-bor-i-ty re-prier-ed vi-cis-si-tndes strong ; effective ; dangerous the works erected to defend a place bravery unwillingly inglorious ; disgraceful towing or moving a boat with iines or ropes so as to bend her course from side to side end; close unruly ; turbulent ; resisting authority unhappy to frighten ; to make afraid terms of surrender Bet free one who puts to death a person condGmned to die savage cruelty pardoned for a time changes The Taking op Louisbourg (page 235). ar-ma-ment an armed force dis-em-bar-ka-tion a landing; a goiut^' from the ship to the shore . '\ 336 prac-ti-ea-ble en-dnr-ance 8or-tie TOCABULJLRT. possible hardihood; fortitude a sally ; the issuing of a body of troops from a besieged place to attack the besiegers ca-pit-n-late at dis- ) surrender unconditionally — i.e,, trusting to the ere-tion i mercy of the victors Battle op Queenston Heights (page 239). port-a-bl6 Bub-ju-ga-tion em-i-nence tat-too wa-ry in-fta-ri-fit-ed re-in-force-ments skir-mish ag-gres-sion u-ni-ver