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THE 
 
 CHILD LIFE FIFTH EEADER 
 
 ]?crKaA(t 
 
 BY 
 
 ETTA AUSTIN BLAISDELL 
 
 AND 
 
 MARY FRANCES BLAISDELL 
 
 AUTHORS OF " CHILD LIFE," " CHILD LIFE IN TALE AND FABLE," " CHILD 
 
 LIFE IN MANY LANDS," " CHILD LIFE IN LITERATURE," AND 
 
 THE "BLAISDELL SPELLERS" 
 
 Neto gork 
 THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 
 
 LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd. 
 1902 
 
 All rights reserved 
 

 • «■ 
 
 Copyright, 1902, 
 By the MACMILI.AN COMPANY. 
 
 Set up and electrotyped January, 1902. 
 
 Nortooolr i^reaa 
 
 J. S. Gushing & Co. — Berwick & Smith 
 Norwood Mass U.S.A. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This book forms the fifth in the series of Child Life Readers. 
 It contains selections from the literature that children ought 
 to know and enjoy. 
 
 What boy or girl can fail to read with delight such books 
 as " Swiss Family Robinson," " The Wonder Book," " Alice 
 through the Looking-Glass," " Don Quixote," " Tom Brown's 
 School Days," "The Arabian Nights," and "Pickwick Pa- 
 pers " ? Selections from such books -as these are given with 
 the hope of so interesting the pupils in the part, that they may 
 wish to read the whole. It is in this way that an early interest 
 in literature may be inspired. 
 
 Careful attention has been given to the grading in this series 
 of readers, and in the Fifth Reader the material is selected with 
 the special aim of giving to the pupil what he can read and 
 understand, at the same time keeping in mind the necessity 
 of presenting only that which has purity and excellence of 
 thought, and is correct in diction. 
 
 Attention is also called to the literary value of the poems, 
 many of which should be learned by heart. 
 
 541475 
 
NOTE TO TEACHERS 
 
 The material in this book has been selected with three defi- 
 nite aims : first, to stimulate an interest in good literature ; 
 second, to present to the pupil reading matter of a high quality 
 of thought and expression ; third, to afford a sufficient and 
 excellent drill, with a view to making the reading of the pupils 
 fluent and intelligent. 
 
 In order to awaken an interest in good books, the pupil 
 should be encouraged to take books from the public library, 
 and to read books at home. A school library will prove to be 
 of great value in this work. 
 
 The teacher should interest herself in the books which the 
 pupils are reading, suggest books for them to read, ask them to 
 read aloud a short selection from a book they have read, teach 
 them to find a good selection, ask them to learn quotations and 
 short poems by heart, teach them to select quotations worth 
 knowing, call attention to a fine description, to a thought well 
 expressed ; in fact, use every opportunity for leading the pupils 
 to love the true, the good, and the beautiful in literature, as 
 well as in nature and art. 
 
 The more difficult words which the pupils should be able to 
 pronounce and define correctly have been placed at the head of 
 each lesson. The work of searching in the vocabulary at the 
 end of the book for the pronunciation and definition of these 
 words will afford excellent dictionary practice. 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 The Sabot of Little Wolff 
 Perronet .... 
 Four-leaf Clovers 
 Spring : 
 
 The Gladness of Nature 
 
 March 
 
 Daffodils . 
 
 Home-thoughts from 
 The River of Gold . 
 The White Knight . 
 Swiss Family Robinson 
 Summer : 
 
 A Day in June 
 
 The Summer Shower 
 
 The Cloud 
 Black Beauty . 
 Don Quixote and the Lion 
 Don Quixote, Knight-Errant 
 The Owl . 
 Anselmo . 
 
 The Building of the Ship 
 The Miraculous Pitcher 
 Our Country Neighbors 
 Autumn : 
 
 Robin Redbreast 
 
 The Fringed Gentian 
 
 Abroad 
 
 Francois Coppee 
 Juliana Horatia Ewing 
 Ella Higginson 
 
 William Cullen Bryant 
 William Cullen Bryant 
 William Wordsworth . 
 Robert Browning . 
 John Ruskin 
 Lewis Carroll 
 Johann David Wyss 
 
 James Russell Lowell . 
 Thomas Buchanan Read 
 Percy Bysshe Shelley . 
 Anna Sewell 
 Miguel de Cervantes 
 Miguel de Cervantes 
 Barry Cornwall . 
 Jean Ingelow 
 Henry Wadsworth Longfello 
 Nathaniel Hawthorne . 
 Harriet Beecher Stowe . 
 
 William Allingham 
 William Cullen Bryant 
 
^ 6 8«- 
 
 Tom Brown at Rugby 
 
 . Thomas Hughes . 
 
 Hare and Hounds . 
 
 . Thomas Hughes . 
 
 Sindbad, the Sailor . 
 
 . 
 
 Siiidbad's First Voyage . 
 
 
 
 Sindbad's Sixth Voyage . 
 
 . 
 
 Sindbad's Seventh Voyage 
 
 
 
 Winter : 
 
 
 The Frost Spirit 
 
 . John Greenleaf Whittier 
 
 The Snowstorm 
 
 . Ralph Waldo Emerson 
 
 The New Year . 
 
 . Alfred Tennyson . 
 
 The Noble Nature . 
 
 . Ben Jonson .... 
 
 Mr. Pickwick Drives 
 
 . Charles Dickens . 
 
 Mr. Winkle Skates . 
 
 . Charles Dickens . 
 
 Each and All . 
 
 . Ralph Waldo Emerson 
 
 Gulliver's Voyage to Lilliput . 
 
 . Jonathan Sivift . 
 
 Two Old Soldiers . 
 
 Washington Irving 
 
 Notes . . . . . 
 
 
 
 Key to Pronunciation 
 
 
 
 Vocabulary .... 
 
 • 
 
 PAGE 
 
 167 
 173 
 184 
 186 
 
 188 
 192 
 
 197 
 198 
 200 
 201 
 202 
 214 
 224 
 226 
 237 
 
 259 
 264 
 265 
 
LIST OF AUTHORS 
 
 Allingham, William . 
 
 Browning, Robert 
 
 Bryant, William Cullen 
 
 Carroll, Lewis . 
 
 Cervantes, Miguel de 
 
 Coppp:e, Francois 
 
 Cornwall, Barry 
 
 Dickens, Charles 
 
 Emerson, Ralph Waldo 
 
 EwiNG, Juliana Hokatia 
 
 Hawthorne, Nathaniel 
 
 HiGGiNSON, Ella . 
 
 Hughes, Thomas . 
 
 Ingelow, Jean 
 
 Irving, Washington 
 
 JoNSON, Ben . 
 
 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth 
 
 Lowell, James Russkll 
 
 RusKiN, John 
 
 Read, Thomas Buchanan 
 
 Sewell, Anna 
 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe 
 
 Stowe, Harriet Beecher 
 
 Swift, Jonathan . 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred 
 
 Whittier, John Greenleaf 
 
 Wordsworth, AVilliam 
 
 Wyss, Johann David . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 165 
 32 
 
 29, 30, 166 
 . 58 
 96, 105 
 9 
 . 110 
 202, 214 
 198, 224 
 16 
 136 
 28 
 167, 173 
 112 
 237 
 201 
 120 
 82 
 33 
 85 
 88 
 86 
 159 
 226 
 200 
 197 
 31 
 71 
 
THE CHILD LIFE FIFTH READER 
 
 THE SABOT OF LITTLE WOLFF ' 
 
 cure ^ 
 
 ecstasy 
 
 compassion 
 
 magnificent 
 
 sabot 
 
 vagabond 
 
 reduction 
 
 Strasbourg 
 
 niche 
 
 apprentice 
 
 incrusted 
 
 monsieur 
 
 miracle 
 
 porringer 
 
 miserable 
 
 battalions 
 
 truffles 
 
 avaricious 
 
 menagerie 
 
 burgomaster 
 
 Once upon a time, — it was so long ago that the 
 whole world has forgotten the date, — in a city in the 
 north of Europe, whose name is so difficult to pronounce 
 that nobody remembers it, — once upon a time there was 
 a little boy of seven, named Wolff. He was an orphan in 
 charge of an old aunt who was hard and avaricious, who 
 only kissed him on New Year's Day, and who breathed a 
 sigh of regret every time that she gave him a porringer 
 of soup. 
 
 But the poor little lad was naturally so good that he 
 loved his aunt just the same, although she frightened him 
 very much ; and he could never see her without trembling, 
 for fear she would whip him. 
 
 1 See note on page 259. 
 
 2 Find the pronunciation and definition of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
 9 
 
-»e 10 B«- 
 
 As the aunt of Wolff was known through all the 
 village to have a house and an old stocking full of 
 gold, she did not dare send her nephew to the school 
 for the poor, but she obtained a reduction of the price 
 with the schoolmaster whose school little Wolff attended. 
 The teacher, vexed at having a scholar so badly dressed 
 and who paid so poorly, often punished him unjustly, and 
 even set his fellow-pupils against him. 
 
 The poor little fellow was therefore as miserable as 
 the stones in the street, and hid himself in out-of-the-way 
 corners to cry when Christmas came. 
 
 The night before Christmas the schoolmaster was to 
 take all of his pupils to church, and bring them back to 
 their homes. As the winter was very severe that year, 
 and as for several days a great quantity of snow had 
 fallen, the children came to the master's house warmly 
 wrapped and bundled up, with fur caps pulled down over 
 their ears, double and triple jackets, knitted gloves and 
 mittens, and good, thick-nailed boots with strong soles. 
 Only little Wolff came shivering in the clothes that he 
 wore week-days and Sundays, and with nothing on his 
 feet but coarse Strasbourg socks and heavy sabots, or 
 wooden shoes. 
 
 His thoughtless comrades made a thousand jests over 
 his forlorn looks and his peasant's dress; but little Wolff 
 was so occupied in blowing on his fingers to keep them 
 warm, that he took no notice of the boys or what they said. 
 
-« 11 8<- 
 
 Tbe troop of boys, with their master at their head, 
 started for the church. As they went they talked of the 
 fine suppers that were waiting them at home. The son 
 of the burgomaster had seen, before he went out, a 
 monstrous goose that the truffles marked with black spots 
 like a leopard. At the house of one of the boys there 
 was a little fir tree in a wooden box, from whose branches 
 hung oranges, sweetmeats and toys. 
 
 The children spoke, too, of what the Christ-child 
 would bring to them, and what he would put in their 
 shoes, which they would, of course, be very careful to 
 leave in the chimney before going to bed. And the eyes 
 of those little boys, lively as a parcel of mice, sparkled in 
 advance with the joy of seeing in their imagination pink 
 paper bags filled with cakes, lead soldiers drawn up in 
 battalions in their boxes, menageries smelling of varnished 
 wood, and magnificent jumping-jacks covered with purple 
 and bells. 
 
 Little Wolff knew very well by experience that his old 
 aunt would send him supperless to bed; but, knowing 
 that all the year he had been as good and industrious as 
 possible, he hoped that the Christ-child would not forget 
 him, and he, too, looked eagerly forward to putting his 
 wooden shoes in the ashes of the fireplace. 
 
 When the service was ended, every one went away, 
 anxious for his supper, and the band of children, walk- 
 ing two by two after their teacher, left the church. 
 
^ 12 8«- 
 
 In the porch, sitting on a stone seat under a Gothic 
 niche, a child was sleeping — a child who was clad in a 
 robe of white linen, and whose feet were bare, notwith- 
 standing the cold. He was not a beggar, for his robe was 
 new and fresh, and near him on the ground was seen 
 a square, a hatchet, a pair of compasses, and the other 
 tools of a carpenter's apprentice. Under the light of the 
 stars, his face bore an expression of divine sweetness, and 
 his long locks of golden hair seemed like an aureole about 
 his head. But the child's feet, blue in the cold of that 
 December night, were sad to see. 
 
 The children, so well clothed and shod for the winter, 
 passed heedlessly before the unknown child. One of 
 them, the son of one of the principal men in the village, 
 looked at the waif with an expression in which no pity 
 could be seen. 
 
 But little Wolff, coming the last out of the church, 
 stopped, full of compassion, before the beautiful sleeping 
 child. " Alas ! " said the orphan to himself, " it is too 
 bad that this poor little one has to go barefoot in such 
 bad weather. But what is worse than all, he has not 
 even a boot or a wooden shoe to leave before him while 
 he sleeps to-night, so that the Christ-child could put 
 something there to comfort him in his misery." 
 
 And, carried away by the goodness of his heart, little 
 Wolff took off the wooden shoe from his right foot, and 
 laid it in front of the sleeping child. Then, limping along 
 
-« 13 B^ 
 
 LITTLE WOLFF 
 
^ 14 S«- 
 
 OH his poor blistered foot and dragging his sock through 
 the snow, he went back to his aunt's house. 
 
 " Look at that worthless fellow ! " cried his aunt, full 
 of anger at his return without one of his shoes. " What 
 have you done with your wooden shoe, little wretch?" 
 
 Little Wolff did not know how to deceive, and 
 although he was shaking with terror, he tried to stam- 
 mer out some account of his adventure. 
 
 The old woman burst into a frightful peal of laughter. 
 " Ah, monsieur takes off his shoes for beggars ! Ah, mon- 
 sieur gives away his wooden shoes to a barefoot ! This 
 is something new ! Ah, well, since that is so, I am 
 going to put the wooden shoe which you have left in the 
 chimney, and I promise you the Christ-child will leave 
 there to-night something to whip you with in the morn- 
 ing. And you shall pass the day to-morrow on dry bread 
 and water. We will see if next time you give away your 
 shoe to the first vagabond that comes." 
 
 Then the aunt, after having given the poor boy a 
 couple of slaps, made him climb up to his bed in the attic. 
 Grieved to the heart, the child went to bed in the dark, 
 and soon went to sleep, his pillow wet with tears. 
 
 On the morrow morning, when the old woman went 
 downstairs — oh, wonderful sight ! — she saw the great 
 chimney full of beautiful playthings, and sacks of mag- 
 nificent candies, and all sorts of good things ; and before 
 all these splendid things the right shoe, that her nephew 
 
-« 15 8«- 
 
 had given to the little waif, stood by the side of the left 
 shoe, that she herself had put there that very night, and 
 where she meant to put a birch rod. 
 
 As little Wolff, running down to learn the meaning of 
 his aunt's exclamation, stood in artless ecstasy before all 
 these splendid gifts, suddenly there were loud cries and 
 laughter out of doors. The old woman and the little boy 
 went out to know what it all meant, and saw the neigh- 
 bors gathered around the public fountain. What had 
 happened? Oh,, something very amusing and extraordi- 
 nary ! The children of all the rich people of the village, 
 those whose parents had wished to surprise them with the 
 most beautiful gifts, had found only rods in their shoes. 
 
 Then the orphan and the old woman, thinking of all 
 the beautiful things that were in their chimney, were full 
 of amazement. But presently they saw the cure coming 
 toward them, with wonder in his face. In the church 
 porch, where in the evening a child, clad in a white robe, 
 and with bare feet, had rested his sleeping head, the cure 
 had just seen a circle of gold incrusted with precious stones. 
 
 Then the people understood that the beautiful sleep- 
 ing child, near whom were the carpenter's tools, was the 
 Christ-child in person, become for an hour such as he was 
 when he worked in his parents' house, and they bowed 
 themselves before that miracle that the good God had seen 
 fit to work, to reward the faith and charity of a child. 
 
 — Translated from the French of FRANgois Copp^k. 
 
-96 16 8«- 
 
 PERRONET 1 
 
 shilling ^ determined distraction 
 
 hyacinth interrupted satisfaction 
 
 telescope ridiculous particularly 
 
 polypody competitors agricultural 
 
 There were four of us, and three of us had godfathers 
 and godmothers, — three each, — three times three make 
 nine, and not a fairy godmother among them ! That, was 
 what vexed us. 
 
 It was very provoking, because we knew so well what 
 we wanted if we had one, and she had given us three 
 wishes each, — three times three make nine. We could 
 have had all we wanted with nine wishes, and have pro- 
 vided for Perronet, too. It would not have done any good 
 for Perronet to have wishes for himself, because he was 
 only a dog. 
 
 We never knew who it was that drowned Perronet, but 
 it was Sandy who saved his life and brought him home. 
 It was when he was coming from school, and he brought 
 Perronet with him. 
 
 Perronet was not at all nice to look at when w^e first 
 saw him, though we were very sorry for him. He was wet 
 all over, and his eyes were shut, and you could see his 
 
 1 See note on page 259. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
^ 17 8€- 
 
 ribs, and he looked quite dark and sticky. But when he 
 dried, he dried a lovely yellow, with two black ears like 
 velvet. People sometimes asked us what kind of a dog 
 he was, but we never knew, except that he was the nicest 
 possible kind. 
 
 We were afraid we could not keep him, because mother 
 said we could not afford to pay for his tax and food. The 
 tax was five shillings, but it was nearly a year before the 
 time for paying it. We were all very unhappy because we 
 were so fond of Perronet, and at last it was decided that 
 all three of us would give, up sugar, toward saving the 
 expense of what he ate, if he might stay. It was hardest 
 for Sandy, because he was particularly fond of sweet 
 things; but then he was particularly fond of Perronet. 
 So w^e all gave up sugar, and Perronet was allowed to 
 remain. 
 
 About the tax, we thought we could save any pennies 
 or halfpennies we got during the year, and it was such a 
 long time before the tax must be paid that we should be 
 almost sure to have enough by then. 
 
 What we wanted a fairy godmother for most of all 
 was about our '' homes." There was no kind of play we 
 liked better than playing at houses and new homes. But 
 no matter where we made our " home," it was sure to be 
 disturbed. If it was indoors, and we made a palace under 
 the big table, as soon as we had it nicely divided into 
 rooms, it was certain to be dinner time. The nicest house 
 
->6 18 8«- 
 
 we ever had was in the woodshed ; we had it, and kept 
 it quite a secret, for weeks. And then the new load of 
 wood came and covered up everything, our best oyster- 
 shell dinner service and all. 
 
 Any one can see that it is impossible really to imagine 
 anything when you are constantly interrupted. We could 
 have no fun playing railway train when they took all our 
 carriages to pieces because the chairs were wanted for tea. 
 If we wished to play at Thames Tunnel under the beds, 
 we were not allowed ; and the day we did Aladdin in the 
 store closet, Jane came to put away the soap just when 
 Aladdin could not possibly have opened the door of the 
 cave. 
 
 One day early in May, Sandy came in, smiling more 
 broadly than usual, and said to Richard and me: "I've 
 found a fairy godmother, and she has given me a field. 
 It's quite a new place," he continued. "You've never 
 been there." 
 
 " How did you get there ? "-asked Richard. 
 
 " The fairy godmother showed me," was Sandy's reply. 
 " Come along. It's much cooler out now. The sun's 
 going down." 
 
 He took us along Gypsy Lane. We had been there 
 once or twice, and I knew it quite well. At the end of 
 the lane there is a stile, by which you go into a field, 
 and at the other end you get over another stile, and find 
 yourself in the highroad. 
 
^ 19 e<- 
 
 " If this is your field, Sandy," said I, when we reached 
 the first stile, " I'm very sorry, but it really won't do. I 
 know that ever so many people come through it. We 
 should never be quiet here." 
 
 Sandy laughed. He didn't speak, and he didn't get 
 over the stile ; he went through a gate close by it lead- 
 ino; into a little lane. We followed him throut^h a field 
 where there was no path. Then there was another 
 hedge and another stile with very rough posts, and two 
 rails, which we all climbed over. When we reached the 
 other side, Sandy leaned against the big post and waved 
 his right hand, and said, " This is our field." 
 
 It sloped down hill, and the hedges round it were 
 rather high, with awkward branches of blackthorn stick- 
 ing out here and there without any leaves, and with the 
 blossoms lying white on the black twigs like snow. There 
 were cowslips all over the field, but they were thicker at 
 the lower end, which was damp. 
 
 The sun shone still, but it shone low down, and made 
 such splendid shadows that we all walked about with gray 
 giants at our feet. It made the bright green grass, and 
 the cowslips down below, and the top of the hedge, and 
 the elder bush, and Sandy's hair, so yellow — so very 
 yellow — that just for a minute I believed about Sandy's 
 godmother, and tliought it was a story come true, and 
 that everything was turning into gold. 
 
 It was only for a minute ; of course I know that fairy 
 
-»8 20 8«- 
 
 tales are not true. But it was a lovely field, and when 
 we had shaded our eyes with our hands, and taken a good 
 look at it, I said to Sandy, " It is the best field I ever saw." 
 
 " Sit down," said Sandy, doing the honors ; and we all 
 sat down under the hedge, where we could see the whole 
 field stretched out before us. 
 
 "There are violets just behind us," he continued. 
 "Can't you smell them? But whatever you do, don't tell 
 anybody about them or we shall not keep our field to our- 
 selves for a day. And look here." 
 
 He had turned over on to his face, and Richard and I 
 did the same, while Sandy fumbled among the bleached 
 grass and leaves. 
 
 "' Hyacinths," said Richard, as Sandy displayed their 
 green tops. 
 
 " As thick as peas," said Sandy. " This bank will be 
 blue in a few weeks, and there will be ferns everywhere. 
 There's a wren's nest in there — " 
 
 At this point he rolled suddenly over on to his back 
 and looked up. 
 
 " A lark," he explained ; " there was one singing glo- 
 riously this morning. This will be a good field for a kite, 
 won't it, Richard? But wait a bit." 
 
 After every new thing that Sandy showed us in our 
 field he always finished by saying, " But wait a bit," and 
 that was because there was always something else better 
 still. 
 
-« 21 S«- 
 
 "There's a brook at that end of the field," he said, 
 " with lots of fresh-water shrimps. I wonder whether 
 they would boil red. But wait a bit. This hedge, you 
 see, has a very high bank, and it is worn into ledges. I 
 think we could play at ' shops ' there — but wait a bit." 
 
 "• It is almost too good, Sandy dear," said I, as w^e 
 crossed the field to the opposite hedge. 
 
 " The best is to come," said Sandy ; " but I don't think 
 I will tell you until to-morrow." 
 
 And to our distraction he sat down in the middle of 
 the field, put his arms around his knees, and rocked 
 himself backward and forward, his face brimming with 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Neither Richard nor I would have been so mean as to 
 explore on our own account when the field was Sandy's 
 discovery, but we tried hard to persuade him to show us 
 everything. 
 
 He had the most provoking way of laughing and not 
 saying a word, and he did that now, besides slowly turn- 
 ing all his pockets inside out into his hands, and eating 
 the crumbs and currants, saying, " Guess ! " after every 
 mouthful. 
 
 But when there was not a crumb left in his pockets, 
 Sandy turned them back, and jumping up said : " One 
 can tell a secret only once. It's a hollow oak. Come 
 along ! " 
 
 He ran and we ran to the other side of our field. I 
 
-« 22 S«- 
 
 had read of hollow oaks, and seen pictures of them, and 
 once I dreamed of one with a witch inside, but we had 
 never had one to play in. We were nearly wild with 
 delight. It looked solid from the field, but when we 
 pushed behind on the hedge side, there was the door, and 
 I crept in. There could not be a more perfect castle, and 
 although there were no windows in the sides, the light 
 came in from the top, where the hoary polypody hung 
 over like a fringe. Sandy was quite right. It was the 
 very best thing in our field. 
 
 Perronet was as fond of the field as we were. What 
 he liked was the little birds. At least, I don't know that 
 he liked them, but they were what he chiefly attended to. 
 I think he knew that it was our field, and thought he was 
 our watch-dog. Whenever a bird lighted on one of the 
 trees, he barked at it, then it flew away, and he ran, bark- 
 ing after it, until he lost sight of it. By that time 
 another had lighted somewhere, and Perronet flew at 
 him, and so on, all up and down the field. He never 
 caught a bird, and never would let one alight if he 
 saw it. 
 
 We had all kinds of games in our field. Shops — for 
 there were quantities of things to sell — and sometimes I 
 was a moss merchant, for there were ten different kinds 
 of moss by the brook; sometimes I was a jeweller, and 
 sold daisy chains, pebbles, coral sets made of holly berries, 
 and oak-apple necklaces; sometimes I kept provisions, 
 
-« 23 Be- 
 like earth-nuts, mallow-cheeses, and mushrooms ; some- 
 times I kept a flower shop, and sold nosegays, wreaths, 
 and umbrellas made of rushes. I liked the flower shop 
 best, because I am fond of arranging flowers, and I 
 always make our birthday wreaths and bouquets. Some- 
 times I kept ever so many shops, and Richard and Sandy 
 bought my wares, and paid for them with money made of 
 elder pith, sliced into circles. The first shop I kept was 
 to sell cowslips, and Richard and Sandy lived beside the 
 brook, and were wine merchants, and made cowslip wine 
 in a tin mug. 
 
 The elder tree was beautiful. In July the cream- 
 colored flowers were so fragrant that we could hardly sit 
 under it, and in the autumn it was covered with berries ; 
 but we were always a little disappointed that they never 
 tasted in the least like elderberry syrup. Richard used to 
 make flutes out of the stalks, and we could really play 
 tunes on one of them, only it always made Perronet bark. 
 
 Richard's cap had a large hole in the top, and when 
 we were in our field we always hung the cap on the 
 taller of the two stileposts to show that we were there, 
 just as the Queen has a flag hung on Windsor Castlfe 
 when she is at home. 
 
 We played a£ castles and houses, and when we were 
 tired of the houses we went to play by the brook and pre- 
 tended we had gone to the seaside for a change of air. 
 Sandy and I took off our shoes and stockings and washed 
 
-»8 24 8«- 
 
 Perronet in the brook, and Richard sat on the bank and 
 looked at us through a telescope ; for when the elder stems 
 cracked, and could not be made into flutes, he made them 
 into telescopes. 
 
 Whatever we played at we were never disturbed. 
 Birds, and cows, and men and horses ploughing in the 
 distance, do not disturb one at all. We were very happy 
 that summer ; the boys were quite happy, and the only 
 thing that troubled me was Perronet's tax money, for 
 weeks went by and still we did not save it. Once we got 
 as far as twopence halfpenny, and then one day Richard 
 came to me and said, " I must have some more string 
 for my kite. You might lend me a penny out of Perronet's 
 tax money till I can get some money of my own." 
 
 So I gave Richard a penny ; and the next day Sandy 
 said, "You lent Dick one of Perronet's coppers; I'm sure 
 Perronet would lend me one; " and then they said it was 
 ridiculous to leave a halfpenny there by itself, so we spent 
 it for cakes. 
 
 It worried me so much at last, that I began to dream 
 horrible dreams about Perronet having to go away because 
 \^e hadn't saved his tax money, and then I used to wake 
 up and cry until my pillow was quite wet. The boys 
 never seemed to care, so that I was quite surprised one 
 day when I found Sandy alone in our field with Perronet 
 in his arms, crying, and feeding him with cake ; and I 
 found he was crying about the taxes. 
 
^ 25e«- 
 
 I cannot bear to see boys cry. I would much rather 
 cry myself, and 1 begged Sandy to leave off, for I said I 
 was determmed to try to think of some way of earning 
 the money. 
 
 It certainly was remarkable that the very next day 
 should be the day when we first heard about the flower 
 show and the prizes. 
 
 It was in school, and the schoolmaster rapped on his 
 desk and said, '- Silence, children ! " Then he told us that 
 at the agricultural fair, which was to be held in July, 
 there was to be a flower show, and that an old gentleman 
 was going to give prizes to the school children for the 
 best arrangement of wild flowers. There were to be nose- 
 gays and wreaths, and there was to be a first prize of five 
 shillings, and a second prize of half a crown, for the best 
 collection of wild flowers with the names attached to them. 
 
 " The English names," said the schoolmaster ; " and 
 there may be — silence, children ! — there may be collec- 
 tions of ferns, or grasses, or mosses to compete, too, for 
 the gentleman wishes to encourage a taste for natural 
 history." 
 
 Sandy was sitting next to me, and I squeezed his arm 
 and whispered, " Five shillings ! " and the schoolmaster 
 said, " Silence, children ! " and I thought I never should 
 finish my lessons for that day because I could think of 
 nothing but Perronet's tax money. 
 
 July is not at all a good month for wild flowers ; May 
 
^ 26 St- 
 and June are far better. However, the show was to be 
 the first week in July. 
 
 I said to the boys : " I'll make a collection of wild 
 flowers. I know the names, and I can print. It will do 
 no good for two or three of us to try to arrange flowers, 
 but if you will get me what I need, I shall be very much 
 obliged. If either of you wish to make another collection, 
 there are ten kinds of mosses by the brook, and ever so 
 many kinds of ferns among the rocks. We have names 
 for them of our own, and they are English names. Per- 
 haps they will do. But everything must come from our 
 field." 
 
 The boys agreed, and they vrere very good. Richard 
 made a box, rather high at the back. We put sand at 
 the bottom and wet it, and then on top of that we heaped 
 lovely masses of feather moss. I like to see grass with 
 flowers, and we had very pretty grasses, so between every 
 bunch of flowers I put a bunch of grass of different kinds. 
 I got all the flowers and all the grasses ready first, and 
 printed the names on pieces of cardboard to stick in with 
 them, and then I arranged them by my eye, and Sandy 
 handed me what I called for ; while Richard was busy at 
 the brook filling a large tray with damp sand and lovely 
 mosses. 
 
 Sandy knew the flowers and their names as well as 
 I did. Of course we knew everything that lived in our 
 field ; so when I called, " Ox-eyed daisies, cock's-foot 
 
^ 27e«- 
 
 grass, meadow-sweet, foxtail grass, dog-roses, shivering 
 grass," and so on, he gave me the right things, and I 
 had nothing to do but to put the colors that looked best 
 together next to each other, and to make the grass look 
 light, and pull up bits of the moss to show well. At the 
 end of every label I added, " Out of Our Field." 
 
 I did not like it very well when it was done ; but 
 Richard praised it so much, it cheered me up, and I 
 thought his mosses looked lovely. 
 
 The flower-show day was very hot. I did not think 
 it could be hotter anywhere in the world than it was in 
 the field where the fair was ; but it was hotter in the tent. 
 
 We could not have gone in at all, — for a man was sell- 
 ing tickets at the entrance, — but they allowed the com- 
 petitors to go in free. When we got in there were a great 
 many grown people, and it was hard work to get about 
 among them and to see the stands where the flowers and 
 fruit were arranged. Every few minutes we saw a ticket 
 saying " First Prize," or " Second Prize," but it was sure 
 to be placed on* a tray of dahlias, or on fruit that we 
 were not allowed to eat, or vegetables. The vegetables 
 disappointed us so often that I began almost to hate them. 
 I don't think I shall ever like very big potatoes (before 
 they are boiled) again, particularly the red ones. It makes 
 me feel sick with heat and anxiety to think of them. 
 
 We had struggled slowly all around the tent, and seen 
 all the cucumbers, onions, lettuce, long potatoes, round 
 
-« 28 8«- 
 
 potatoes, and everything else, when we saw an old gentle- 
 man, with spectacles and white hair, standing before a 
 table. And then w^e saw three nosegays in jugs, with all 
 the green picked off, and then we saw some prettier ones, 
 and then we saw my collection, and it had a big label in 
 it marked " First Prize," and next to it was Richard's 
 moss tray, with the hair-moss, and the pincushion-moss, 
 and the others with names of our own invention, and it 
 was marked '' Second Prize." I gripped one of Sandy's 
 arms just as Richard seized the other, and we both cried, 
 " Perronet is paid for ! " 
 
 — Juliana Horatia Ewing. 
 
 FOUR-LEAF CLOVERS 
 
 T know a place where the sun is like gold. 
 And the cherry-blooms burst with snow ; 
 
 And down underneath is the loveliest nook. 
 Where the four-leaf clovers grow. 
 
 One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith, 
 
 And one is for love, you know, 
 But God put another in for luck — 
 
 If you search, you will find where they grow. 
 
 But you must have hope, and you must have faith. 
 You must love and be strong, and so. 
 
 If you work, if you wait, you will find the place 
 Where the four-leaf clovers grow. — ella higginson. 
 
-96 29 8*- 
 
 THE GLADNESS OF NATURE i 
 
 Is this a time to be cloudy and sad, 
 
 When our mother Nature laughs around. 
 
 When even the deep blue heavens look glad, 
 And gladness breathes from the blossoming ground ? 
 
 There are notes of joy from the hang-bird and wren. 
 And the gossip of swallows through all the sky ; 
 
 The ground-squirrel gayly chirps by his den. 
 And the wilding bee hums merrily by. 
 
 The clouds are at play in the azure space. 
 
 And their shadows at play on the bright green vale, 
 And here they stretch to the frolic chase. 
 
 And there they roll on the easy gale. 
 
 There's a dance of leaves in that aspen bower. 
 There "^s a titter of winds in that beechen tree, 
 
 There's a smile on the fruit and a smile on the flower. 
 And a laugh from the brook that runs to the sea. 
 
 And look at the broad-faced sun, how he smiles 
 On the dewy earth that smiles in his ray, 
 
 On the leaping waters and gay young isles, — 
 Ay, look, and he'll smile thy gloom away. 
 
 — William Cullen Bryant. 
 1 See note on page 259. 
 
-« 30 B«- 
 
 MARCH 1 
 
 The stormy March has come at last, 
 
 With wmd, and cloud, and changing skies ; 
 
 I hear the rushing of the blast 
 
 That through the snowy valley flies. 
 
 Ah, passing few are they who speak. 
 Wild, stormy month, in praise of thee ! 
 
 Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, 
 Thou art a welcome month to me. 
 
 For thou, to northern lands, again 
 
 The glad and glorious sun dost bring ; 
 
 And thou hast joined the gentle train. 
 And wear'st the gentle name of Spring. 
 
 Then sing aloud the gushing rills. 
 
 And the full springs, from frost set free, 
 
 That, brightly leaping down the hills. 
 Renew their journey to the sea. 
 
 Thou bring'st the hope of those calm skies, 
 And that soft time of sunny showers. 
 
 When the wide bloom, on earth that lies, 
 Seems of a brighter world than ours. 
 
 — William Cullbn Bryant. 
 1 See note ou page 269. 
 
-98 31 8«- 
 DAFFODILS 1 
 
 I wandered lonely as a cloud 
 
 That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 
 When all at once I saw a crowd, 
 
 A host of golden daffodils, — 
 Beside the lake, beneath the trees. 
 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 
 
 Continuous as the stars that shine 
 
 And twinkle on the milky way. 
 They stretched in never-ending line 
 
 Along the margin of the bay. 
 Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
 Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 
 
 The waves beside them danced, but they 
 
 Outdid the sparkling waves in glee, — 
 A poet could not but be gay 
 
 In such a jocund company. 
 I gazed, and gazed, but little thought 
 What wealth the show to me had brought. 
 For oft, when on my couch I lie, 
 
 In vacant or in pensive mood. 
 They flash upon that inward eye 
 
 Which is the bliss of solitude ; 
 And then my heart with pleasure fills. 
 
 And dances with the daffodils.— William Wordsworth. 
 1 See note on page 259. 
 
-»8 32 8«- 
 
 HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD 
 
 Oh, to be in England, 
 
 Now that April's there ! 
 
 And whoever wakes in England 
 
 Sees, some morning, unaware. 
 
 That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf 
 
 Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, 
 
 While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough, 
 
 In England — now ! 
 
 And after April, when May follows, 
 
 And the white-throat builds, and all the swallows — 
 
 Hark ! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge 
 
 Leans to the field, and scatters on the clover 
 
 Blossoms and dewdrops, — at the bent spray's edge, — 
 
 That's the wise thrush ; he sings each song twice over. 
 
 Lest you should think he never could re-capture 
 
 The first fine careless rapture! 
 
 And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, 
 
 All will be gay when noontide wakes anew 
 
 The buttercups, — the little children's dower, — 
 
 Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower ! 
 
 — Robert Browning. 
 
-« 33 8«- 
 
 THE RIVER OF GOLDi 
 Part I 
 
 adverse ^ 
 
 similar 
 
 violent 
 
 akimbo 
 
 crucible 
 
 reduced 
 
 exquisite 
 
 malicious 
 
 precipice 
 
 alternately 
 
 effectually 
 
 inheritance 
 
 livelihood 
 
 evaporated 
 
 diminutive 
 
 ascertaining 
 
 prismatic 
 
 overwhelm 
 
 disconsolately 
 
 circumference 
 
 When Southwest Wind, Esquire, entered the Treasure 
 Valley and destroyed the property of Gluck's cruel broth- 
 ers, he vowed that it should be his last visit, and he was 
 as good as his word. AVhat was worse, he had so much 
 influence with his relations, the West Winds in general, 
 and used it so effectually, that they all adopted a similar 
 line of conduct. 
 
 No rain fell in the valley from one year's end to the 
 other. Though everything remained green and flourish- 
 ing in the plains below, the inheritance of the three broth- 
 ers was a desert. What had once been the richest soil in 
 the kingdom became a shifting heap of red sand ; and the 
 brothers, unable longer to contend with the adverse skies, 
 abandoned their valueless estates in despair, to seek some 
 means of gaining a livelihood among the cities and people 
 of the plains. All their money was gone, and they had 
 
 1 See note on page 259. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
^ 34 Be- 
 nothing left but some curious, old-fashioned pieces of gold 
 plate. 
 
 " Suppose we turn goldsmiths," said Schwartz to 
 Hans as they entered the large city. " It is a good trade ; 
 we can put a great deal of copper into the gold without 
 any one's finding it out." 
 
 The thought was agreed to be a very good one ; they 
 hired a furnace and turned goldsmiths. But two slight 
 circumstances affected their trade : the first, that people 
 did not approve of the coppered gold; the second, that 
 the two elder brothers, whenever they sold anything, used 
 to leave little Gluck to mind the furnace, and go out and 
 spend money for their own pleasure. 
 
 So they melted all their gold without making money 
 enough to buy more, and were at last reduced to one large 
 drinking mug which an uncle of his had given to little 
 Gluck, and which he was fond of and would not have 
 parted with for the world, though he never drank any- 
 thing out of it but milk and water. 
 
 The mug was a very odd mug to look at. The handle 
 was formed of two wreaths of flowing golden hair, so 
 finely spun that it looked more like silk than metal, and 
 these wreaths descended into and mixed with a beard of the 
 same exquisite workmanship, which surrounded and deco- 
 rated a very fierce little face of the reddest gold imagina- 
 ble, right in front of the mug, with a pair of eyes in it 
 which seemed to command its whole circumference. It 
 
-« 35 8«- 
 
 was impossible to drink out of the mug without being sub- 
 jected to an intense gaze out of the side of these eyes. 
 When it came to the mug's turn to be made into spoons, it 
 half broke poor little Gluck's heart ; but the brothers only 
 laughed at him, tossed the mug into the melting-pot, and 
 went to the inn, leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold 
 into bars when it was ready. 
 
 When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look at 
 his old friend in the melting-pot. The flowing hair was 
 all gone ; nothing remained but the red nose and the 
 sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious than ever. 
 " And no wonder," thought Gluck, " after being treated 
 in that way." He sauntered disconsolately to the window 
 and set himself down to catch the fresh evening air and 
 escape the hot breath of the furnace. Now this window 
 commanded a direct view of the range of mountains which 
 overhung the Treasure Valley, and more especially the 
 peak from which fell the Golden River. 
 
 It was just at the close of the day, and when Gluck 
 sat down at the window he saw the rocks of the moun- 
 tain tops all crimson and purple with the sunset. There 
 were bright tongues of fiery cloud burning and quivering 
 above them ; and the river, brighter than all, fell in a 
 waving column of pure gold from precipice to precipice, 
 with the double arch of a broad purple rainbow stretched 
 across it, flushing and fading alternately in the wreaths of 
 spray. 
 
^ 36 8«- 
 
 " All ! " said Gluck, aloud, after he had looked at it for 
 a while, " if that river were really all gold, what a nice 
 thing it would be ! " 
 
 "No, it wouldn't, Gluck," said a clear, metallic voice 
 close at his ear. 
 
 " Bless me ! what's that?" exclaimed Gluck, jumping 
 up. There was nobody to be seen. He looked round the 
 room and under the table, and a great many times behind 
 him, but there was certainly nobody there, and he sat 
 down again at the window. This time he didn't speak, 
 but he couldn't help thinking again that it would be very 
 convenient if the river were really all gold. 
 
 " Not at all, my boy," said the voice, louder than 
 before. 
 
 " Bless me ! " said Gluck again, " what is that ? " He 
 looked again into all the corners and cupboards and then 
 began turning round and round as fast as he could in the 
 middle of the room, thinking that there was somebody 
 behind him, when the same voice struck again on his ear. 
 It was singing now, very merrily, " Lala-lira-la ; " no 
 words, only a soft, running melody, something like that 
 of a kettle on the boil. Gluck looked out of the window. 
 No, it was certainly in the house. Upstairs and down- 
 stairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, coming in 
 quicker time and clearer notes every moment, " Lala- 
 lira-la." 
 
 All at once it struck Gluck that it sounded nearer the 
 
-^ 37 e«- 
 
 furnace. He ran to the opening and looked in ; yes, he 
 heard aright — it seemed to be coming, not only out of 
 the furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it and ran 
 back in a great fright, for the pot was certainly singing ! 
 He stood in the farthest corner of the room with his hands 
 up and his mouth open for a minute or two, when the 
 singing stopped and the voice became clear and distinct. 
 . " Hollo ! " said the voice. 
 
 Gluck made no answer. 
 
 " Hollo, Gluck, my boy," said the pot again. 
 
 Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight up 
 to the crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and looked in. 
 The gold was all melted, and its surface was as smooth 
 and polished as a river ; but instead of reflecting little 
 Gluck's head as he looked in, he saw meeting his glance 
 from beneath the gold the red nose and sharp eyes of his 
 old friend of the mug, a thousand times redder and sharper 
 than ever he had seen them in his life. 
 
 " Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice out of the pot 
 again, " I'm all right ; pour me out ! " 
 
 But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything of 
 the kind. 
 
 " Pour me out, I say ! " said the voice, rather gruffly. 
 
 Still Gluck couldn't move. 
 
 '' Will you pour me out ? " said the voice, passionately, 
 ^a'mtoohot." 
 
 By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his 
 
-« 38 9<- 
 
 limbs, took hold of the crucible, and sloped it so as to pour 
 out the gold. But instead of a liquid stream there came 
 out first a pair of little yellow legs, then some coat-tails, 
 then a pair of arms stuck akimbo, and finally the well- 
 known head of his friend the mug — all of which articles, 
 uniting as they rolled out, stood up energetically on the 
 floor in the shape of a little golden dwarf about a foot and 
 a half high. 
 
 " That's right ! " said the dwarf, stretching out first 
 his legs and then his arms, and then shaking his head up 
 and down, and as far round as it would go, for five min- 
 utes without stopping, apparently with the view of ascer- 
 taining if he were quite correctly put together, while 
 Gluck stood looking at him in speechless amazement. 
 
 He was dressed in a slashed doublet of spun gold, so 
 fine in its texture that the prismatic colors gleamed over 
 it as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl ; and over this 
 brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full halfway to the 
 ground in waving curls so exquisitely delicate that Gluck 
 could hardly tell where they ended — they seemed to melt 
 into the air. The features of the face, however, were 
 rather coarse, slightly inclining to coppery in complexion. 
 When the dwarf had finished his self-examination, he 
 fixed his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck, and stared at 
 him for a minute or two. 
 
 " No, it wouldn't, Gluck, my boy," said the little man. 
 
 This was certainly rather an abrupt manner of com- 
 
->3 39 B^ 
 
 THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER HAD DISAPPEARED 
 
^40 8«- 
 
 mencing conversation. It might indeed be supposed to 
 refer to the course of Gkick's thoughts, which had first 
 produced the dwarf's observations out of the melting-pot ; 
 but whatever it referred to, Gluck was not inclined to 
 dispute it. 
 
 " Wouldn't it, sir ? " said Gluck, very mildly indeed. 
 
 "No," said the dwarf; " no, it wouldn't." And with 
 that the dwarf pulled his cap hard over his eyes, and took 
 two turns, of three feet long, up and down the room, lift- 
 ing his legs very high, and setting them down very hard. 
 This pause gave time for Gluck to collect his thoughts a 
 little, and seeing no great reason to view his diminutive 
 visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome his 
 great amazement, he ventured on a question of peculiar 
 delicacy. 
 
 " Pray, sir," said Gluck, rather hesitatingly, " were you 
 my mug?" 
 
 On which the little man turned sharp round, walked 
 straight up to Gluck, and drew himself up to his full 
 height. " I," said the little man, " am the King of the 
 Golden River." 
 
 Whereupon he turned about and took two more turns 
 some six feet long. After which he again walked up to 
 Gluck and stood still, as if expecting some comment on 
 his communication. 
 
 Gluck determined to say something, at all events. " I 
 hope your Majesty is very well," he stammered. 
 
-5g 41 8«- 
 
 "Listen," said the little man, without deigning to 
 reply to this polite inquiry. " I am the King of what you 
 mortals call the Golden River. The shape you saw me in 
 was owing to the malice of a stronger king, from whose 
 enchantments you have this instant freed me. What I 
 have seen of you, and your conduct to your wicked broth- 
 ers, renders me willing to serve you ; therefore, attend to 
 what I tell you ! 
 
 "Whosoever shall climb to the top of the mountain 
 from which you see the Golden River issue, and shall cast 
 into the stream at its source three drops of holy water, 
 for him, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. 
 But no one, failing at first, can succeed in a second 
 attempt ; and if any one shall cast unholy water into 
 the river, it will overwhelm him, and he will instantly 
 become a black stone." 
 
 So saying, the King of the Golden River turned away, 
 and deliberately walked into the centre of the hottest 
 flame of the furnace. His figure became red, white, trans- 
 parent, dazzling, — a blaze of intense light, — rose, trem- 
 bled, and disappeared. The King of the Golden River had 
 evaporated. 
 
 " Oh ! " cried poor Gluck, running to look up the chim- 
 ney after him. "Oh, dear, dear, dear me! My mug! 
 My mug ! My mug ! " 
 
-96 42 8«^ 
 
 THE RIVER OF GOLD 
 
 Part II 
 
 chasm ^ 
 
 Alpine 
 
 combatants 
 
 mountaineer 
 
 glacier 
 
 wrangling 
 
 imprudent 
 
 monotonous 
 
 vespers 
 
 fantastic 
 
 ignorant 
 
 indomitable 
 
 gnashed 
 
 pinnacles 
 
 recruited 
 
 extraordinary 
 
 myriads 
 
 concealed 
 
 penetrated 
 
 distinguishable 
 
 The King of the Golden River had hardly made this 
 extraordinary exit before Schwartz and Hans came into 
 the house. The discovery of the total loss of their last 
 piece of plate made them so angry that they beat Gluck 
 until they were tired, and then dropped into a couple of 
 chairs, and requested to know what he had to say for him- 
 self. Gluck told them his story, of which, of course, they 
 did not believe a word. They beat him again till their 
 arms were tired, and then went to bed. 
 
 In the morning, however, when he repeated the story, 
 the two brothers began to believe him. After wrangling 
 a long time over the knotty question of which of them 
 should try his fortune first, they drew their swords and 
 began fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the neigh- 
 bors, who, finding that they could not pacify the comba- 
 tants, sent for the constable. 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape and hide 
 himself ; but Schwartz was taken before the magistrate, 
 fined for breaking the peace, and thrown into prison till 
 he could pay the fine. 
 
 When Hans heard this he was much delighted, and 
 determined to set out immediately for the Golden River. 
 How to get the holy water was the question. He w^ent 
 to the priest, but the priest could not give holy water to 
 such a wicked man. So Hans went to vespers in the 
 evening for the first time in his life, stole a cupful, and 
 returned home in triumph. 
 
 Next morning he got up before the sun rose, poured 
 the holy water into ^ stone flask, put some bread and 
 meat in a basket, slung them over his back, took his 
 Alpine staff in his hand, and set off for the mountains. 
 
 On his way out of town he had to pass the prison, and 
 as he looked in at the windows, whom should he see but 
 Schwartz himself peeking out of the bars and looking 
 very disconsolate. 
 
 " Good morning, brother," said Hans. " Have you 
 any message for the King of the Golden River? " 
 
 Schwartz gnashed his teeth in rage, and shook the 
 bars with all his strength ; but Hans only laughed at him, 
 and, advising him to make himself comfortable till he 
 came back again, shouldered his basket and marched off 
 in the highest spirits in the w^orld. 
 
 It was, indeed, a morning that might have made any 
 
^44 St- 
 one happy, even with no Golden River to seek, for level 
 lines of dewy mist lay stretched along the valley, out of 
 which rose the massy mountains — their lower cliffs in 
 pale, gray shadow, hardly distinguishable from the float- 
 ing vapor, but gradually ascending till they caught the 
 sunlight, which ran in sharp touches of ruddy color along 
 the angular crags, and pierced, in long level rays, through 
 their fringes of spear-like pine. 
 
 Far above shot up red splintered masses of rocks, 
 jagged and shivered into myriads of fantastic forms, with 
 here and there a streak of sunlit snow traced down their 
 chasms like a line of forked lightning ; and far beyond 
 and far above all these, fainter than the morning cloud, 
 but purer and changeless, slept, in the blue sky, the ut- 
 most peaks of the eternal snow. 
 
 The Golden River, which sprang from one of the lower 
 and snowless elevations, was now nearly in shadow ; all 
 but the uppermost jets of spray, which rose like slow 
 smoke above the cataract, and floated away in feeble 
 wreaths upon the morning wind. 
 
 On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and 
 thoughts were fixed ; forgetting the distance he had to 
 traverse, he set off at an imprudent rate of walking, 
 which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled the 
 first range of the green and low hills. He was, more- 
 over, surprised on surmounting them to find that a large 
 glacier, of whose existence he had been absolutely igno- 
 
-« 45 er- 
 rant, lay between him and the source of the Golden River. 
 He entered on it with the boldness of a practised moun- 
 taineer ; yet he thought he had never traversed so strange 
 or so dangerous a glacier in his life. 
 
 The ice was excessively slippery, and out of all its 
 chasms came wild sounds of gushing water ; not monot- 
 onous or low, but changeful and loud, rising occasionally 
 in drifting passages of wild melody, then breaking off 
 into short, melancholy tones or sudden shrieks, resembling 
 those of human voices in distress or pain. 
 
 The ice was cracked and broken into thousands of 
 confused shapes, but none, Hans thought, looked like the 
 ordinary forms of splintered ice. There seemed a curious 
 expression about all their outlines — a strange resemblance 
 to living features, distorted and scornful. Myriads of 
 deceitful shadows and lights played and floated about 
 the pale blue pinnacles, dazzling and confusing the sight 
 of the traveller, while his ear grew dull and his head 
 dizzy with the constant gush and roar of the concealed 
 waters. 
 
 These painful circumstances increased upon him as he 
 advanced ; the ice crashed and yawned into fresh chasms 
 at his feet, tottering spires nodded around him and fell 
 thundering across his path ; and though he had repeatedly 
 faced these dangers on the most terrific glaciers and in 
 the wildest weather, it was with a new and oppressive 
 feeling of panic terror that he leaped the last chasm, and 
 
-« 46 8«- 
 
 flung himself, exhausted and shuddering, on the firm turf 
 of the mountain. 
 
 He had been compelled to abandon his basket of food 
 when he was crossing the glacier, and had now no means 
 of refreshing himself but by breaking off and eating some 
 of the pieces of ice. This, however, relieved his thirst ; 
 an hour's repose recruited his hardy frame, and with the 
 indomitable spirit of greed he resumed his journey to the 
 source of the Golden River. 
 
 His way lay straight up a ridge of bare rocks, without 
 a blade of grass to relieve the foot, or a projecting angle 
 to afford an inch of shade from the south sun. It was 
 past noon, and the rays beat intensely upon the steep path, 
 while the whole atmosphere was motionless and penetrated 
 with heat. Intense heat was soon added to the bodily 
 fatigue with which Hans was afflicted ; glance after glance 
 he cast on the flask of water which hung at his belt. 
 " Three drops are enough," at last thought he ; " I may, 
 at least, cool my lips with it." 
 
 He opened the flask and was raising it to his lips 
 when his eye fell on an object on the rock beside him. 
 He thought it moved. It was a small dog, apparently in 
 the last agony of death from thirst. Its tongue was out, 
 its jaws dry, and its limbs extended lifelessly. Its eye 
 moved to the bottle which Hans held in his hand. He 
 raised it, drank, spurned the animal with his foot, and 
 passed on. And he did not know how it was, but he 
 
^ 47 Be- 
 thought that a strange shadow had suddenly come across 
 the bkie sky. 
 
 The path became steeper and more rugged every mo- 
 ment ; and the high hill air, instead of refreshing him, 
 seemed to throw his blood into a fever. The noise of the 
 hill cataracts sounded like mockery in his ear ; they were 
 all distant, and his thirst increased every moment. 
 
 Another hour passed, and again he looked down to 
 the flask at his side ; it was half empty, but there was 
 much more than three drops in it. He stopped to open 
 it, and again as he did so, something moved in the path 
 before him. It was a fair child stretched nearly lifeless 
 on the rock, its eyes closed, and its lips parched and 
 burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, drank a part of the 
 water in his flask, and passed on. And a dark gray cloud 
 came over the sun, and long, snake-like shadows crept up 
 the mountain side. 
 
 Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but its 
 descent seemed to bring no coolness ; the leaden weight 
 of the dead air pressed upon his brow and heart, but the 
 goal was near. He saw the cataract of the Golden River 
 springing from the hillside, scarcely five hundred feet 
 above him. He paused for a moment to breathe, and 
 sprang on to complete his task. 
 
 At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He 
 turned and saw a gray-haired old man extended on the 
 rocks. His eyes were sunk, his features deadly pale and 
 
^ 48 8<- 
 
 gathered into an expression of despair. " Water ! " he 
 stretched his arms to Hans and cried feebly, " Water ! I 
 am dying ! " 
 
 " I have none," replied Hans ; " thou hast had thy 
 share of life." He strode over the prostrate body and 
 darted on. A flash of blue lightning rose out of the east 
 shaped like a sword. It shook thrice over the whole 
 heaven, and left it dark with one heavy, impenetrable 
 shade. The sun was setting; it plunged toward the 
 horizon like a red-hot ball. 
 
 The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans's ear. He 
 stood at the brink of the chasm through which it ran. 
 Its waves were filled with the red glory of the sunset ; 
 they shook the crests like tongues of fire, and flashes of 
 bloody light gleamed along their foam. Their sound 
 came mightier and mightier on his senses ; his brain grew 
 giddy with the prolonged thunder. Shuddering, he drew 
 the flask from his girdle and hurled it into the centre 
 of the torrent. As he did so an icy chill shot through 
 his limbs ; he staggered, shrieked, and fell. The waters 
 closed over his cry, and the moaning of the river rose 
 wildly into the night as it gushed over 
 
 ONE BLACK STONE. 
 
-»S 49 8«- 
 
 THE RIVER OF GOLD 
 
 
 Part III 
 
 
 ascent ^ 
 
 monarch 
 
 acquaintance 
 
 zenith 
 
 piteously 
 
 diminished 
 
 fragment 
 
 mournfully 
 
 intolerable 
 
 mockery 
 
 countenance 
 
 innumerable 
 
 Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously, alone in the 
 house, for Hans's return. Finding he did not come back, 
 he was terribly frightened, and went and told Schwartz 
 in the prison all that had happened. Then Schwartz was 
 very much pleased, and said that Hans must have cer- 
 tainly been turned into a black stone ; he should have all 
 the gold to himself. But Gluck was very sorry and cried 
 all night. When he got up in the morning there was 
 no bread in the house nor any money; so Gluck went 
 and hired himself to another goldsmith, and he worked 
 so hard and so neatly, and so long every day that he 
 soon got money enough together to pay his brother's 
 fine, and he went and gave it all to Schwartz, and 
 Schwartz got out of prison. Then Schwartz was quite 
 pleased, and said that he should have some of the gold 
 of the river; but Gluck only begged that he would go 
 and see what had become of Hans. 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
Now when Schwartz heard that Hans had stolen the 
 holy water, he thought to himself that such a proceeding 
 might not be considered altogether correct by the King 
 of the Golden River, and determined to manage matters 
 better. So he took some more of Gluck's money and 
 bought the water. Then Schwartz was sure that it was 
 all quite right. So he got up early in the morning, 
 before the sun rose, took some bread and meat in a 
 basket, put the water in a flask, and set off for the 
 mountain. 
 
 Like his brother, he was much surprised at the sight 
 of the glacier, and had great difficulty in crossing it even 
 after leaving his basket behind him. The day was cloud- 
 less, but not bright ; there was a heavy purple haze hang- 
 ing over the sky, and the hills looked lowering and 
 gloomy. As Schwartz climbed the steep rocky path, the 
 thirst came upon him, as it had upon his brother, until 
 he lifted the flask to his lips to drink. Then he saw the 
 fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it cried to 
 him and moaned for water. 
 
 " Water, indeed ! " said Schwartz ; " I haven't enough 
 for myself," and passed on. 
 
 As he went he thought the sunbeams became dim, 
 and he saw a low bank of black cloud rising out of the 
 west ; and when he had climbed for another hour the 
 thirst overcame him again, and he would have drunk. 
 Then he saw the old man lying before him on the path, 
 
-« 51 8«- 
 
 and he heard him cry out for water. " Water, indeed ! " 
 said Schwartz ; " I haven't half enough for myself," and 
 on he went. 
 
 Then again the light seemed to fade before his eyes, 
 and he looked up, and behold, a mist of the color of blood 
 had come over the sun, and the bank of the black cloud 
 had risen very high. Its edges were tossing and tumbling 
 like the waves of an angry sea, casting long shadows 
 which flickered over Schwartz's path. 
 
 Then Schwartz climbed for another hour. Again his 
 thirst returned, and as he lifted his flask to his lips he 
 thought he saw his brother Hans lying exhausted on the 
 path before him. As he gazed the figure stretched his 
 arms to him and cried for water. "Ah, ah!'' laughed 
 Schwartz ; " are you there ? Eemember the prison bars, 
 my boy. Water, indeed ! Do you suppose I carried it 
 all the way up here for you ? " And he strode over the 
 figure ; yet, as he passed, he thought he saw a strange 
 expression of mockery about its lips. When he had gone 
 a few yards farther he looked back, but the figure was 
 not there. 
 
 A sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew not 
 why ; but the thirst for gold prevailed over his fear, and 
 he rushed on. The bank of black cloud rose to the zenith, 
 and out of it came bursts of spiry lightning ; waves of 
 darkness seemed to heave and float between their flashes 
 over the whole heavens. The sky where the sun was 
 
^ 52 »- 
 
 setting was all level, and like a lake of blood, a strong 
 wind came out of that sky, tearing its crimson clouds 
 into fragments and scattering them far into the darkness. 
 When Schwartz stood by the brink of the Golden 
 River, its waves were black like thunder clouds, but their 
 foam was like fire. The roar of the waters below and 
 the thunder above met as he cast the flask into the 
 stream. And as he did so the lightning glared in his 
 eyes, the earth gave way beneath him, and the waters 
 closed over his cry. The moaning of the river rose wildly 
 into the night as it gushed over 
 
 TWO BLACK STONES. 
 
 When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come back, 
 he was very sorry, and did not know what to do. He 
 had no money, and was obliged to hirp himself again 
 to the goldsmith, who worked him very hard and gave 
 him little money. So after a month or two Gluck grew 
 tired, and made up his mind to try his fortune with 
 the Golden River. " The little king looked very kind," 
 thought he. " I don't think he will turn me into a black 
 stone." So he went to the priest, and the priest gave 
 him some holy water as soon as he asked for it. Then 
 Gluck put some bread and the bottle of water into his 
 basket, and set off very early for the mountain. 
 
 If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue to 
 his brothers, it was twenty times worse for him, who was 
 
neither so strong nor so practised on the mountains. He 
 had several very bad falls, lost his basket and bread, 
 and was much frightened at the strange noises under the 
 ice. He lay a long time to rest on the grass after he 
 got over, and he began to climb the hill in the hottest 
 part of the day. When he had climbed for an hour, 
 he was thirsty, and was going to drink, when he saw an 
 old man coming down the path above him, looking very 
 feeble and leaning on a staff. 
 
 " My son," said the old man, " I am faint with thirst ; 
 give me some of that water ! " Then Gluck looked at 
 him, and when he saw that he was pale and weary, he 
 gave him the water. "Only, pray, don't drink it all," 
 said Ghick. But the man drank a great deal, and gave 
 him back the bottle two-thirds empty. Then he bade 
 him good speed, and Gluck went on again merrily. And 
 the path became easier to his feet, and some grasshoppers 
 began singing upon the bank ; and Gluck thought he had 
 never heard such merry singing. 
 
 Then he went on for another hour, and his thirst 
 increased so that he thought he should be forced to drink. 
 But as he raised the flask he saw a little child lying 
 panting by the roadside, and it cried out piteously for 
 water. Then Gluck struggled with himself, and deter- 
 mined to bear the thirst a little longer, and he put the 
 bottle to the child's lips, and it drank all but a few drops. 
 Then it smiled on him, and got up and ran down the hill : 
 
-« 54 B«- 
 
 and Gluck looked after it till it became as small as 
 a little star, and then turned and began climbing again. 
 And then there were all kinds of sweet flowers growing 
 on the rocks, — bright green moss, with pale pink starry 
 flowers, and soft bell gentians, more blue than the sky at 
 its deepest, and pure white transparent lilies. Crimson 
 and purple butterflies darted hither and thither, and the 
 sky sent down such pure light that Gluck had never felt 
 so happy in his life. 
 
 Yet, when he had climbed for another hour his thirst 
 became intolerable again ; and when he looked at his 
 bottle, he saw that there were only five or six drops left 
 in it, and he could not venture to drink. As he was 
 hanging the flask to his belt again he saw a little dog 
 lying on the rocks, gasping for breath — just as Hans 
 had seen it on the day of his ascent. And Gluck stopped 
 and looked at it and then at the Golden River, not five 
 hundred yards above him ; and he thought of the dwarf's 
 words, "No one can succeed except in his first attempt," 
 and he tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and 
 Gluck stopped again. 
 
 "Poor beastie," said Gluck, "it'll be dead when I 
 come down again." Then he looked closer and closer at 
 it, and its eyes turned on him so mournfully that he could 
 not bear it. " Confound the king and his gold, too ! " 
 said Gluck ; and he opened the flask and poured all the 
 water into the dog's mouth. 
 
-58 55 9«- 
 
 Immediately the little dog sprang up and stood on its 
 liind legs. Its tail disappeared ; its ears became long, 
 longer, silky, golden ; its nose became very red ; its eye 
 became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was 
 gone, and before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, the 
 King of the Golden River. 
 
 " Thank you," said the monarch ; " but don't be fright- 
 ened ; it's all right ; " for Gluck stopped amazed at this 
 unlooked-for reply to his last remark. " Why didn't j^ou 
 come before," continued the dwarf, " instead of sending 
 those brothers of yours for me to have the trouble of 
 turning into stones ? Very hard stones they make, too." 
 
 " Oh, dear me ! " said Gluck, " have you really been so 
 cruel?" 
 
 "Cruel?" said the dwarf. "They poured unholy 
 water into my stream ; do you suppose that I am going 
 to allow that ? " 
 
 "Why," said Gluck, "I am sure, sir, — your Majesty, 
 I mean, — they got the water out of the church font." 
 
 "Very probably," replied the dwarf; "but," and his 
 countenance grew stern as he spoke, "the water which 
 has been refused to the weary and dying is unholy, and 
 only the water which is found in the vessels of mercy 
 is holy." 
 
 So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked the lily that 
 grew at his feet. On its white leaves there hung three 
 drops of clear dew. He shook them into the flask which 
 
^ 56 e<- 
 
 Gluck held in his hand. " Cast these into the river," he 
 said, '' and descend on the other side of the mountains into 
 the Treasure Valley. And so good speed ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became indistinct. 
 The playing colors of his robe formed themselves into a 
 mist of dewy light; he stood for an instant veiled with 
 them as with the belt of a broad rainbow. The colors 
 grew faint, the mist rose into the air — the monarch had 
 evaporated. 
 
 Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden River, and 
 its waves were as clear as crystal and as brilliant as 
 the sun. When he cast the three drops of dew into the 
 stream, there opened, where they fell, a small circular 
 whirlpool, into which the waters descended with a musical 
 noise. 
 
 Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much 
 disappointed because the river not only was not turned 
 into gold, but its waters seemed much diminished in 
 quantity, yet he obeyed his friend the dwarf, and de- 
 scended the other side of the mountains toward the Treas- 
 ure Valley. 
 
 As he went he thought he heard the noise of water 
 working its way under the ground. When he came in 
 sight of the Treasure Valley, behold, a river like the 
 Golden River was springing from a new cleft of the rocks 
 above it, and was flowing in innumerable streams among 
 the dry heaps of red sand. 
 
^ 57 6«- 
 
 As Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside the new 
 streams, and creeping plants grew and climbed over the 
 moistening soil. Young flowers opened suddenly along 
 the river sides, as stars leap out when twilight is deepen- 
 ing, while thickets of myrtle and tendrils of vine cast 
 lengthening shadows over the valley as they grew. Thus 
 the Treasure Valley became a garden again, and the in- 
 heritance which had been lost by cruelty was regained by 
 love. 
 
 Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the poor 
 were never driven from his door ; and for him the river 
 became a river of gold, according to the dwarf's promise. 
 
 And to this day the inhabitants of the valley point out 
 the place where the three drops of dew were cast into the 
 stream, and trace the course of the Golden River under- 
 ground until it emerges in the Treasure Valley. At the 
 top of the cataract of the Golden River are still to be seen 
 Two Black Stones, round which the waters howl mourn- 
 fully every day at sunset ; and these stones are still called 
 by the people of the valley the Black Brothers. 
 
 — John Ruskin. 
 
^ 58 8<- 
 
 THE WHITE KNIGHT 1 
 
 victory '^ 
 
 bridle 
 
 offended 
 
 discontented 
 
 helmet 
 
 relieved 
 
 instantly 
 
 anxiously 
 
 prisoner 
 
 rescued 
 
 generally 
 
 doubtfully 
 
 vexation 
 
 dismay 
 
 encouraged 
 
 brandishing 
 
 evidently 
 
 leisurely 
 
 ventured 
 
 bewilderment 
 
 Alice sat on the bank of the little brook thinking over 
 her adventures and wondering where she should go next, 
 when her thoughts were interrupted by a loud shouting 
 of, " Ahoy ! Ahoy ! Check ! " and a knight, dressed in 
 crimson armor, came galloping down upon her, brandish- 
 ing a great club. Just as he reached her, the horse 
 stopped suddenly. " You're my prisoner ! " the knight 
 cried, as he tumbled off his horse. 
 
 Startled as she was, Alice was more frightened for 
 him than for herself at the moment, and watched him 
 with some anxiety as he mounted again. As soon as he 
 was comfortably in the saddle, he began once more, 
 " You're my — " but here another voice broke in, "Ahoy! 
 Ahoy! Check! " and Alice looked round in some surprise 
 for the new enemy. 
 
 This time it was a White Knight. He drew up at 
 Alice's side, and tumbled off his horse just as the Red 
 
 1 See note on page 259. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulai-y. 
 
-« 59 B«- 
 
 Knight had done; then he got on again, and the two 
 Knights sat and looked at each other for some time with- 
 out speaking. Alice looked from one to the other in 
 some bewilderment. 
 
 " She's my prisoner," the Red Knight said at last. 
 
 '' Yes, but then I came and rescued her ! " the White 
 Knight replied. 
 
 '' Well, we must fight for her, then," said the Red 
 Knight as he took up his helmet (which hung from the 
 saddle and was something the shape of a horse's head) 
 and put it on. 
 
 " You will observe the Rules of Battle, of course," the 
 White Knight remarked, putting on his helmet, too. 
 
 "I always do," said the Red Knight, and they began 
 banging away at each other with such fury that Alice got 
 behind a tree to be out of the way of the blows. 
 
 " I wonder what the Rules of Battle are," she said 
 to herself, as she watched the fight, timidly peeping out 
 from her hiding-place. " One Rule seems to be, that if 
 one knight hits the other, he knocks him off his horse; 
 and, if he misses, he tumbles off himself. And another 
 Rule seems to be that they hold their clubs with their 
 arms, as if they were Punch and Judy. What a noise 
 they make when they tumble ! Just like a whole set of 
 fire-irons falling into the fender! And how quiet the 
 horses are ! They let them get on and off just as if they 
 were tables." 
 
^ 60 »- 
 
 Another Rule of Battle, that Alice had not noticed, 
 seemed to be that they always fell on their heads; and 
 the battle ended with their both falling off in this way, 
 side by side. When they got up again they shook hands, 
 and then the Red Knight mounted and galloped off. 
 
 " It was a glorious victory, wasn't it ? " said the White 
 Knight, as he came up panting. 
 
 " I don't know," Alice said doubtfully. " I don't want 
 to be anybody's prisoner. I want, to be a Queen." 
 
 " So you will, when you've crossed the next brook," 
 said the White Knight. "I'll see you safe to the end of 
 the woods — and then I must go back, you know. That's 
 the end of my move." 
 
 " Thank you very much," said Alice. " May I help 
 you off with your helmet?" It was evidently more than 
 he could manage by himself; however, she managed to 
 shake him out of it at last. 
 
 " Now^ one can breathe more easily," said the Knight, 
 putting back his shaggy hair with both hands, and turn- 
 ing his gentle face and large, mild eyes to Alice. She 
 thought she had never seen such a strange-looking soldier 
 in her life. 
 
 He was dressed in tin armor, which seemed to fit 
 him very badly, and he had a queer-shaped little deal box 
 fastened across his shoulders upside down, with the lid 
 hanging open. Alice looked at it with great curiosity. 
 
 "I see you're admiring my little box," the Knight 
 
-^ 61 8^ 
 
 said in a friendly tone. "It's my own invention — to 
 keep clothes and sandwiches in. You see I carry it up- 
 side down, so that the rain can't get in." 
 
 " But the things can get out/' Alice gently remarked. 
 " Do you know the lid's open ?" 
 
 " I didn't know it," the Knight said, a shade of vexa- 
 tion passing over his face. " Then all the things must 
 have fallen out! And the box is no use without them." 
 He unfastened it as he spoke, and was just going to throw 
 it into the bushes when a sudden thought seemed to strike 
 him, and he hung it carefully on a tree. *" Can you guess 
 why I did that?" he said to Alice. 
 
 Alice shook her head. 
 
 "In hope some bees may make a nest in it — then I 
 should get the honey." 
 
 " But you've got a bee-hive — or something like one — 
 fastened to the saddle," said Alice. 
 
 " Yes, it's a very good bee-hive," the Knight said, " but 
 not a single bee has come near it yet. And the other thing 
 is a mouse-trap. I suppose the mice keep the bees out — 
 or the bees keep the mice out, I don't know which." 
 
 " I was wondering what the mouse-trap was for," said 
 Alice. " It isn't very likely there would be any mice on 
 the horse's back." 
 
 " Not very likely, perhaps," said the Knight ; " but, if 
 they do come, I don't choose to have them running all 
 about." 
 
^ 62 S«- 
 
 " You see," he went on after a pause, '^ it's as well to 
 be provided for everything. That's the reason the horse 
 has all those anklets round his feet." 
 
 " But what are they for ? " Alice asked in a tone of 
 great curiosity. 
 
 " To guard against the bites of sharks," the Knight 
 replied. " It's an invention of my own. And now help 
 me on. I'll go with you to the end of the wood — 
 "What's that dish for?" 
 
 " It's meant for plum cake," said Alice. 
 
 " We'd better take it with us," the Knight said. " It'll 
 come in handy if we find any plum cake. Help me to get 
 it into this bag." 
 
 This took a long time to manage, though Alice held 
 the bag open very carefully, because the Knight was so 
 very awkward in putting in the dish ; the first two or 
 three times that he tried he fell in himself instead. "It's 
 rather a tight fit, you see," he said, as they got it in at 
 last ; " there are so many candlesticks in the bag." And 
 he hung it to the saddle, which was already loaded with 
 bunches of carrots, and fire-irons, and many other things. 
 
 " I hope you've got your hair well fastened on ? " he 
 continued, as they set off. 
 
 " Only in the usual way," Alice said, smiling. 
 
 "That's hardly enough," he said anxiously. "You 
 see the wind is so very strong here. It's as strong as 
 soup." 
 
-58 63 8«- 
 
 THE WHITE KNIGHT 
 
^ 64 8«- 
 
 " Have you invented a plan for keeping the hair from 
 being blown oif ? " Alice inquired. 
 
 '• Not yet," said the Knight. " But I've got a plan 
 for keeping it from falling off." 
 
 " I should like to hear it very much." 
 
 " First you take an upright stick," said the Knight. 
 " Then you make your hair creep upon it like a fruit tree. 
 Now the reason hair falls off is because it hangs doivn — 
 things never fall upivards, you know. It's a plan of my 
 own invention. You may try it if you like." 
 
 It didn't sound a comfortable plan, Alice thought, and 
 for a few minutes she walked on in silence, puzzling over 
 the idea, and every now and then stopping to help the 
 poor Knight, who certainly was not a good rider. 
 
 Whenever the horse stopped (which it did very often), 
 he fell off in front; and whenever it went on again (which 
 it generally did rather suddenly), he fell off behind. Other- 
 wise he kept on pretty well, except that he had a habit of 
 now and then falling off sideways, and as he generally did 
 this on the side on which Alice was walking, she soon 
 found that it was the best plan not to walk quite close 
 to the horse. 
 
 " I'm afraid you've not had much practice in riding," 
 she ventured to say, as she was helping him up from his 
 fifth tumble. 
 
 The Knight looked very much surprised, and a little 
 offended at the remark. " What makes you say that ? " 
 
^ 65 S«- 
 
 he aske'd, as he scrambled back into the saddle, keeping 
 hold of Alice's hair with one hand, to save himself from 
 falling over on the other side. 
 
 " Because people don't fall off quite so often when 
 they've had much practice." 
 
 "■ I've had plenty of practice," the Knight said very 
 gravely ; '' plenty of practice." 
 
 Alice could think of nothing better to say than 
 " Indeed ? " but she said it as heartily as she could. 
 They went on a little way in silence after this, — the 
 Knight with his eyes shut, muttering to himself, and 
 Alice watching anxiously for the next tumble. 
 
 " The great art of riding," the Knight suddenly began 
 in a loud voice, waving his right arm as he spoke, " is to 
 keep — " Here the sentence ended as suddenly as it had 
 begun, as the Kniglit fell heavily on the top of his head 
 exactly in the path where Alice was walking. She was 
 quite frightened this time, and said in an anxious tone, as 
 she picked him up, " I hope no bones are broken ? " 
 
 "None to speak of," the Knight said, as if he didn't 
 mind breaking two or three of them. " The great art 
 of riding, as I was saying, is — to keep your balance 
 properly. Like this, you know — " 
 
 He let go the bridle and stretched out both his arms 
 to show Alice what he meant, and this time he fell flat on 
 his back, right under the horse's feet. 
 
 " Plenty of practice," he went on repeating all the 
 
-« 66 B«- 
 
 time that Alice was getting him on his feet again, 
 'Aplenty of practice." 
 
 " It's too ridiculous ! " cried Alice. " You ought to 
 have a wooden horse on wheels." 
 
 " Does that kind go smoothly ? " the Knight asked 
 in a tone of great interest, clasping his arms round the 
 horse's neck as he spoke, just in time to save himself 
 from tumbling off again. 
 
 " Much more smoothly than a live horse," Alice said, 
 with a little scream of laughter, in spite of all she could 
 do to prevent it. 
 
 " I'll get one," the Knight said thoughtfully to him- 
 self. '' One or two, — several." 
 
 There was a short silence after this, and then the 
 Knight went on again. "I'm a great hand at inventing 
 things. Now, I dare say you noticed, the last time you 
 picked me up, that I was looking rather thoughtful ? " 
 
 " You icere a little grave," said Alice. 
 
 " Well, just then I was inventing a new way of get- 
 ting over a gate — would you like to hear it ? " 
 
 " Very much, indeed," said Alice. 
 
 "I'll tell you how I came to think of it," said the 
 Knight. " You see, I said to myself, ' The only difficulty 
 is with the feet ; the head is high enough already.' Now, 
 first I put my head on the top of the gate — the head's 
 high enough — I stand on my head — then the feet are 
 high enough, you see — then I'm over, you see." 
 
-^ 67 8«- 
 
 "Yes, I suppose you'd be over when that was done," 
 Alice said thoughtfully ; ^' but don't you think it would 
 be rather hard ? " 
 
 " I haven't tried it yet," the Knight said gravely, 
 " so I can't tell for certain ; but I'm afraid it would be a 
 little hard." 
 
 He looked so vexed at the idea, that Alice changed the 
 subject hastily. "What a curious helmet you've got!" 
 she said cheerfully. " Is that your invention, too ? " 
 
 The Knight looked down proudly at his helmet, which 
 hung from the saddle. " Yes," he said, " but I've in- 
 vented a better one than that — like a sugar-loaf. When 
 I used to wear it, if I fell off the horse, it always touched 
 the ground directly. So I had a very little way to fall, 
 you see — But there loas the danger of falling into it, 
 to be sure. That happened to me once — and the worst 
 of it was, before I could get out again, the other White 
 Knight came and put it on. He thought it was his own 
 helmet." 
 
 The Knight looked so solemn about it that Alice did 
 not dare to laugh. '- I'm afraid you must have hurt him," 
 she said, in a trembling voice, " being on the top of his 
 head." 
 
 " I had to kick him, of course," the Knight said, very 
 seriously. " And then he took the helmet off again; but 
 it took hours and hours to get me out. I was as fast as 
 — as lightning, you know." 
 
-« 68 6«- 
 
 " But that's a different kind of fastness," Alice 
 objected. 
 
 The Knight shook his head. " It was all kinds of 
 fastness with me, I can assure you," he said. He raised 
 his hands as he said this, and instantly rolled out of the 
 saddle and fell headlong into a deep ditch. 
 
 Alice ran to the side of the ditch to look for him. 
 She was rather startled by the fall, and she was afraid 
 that he really was hurt this time. However, though she 
 could see nothing but the soles of his feet, she was much 
 relieved to hear that he was talking in his usual tone. 
 "All kinds of fastness," he repeated ; " but it was careless 
 of him to put another man's helmet on — with the man 
 in it, too." 
 
 " How can you go on talking so quietly, head down- 
 wards?" Alice asked, as she dragged him out by the feet 
 and laid him in a heap on the bank. 
 
 The Knight looked surprised at the question. " What 
 does it matter where my body happens to be?" he said. 
 " My mind goes on working all the same. In fact, the 
 more head-downwards I am, the more I keep inventing 
 new things. The cleverest thing of the sort that I ever 
 did, was inventing a pudding during the meat-course." 
 
 " In time to have it cooked for the next course ? " said 
 Alice. " Well, that ivas quick work, certainly ! " 
 
 " Well, not the next course," the Knight said in a 
 thoughtful tone ; " no, certainly not the next coursed 
 
^ 69 B«- 
 
 " Then it would have to be the next day. I suppose 
 you wouldn't have two pudding-courses in one dinner?" 
 
 " Well, not the next day," the Knight repeated as 
 before; "not the next day. In fact," he went on, hold- 
 ing his head down, and his face getting lower and lower, 
 " I don't believe that pudding ever loas cooked ! In fact, 
 I don't believe that pudding ever icill be cooked! And 
 yet it was a very clever pudding to invent." 
 
 "What did you mean it to be made of?" asked Alice, 
 hoping to cheer him up, for the poor Knight seemed quite 
 low-spirited about it. 
 
 " It began with blotting paper," the Knight answered. 
 
 " That wouldn't be very nice, I'm afraid — " 
 
 " Not very nice alone,'' he interrupted quite eagerly ; 
 " but you've no idea what a difference it makes mixing it 
 with other things — such as gunpowder and sealing-wax. 
 And here I must leave you." They had just come to the 
 end of the wood. 
 
 The Knight gathered up the reins and turned his 
 horse's head along the road by which they had come. 
 " You've only a few yards to go," he said, " down the hill 
 and over that little brook, and then you'll be a Queen. 
 But you'll stay and see me off first ? " he added, as Alice 
 turned with an eager look in the direction to which he 
 pointed. " I shan't be long. You'll wait and wave your 
 handkerchief when I get to that turn in the road? I 
 think it'll encourage me, you see." 
 
-« 70 8<- 
 
 " Of course I'll wait," said Alice ; " and thank you 
 very much for coming so far." 
 
 So they shook hands, and then the Knight rode slowly 
 away into the forest. '' It won't take long to see him 
 off, I expect," Alice said to herself, as she stood watching 
 him. " There he goes ! Eight on his head as usual ! 
 However, he gets on again pretty easily — that comes of 
 having so many things hung around the horse — " 
 
 So she went on talking to herself as she watched the 
 horse walking leisurely along the road and the Knight 
 tumbling off, first on one side and then on the other. 
 After the fourth or fifth tumble he reached the turn, and 
 then she waved her handkerchief to him, and waited until 
 he was out of sight. 
 
 '' I hope it encouraged him," she said, as she turned 
 to run down the hill ; " and now for the last brook and 
 to be a Queen! How grand it sounds!" A very few 
 steps brought her to the edge of the brook. " The Eighth 
 Square at last ! " she cried as she bounded across, and 
 threw herself down to rest on a lawn as soft as moss. 
 
 '^ Oh, how glad I am to get here ! And what is this 
 on my head ?" she exclaimed in a tone of dismay, as she 
 put her hands up to something very heavy that fitted 
 tight all round her head. " How can it have got there 
 without my knowing it ? " she said as she lifted it off and 
 set it on her lap to see what it could be. It was a golden 
 
 crown. —Lewis Carroll. 
 
^ 71 e«- 
 
 SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON i 
 
 repel ^ 
 
 domestic 
 
 commotion 
 
 completely 
 
 caldron 
 
 calabash 
 
 sociability 
 
 ammunition 
 
 extension 
 
 dilemma 
 
 agitation 
 
 caoutchouc 
 
 plumage 
 
 incisions 
 
 sufficient 
 
 fortification 
 
 community 
 
 replenish 
 
 gymnastic 
 
 congratulation 
 
 Fritz and I started one morning with the donkey to 
 bring home the sledge and the remainder of the gourd ves- 
 sels. We had not proceeded far when we came upon a 
 singular-looking object built around the trunk of a tree 
 and, looking like a large umbrella. I saw at once that 
 the formation consisted of a great number of nests, built 
 by a colony of birds, who appeared to be living together in 
 perfect harmony. 
 
 Each pair had its own nest ; in fact, this curious con- 
 struction was like a town full of houses, all under one roof, 
 formed of straw and moss, and sloping down from the 
 trunk of the tree like the cover of an umbrella. The 
 branches of the tree overshadowed and partly concealed 
 the colonial residence, enabling the little creatures to skip 
 in and out of their nest entrances without attracting much 
 attention. 
 
 The number of the feathered inhabitants greatly aston- 
 ished me ; for they took alarm at our approach, and flew 
 
 1 See note on page 260. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
^ 72 8«- 
 
 around us, chattering angrily, and evidently ready to repel 
 with thousands of beaks any attack on their community. 
 
 While observing with admiration this wonderful proof 
 of bird instinct, I was surprised to see a species of small 
 parrot enter some of the nests, causing a great commotion 
 among the colonists. Fritz, who very much wished to 
 secure a live parrot, threw his gun on the ground and 
 climbed the tree. On reaching the nearest branch, he 
 seized it with one hand, while he thrust the other into the 
 nearest nest opening ; it was empty. 
 
 He tried another, with the same result. The third 
 time he was rewarded for his boldness, for, while feeling 
 the soft feathers of birds in the nest, a hard, seed-cracking 
 beak seized his finger, and obliged him quickly to with- 
 draw his hand, and cry out with pain as he shook it in 
 the air. But he had not lost his hold on the bough, and 
 thrusting his hand again into the nest, and seizing the 
 lovely biter, he brought him out in spite of his screams. 
 
 Fritz was highly delighted with his prize, which 
 proved to be a kind of sparrow-parrot, with beautiful 
 green plumage. He placed it in his pocket to take home 
 and teach to talk. 
 
 As we continued our journey, our conversation natu- 
 rally turned on the social instinct of these birds, and the 
 skill they displayed in building. Fritz asked if there were 
 other creatures with similar powers, and if it could be the 
 result of instinct. 
 
-99 73 9«- 
 
 " Beavers," I replied, '' build a village, in which a large 
 number live together in great sociability. Bees, wasps, 
 and ants also possess this social instinct." 
 
 "Ah, yes, papa, I have watched the ants. It is a 
 most amusing sight." 
 
 "If the ants of our native country have interested 
 you," I said, " what would be your astonishment at those 
 of other lands ! They build for their eggs a kind of oven, 
 or nest, from four to six feet high, and nearly as broad, 
 with walls and roof so hard that neither rain nor sun- 
 shine can penetrate it. In it are streets, galleries, and 
 store-cellars, and it is so firmly built that with little 
 change it might be used as a baking-oven for man." 
 
 While conversing thus, we reached some trees quite 
 unknown to us. They were from forty to sixty feet in 
 height, and from the bark, which was cracked in some 
 places, issued balls of thick gum. It was with difficulty 
 that Fritz got one of them off. He tried to soften it with 
 his hand as we proceeded on our journey, but found that 
 heat only gave it the power of extension, and that on 
 being released it resumed its first form. 
 
 " Look, papa ! " he exclaimed, "I am sure the trees 
 we took for wild figs are caoutchouc trees, and that this 
 is india-rubber." 
 
 " That would be a valuable discovery to us," I replied. 
 
 " Why, can any use be made of the rubber except to 
 remove pencil marks ? " 
 
^ 74 S«- 
 
 " Oh, yes ! the sap of the caoutchouc tree is used fo 
 very many articles that will be of great service to us." 
 
 We now reached the cocoanut wood, and it occurred to 
 me to look for one of those most valuable trees called the 
 sago palm. I noticed presently a large trunk broken down 
 by the wind, in which I found sap of a floury nature ex- 
 actly resembling European sago. A grove of sugar-canes 
 lay in our homeward way, and not to return empty- 
 handed, we gathered a large bundle of the sweet dainty, 
 not forgetting to refresh ourselves. 
 
 " Candle-making to-day ! " exclaimed the boys, when 
 they rose next morning ; and they gave me no rest till I 
 promised to attempt to make candles of the wax-plant 
 berries. 
 
 We filled a saucepan and, placing it over the fire, pro- 
 duced in a little time a considerable quantity of beautiful 
 green wax. While melting the berries, we prepared a 
 number of wicks from threads of sail-cloth, dipped them 
 quickly and carefully in the wax, and then hung them in 
 the air to dry. This operation we repeated two or three 
 times, till the wicks had taken sufficient wax to form can- 
 dles. Although they were far inferior in roundness and 
 size to those at home, they threw around us such a clear, 
 bright light, that we were overjoyed with the results. 
 
 There would be no occasion now for us to go to- bed 
 at sunset, for this light would serve us in our tree-castle 
 apartment in a most convenient manner. 
 
^ 75 S«- 
 
 This success encouraged me to make an attempt of 
 another description. Among the articles on board the ship 
 we found no churn. I therefore resolved to try a plan, 
 a description of which I had read. I chose the largest of 
 our calabash bottles, and, after filling it half full of cream, 
 closed it tightly. Then I placed four stakes in the ground, 
 tied to them a piece of sail-cloth by the four corners, and 
 laid the bottle upon it. At each side I stationed one of 
 the boys, and desired them to roll it backwards and for- 
 wards, by alternately raising the cloth, so as to keep it in 
 constant agitation. 
 
 This performance proved capital fun ; and the boys 
 kept it up with jokes and laughter for more than half an 
 hour, when I opened the bottle, and found, to our great 
 joy, that some really good butter had been churned. 
 
 Another and much more difficult undertaking was on 
 my mind, which for a long time had seemed impracticable. 
 The sledge was not only inconvenient, but very heavy for 
 our animals to draw ; and as we had brought four cart 
 wheels from the wreck, I wished to construct a little cart. 
 
 I determined to try what I could do, and after some 
 difficulty succeeded in constructing a sort of carriage which, 
 though not elegant in appearance, would, I knew, be very 
 useful. 
 
 In the meantime my family at Tent House were em- 
 ployed daily in planting the European fruit trees which I 
 had brought from the wreck. The vines w^ere placed near 
 
^ 76 8«- 
 
 the arched roots, for they required air and a shady place ; 
 but the oranges, citrons, mulberries, olives, cherries, and 
 other fruits containing kernels were planted on the way 
 to the bridge over the Jackal River, where they could 
 obtain light and warmth. 
 
 I wished also to make the rocks at Tent House a kind 
 of fortification, as all our ammunition lay there. I re- 
 solved, therefore, to choose two slight elevations near the 
 river, on which to fit the two cannon from the pinnace, and 
 also to plant a thick hedge of thorns around the whole spot. 
 
 These engagements employed us for six weeks ; but 
 the hard work had completely worn out our clothes, and 
 this with other important reasons made me consider it 
 necessary to return to the wreck once more. I wished, if 
 possible, to bring away one or two more of the cannon, 
 to place on the heights of our fortification. 
 
 On the first fine day I set out in the pinnace for the 
 wreck with the three elder boys. We found everything 
 as we had left it ; but the wind and waves had loosened 
 the beams and damaged the powder casks. The sailors' 
 chests were in fairly good condition, and these we placed 
 on board the pinnace, as well as a bdx containing a 
 quantity of ball and shot and two small cannon. 
 
 On the second trip, we towed our tugboat behind the 
 pinnace, quickly loading it with planks, doors, window- 
 shutters, locks and bolts, and as many other precious 
 things as we could carry. 
 
-^ 77 3<- 
 
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 A ROAR OF MAJESTIC THUNDER RESOUNDED FROM THE ROCKS 
 
->S 78 3«- 
 
 At last, when it seemed as if we had plundered the 
 wreck of every useful article, I resolved to blow it up 
 with gunpowder, in the hope that the wind and the waves 
 would cast on shore wood and beams, as well as other 
 articles suitable for house building, which were too heavy 
 for us to bring away in our boats. I had discovered a 
 large, heavy copper caldron, which I thought might be 
 saved, so I attached it to two empty casks strong enough 
 to support it when launched into the sea. 
 
 When ready to start, I rolled a powder barrel into 
 the hold of the ship, fastened to it carefully the end of a 
 fusee, and after lighting it, sprang into the boat where 
 the boys were already seated, and with outspread sail 
 hastened toward the shore. 
 
 We had scarcely reached the bay when a roar as of 
 majestic thunder resounded from the rocks, and at the 
 same moment a brilliant column of fire rising into the 
 air announced that my plan had succeeded. A feeling of 
 sadness came over me ; it seemed as if the last tie that 
 bound us to our dear home was broken ; and when my 
 wife and Frank, in great alarm, met us as we landed, she 
 and the boys seemed overcome by the same sad feeling. 
 It was as if we had lost in the ship an old and dear friend. 
 
 A night's rest enabled us to shake off all feelings of 
 regret, especially when we saw that the beach was strewn 
 with wooden planks and beams, while on the sea near the 
 shore floated broken fragments of all descriptions, and 
 
^ 79 8«- 
 
 amongst them the copper caldron, floating between the 
 two casks to which I had fastened it. Many days were 
 employed in collecting all these useful articles, in piling 
 them on the shore, and in covering the powder casks with 
 earth and moss till we could store them at Tent House. 
 
 My wife, in assisting us with the wreck, made the 
 agreeable discovery that two of our ducks and one goose 
 had each hatched a brood, and were leading their noisy 
 young families to the water. This reminded us of our 
 domestic comforts at Falcon's Nest, and we determined to 
 defer the rest of our work at Tent House, and to return 
 the next day to our shady summer home. 
 
 On our way I observed that the newly planted fruit 
 trees were beginning to droop, and I resolved to proceed 
 to Cape Disappointment the next morning to cut bamboos 
 to make props for them. We started in high spirits from 
 Falcon's Nest, and I led my household by the newly dis- 
 covered road to the plantations of potatoes, through which 
 Fritz and I had passed, until at length we reached the 
 bird-colony tree. 
 
 The waxberry tree soon came in sight, and the boys 
 eagerly gathered berries enough to fill two sacks, which 
 were stowed away safely in a spot which we should pass 
 on our way home. When we reached the india-rubber 
 tree, I made several incisions in the bark, from which the 
 gum oozed freely and soon filled all our little vessels. 
 These also were left for our homeward journey. 
 
.^ 80 B<- 
 
 We continued to advance till we reached the cocoa- 
 nut wood, and, leaving it on the left, presently arrived 
 at an open spot situated between the grove of sugar- 
 canes and the bamboo bushes, which lay at a little 
 distance beyond. Here we paused to admire a beautiful 
 landscape which lay stretched out before us. On our 
 left was the sugar-cane grove, to the right the bamboos, 
 and before us a splendid avenue of palm trees. Cape 
 Disappointment could be seen beyond, stretching out 
 into the deep "sea. 
 
 We felt inclined to remove from Falcon's Nest, and 
 take up our abode here ; but the safety of our night 
 castle in the great tree, and other advantages which we 
 enjoyed at Falcon's Nest, made us decide to remain at 
 the dear old home. 
 
 We determined, however, to make a halt for our 
 midday meal. The animals were unharnessed from the 
 cart and set at liberty to graze on the rich pasture, and 
 we produced from our store of provisions enough for a 
 slight repast for ourselves. Then we set to work to cut 
 down and tie together bamboo and sugar-canes, in 
 bundles of a size suitable for placing on the cart. 
 
 The boys cast longing eyes on the cocoanuts, and 
 Fritz and Jack attempted to climb the trees, but the 
 trunk was too large and too smooth for them, and slid- 
 ing to the ground, they measured with discouraged eyes 
 the height of the smooth and polished stem. 
 
In this dilemma I produced rough paxis of the shark's 
 skin, and, after fastening them to their arms and knees, 
 told them to try again, as the rough surface would enable 
 them to rest and take breath while clinging to the stem 
 with their knees. 
 
 Fritz and Jack made the attempt, and soon reached 
 the top of the tree. Each took an axe from his leathern 
 girdle and struck so bravely at the clusters of cocoanuts 
 that they fell to the ground like hail. The boys were 
 almost beside themselves with delight, and, coming down, 
 received our congratulations that this wonderful gymnas- 
 tic performance had turned out so well. 
 
 Ernest, who had not taken part in it, was soon seen 
 climbing a tree on which no fruit grew. In response to 
 a laugh from his brothers, he took his axe from his 
 girdle, and with one or two strokes cut off the large, 
 delicately formed leaves from the crown. " I have 
 thrown to you a beautiful palm cabbage," he cried, 
 "twenty times more agreeable to eat than cocoanuts. 
 This tree is the vegetable palm." 
 
 " The boy is right," I exclaimed, as I examined a leaf, 
 " and it is very healthful food. It grows on the top of 
 the tree." 
 
 As the day was now far advanced, we resolved to 
 remain for the night in this charming spot, and to build 
 a little cabin of branches and leaves to protect ourselves 
 from the cold wind and the dew. I had brought with 
 
^ 82 3«- 
 
 me a piece of sail-cloth, with which we could cover our 
 little hut and protect it from the night air. 
 
 I determined that after gathering dry grass and moss 
 for our beds, large fires and torches should be lighted to 
 surround our cabin. These torches were easily made of 
 dry sugar-canes, about five or six feet long, which gave a 
 brilliant light, and would continue burning for many hours. 
 
 We laid ourselves down on the soft beds of grass and 
 moss which the boys had collected, with loaded guns close 
 at hand in case of danger. For a time I kept awake to 
 replenish the fire and keep the torches lighted; but as 
 hour after hour passed, and no wild beasts appeared, I 
 gradually sank into a refreshing sleep. 
 
 — JoHANN David Wyss. 
 A DAY IN JUNEi 
 
 And what is so rare as a day in June ? 
 
 Then, if ever, come perfect days ; 
 Then Heaven, tries the earth if it be in tune. 
 
 And over it softly her warm ear lays : 
 Whether we look, or whether we listen. 
 We hear life murmur, or see it glisten ; 
 Every clod feels a stir of might, 
 
 An instinct within it that reaches and towers, 
 And, groping blindly above it for light, 
 
 Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers ; 
 1 See note on page 260. 
 
-« 83 B«- 
 
 The flush of life may well be seen 
 
 Thrilling back over hills and valleys ; 
 The cowslip startles in meadows green, 
 
 The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, 
 And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean 
 
 To be some happy creature's palace. 
 The little bird sits at his door in the sun, 
 
 Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, 
 And lets his illumined being o'errun 
 
 With the deluge of summer it receives ; 
 His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, 
 And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings ; 
 He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest, — 
 In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best ? ' 
 
 Now is the high-tide of the year. 
 
 And whatever of life hath ebbed away 
 Comes flooding back with a rippling cheer, 
 Into every bare inlet and creek and bay ; 
 Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it. 
 We are happy now because God wills it ; 
 No matter how barren the past may have been, 
 'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green ; 
 We sit in the warm shade and feel right well 
 How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell ; 
 We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing 
 That the skies are clear and the grass is growing ; 
 
The breeze comes whispering in our ear, 
 That dandelions are blossoming near, 
 
 That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, 
 That the river is bluer than the sky, 
 That the robin is plastering his house hard by ; 
 And if the breeze kept the good news back, 
 For other couriers w^e should not lack ; 
 
 We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing, — 
 And hark ! how clear bold chanticleer, 
 Warmed with the new w^ine of the year. 
 
 Tells all, in his lusty crowing ! 
 
 Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how ; 
 Everything is happy now. 
 
 Everything is upward striving ; 
 'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true 
 As for grass to be green or skies to be blue, — 
 
 'Tis the natural way of living : 
 Who knows whither the clouds have fled ? 
 
 In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake ; 
 And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, 
 
 The heart forgets its sorrow and ache ; 
 The soul partakes of the season's youth. 
 
 And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe 
 Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth. 
 
 Like burnt- out craters healed with snow. 
 
 — James Russell Lowell. 
 
^ 85 8«- 
 
 THE SUMMER SHOWER 
 
 Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain, 
 As when the strong storm-wind is reaping the plain, 
 And loiters the boy in the briery lane ; 
 But yonder aslant comes the silvery rain, 
 Like a long line of spears brightly burnished and tall. 
 
 Adown the white highway like cavalry fleet, 
 It dashes the dust with its numberless feet. 
 Like a murmurless school, in their leafy retreat. 
 The wild birds sit listening, the drops round them beat ; 
 And the boy crouches close to the blackberry wall. 
 
 The swallows alone take the storm on their wing, 
 And, taunting the tree-sheltered laborers, sing ; 
 Like pebbles the rain breaks the face of the spring, 
 While a bubble darts up from each widening ring ; 
 And the boy in dismay hears the loud shower fall.. 
 
 But soon are the harvesters tossing their sheaves. 
 The robin darts out from his bower of leaves ; 
 The wren peereth forth from the moss-covered eaves ; 
 And the rain-spattered urchin now gladly perceives 
 That the beautiful bow bendeth over them all. 
 
 — Thomas Buchanan Read. 
 
-« 86 8«- 
 
 THE CLOUD 
 
 I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, 
 
 From the seas and the streams ; 
 I bear light shade for the leaves when laid 
 
 In their noonday dreams. 
 From my wings are shaken the dews that waken 
 
 The sweet buds every one, 
 When rocked to rest on their mother's breast. 
 
 As she dances about the sun. 
 I wield the flail of the lashing hail. 
 
 And whiten the green plains under ; 
 And then again I dissolve it in rain. 
 
 And laugh as I pass in thunder. 
 
 I sift the snow on the mountains below. 
 
 And their great pines groan aghast ; 
 And all the night 't is my pillow white. 
 
 While I sleep in the arms of the blast. 
 Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers, 
 
 Lightning, my pilot, sits ; 
 In a cavern under is fettered the thunder. 
 
 It struggles and howls by fits. 
 Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion, 
 
 This pilot is guiding me, 
 
^ 87 8«- 
 
 Lured by the love of the genii that move 
 
 In the depths of the purple sea ; 
 Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, 
 
 Over the lakes and the plains, 
 Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream. 
 
 The spirit he loves remains ; 
 And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile. 
 
 Whilst he is dissolving in rain. 
 
 That orbed maiden, with white fire laden. 
 
 Whom mortals call the moon. 
 Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor. 
 
 By the midnight breezes strewn ; 
 And wherever the beat of her unseen feet. 
 
 Which only the angels hear. 
 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof. 
 
 The stars peep behind her and peer ; 
 And I laugh to see them whirl and flee. 
 
 Like a swarm of golden bees. 
 When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent, 
 
 Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas, 
 Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high. 
 
 Are each paved with the moon and these. 
 
 — Percy Bysshe Shelley. 
 
-« 88 8«- 
 
 glimpses^ 
 circuit 
 inquire 
 invalid 
 
 BLACK BEAUTY 1 
 
 favorite 
 heather 
 disorderly 
 exhausted 
 
 amiable 
 slackened 
 impatiently 
 conversation 
 
 Early in the spring, Lord W and part of his 
 
 family went to London, and took York with them. 
 Ginger and I and some other horses were left at home 
 for use, and the head groom was left in charge. 
 
 Lady Harriet, who remained at home, was a great 
 invalid, and never went out in the carriage, and Lady 
 Anne preferred riding on horseback with her brother or 
 cousins. She was a perfect horsewoman, and as gay and 
 gentle as she was beautiful. She chose me for her horse, 
 and named me " Black Beauty." I enjoyed these rides 
 very much in the clear, cold air, sometimes with Ginger, 
 sometimes with Lizzie. Lizzie was a bright bay mare, 
 almost thoroughbred, and a great favorite with the 
 gentlemen on account of her fine action and lively spirit ; 
 but Ginger, who knew more of her than I did, told me 
 she was rather nervous. 
 
 There was a gentleman by the name of Blantyre 
 staying at the Hall. He always rode Lizzie, and praised 
 her so much that one day Lady Anne ordered the side- 
 
 1 See note on page 260. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 89 5<- 
 
 saddle to be put on her, and the other saddle on me. 
 When we came to the door, the gentleman seemed very 
 uneasy. 
 
 " How is this ? " he said. " Are you tired of your 
 good Black Beauty ? " 
 
 " Oh, no, not at all," she replied, " but I am amiable 
 enough to let you ride him for once, while I try your 
 charming Lizzie. You must confess that in size and 
 appearance she is far more like a lady's horse than my 
 own favorite." 
 
 " Do let me advise you not to mount her," he said. 
 " She is a charming creature, but she is too nervous for a 
 lady. I assure you she is not perfectly safe. Let me beg 
 you to have the saddles changed." 
 
 " My dear cousin," said Lady Anne, laughing, " pray 
 do not trouble about me. I have been a horsewoman ever 
 since I was a baby, and have followed the hounds a great 
 many times, though I know you do not approve of ladies 
 hunting. Still, that is the fact, and I intend to try this 
 Lizzie that you gentlemen are so fond of, so please help 
 me to mount." 
 
 There was no more to be said. He placed her carefully 
 on the saddle, gave the reins to her, and then mounted me. 
 Just as we were moving off, a footman came out with a 
 slip of paper and a message from Lady Harriet, "Would 
 they ask this question for her at Dr. Ashley's, and bring 
 the answer ? " 
 
The village was a mile away, and the doctor's house 
 was the last in it. We went along gayly enough till we 
 came to his gate. A short drive led up to the house, 
 between tall evergreens. Blantyre alighted at the gate, 
 and was going to open it for Lady Anne, but she said, " I 
 will wait for you here, and you can hang Black Beauty's 
 rein on the gate." 
 
 He looked at her doubtfully. " I will not be five 
 minutes," he said. 
 
 " Oh, do not hurry. Lizzie and I will not run away 
 from you." 
 
 He hung my rein on one of the iron spikes, and was 
 soon hidden among the trees. Lizzie was standing quietly 
 by the side of the road, a few paces off, with her back to 
 me. My young mistress was sitting easily, with a loose 
 rein, humming a little song. I listened to my rider's 
 footsteps until he reached the house, and heard liim 
 knock at the door. 
 
 There was a meadow on the opposite side of the road, 
 the gate of which stood open. As I looked, some cart 
 horses and several young colts came trotting out in a very 
 disorderly manner, while a boy behind was cracking a 
 great whip. The colts were wild and frolicsome. One of 
 them bolted across the road and blundered up against 
 Lizzie. Whether it was the stupid colt or the loud 
 cracking of the whip, or both together, I cannot say, 
 but she gave a violent kick and dashed off into a headlong 
 
-« 91 S«- 
 
 gallop. It was so sudden that Lady Anne was nearly 
 unseated, but she soon recovered herself. 
 
 I gave a long, shrill neigh for help. Again and again 
 I neighed, pawing the ground impatiently, and tossing 
 my head to get the rein loose. I had not long to wait. 
 Blantyre came running to the gate. He looked anxiously 
 about, and just caught sight of the flying figure now far 
 away on the road. In an instant he sprang to the saddle. 
 I needed no whip, no spur, for I was as eager as ray rider. 
 He saw it ; and giving me a free rein, and leaning a little 
 forward, we dashed after them. 
 
 For about a mile and a half the road ran straight, then 
 bent to the right; after this it divided into two roads. 
 Long before we came to the bend my mistress was out 
 of sight. Which way had she turned? A woman was 
 standing at her garden gate, shading her eyes with her 
 hand, and looking eagerly up the road. Scarcely drawing 
 rein, Lord Blantyre shouted, " Which way ? " "To the 
 right ! " cried the woman, pointing with her hand, and 
 away we went up the right-hand road. For a moment we 
 caught sight of Lady Anne ; another bend, and she was 
 hidden again. Several times we caught glimpses of the 
 flying rider, only to lose her again. We scarcely seemed 
 to gain ground upon her at all. 
 
 An old road-mender was standing near a heap of 
 stones, his shovel dropped and his hands raised. As we 
 came near he made a sign to speak. Lord Blantyre drew 
 
-« 92 6«- 
 
 the rein a little. " To the common, to the common, sir ! 
 She has turned off there." 
 
 I knew this common very well. It was, for the most 
 part, very uneven ground, covered with heather and dark- 
 green bushes, with here and there a scrubby thorn tree. 
 There were also open spaces of fine, short grass, with ant- 
 hills and mole-turns everywhere — the worst place I ever 
 knew for a headlong gallop. 
 
 We had just turned on to the common, when we 
 caught sight again of the green habit flying on before 
 us. My mistress's hat w^as gone, and her long brown hair 
 was streaming behind her. Her head and body were 
 tlirowm back, as if she were pulling with all her remain- 
 ing strength, and as if that strength were nearly ex- 
 hausted. It was clear that the roughness of the ground 
 had very much lessened Lizzie's speed, and there seemed 
 a chance that we might overtake her. 
 
 While we were on the highroad. Lord Blantyre had 
 given me my head ; .but now, with a light hand and a 
 practised eye, he guided me over the ground in such 
 a masterly manner that my pace was scarcely slackened, 
 and we gained on them every moment. 
 
 About halfway across the common a wide dike had 
 recently been cut and the earth from the cutting cast up 
 roughly on the other side. Surely this would stop them ! 
 But no ; scarcely pausing, Lizzie took the leap, stumbled 
 among the rough clods, and fell. 
 
-« 93 e«- 
 
 Lord Blantyre groaned, " Now, Black Beauty, do 
 your best ! " He gave me a steady rein. I gathered my- 
 self together, and with one determined leap cleared both 
 dike and bank. 
 
 Motionless among the heather lay my poor young 
 mistress. Lord Blantyre kneeled down and called her 
 name ; there was no sound. Gently he turned her face 
 upward ; it was ghastly white and the eyes were closed. 
 
 "Anne, Anne, do speak!" There was no answer. 
 Then he stood up and looked wildly round him for help. 
 At no great distance there were two men cutting turf, 
 who, seeing Lizzie running wild without a rider, had left 
 their work to catch her. 
 
 Lord Blantyre' s call soon brought them to the spot. 
 The foremost man seemed much troubled at the sight and 
 asked what he could do. 
 
 '^Canyon ride?" 
 
 " Well, sir, I am not much of a horseman, but I'd risk 
 my neck for Lady Anne ; she was very kind to my wife 
 this winter." 
 
 " Then mount this horse, my friend, — your neck will 
 be quite safe, — and ride to the Doctor's and ask him to 
 come instantly ; then on to the Hall ; tell them all you 
 know, and bid them send me the carriage with Lady 
 Anne's maid. I shall stay here." 
 
 " All right, sir, I'll do my best ; and I hope the dear 
 young lady may open her eyes soon." 
 
-« 94 S«- 
 
 Then seeing the other man he called out, " Here, Joe, 
 run for some water." 
 
 He then somehow scrambled into the saddle, and with 
 a " gee up " and a clap on my sides with both his legs, he 
 started on his journey, making a little circuit to avoid the 
 dike. He had no whip, which seemed to trouble him ; 
 but my pace soon cured that difficulty, and he found the 
 best thing he could do was to stick to the saddle and hold 
 me in, which he did manfully. I shook him as little as I 
 could help, but once or twice on the rough ground he 
 called out, " Steady ! Whoa ! Steady ! " On the highroad 
 we were all right ; and at the Doctor's and the Hall he 
 did his errand like a good man and true. They asked 
 him to rest a minute. " No, no, " he said ; " I'll be back 
 to them again by a short cut through the fields, and be 
 there before the carriage." 
 
 There was a great deal of hurry and excitement after 
 the news became known. I was just turned into my box ; 
 the saddle and bridle were taken off, and a cloth thrown 
 over me. 
 
 Ginger was saddled and sent off in great haste for 
 Lord George, and I soon heard the carriage roll out of the 
 yard. 
 
 It seemed a long time before Ginger came back, and 
 before we were left alone ; then she told me all that she 
 had seen. 
 
 " I can't tell much," she said. " We galloped nearly 
 
^ 95 6«- 
 
 all the way, and got there just as the Doctor rode up. 
 There was a woman sitting on the ground with the lady's 
 head in her lap. The Doctor poured something into her 
 mouth, but all that I heard was, ' She is not dead.' Then 
 I was led off by a man to a little distance. After a while 
 she was taken to the carriage, and we came home 
 together. I heard my master say to a gentleman who 
 stopped him to inquire, that he hoped no bones were 
 broken, but that she had not spoken yet." 
 
 Two days after the accident. Lord Blantyre paid me a 
 visit ; he patted me and praised me very much ; he told 
 Lord George that he was sure I knew of Lady Anne's 
 danger as well as he did. " I could not have held him in 
 if I would," said he. " Lady Anne ought never to ride 
 any other horse." 
 
 I found by their conversation that my young mistress 
 was now out of danger, and would soon be able to ride 
 again. This was good news to me, and I looked forward 
 
 to a happy life. —Anna Sewell. 
 
 Flower in the crannied wall, 
 
 I pluck you out of the crannies. 
 
 Hold you here, root and all, in my hand 
 
 Little flower — but if I could understand 
 
 What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
 
 I should know what God and man is. 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
-« 96 S«- 
 
 DON QUIXOTE AND THE LION^ 
 
 league^ 
 
 mien 
 
 scabbard 
 
 experience 
 
 absorbed 
 
 temerity 
 
 invisible 
 
 compulsion 
 
 stirrup 
 
 demeanor 
 
 accountable 
 
 intrepidity 
 
 perceive 
 
 arrogant 
 
 fortitude 
 
 apparition 
 
 compact 
 
 enterprise 
 
 Rocinante 
 
 lamentations 
 
 Absorbed in his thoughts, Don Quixote had not pro- 
 ceeded more than half a league from the river when, rais- 
 ing his head, he perceived a cart covered v^ith royal flags 
 coming along the road they were travelling, and per- 
 suaded that this must be some new adventure, he called 
 aloud to Sancho to bring him his helmet. 
 
 As Sancho approached, Don Quixote exclaimed to him, 
 '' Give me that helmet, my friend, for either I know little 
 of adventures or what I observe yonder is one that will, 
 and does, call on me to arm myself." 
 
 Sancho, on hearing this, looked in all directions, but 
 could perceive nothing, except a cart coming toward them 
 with two or three small flags, which led him to conclude 
 it must be carrying treasure of the king's, and he said so 
 to Don Quixote. 
 
 He, however, would not believe Sancho, being always 
 persuaded and convinced that all that happened to himself 
 
 1 See note on page 260. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-59 97 S«- 
 
 must be adventures and still more adventures, so he 
 replied, " He who is prepared has his battle half fought ; 
 nothing is lost by my preparing myself, for I know by 
 experience that I have enemies, visible and invisible, and 
 I know not when, or where, or at what moment, or in 
 what shapes, they will attack me." 
 
 Don Quixote put on his helmet, and settling himself 
 firmly in his stirrups, easing his sword in the scabbard, 
 and grasping his lance, cried out, " Now, come who will, 
 here am I, ready to try conclusions with any one." 
 
 By this time th-e cart with the flags had come up, un- 
 attended by any one except the carter on a mule, and a 
 man sitting before the door of the cart. Don Quixote 
 planted himself before it, and said: "Whither are you 
 going, brothers? What cart is this? What have you 
 got in it ? What flags are those ? '.' 
 
 To this the carter replied, " The cart is mine; what is 
 in it is a pair of fine caged lions, which the governor of 
 Oran is sending to court as a present to his Majesty, and 
 the flags are our lord the king's, to show that this is his 
 property." 
 
 " Are the lions large?" asked Don Quixote. 
 
 " So large," replied the man who sat at the door of 
 the cart, " that larger have never crossed from Africa to 
 Spain. I am the keeper, and I have brought over others, 
 but never any like these. They are hungry now, for they 
 have eaten nothing to-day, so let your worship stand aside, 
 
-« 98 S«- 
 
 for we must make haste to the place where we are to feed 
 them." 
 
 Hereon, smiling slightly, Don Quixote exclaimed, " Get 
 down, my good fellow, and as you are the keeper, open the 
 cages and turn me out those beasts, and in the midst of 
 this plain I will let them know who Don Quixote of La 
 Mancha is, in spite and in the teeth of the enchanters 
 who sent them to me." 
 
 At this instant Sancho came up, saying to the keeper 
 of the lions, " Senor, do something to keep my master 
 Don Quixote, from tackling those lions; for if he does, 
 they'll tear us all to pieces here." 
 
 " Sancho," said Don Quixote, " you leave this business 
 to me," and then turning to the keeper he exclaimed : — 
 
 " By all that's good. Sir Keeper, if you don't open the 
 cages this very instant, I'll pin you to the cart with this 
 lance." 
 
 The carter, seeing the determination of this apparition 
 in armor, said to him, "Please your worship, let me un- 
 yoke the mules, and place myself in safety along with 
 them before the lions are turned out, for if they kill the 
 mules, I am ruined for life. All I possess is this cart and 
 mules." 
 
 "0 man of little faith," replied Don Quixote, "get 
 down and unyoke ; you will soon see that you are exert- 
 ing yourself for nothing, and that you might have spared 
 yourself the trouble." 
 
-^ 99 e«- 
 
 The carter got down, and with all speed unyoked the 
 mules, and the keeper called out at the top of his voice, 
 " I call all here to witness that against my will and under 
 compulsion I open the cages and let the lions loose, and 
 that I warn this gentleman that he will be accountable 
 for all the harm and mischief which these beasts may do, 
 and for my salary and dues as well." Then speaking to 
 the carter and Sancho he said, " You, gentlemen, place 
 yourselves in safety before I open, for I know they will 
 do me no harm." 
 
 Sancho, with tears in his eyes, entreated his master 
 to give up an enterprise compared with which all the 
 feats he had attempted in the whole course of his life 
 were cakes and fancy bread. " Look ye, senor," said 
 Sancho, " there's no enchantment here, not anything of 
 the sort, for betw^een the bars and chinks of the cage I 
 have seen the paw of a real lion, and judging by that 
 I reckon that such a paw could belong to a lion much 
 bigger than a mountain." 
 
 " Fear, at any rate," replied Don Quixote, " will make 
 him look bigger to thee than half the world. Retire, 
 Sancho, and leave me, and if I die here thou knowest our 
 old compact : thou w^ilt repair to Dulcinea. I say no more." 
 And renewing his commands to the keeper, and repeating 
 his threats, he gave warning to Sancho to spur his Dapple, 
 and the carter to drive his mules, and both strove to get 
 away from the cart before the lions broke loose. 
 
^ 100 8<- 
 
 Sancho was weeping over his master's death, for this 
 time he firmly believed it was in store for him from the 
 claws of the lions ; but with all his tears and lamentations 
 he did not forget to thrash Dapple so as to put a good 
 space between himself and the cart. 
 
 The keeper once more entreated and warned Don 
 Quixote as he had entreated and warned him before ; but 
 he replied that he heard him, and that he need not trouble 
 himself with any further warnings or entreaties, as they 
 would be fruitless, and bade him make haste. 
 
 During the delay that occurred while the keeper was 
 opening the cage, Don Quixote was considering whether 
 it would not be well to do battle on foot instead of on 
 horseback, and finally resolved to fight on foot, fearing 
 that Rocinante might take fright at the sight of the 
 lions ; he therefore sprang off his horse, flung his lance 
 aside, braced his buckler on his arm, and drawing his 
 sword, advanced slowly with marvellous intrepidity and 
 resolute courage, to plant himself in front of the cart, 
 commending himself with all his heart, first to God and 
 then to his lady Dulcinea. 
 
 The keeper, seeing that Don Quixote had taken up his 
 position, and that it was impossible for him to avoid let- 
 ting out the lions without incurring the enmity of the 
 fiery and daring knight, flung open the doors of the cage, 
 containing, as has been said, the lion, which was now seen 
 to be of enormous size, and grim and hideous mien. 
 
^ 101 e«- 
 
 DON QUIXOTE ENCOUNTERS THE LION 
 
-^ 102 8<- 
 
 The first thing the lion did was to turn round in the 
 cage in which he lay, and protrude his claws and stretch 
 himself thoroughly; he next opened his mouth and 
 yawned very leisurely ; having done this he put his head 
 out of the cage and looked all round with eyes like 
 glowing coals, a spectacle and demeanor to strike terror 
 into temerity itself. Don Quixote merely observed him 
 steadily, longing for him to leap from the cart and come 
 to close quarters with him, w^hen he hoped to hew him to 
 pieces. 
 
 So far did his unparalleled madness go ; but the noble 
 lion, more courteous than arrogant, not troubling himself 
 about silly bravado, after having looked all around, as has 
 been said, turned about and very coolly and tranquilly lay 
 down again in the cage. Seeing this, Don Quixote ordered 
 the keeper to take a stick to him and provoke him to make 
 him come out. 
 
 " That I will not," said the keeper ; " for if I anger 
 him, the first he'll tear in pieces will be myself. Be satis- 
 fied, Sir Knight, with what you have done, which leaves 
 nothing more to be said on the score of courage, and do 
 not seek to tempt fortune a second time. The lion has 
 the door open ; he is free to come out or not to come out ; 
 but as he has not come out so far, he will not come out to- 
 day. The greatness of your worship's courage has been 
 fully manifested already; no brave champion, so it strikes 
 me, is bound to do more than challenge his enemy and 
 
-^ 103 S«- 
 
 wait for him on the field ; if his adversary does not come, 
 on him lies the disgrace, and he who waits for him carries 
 off the crown of victory." 
 
 " That is true," said Don Quixote ; " close the door, 
 my friend, and let me have, in the best form thou canst, 
 what thou hast seen me do, by way of certificate ; to wit, 
 that thou didst open the door of the lion's cage, that I 
 waited for him, and that he did not come out. I am not 
 bound to do more ; enchantments avaunt, and God uphold 
 the right, the truth, and true chivalry ! Close the door, 
 as I bade thee, while I make signals to the fugitives that 
 have left us, that they may learn this exploit from thy 
 lips." 
 
 The keeper obeyed, and Don Quixote, fixing his kerchief 
 on the point of his lance, proceeded to recall the others, 
 who still continued to fly, looking back at every step. 
 Sancho, however, happening to observe the signal, ex- 
 claimed, " May I die if my master has not overcome the 
 wild beasts, for he is calling to us." 
 
 They stopped, and perceived that it was Don Quixote 
 who was making signals, and shaking off their fears to 
 some extent, they approached slowly until they were near 
 enough to hear distinctly Don Quixote's voice calling to 
 them. They returned at length to the cart, and as they 
 came up, Don Quixote said to the carter, " Put your mules 
 to the cart once more, brother, and continue your journey ; 
 and do thou, Sancho, give him two gold crowns for him- 
 
■^ 104 9«- 
 
 self and the keeper, to compensate for the delay they have 
 incurred through me." 
 
 " That will I give with all my heart," said Sancho ; 
 " but what has become of the lions ? Are they dead or 
 alive ? " 
 
 The keeper then in full detail, and bit by bit, described 
 the end of the contest, exalting to the best of his power 
 and ability the valor of Don Quixote, at the sight of whom 
 the lion quailed, and would not and dared not come out of 
 the cage, although he had held the door open ever so long ; 
 and showing how^, in consequence of his having represented 
 to the knight that it was tempting God to provoke the 
 lion in order to force him out, which he wished to have 
 done, he very reluctantly, and altogether against his will, 
 had allowed the door to be closed. 
 
 " What dost thou think of this, Sancho ? " said Don 
 Quixote. " Are there any enchantments that can prevail 
 against true valor? The enchanters may be able to rob 
 me of good fortune, but of fortitude and courage they 
 cannot." 
 
 Sancho paid the crowns, the keeper kissed Don Quixote's 
 hands for the bounty bestowed on him, and promised to 
 give an account of the valiant exploit to the king himself, 
 as soon as he saw him at court. The cart went its way, 
 and Don Quixote and Sancho went theirs. 
 
 — Miguel dk Cervantes. 
 
■^ 105 8«- 
 
 DON QUIXOTE, KNIGHT-ERRANT 
 
 reals ^ 
 
 draught 
 
 virtuous 
 
 imminent 
 
 rabble 
 
 fortress 
 
 destined 
 
 transform 
 
 ruffian 
 
 valorous 
 
 immured 
 
 vanquished 
 
 frustrate 
 
 scoundrel 
 
 distinction 
 
 contemplated 
 
 Don Quixote pursued his journey with satisfaction and 
 complacency, fancying himself the most valorous knight- 
 errant in the world because of his late victory. He, how- 
 ever, met with no further adventure that day, and at the 
 approach of evening he returned to spend the night in the 
 grove where he had vanquished the Knight of the Mirrors. 
 Don Quixote settled himself at the foot of an elm and 
 Sancho at the foot of a beech, for trees of this kind and 
 others like them have feet but no hands. With the 
 appearance of daylight they pursued their journey, and 
 they had not been long on the way when they came to 
 the banks of a river. The sight of it was a great delight 
 to Don Quixote as he contemplated the clearness of its 
 stream, the gentleness of its current, and the abundance 
 of its crystal waters. 
 
 The Don and his squire had just begun to follow down 
 the stream when they discovered a small boat, without 
 oars or any other gear, that lay at the water's edge, tied 
 to the trunk of a tree growing on the bank. Don Quixote 
 
 1 See note on page 260. 
 
 2 j'intj the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 106 8«- 
 
 looked all round, and seeing nobody, at once dismounted 
 from Rocinante and bade Sancho get down from Dapple 
 and tie both beasts securely to the trunk of a poplar or 
 willow that stood near by. Sancho asked him the reason 
 of this sudden dismounting and tying. 
 
 Don Quixote made answer : " Thou must know, 
 Sancho, that this bark here is plainly calling and invit- 
 ing me to enter it, and in it to go to give aid to some 
 knight or other person of distinction in need of it, who is 
 no doubt in some sore strait ; for that is the way of the 
 books of chivalry and of the enchanters who figure and 
 speak in them. When a knight is involved in some diffi- 
 culty from which he cannot. be delivered save from the 
 liand of another knight, though they may be at a distance 
 of two or three thousand leagues one from the other, 
 they either take him up on a cloud, or they provide a 
 bark for him to get into, and in less than a twinkling 
 of an eye they carry him where they will and where his 
 help is required ; and so, Sancho, this bark is placed here 
 for the same purpose ; tie Dapple and Rocinante together 
 and let us proceed." 
 
 " As that's the case," said Sancho, " there's nothing 
 for it but to obey; but for all that I must warn your 
 worship that in my opinion this bark is no enchanted 
 one, but belongs to some of the fishermen of the river." 
 
 As Sancho said this he tied the beasts, leaving them 
 to the care and protection of the enchanters. 
 
-^ 107 8^ 
 
 " Now they are tied," said Sancho, " what are we to 
 do next ? " 
 
 " What ? " said Don Quixote, " weigh anchor ; I mean 
 embark and cut the moorings by which the bark is held ; " 
 and jumping into it, followed by Sancho, he cut the rope, 
 and the bark began to drift slowly from the bank. 
 
 When Sancho saw himself about two yards out in the 
 river, he began to tremble and give himself up for lost ; 
 but nothing distressed him more than hearing Dapple 
 bray and seeing Rocinante struggling to get loose, and 
 said he to his master : " Dapple is braying in grief at 
 our leaving him, and Rocinante is trying to escape and 
 plunge in after us. dear friends, peace be with you, 
 and may this madness that is taking us away from you 
 turn into sober sense and bring us back to you." 
 
 They now came in sight of some water-mills, and the 
 instant Don Quixote saw them he cried out to Sancho : 
 " Seest thou there, my friend ? There stands the city, 
 castle, or fortress, where there is, no doubt, some knight 
 or ill-used queen in aid of whom I am brought hither." 
 
 " What is your worship talking about, senor ? " said 
 Sancho ; " don't you see that those are mills to grind 
 corn ? " 
 
 " Hold thy peace, Sancho," said Don Quixote ; " though 
 they look like mills they are not so ; I have already told 
 thee that enchantments transform things and change their 
 proper shapes." 
 
-^ 108 3«- 
 
 By this time the boat, having reached the middle of 
 the stream, began to move less slowly. The millers, 
 when they saw the boat coming down the river, and on 
 the point of being sucked in by the draft of the wheels, 
 ran out in haste, several of them with long poles to stop 
 it. They raised loud shouts, crying, " Are you mad ? Dp 
 you want to drown yourselves, or dash yourselves to pieces 
 among these wheels ? " 
 
 " Did I not tell thee, Sancho," said Don Quixote at 
 this, " that we had reached the place where I am to show 
 what the might of my arm can do? See what ruffians 
 and villains come out against me ; see what monsters 
 oppose me ; see what hideous countenances • come to 
 frighten me ! You shall see, scoundrels ! " 
 
 Then standing up in the boat he began in a loud voice 
 to hurl threats at the millers, exclaiming, " Ill-conditioned 
 and worse-counselled rabble, restore to liberty and freedom 
 the person ye hold imprisoned in this your fortress, for I 
 am Don Quixote of La Mancha, for whom it is reserved 
 to give a happy issue to this adventure." 
 
 So saying he drew his sword and began making passes 
 in the air at the millers, who, hearing him but not under- 
 standing his nonsense, strove to stop the boat, which 
 was now getting into the rushing channel of the wheels. 
 Sancho fell on his knees, devoutly appealing to Heaven to 
 deliver him from such imminent peril, which it did by 
 the activity and quickness of the millers, who, pushing 
 
^ 109 B«- 
 
 against the boat with their poles, stopped it; not, how- 
 ever, without upsetting it and throwing Don Quixote and 
 Sancho into the water. 
 
 Lucky it was for Don Quixote that he could swim like 
 a goose, though the weight of his armor carried him twice 
 to the bottom. The millers plunged in and hoisted them 
 both out, and more drenched than thirsty, they were 
 landed. The fishermen, the owners of the boat, which 
 the mill-wheels had dashed to pieces, now came up, and 
 seeing it smashed they proceeded to demand payment for 
 it from Don Quixote ; but he with great calmness told the 
 millers and fishermen that he would pay for the bark most 
 cheerfully, on condition that they delivered up to him, free 
 and unhurt, the person or persons that were imprisoned in 
 that castle of theirs. 
 
 "What persons or what castle art thou talking of, 
 madman ? " said one of the millers ; " art thou for carry- 
 ing off the people who come to grind corn in these mills ?" 
 
 " That's enough," said Don Quixote to himself ; " it 
 would be preaching in the desert to attempt by entreaties 
 to induce this rabble to do any virtuous action. In this 
 adventure two mighty enchanters must have encountered 
 one another, and one frustrates what the other attempts. 
 One provided the bark for me, and the other upset me. 
 I can do no more." And then turning toward the mills 
 he said aloud, " Friends, whoever ye be that are immured 
 in that prison, forgive me that I cannot deliver you 
 
^ 110 3<- 
 
 from your misery; this adventure is doubtless reserved 
 and destined for some other knight." 
 
 So saying he settled with the fishermen, and paid fifty 
 reals for the boat, which Sancho handed to them very 
 much against his will, saying, " With a couple more bark 
 businesses like this we shall have sunk our whole capital." 
 
 The fishermen and the millers stood staring in amaze- 
 ment at the two figures, so very different to all appearance 
 from ordinary men, and were wholly unable to make out 
 the drift of the observations and questions Don Quixote 
 addressed to them ; and coming to the conclusion that they 
 were madmen, they left them and betook themselves, the 
 millers to their mills, and the fishermen to their huts. 
 Don Quixote and Sancho returned to their beasts, and 
 this was the end of the adventure of the enchanted bark. 
 
 — Miguel de Cervantes. 
 
 THE OWL 
 
 In the hollow tree in the gray old tower. 
 
 The spectral owl doth dwell ; 
 Dull, hated, despised in the sunshine hour, 
 
 But at dusk, — he's abroad and well : 
 Not a bird of the forest e'er mates with him ; 
 
 All mock him outright by day ; 
 But at night, when the woods grow still and dim, 
 
 The boldest will shrink away ; 
 
^ 111 8«- 
 
 0, when the night falls, and roosts the fowl, 
 Then, then is the reign of the horned owl ! 
 
 And the owl hath a bride who is fond and bold, 
 
 And loveth the wood's deep gloom ; 
 And with eyes like the shine of the moonshine cold 
 
 She awaiteth her ghastly groom ! 
 Not a feather she moves, not a carol she sings, 
 
 As she waits in her tree so still ; 
 But when her heart heareth his flapping wings. 
 
 She hoots out her welcome shrill ! 
 
 0, when the moon shines, and the dogs do howl, 
 Then, then is the cry of the horned owl ! 
 
 Mourn not for the owl nor his gloomy plight ! 
 
 The owl hath his share of good ; 
 If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight. 
 
 He is lord in the dark green wood ! 
 Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate ; 
 
 They are each unto each a pride — 
 Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate 
 
 Hath rent them from all beside ! 
 
 So when the night falls, and dogs do howl, 
 Sing, Ho ! for the reign of the horned owl ! 
 We know not alway who are kings by day. 
 
 But the king of the night is the bold brown owl. 
 
 — Babry Cornwall. 
 

 -^ 112 ^ 
 
 
 ' 
 
 ANSELMO 1 
 
 
 convey ^ 
 
 haggard 
 
 desperate 
 
 dungeon 
 
 beseech 
 
 daunted 
 
 captivity 
 
 populated 
 
 recesses 
 
 solitary 
 
 conclusion 
 
 reconciled 
 
 domino 
 
 carnival 
 
 diligently 
 
 triumphant 
 
 desolate 
 
 advancing 
 
 frequently 
 
 proclaimed 
 
 There was once a young Italian noble, whose elder 
 brother loved him much ; he had moreover saved his life, 
 and had reconciled him to his father, who had become 
 greatly offended with him. 
 
 As might be expected, the youth returned this affec- 
 tion, and after the death of the father these brothers 
 lived together, the younger obeying the elder, and behav- 
 ing to him in all respects like a son. 
 
 Once, on a certain day, however, a long separation 
 came between them ; for the elder went out in the morning 
 as usual, but he never returned again to his house. His 
 young brother was first surprised, then alarmed. He 
 proclaimed his loss, he searched the country, caused the 
 waters to be searched, and sought in all the recesses of 
 that old Italian city ; but it was of no avail ; his brother 
 was gone, and none could tell him whither. 
 
 Anselrao heard nothing from his brother for more 
 than six months. Then, one night, as he was knocking at 
 
 1 See note on page 261. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 113 Sk- 
 ills own door for admittance, a figure in a domino came 
 up to him and put a note into his hand, at the same time 
 whispering his brother's name. It was during the time of 
 the carnival, when it is so much the custom for people to 
 wear disguises that such things excite no surprise. An- 
 selmo would have seized the stranger by the hand, but he 
 quickly disappeared in the crowd ; and full of wonder and 
 anxiety, the young man read the letter which had been 
 thrust into his hand. 
 
 " Anselmo, I live ! I am well ! I beseech thee, as thou 
 lovest me, fail not to do for me what I shall require. Go 
 thou every night down the lane that leads along the south 
 wall of the palace ; ten paces from the last window thou 
 shalt find a narrow slit in the wall ; bring with thee a dark 
 lantern, and into that slit do thou place it, turning the 
 light inward, that thou may not be discovered. Thou 
 shalt be at the place every night at twelve, and thou 
 shalt stay until the clock striketh one. So do, and one 
 night I will meet thee there. Thy loving brother prays 
 thee not to fail." 
 
 That very night Anselmo went out, unattended, in 
 hopes of meeting his brother. He carried a lantern, and 
 proceeded to the unfrequented lane pointed out in the 
 letter. It was a desolate place, in a thinly populated 
 quarter of the city. By the faint light of the moon he 
 counted the windows, and found the slit in the wall, 
 which was deep, and fenced on the river side with an iron 
 
^ 114 8«- 
 
 grating. Into this slit he placed his lantern, and then 
 began to look about him and consider why his brother 
 should have chosen such a place for their meeting. 
 
 Not far off ran the river ; and he did not doubt that 
 by water his brother would come, for it was evident that 
 he feared to show himself in the streets of the city. 
 Anselmo started once or twice during his solitary watch, 
 for he thought he distinguished the splash of an oar, and 
 then an advancing footstep ; but he was mistaken. His 
 brother did not come to meet him that night, nor the 
 next, nor the one after ; and when he had come to await 
 him every night for a fortnight, he began to get sick at 
 heart. 
 
 And yet there was no way but this ; he was to watch 
 until his brother came. It was his only chance of seeing 
 him ; and he went on without once failing for eleven 
 months and twenty days. 
 
 In order that he might do this more secretly, he fre- 
 quently changed his lodgings ; for, as the time wore on, 
 he began to fear that his brother might have enemies, 
 and he felt that. the greatest caution was required, lest 
 his constant visits to that quarter of the city might lead 
 to suspicion. 
 
 A strange piece of blind obedience, and of trust in 
 his brother this seemed, even to himself. What appeared 
 to him the strangest part of the letter was the entreaty 
 that he would always bring a lantern. '' As if there 
 
-^ 115 B^ 
 
 could be any fear," he thought, " of my not recognizing 
 his step, or as if it could be likely that more men than 
 one could be standing by that solitary corner." But An- 
 selmo watched on, though hope became faint, even in his 
 strong and patient heart. 
 
 The clock struck one. "Eleven months," said he, 
 " and one-and-twenty days ! I will watch for thee the 
 year out." He put his hand into the slit in the wall and 
 withdrew his lantern ; it was dying in the socket. 
 " What," said he, " is the light also weary of watching ? " 
 
 He turned, and as he did so a heavy stone near his feet 
 was raised from beneath, and up from under the earth 
 came his brother. 
 
 "Thy cloak — quick! Cover me with it," he whis- 
 pered. " Hide my prison garments." 
 
 "Thy prison garments!" repeated Anselmo faintly; 
 for he was startled and amazed. 
 
 His brother took the cloak and wrapped himself in it. 
 It was not so dark but that Anselmo could see that his 
 feet were bare and his face haggard. He took the lantern 
 and threw it down, beckoning toward the river. " Let 
 it lie," he said to his young brother. 
 
 " I am sorry the light has gone out just when it is 
 wanted," said Anselmo ; for he was still amazed, and 
 scarcely knew what he was talking about. 
 
 " Eleven months and twenty-one days hath it served 
 me well," his brother replied; "nothing else, whether 
 
-»8 116 8«- 
 
 alive or dead, saving thyself only, will serve me so well 
 again." 
 
 What a strange thing this was to hear; but the walls 
 of the old Italian city echoed the sound so softly that 
 none awoke to listen, and the two figures, gliding under 
 the deep shadow of the houses, passed away, and were 
 seen there no more. 
 
 By morning dawn a vessel left the harbor, and two 
 brothers stood upon the deck, bidding farewell to their 
 native country. One was young, the other had a w^an 
 face, and hands hardened by labor ; but the prison dress 
 was gone, and both were clad in the usual costume of 
 their rank and order. 
 
 " And now that we are safe and together," said An- 
 selmo, " I pray thee tell me thy story. Why didst thou 
 keep me waiting so long, and where didst thou rise from 
 at last ? " 
 
 " That 1 can tell thee at all is thy doing," answered 
 his brother, "because thou didst never fail to bring me 
 the lantern." 
 
 And then, while the gray Italian shores grew faint in 
 the sunny distance, and all hearts began to turn toward 
 the new world, whither the vessel was bound, Anselmo's 
 brother descended into the cabin, and there told him, with 
 many expressions of affection, the story of his imprison- 
 ment and escape. 
 
 On the night wlien he disappeared he was surrounded 
 
-^ 117 ^ 
 
 by a number of his enemies, but after making a desperate 
 defence, he was overpowered and thrown into prison. In 
 a dreadful dungeon he lay until his wounds were healed, 
 and then, for some reason unknown to himself, he was 
 given into the keeping of his worst enemy. By this 
 enemy he was taken to the palace and confined in a 
 dungeon, that, as he said, '^ nothing it seemed could 
 have broken through, unless his teeth had been strong 
 enough to eat through the wall." 
 
 Almost every hour in the day his enemy came and 
 looked at him through a hole in the door, his food was 
 given him by means of this same hole ; and when he com- 
 plained of the want of bedding, they gave him, also by 
 means of the small opening, a thin mattress and two 
 coarse rugs to cover him. 
 
 This dungeon contained nothing but one large chest, 
 placed against the wall and half filled with heavy stones. 
 In the daytime light came through the little slit in the 
 wall ; but in daylight he could do nothing, for his enemy's 
 eyes were frequently upon him. From twelve o'clock till 
 three in the night were the only hours when all his jailers 
 slept ; and then it was dark, and he could do nothing but 
 feel the strength and thickness of the wall. A hopeless 
 task, indeed, to break it down with one poor pair of 
 hands ! 
 
 But, after months of misery and despair, one of the 
 jailers took pity on him, and asked him whether there 
 
-^ 118 B«- 
 
 was anything he could do to help him to endure his cap- 
 tivity better. "Yes," said the poor prisoner; "I have 
 been a studious man, and if I could now read, it would 
 help me to forget my misery. I dare not read in the 
 daytime, for my enemy would not allow me to have such 
 a solace ; but in the night, if I could have a light in the 
 slit, I could read while my enemy sleeps." 
 
 The jailer was frightened, and told him not to think 
 of it ; yet, when he looked at the height of the slit and 
 its small size, and heard the words which were to con- 
 vey this request for a light, and knew that they told 
 nothing as to where Anselmo's brother was, he consented 
 to convey them, first getting a promise that he would 
 never attempt to speak to his brother, even if he should 
 find it possible. 
 
 Whether this jailer felt certain that he never could 
 escape, whether he was partly willing to aid in his escape, 
 or whether he pitied him, and thought no harm could 
 come of the light, is not known ; certain it is that he 
 searched the dungeon diligently every night, and ex- 
 amined the iron protections of the slit. It was far above 
 the prisoner's head, and when the jailer found that all 
 was safe, he appeared satisfied ; yet the work of breaking 
 through the wall began the first night of the lantern, and 
 never ceased until it came to a triumphant conclusion. 
 
 The great chest, as has been said, was half full of 
 heavy stones. As soon as the light enabled him to act 
 
^ 119 B^ 
 
 with certainty and perfect quiet, he laid his mattress and 
 rugs beside it, opened its lid, took every stone out in turn, 
 and placed it on the mattress. Then, exerting all his 
 strength, he lifted the chest away, and began to under- 
 mine the stones behind it and under it. 
 
 With wonderful skill and caution he went gradually 
 on ; but it took twenty minutes of labor to empty the 
 chest, and twenty minutes to fill it, with equal quiet. 
 There remained, therefore, only twenty minutes in which 
 to perform the rest of his labor. 
 
 But for the light, he would have been obliged to 
 handle the stones with less certainty, and, of course, the 
 least noise would have caused all to be discovered. How 
 little could be done each night becomes evident when it 
 is remembered that the stone and rubbish which he dis- 
 placed had to be put back again, and the chest returned 
 to the same position before the light was withdrawn. 
 
 For nine months he made little progress, and for the 
 next two months the difficulty of disposing of the rubbish 
 daunted him ; but the last night such a quantity of earth 
 caved in that he resolved to make a daring effort to escape. 
 He crept through the hole, and shielding his head with one 
 arm, pushed upward with the other. More and more earth 
 fell, and at last, nearly suffocated, he applied all his strength 
 to the flat stone that it had left bare, pushed it up, an^ 
 escaped to life and freedom. 
 
 — Jean Ingelow. 
 
-^ 120 8«- 
 
 THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 
 
 " Build me straight, worthy master ! 
 
 Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel, 
 That shall laugh at all disaster, 
 
 And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! " 
 
 The merchant's word, 
 
 Delighted, the Master heard ; 
 
 For his heart was in his work, and the heart 
 
 Giveth grace unto every Art. 
 
 A quiet smile played round his lips, 
 
 As the eddies and dimples of the tide 
 
 Play round the bows of ships, 
 
 That steadily at anchor ride. 
 
 And with a voice that was full of glee, 
 
 He answered, " Ere long we will launch 
 
 A vessel as goodly and strong and stanch, 
 
 As ever weathered a wintry sea ! " 
 
 And first with nicest skill and art, 
 
 Perfect and finished in every part, 
 
 A little model the Master wrought, 
 
 Which should be to the larger plan 
 
 What the child is to the man, 
 
 Its counterpart in miniature : 
 
 That with a hand more swift 'and sure 
 
 The greater labor might be brought 
 
-^ 121 8<- 
 
 To answer to his inward thought. 
 
 And as he labored, his mind ran o'er 
 
 The various ships that were built of yore, 
 
 And above them all, and strangest of all 
 
 Towered the Great Harry, crank and tall. 
 
 Whose picture was hanging on the wall. 
 
 With bows and stern raised high in air. 
 
 And balconies hanging here and there, 
 
 And signal lanterns and flags afloat. 
 
 And eight round towers, like those that frown 
 
 From some old castle, looking down 
 
 Upon the drawbridge and the moat. 
 
 And he said with a smile, " Our ship, I wis, 
 
 Shall be of another form than this ! " 
 
 It was of another form, indeed ; 
 
 Built for freight, and yet for speed, 
 
 A beautiful and gallant craft ; 
 
 Broad in the beam, that the stress of the blast, 
 
 Pressing down upon sail and mast, 
 
 Might not the sharp bows overwhelm ; 
 
 Broad in the beam, but sloping aft 
 
 With graceful curve and slow degrees. 
 
 That she might be docile, to the helm. 
 
 And that the currents of parted seas. 
 
 Closing behind, with mighty force. 
 
 Might aid and not impede her course. 
 
-^ 122 Q^ 
 
 In the shipyard stood the Master, 
 With the model of the vessel, 
 
 That should laugh at all disaster. 
 
 And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! 
 
 Covering many a rood of ground, 
 
 Lay the timber piled around ; 
 
 Timber of chestnut and elm and oak. 
 
 And scattered here and there, with these. 
 
 The knarred and crooked cedar knees ; 
 
 Brought from regions far away. 
 
 From Pascagoula's sunny bay. 
 
 And the banks of the roaring Roanoke ! 
 
 Ah ! what a wondrous thing it is 
 
 To note how many wheels of toil 
 
 One thought, one word, can set in motion ! 
 
 There's not a ship that sails the ocean, 
 
 But every climate, every soil. 
 
 Must bring its tribute, great or small, 
 
 And help to build the wooden wall! 
 
 The sun was rising o'er the sea, 
 And long the level shadows lay, 
 As if they, too, the beams would be 
 Of some great, airy argosy, 
 Framed and launched in a single day. 
 That silent architect, the sun, 
 Had hewn and laid them every one, 
 
^ 123 8«- 
 
 Ere the work of man was yet begun. 
 Beside the Master, when he spoke, 
 A youth, against an anchor leaning, 
 Listened, to catch his shghtest meaning. 
 Only the long waves, as they broke 
 In ripples on the pebbly beach. 
 Interrupted the old man's speech. 
 
 Beautiful they were, in sooth, 
 
 The old man and the fiery youth ! 
 
 The old man, in whose busy brain 
 
 Many a ship that sailed the main 
 
 Was modelled o'er and o'er again ; — 
 
 The fiery youth, who was to be 
 
 The heir of his dexterity, 
 
 The heir of his house, and his daughter's hand, 
 
 When he had built and launched from land 
 
 What the elder head had planned. 
 
 " Thus," said he, " will we build this ship ! 
 Lay square the blocks upon the slip. 
 And follow well this plan of mine. 
 Choose the timbers with greatest care ; 
 Of all that is unsound beware ; 
 For only what is sound and strong 
 To this vessel shall belong. 
 Cedar of Maine and Georgia pine 
 
-^ 124 d^ 
 
 Here together shall combine. 
 
 A goodly frame, and a goodly fame, 
 
 And the Union be her name ! 
 
 For the day that gives her to the sea 
 
 Shall give my daughter unto thee ! " 
 
 The Master's word 
 
 Enraptured the young man heard ; 
 
 And as he turned his face aside, 
 
 With a look of joy and a thrill of pride, 
 
 Standing before 
 
 Her father's door, 
 
 He saw the form of his promised bride. 
 
 The sun shone on her golden hair. 
 
 And her cheek was glowing fresh and fair, 
 
 With the breath of morn and the soft sea air. 
 
 Like a beauteous barge was she. 
 
 Still at rest on the sandy beach, 
 
 Just beyond the billow's reach ; 
 
 But he 
 
 Was the restless, seething, stormy sea ! 
 
 Ah, how skilful grows the hand 
 That obeyeth Love's command ! 
 It is the heart, and not the brain, 
 That to the highest doth attain. 
 And he who followeth Love's behest 
 Far excelleth all the rest ! 
 
-^8 125 S«- 
 
 Thus with the rising of the sun 
 
 Was the noble task begun, 
 
 And soon throughout the shipyard's bounds 
 
 Were heard the intermingled sounds 
 
 Of axes and of mallets, plied 
 
 With vigorous arms on every side ; 
 
 Plied so deftly and so well, 
 
 That, e'er the shadows of evening fell, 
 
 The keel of oak for a noble ship, 
 
 Scarfed and bolted, straight and strong, 
 
 Was lying ready, and stretched along 
 
 The blocks, well placed upon the slip. 
 
 Happy, thrice happy, every one 
 
 Who sees his labor well begun. 
 
 And not perplexed and multiplied, 
 
 By idly waiting for time and tide ! 
 
 And when the hot, long day was o'er, 
 The young man at the Master's door 
 Sat with the maiden calm and still. 
 And within the porch, a little more 
 Kemoved beyond the evening chill, 
 The father sat, and told them tales 
 Of wrecks in the great September gales, 
 Of pirates coasting the Spanish Main, 
 And ships that never came back again, 
 The chance and change of a sailor's life, 
 
-^ 126 8«- 
 
 Want and plenty, rest and strife, 
 
 His roving fancy, like the wind. 
 
 That nothing can stay and nothing can bind. 
 
 And the magic charm of foreign lands, 
 
 With shadows of palms, and shining sands. 
 
 Where the tumbling surf. 
 
 O'er the coral reefs of Madagascar, 
 
 Washes the feet of the swarthy Lascar, 
 
 As he lies alone and asleep on the turf. 
 
 And the trembling maiden held her breath 
 
 At the tales of that awful, pitiless sea. 
 
 With all its terror and mystery. 
 
 The dim, dark sea, so like unto Death, 
 
 That divides and yet unites mankind ! 
 
 And whenever the old man paused, a gleam 
 
 From the bowl of his pipe would awhile illume 
 
 The silent group in the twilight gloom, 
 
 And thoughtful faces, as in a dream. 
 
 Day by day the vessel grew, 
 With timbers fashioned strong and true, 
 Stemson and keelson and sternson-knee. 
 Till, framed with perfect symmetry, 
 A skeleton ship rose up to view ! 
 And around the bows and along the side 
 The heavy hammers and mallets plied. 
 Till after many a week, at length. 
 
-5g 127 8«- 
 
 Wonderful for form and strength, 
 
 Sublime in its enormous bulk, 
 
 Loomed aloft the shadowy hulk ! 
 
 And around it columns of smoke, upwreathing, 
 
 Kose from the boiling, bubbling, seething 
 
 Caldron, that glowed, 
 
 And overflowed 
 
 With the black tar, heated for the sheathing. 
 
 And amid the clamors 
 
 Of clattering hammers. 
 
 He who listened heard now and then 
 
 The song of the Master and his men : — 
 
 " Build me straight, worthy Master, 
 Stanch and strong, a goodly vessel. 
 
 That shall laugh at all disaster. 
 
 And with wave and whirlwind wrestle ! " 
 
 With oaken brace and copper band. 
 
 Lay the rudder on the sand. 
 
 That, like a thought, should have control 
 
 Over the movement of the whole ; 
 
 And near it the anchor, whose giant hand 
 
 Would reach down and grapple with the land, 
 
 And immovable and fast. 
 
 Hold the great ship against the bellowing blast. 
 
 And at the bows an image stood. 
 
-^ 128 B<- 
 
 By a cunning artist carved in wood, 
 
 With robes of white, that far behind 
 
 Seemed to be fluttering in the wind. 
 
 It was not shaped in a classic mould. 
 
 Not like a Nymph or Goddess of old. 
 
 Or Naiad rising from the water, 
 
 But modelled from the Master's daughter ! 
 
 On many a dreary and misty night, 
 
 'Twill be seen by the rays of the signal light. 
 
 Speeding along through the rain and the dark, 
 
 Like a ghost in its snow-white sark, 
 
 The pilot of some phantom bark. 
 
 Guiding the vessel, in its flight, 
 
 By a path none other knows aright ! 
 
 Behold, at last, 
 
 Each tall and tapering mast 
 
 Is swung into its place ; 
 
 Shrouds and stays 
 
 Holding it firm and fast ! 
 
 Long ago, 
 
 In the deer-haunted forests of Maine, 
 
 When upon mountain and plain 
 
 Lay the snow, 
 
 They fell, — those lordly pines ! 
 
 Those grand, majestic pines ! 
 
 'Mid shouts and cheers 
 
-« 129 ^ 
 
 The jaded steers, 
 
 Panting beneath the goad, 
 
 Dragged down the weary, winding road 
 
 Those captive kings so straight and tall, 
 
 To be shorn of their streaming hair. 
 
 And, naked and bare, 
 
 To feel the stress and the strain 
 
 Of the wind and the reeling main. 
 
 Whose roar 
 
 Would remind them forevermore 
 
 Of their native forest they should not see again. 
 
 And everywhere 
 
 The slender, graceful spars 
 
 Poise aloft in the air. 
 
 And at the masthead, 
 
 White, blue, and red, 
 
 A flag unrolls the stripes and stars. 
 
 Ah ! when the wanderer, lonely, friendless, 
 
 In foreign harbors shall behold 
 
 That flag unrolled, 
 
 'Twill be as a friendly hand 
 
 Stretched out from his native land. 
 
 Filling his heart with memories sweet and endless. 
 
 All is finished ! and at length 
 Has come the bridal day 
 
-« 130 8«- 
 
 Of beauty and of strength. 
 
 To-day the vessel shall be launched ! 
 
 With fleecy clouds the sky is blanched, 
 
 And o'er the bay, 
 
 Slowly, in all his splendors dight. 
 
 The great sun rises to behold the sight. 
 
 The ocean old, 
 
 Centuries old. 
 
 Strong as youth, and as uncontrolled. 
 
 Paces restless to and fro, 
 
 Up and down the sands of gold. 
 
 His beating heart is not at rest ; 
 
 And far and wide, 
 
 With ceaseless flow. 
 
 His beard of snow 
 
 Heaves with the heaving of his breast. 
 
 He waits impatient for his bride. 
 
 There she stands. 
 
 With her foot upon the sands. 
 
 Decked with flags and streamers gay, 
 
 In honor of her marriage day, 
 
 Her snow-white signals fluttering, blending. 
 
 Round her like a veil descending. 
 
 Ready to be 
 
 The bride of the gray old sea. 
 
 On the deck another bride 
 
-^ 131 ^ 
 
 THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP 
 
-^ 132 8«- 
 
 Is standing by her lover's side. 
 Shadows from the flags and shrouds, 
 Like the shadows cast by clouds, 
 Broken by many a sunny fleck, 
 Fall around them on the deck. 
 
 The prayer is said. 
 
 The service read. 
 
 The joyous bridegroom bows his head ; 
 
 And in tears the good old Master 
 
 Shakes the brown hand of his son. 
 
 Kisses his daughter's glowing cheek 
 
 In silence, for he cannot speak. 
 
 And ever faster 
 
 Down his own the tears began to run. 
 
 The worthy pastor — 
 
 The shepherd of that wandering flock, 
 
 That has the ocean for its wold. 
 
 That has the vessel for its fold. 
 
 Leaping ever from rock to rock — 
 
 Spake, with accents mild and clear. 
 
 Words of warning, words of cheer, 
 
 But tedious to the bridegroom's ear. 
 
 "Like unto ships far off at sea, 
 Outward or homeward bound are we. 
 Before, behind, and all around. 
 Floats and swings the horizon's bound. 
 
-^ 133 ^ 
 
 Seems at its distant rim to rise 
 
 And climb the crystal wall of the skies. 
 
 And then again to turn and sink, 
 
 As if we could slide from its outer brink. 
 
 Ah ! it is not the sea, 
 
 It is not the sea that sinks and shelves, 
 
 But ourselves 
 
 That rock and rise 
 
 With endless and uneasy motion, 
 
 Now touching the very skies. 
 
 Now sinking into the depths of ocean. 
 
 Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing 
 
 Like the compass in its brazen ring, 
 
 Ever level and ever true 
 
 To the toil and the task we have to do, 
 
 We shall sail securely, and safely reach 
 
 The Fortunate Isles, on whose shining beach 
 
 The sights we see, and the sounds we hear. 
 
 Will be those of joy, and not of fear ! " 
 
 Then the Master, 
 
 With a gesture of command, 
 
 Waved his hand ; 
 
 And at the word, 
 
 Loud and sudden there was heard. 
 
 All around them and below. 
 
 The sound of hammers, blow on blow, 
 
-^ 134 6«- 
 
 Knocking away the shores and spurs. 
 
 And see ! she stirs ! 
 
 She starts, — she moves, — she seems to feel 
 
 The thrill of life along her keel, 
 
 And, spurning with her foot the ground, 
 
 With one exulting, joyous bound, 
 
 She leaps into the ocean's arms ! 
 
 And lo ! from the assembled crowd 
 
 There rose a shout, prolonged and loud. 
 
 That to the ocean seemed to say, 
 
 " Take her, bridegroom, old and gray. 
 
 Take her to thy protecting arms. 
 
 With all her youth and all her charms ! " 
 
 How beautiful she is ! How fair 
 
 She lies within those arms, that press 
 
 Her form with many a soft caress 
 
 Of tenderness and watchful care ! 
 
 Sail forth into the sea, ship ! 
 
 Through wind and wave right onward steer. 
 
 The moistened eye, the trembling lip, 
 
 Are not the signs of doubt or fear. 
 
 Sail forth into the sea of life, 
 gentle, loving, trusting wife ! 
 And safe from all adversity 
 Upon the bosom of that sea 
 Thy comings and thy goings be ! 
 
^ 135 S«- 
 
 For gentleness and love and trust 
 Prevail o'er angry wave and gust; 
 And in the wreck of noble lives 
 Something immortal still survives. 
 
 Thou, too, sail on, Ship of State ! 
 
 Sail on, Union, strong and great ! 
 
 Humanity, with all its fears, 
 
 With all the hopes of future years, 
 
 Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 
 
 We know what Master laid thy keel. 
 
 What Workman wrought thy ribs of steel, 
 
 Who made each mast and sail and rope, 
 
 What anvils rang, what hammers beat. 
 
 In what a forge and what a heat 
 
 Were shaped the anchors of thy hope ! 
 
 Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 
 
 'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 
 
 'Tis but the flapping of the sail. 
 
 And not a rent made by the gale ! 
 
 In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 
 
 In spite of false lights on the shore. 
 
 Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee. 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 
 
 Our faith triumphant o'er our fears, 
 
 Are all with thee, — are all with thee ! 
 
 — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 
 
^ 136 3<- 
 
 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER i 
 
 Part I 
 
 Baucis ^ 
 
 amends 
 
 Philemon 
 
 benign 
 
 yonder 
 
 aspect 
 
 clambered 
 
 foretold 
 
 distaff 
 
 extremity 
 
 hospitality 
 
 perceived 
 
 frugal 
 
 gratitude 
 
 confused 
 
 meandered 
 
 pitiable 
 
 reflected 
 
 disdaining 
 
 beneficently 
 
 One evening, in times long ago, old Philemon and his 
 wife Baucis sat at their cottage door, enjoying the calm 
 and beautiful sunset. They had already eaten their 
 frugal supper, and intended now to spend a quiet hour 
 or two before bedtime. So they talked together about 
 their garden, and their cow, and their bees, and their 
 grapevine, which clambered over the cottage wall, and on 
 which the grapes were beginning to turn purple. 
 
 The rude shouts of the children, and the fierce barking 
 of dogs in the village near at hand, grew louder and 
 louder, until, at last, it was hardly possible for Baucis 
 and Philemon to hear each other speak. 
 
 ^' Ah, wife," cried Philemon, '^I fear some poor traveller 
 is seeking hospitality among our neighbors yonder, and, 
 instead of giving him food and lodging, they have set 
 their dogs at him, as their custom is." 
 
 1 See note on page 261. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-« 137 8<- 
 
 *' Well-a-day ! " answered Baucis, " I do wish our neigh- 
 bors felt a little more kindness for their fellow-creatures. 
 And only think of bringing up their children in this 
 naughty way, and patting them on the head when they 
 fling stones at strangers ! " 
 
 " Those children will never come to any good end," 
 said Philemon, shaking his white head. " To tell you the 
 truth, wife, I should not wonder if some terrible thing 
 were to happen to all the people in the village, unless 
 they mend their manners. But, as for you and me, as 
 long as Providence affords us a crust of bread, let us be 
 ready to give half to any poor, homeless stranger that 
 may come along and need it." 
 
 " That's right, husband," said Baucis. " So we 
 will ! " 
 
 These old folks, you must know, were quite poor, and 
 had to work hard for a living. Old Philemon toiled 
 diligently in his garden, while Baucis was always busy 
 with her distaff, or making a little butter and cheese 
 with their cow's milk, or doing one thing and another 
 about the cottage. Their food was seldom anything but 
 bread, milk, and vegetables, with sometimes a portion of 
 honey from their beehive, and now and then a bunch of 
 grapes that had ripened against the cottage wall. 
 
 They were two of the kindest old people in the world, 
 and would cheerfully have gone without their dinners, 
 any day, rather than refuse a slice of their brown loaf, 
 
-^ 138 3«- 
 
 a cup of new milk, and a spoonful of honey to the weary 
 traveller who might pause before their door. 
 
 Their cottage stood on a low hill, at some short dis- 
 tance from a village, which lay in a hollow valley that 
 was about half a mile in breadth. This valley, in past 
 ages, when the world was new, had probably been the 
 bed of a lake. There fishes had glided to and fro in 
 the depths, water-weeds had grown along the margin, 
 and trees and hills had seen their reflected images in the 
 broad and peaceful mirror. But, as the waters subsided, 
 men had cultivated the soil, and built houses on it, so 
 that it was now a fertile spot, and bore no traces of the 
 ancient lake, except a very small brook, which meandered 
 through the midst of the village, and supplied the inhabit- 
 ants with water. 
 
 The valley had been dry land so long that oaks had 
 sprung up, and grown great and high, and perished with 
 old age, and been succeeded by others, as tall and stately 
 as the first. Never was there a prettier or more fruitful 
 valley. The very sight of the plenty around them should 
 have made the inhabitants kind and gentle, and ready to 
 show their gratitude to Providence by doing good to their 
 fellow-creatures. 
 
 But, we are sorry to say, the people of this lovely 
 village were not worthy to dwell in a spot on which 
 Heaven had smiled so beneficently. They were a very 
 selfish and hard-hearted people, and had no pity for the 
 
-59 139 e^ 
 
 poor, nor sympathy with the homeless. They would only 
 have laughed, had anybody told them that human beings 
 owe a debt of love to one another, because there is no 
 other method of paying the debt of love and care which 
 all of us owe to Providence. 
 
 You will hardly believe what I am going to tell you. 
 These wicked people taught their children to be no 
 better than themselves, and used to clap their hands by 
 way of encouragement when they saw the little boys and 
 girls run after some poor stranger, shouting at his heels, 
 and pelting him with stones. They kept large and fierce 
 dogs, and whenever a traveller ventured to show himself 
 in the village street, this pack of disagreeable curs scam- 
 pered to meet him, barking, snarling, and showing their 
 teeth. Then they would seize him by his leg, or by his 
 clothes, just as it happened ; and if he were ragged when 
 he came, he was generally a pitiable object before he had 
 time to run away. This was a very terrible thing to 
 poor travellers, as you may suppose, especially when they 
 chanced to be sick, or feeble, or lame, or old. Such per- 
 sons (if they once knew how badly these unkind people, 
 and the unkind children and dogs, were in the habit of 
 behaving) would go miles and miles out of their w^ay, 
 rather than try to pass through the village again. 
 
 So now you can understand why Philemon spoke so 
 sorrowfully, when he heard the shouts of the children 
 and the barking of the dogs at the farther extremity of 
 
-^ 140 8<- 
 
 the village street. There was a confused din, which 
 lasted a good while, and seemed to pass quite through 
 the breadth of the valley. 
 
 " I never heard the dogs bark so loudly ! " observed 
 the good old man. 
 
 " Nor the children shout so rudely ! " answered his 
 good old wife. 
 
 They sat shaking their heads, one to another, w^hile 
 the noise came nearer and nearer, until, at the foot of 
 the little eminence on which their cottage stood, they 
 saw two travellers approaching on foot. Close behind 
 them came the fierce dogs, snarling at their very heels. 
 
 A little farther off ran a group of children, who sent 
 up shrill cries, and flung stones at the two strangers with 
 all their might. Once or twice the younger of the two 
 men (he was a slender and very active figure) turned 
 about and drove back the dogs with a staff, which he 
 carried in his hand. His companion, who was a very 
 tall person, walked calmly along, as if disdaining to 
 notice either the naughty children, or the pack of dogs, 
 whose manner the children seemed to imitate. 
 
 Both of the travellers were very humbly clad, and 
 looked as if they might not have money enough in their 
 pockets to pay for a night's lodging. And this, I am 
 afraid, was the reason why the villagers had allowed 
 their children and dogs to treat them so rudely. 
 
 "Come, wife," said Philemon to Baucis, "let us go 
 
■^ 141 8«- 
 
 and meet these people. No doubt they feel almost too 
 heavy-hearted to climb the hill." 
 
 ^^Go you and meet them/' answered Baucis, "while 
 I make haste within doors, and see whether we can get 
 them anything for supper. A comfortable bowl of bread 
 and milk would do wonders toward raising their spirits." 
 
 Accordingly, she hastened to the cottage. Philemon, 
 on his part, went forward, and extended his hand, saying 
 in the heartiest tone imaginable, " Welcome, strangers ! 
 welcome ! " 
 
 " Thank you," replied the younger of the two, in a 
 lively kind of a way, notwithstanding his weariness and 
 trouble. " This is quite another greeting than we have 
 met with yonder in the village. Pray, why do you live 
 in such a bad neighborhood?" 
 
 "Ah," observed old Philemon, with a quiet and be- 
 nign smile, " Providence put me here, I hope, among 
 other reasons, in order that I may make you what 
 amends I can for the inhospitality of my neighbors." 
 
 " Well said, old father ! " cried the traveller, laugh- 
 ing; "and, if the truth must be told, my companion 
 and myself need some amends. -Those children have 
 bespattered us finely with their mud-balls; and one of 
 the dogs has torn my cloak, which was ragged enough. 
 But I took him across the muzzle with my staff ; and I 
 think you may have heard him yelp, even thus far off." 
 
 Philemon was glad to see him in such good spirits ; 
 
-^ 142 »- 
 
 nor, indeed, would you have fancied, by the traveller's 
 look and manner, that he was weary with a long day's 
 journey, besides being disheartened by the rough treat- 
 ment at the end of it. He was dressed in rather an odd 
 way, with a sort of cap on his head, the brim of which 
 stuck out over both ears. 
 
 Though it was a summer evening, he wore a cloak, 
 which he kept wrapped closely about him. Philemon per- 
 ceived, too, that he had on a singular pair of shoes ; but he 
 could not precisely tell in what the strangeness consisted. 
 One thing, certainly, seemed queer. The traveller was so 
 wonderfully light and active, that it appeared as if his 
 feet sometimes rose from the ground of their own accord. 
 
 " I used to be light-footed, in my youth," said Phile- 
 mon to the traveller. " But I always find my feet grow 
 heavier toward nightfall." 
 
 " There is nothing like a good staff to help one along," 
 answered the stranger ; " and I happen to have an excel- 
 lent one, as you see." 
 
 This staff, in fact, was the oddest-looking staff that 
 Philemon had ever beheld ; it was made of olive-wood, and 
 had something like a little pair of wings near the top. 
 Two snakes, carved in wood, were represented as twining 
 themselves about the staff, and were so very skilfully 
 executed that old Philemon (whose eyes, you know, were 
 getting rather dim) almost thought them alive, and that 
 he could see them wriggling and twisting. 
 
-^ 143 B^ 
 
 "A curious piece of work, sure enough!" said he. 
 '^ A staff with wings ! It would be an excellent kind of 
 stick for a little boy to ride astride of ! " 
 
 Before he could ask any questions, the elder stranger 
 drew his attention from the wonderful staff by speaking 
 to him. 
 
 " Was there not," asked the stranger, in a remarkably 
 deep tone of voice, " a lake, in very ancient times, cover- 
 ing the spot where now stands yonder village ? " 
 
 " Not in my time, friend," answered Philemon ; " and 
 yet I am an old man, as you see. There were always the 
 fields and meadows, just as they are now, and the trees, 
 and the stream murmuring through the midst of the val- 
 ley. My father, and his father before him, never saw it 
 otherwise, so far as I know ; and doubtless it will still be 
 the same when I shall be gone and forgotten ! " 
 
 " That is more than can be safely foretold," observed 
 the stranger; and there was something very stern in his 
 deep voice. He shook his head, too, so that his dark and 
 heavy curls were shaken with the movement. " Since 
 the inhabitants of yonder village have forgotten the affec- 
 tions and sympathies of their nature, it were better that 
 the lake should be rippling over their dwellings again ! " 
 
 The traveller looked so stern that Philemon was 
 frightened ; the more so, that, at his frown, the twilight 
 seemed to grow darker, and when he shook his head, there 
 was a roll as of thunder in the air. 
 

 
 ^ 144 8«- 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 Part II 
 
 
 nimble ^ 
 
 familiar 
 
 ambrosia 
 
 executed 
 
 gravity 
 
 cascade 
 
 sociability 
 
 countenance 
 
 morsel 
 
 represent 
 
 apologies 
 
 palatable 
 
 draft 
 
 kneading 
 
 exceedingly 
 
 transparent 
 
 herbage 
 
 miraculous 
 
 abundant 
 
 diminishing 
 
 While Baucis was getting the supper, the travellers 
 both began to talk very sociably with Philemon. The 
 younger, indeed, made so many witty remarks, that the 
 good old man continually burst out a-laughing, and pro- 
 nounced him the merriest fellow whom he had seen for 
 many a day. 
 
 " Pray, my young friend," said he, as they grew 
 familiar together, " what may I call your name ? " 
 
 " Why, I am very nimble, as you see," answered the 
 traveller. " So, if you call me Quicksilver, the name will 
 fit tolerably well." 
 
 '^ Quicksilver ? Quicksilver ? " repeated Philemon, look- 
 ing in the traveller's face, to see if he were making fun 
 of him. " It is a very odd name ! And your companion 
 there ? Has he as strange a one ? " 
 
 " You must ask the thunder to tell it you ; " replied 
 Quicksilver, putting on a mysterious look. "No other 
 voice is loud enough." 
 
 Then Philemon told the strangers about the events of 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 145 °^ 
 
 his past life, in the whole course of which he had never 
 been a score of miles from this very spot. His wife 
 Baucis and himself had dwelt in the cottage from their 
 youth upwards, earning their bread by honest labor, 
 always poor, but still contented. He said, too, that 
 because they loved one another so very much, it was the 
 wish of both that death might not separate them, but 
 that they should die, as they had lived, together. 
 
 As the stranger listened, a smile beamed over his 
 countenance, and made its expression as sweet as it was 
 grand. 
 
 " You are a good old man," said he to Philemon, " and 
 you have a good wife to be your helpmeet. It is fit that 
 your wish should be granted." 
 
 And it seemed to Philemon just then, as if the sunset 
 clouds threw up a bright flash from the west and kindled 
 a sudden light in the sky. 
 
 Baucis had now got supper ready and, coming to the 
 door, began to make apologies for the poor fare which she 
 was forced to set before her guests. 
 
 " Had we known you were coming," said she, " my 
 good man and myself would have gone without a morsel, 
 rather than you should lack a better supper. But I took 
 the most part of to-day's milk to make cheese ; and our 
 last loaf is already half eaten. Ah me ! I never feel the 
 sorrow of being poor, save when a poor traveller knocks 
 at our door." 
 
-^ 146 ^ 
 
 " All will be very well ; do not trouble yourself, my 
 good dame," replied the elder stranger, kindly. "An 
 honest, hearty welcome to a guest works miracles with 
 the fare, and is capable of turning the coarsest food to 
 nectar and ambrosia." 
 
 "A welcome you shall have," cried Baucis, "and 
 likewise a little honey that we happen to have left, 
 and a bunch of purple grapes besides." 
 
 " Why, Mother Baucis, it is a feast ! " exclaimed 
 Quicksilver, laughing, "an absolute feast, and you shall 
 see how bravely I will play my part at it! I think I 
 never felt hungrier in my life," 
 
 " Mercy on us ! " whispered Baucis to her husband; " if 
 the young man has such a terrible appetite, I am afraid 
 there will not be half enough supper." 
 
 They all went into the cottage. 
 
 And now, my friends, shall I tell you something 
 that will make you open your eyes very wide ? It is 
 really one of the oddest circumstances in the whole story. 
 Quicksilver had set his staff up against the wall of the 
 cottage. Well, when its master entered the door, leaving 
 his staff behind, what should it do but immediately spread 
 its little wings, and go hopping and fluttering up the 
 doorsteps ! Tap, tap, went the staff on the kitchen floor, 
 nor did it rest until it had stood itself on end, with the 
 greatest gravity, beside Quicksilver s chair. Old Philemon, 
 however, as well as his wife, was so taken up in attending 
 
^ 147 d^ 
 
 to their guests that no notice was given to what the staff 
 had been about. 
 
 The supper was so exceedingly small that Baucis could 
 not help wishing that their appetites had not been quite 
 so large. Why, at their very first sitting down, the 
 travellers both drank off all the milk in their two bowls 
 at one draught. 
 
 "A little more milk, kind Mother Baucis, if you 
 please," said Quicksilver. " The day has been hot, and 
 I am very much athirst." 
 
 "Now, my dear people," said Baucis, in great confusion, 
 " I am so sorry and ashamed ; but the truth is there is 
 hardly a drop more milk in the pitcher. husband, 
 husband, why didn't we go without our supper ? " 
 
 "Why, it appears to me," cried Quicksilver, starting 
 up from the table and taking the pitcher by the handle, 
 " it really appears to me that matters are not quite so bad 
 as you represent them. Here is certainly more milk in 
 the pitcher." 
 
 So saying, and to the vast astonishment of Baucis, he 
 proceeded to fill, not only his own bowl, but his companion's 
 likewise, from the pitcher that was supposed to be almost 
 empty. The good woman could scarcely believe her eyes. 
 She had certainly poured out nearly all the milk, and had 
 peeped in afterward and seen the bottom of the pitcher 
 as she set it down upon the table. 
 
 "But I am old," thought Baucis to herself, "and apt 
 
-« 148 9«- 
 
 to be forgetful. I suppose I must have made a mistake. 
 At all events, the pitcher cannot help being empty now, 
 after filling the bowls twice over." 
 
 "What excellent milk," observed Quicksilver, after 
 quaffing the entire contents of the second bowl. " Excuse 
 me, my kind hostess, but I must really ask you for a little 
 more." 
 
 Now, Baucis had seen, as plainly as she could see 
 anything, that Quicksilver had turned the pitcher upside 
 down, and consequently had poured out every drop of 
 milk in filling the last bowl. Of course there could not 
 possibly be any left. 
 
 However, in order to let him know precisely how the 
 case was, she lifted the pitcher, and made a gesture as if 
 pouring milk into Quicksilver's bowl, but without the 
 remotest idea that any milk would stream forth. What 
 was her surprise, therefore, when such an abundant cascade 
 fell bubbling into the bowl that it was immediately filled 
 to the brim, and overflowed upon the table. 
 
 The two snakes that were twisted about Quicksilver's 
 staff (but neither Baucis nor Philemon happened to observe 
 this circumstance) stretched out their heads and began to 
 lap up the spilt milk. 
 
 And then what a delicious fragrance the milk had ! It 
 seemed as if Philemon's cow must have pastured that day 
 on the richest herbage that could be found anywhere in 
 the world. 
 
^ 149 9«- 
 
 THE MIRACULOUS PITCHER 
 
^ 150 S«- 
 
 "And now a slice of your brown loaf, Mother Baucis," 
 said Quicksilver, " and a little of that honey ! " 
 
 Baucis cut him a slice accordingly ; and though the 
 loaf, when she and her husband ate of it, had been rather 
 too dry and crusty to be palatable, it was now as light and 
 moist as if but a few hours out of the oven. Tasting a 
 crumb which had fallen on the table, she found it more 
 delicious than bread ever was before, and could hardly 
 believe that it was a loaf of her own kneading and baking. 
 Yet what other loaf could it possibly be ? 
 
 But, oh, the honey ! Its color was that of the purest 
 and most transparent gold ; and it had the odor of a 
 thousand flowers, but of such flowers as never grew in 
 an earthly garden, and to seek which the bees must have 
 flown high above the clouds. The wonder is, that, after 
 alighting on a flower-bed of such fragrance, they should 
 have been content to fly down again to their hive in 
 Philemon's garden. Never was such honey tasted, seen, 
 or smelled. The perfume floated around the kitchen, and 
 made it so delightful that, had you closed your eyes, you 
 would instantly have forgotten the low ceiling and smoky 
 walls, and have fancied yourself in an arbor with celestial 
 honeysuckle creeping over it. 
 
 Although good Mother Baucis was a simple old dame, 
 she could not but think that there was something rather out 
 of the common way in all that had been going on. So, 
 after helping the guests to bread and honey, and lay- 
 
-^ 151 B^ 
 
 ing a bunch of grapes by each of their plates, she sat down 
 by Philemon, and told him what she had seen, in a whisper. 
 
 " Did you ever hear the like ? " asked she. 
 
 " No, I never did," answered Philemon, with a smile. 
 "And I rather think, my dear wife, you have been walk- 
 ing about in a sort of dream. If I had poured out the 
 milk, I should have seen through the business at once. 
 There happened to be a little more in the pitcher than 
 you thought, — that is all." 
 
 " Ah, husband," said Baucis, " say what you will, these 
 are very uncommon people." 
 
 " Well, well," replied Philemon, still smiling, " perhaps 
 they are. They certainly do look as if they had seen bet- 
 ter days ; and I am heartily glad to see them making so 
 comfortable a supper." 
 
 Each of the guests had now taken his bunch of grapes 
 upon his plate. Baucis (who rubbed her eyes, in order to 
 see more clearly) was of the opinion that the clusters had 
 grown larger and richer, and that each grape seemed to 
 be on the point of bursting with ripe juice. It was a 
 mystery to her how such grapes could ever have grown 
 on the old stunted vine that climbed over the cottage 
 wall. 
 
 " Very admirable grapes, these ! " observed Quick- 
 silver, as he swallowed one after another without appar- 
 ently diminishing his cluster. "Pray, my good host, 
 whence did you gather them?" 
 
^ 152 B«- 
 
 " From my own vine," answered Philemon. " You 
 may see one of its branches twisting across the window 
 yonder. But wife and I never thought the grapes very 
 fine ones." 
 
 "I never tasted better," said the guest. "Another 
 cup of this delicious milk, if you please, and I shall then 
 have supped better than a prince." 
 
 This time old Philemon bestirred himself and took up 
 the pitcher ; for he was curious to discover whether there 
 was any reality in the marvel which Baucis had whis- 
 pered to him. On taking up the pitcher, therefore, he 
 slyly peeped into it, and was fully satisfied that it con- 
 tained not so much as a single drop. All at once, how- 
 ever, he beheld a little white fountain which gushed up 
 from the bottom of the pitcher, and speedily filled it to 
 the brim with foaming and deliciously fragrant milk. It 
 was lucky that Philemon, in his surprise, did not drop the 
 miraculous pitcher from his hand. 
 
 "Who are you, wonder-working strangers?" cried he, 
 even more bewildered than his wife had been. 
 
 " Your guests, my good Philemon, and your friends," 
 replied the elder traveller, in his mild, deep voice, that 
 had something at once sweet and awe-inspiring in it. 
 " Give me likewise a cup of milk ; and may your pitcher 
 never be empty for kind Baucis and yourself, any more 
 than for the needy wayfarers ! " 
 
^ 153 8«- 
 
 Part III 
 
 century ^ 
 portal 
 edifice 
 majestic 
 
 meagre 
 inspired 
 prosperity 
 tranquil 
 
 bewitched 
 entreated 
 persisted 
 venerable 
 
 perplexity 
 requested 
 vehemently 
 inexhaustible 
 
 The supper being now over, the strangers requested to 
 be shown to their place of repose. The old people would 
 gladly have talked with them a little longer, and have 
 expressed the wonder which they felt, and their delight 
 at finding the poor and meagre supper prove so much bet- 
 ter and more abundant than they hoped. But the elder 
 traveller had inspired them with such reverence that they 
 dared not ask him any questions. Philemon drew Quick- 
 silver aside and inquired how a fountain of milk could 
 have got into an old earthen pitcher, and this latter per- 
 sonage pointed to his staff. 
 
 " There is the whole mystery of the affair," quoth 
 Quicksilver; "and if you can make it out I'll thank you 
 to let me know. I can't tell what to make of my staff. 
 It is always playing such odd tricks as this ; sometimes 
 getting me a supper, and, quite as often, stealing it away. 
 If I had any faith in such nonsense, I should say that the 
 stick is bewitched." 
 
 He said no more, but looked so slyly in their faces that 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-« 154 ^ 
 
 they rather fancied he was laughing at them. The magic 
 staff went hopping at his heels as Quicksilver quitted the 
 room. When left alone the good old couple spent some 
 time in conversation about the events of the evening, and 
 then lay down on the floor and fell fast asleep. They had 
 given up their sleeping-room to the guests, and had no 
 other bed for themselves save these planks, which I wish 
 had been as soft as their own hearts. 
 
 The old man and his wife were stirring betimes in the 
 morning, and the strangers likewise arose with the sun, 
 and made their preparations to depart. Philemon hospi- 
 tably entreated them to remain a little longer, until Baucis 
 could milk the cow and bake a cake upon the hearth, and 
 perhaps find them a few fresh eggs for breakfast. The 
 guests, however, seemed to think it better to accomplish 
 a good part of their journey before the heat of the day 
 should come on. They therefore persisted in setting out 
 immediately, but asked Philemon and Baucis to walk forth 
 with them a short distance and show them the road which 
 they were to take. 
 
 "Ah me! well-a-day!" exclaimed Philemon, when they 
 had walked a little way from their door. **• If our neigh- 
 bors only knew what a blessed thing it is to show hospi- 
 tality to strangers, they would tie up all their dogs, and 
 never allow their children to fling another stone." 
 
 " It is a sin and a shame for them to behave so ! " cried 
 good old Baucis, vehemently. "And I mean to go this 
 
-«155 8€>- 
 very day, and tell some of them what wicked people they 
 
 are ! " 
 
 "I fear," remarked Quicksilver, slyly smiling, "that 
 you will find none of them at home." 
 
 " When men do not feel toward the humblest stranger 
 as if he were his brother," said the elder traveller, in tones 
 so deep that they sounded like those of an organ, " they 
 are unworthy to exist on earth, which was created as the 
 abode of a great human brotherhood ! " 
 
 " And, by the way, my dear friends," cried Quicksilver, 
 with the liveliest look of fun and mischief in his eyes, 
 " where is this same village that you talk about ? On 
 which side of us does it lie ? Methinks I do not see it 
 hereabouts." 
 
 Philemon and his wife turned toward the valley, 
 where at sunset, only the day before, they had seen the 
 meadows, the houses, the gardens, the clumps of trees, the 
 wide, green-margined street, the children playing in it, 
 and all the tokens of business, enjoyment, and prosperity. 
 
 But wliat was their astonishment ! There was no 
 longer any appearance of a village ! Even the fertile 
 valley in the hollow of which it lay had ceased to have 
 existence. In its stead they beheld the broad blue surface 
 of a lake which filled the great basin of the valley from 
 bi'im to brim, and reflected the surrounding hills in its 
 bosom, with as tranquil an image as if it had been there 
 ever since the creation of the world. Then a little breeze 
 
-^ 156 8«- 
 
 sprang up and caused the water to dance, glitter and 
 sparkle in the early sunbeams, and to dash with a pleasant 
 rippling noise against the shore. 
 
 The lake seemed so strangely familiar that the old 
 couple were greatly perplexed, and felt as if they could 
 only have been dreaming about a village having lain 
 there. But the next moment they remembered the van- 
 ished dwellings, and the faces and characters of the in- 
 habitants, far too distinctly for a dream. The village had 
 been there yesterday and now it was gone ! 
 
 " Alas ! " cried these kind-hearted old people, '' what 
 has become of our poor neighbors ? " 
 
 " They exist no longer as men and women," said the 
 eJder traveller, in his grand and deep voice, while a roll of 
 thunder seemed to echo it in the distance. ^' There was 
 neither use nor beauty in such a life as theirs. They re- 
 tained no image of the better life in their bosoms ; there- 
 fore the lake that was of old has spread itself forth again 
 to reflect the sky." 
 
 " As for you, good Philemon," continued the elder 
 traveller, — " and you, kind Baucis, — you, with your 
 scanty means, have mingled so much heartfelt hospitality 
 with your entertainment of the homeless stranger, that 
 the milk became an inexhaustible fount of nectar, and the 
 brown loaf and the honey were ambrosia. You have done 
 well, my dear old friends. Wherefore, request whatever 
 favor you have most at heart and it is granted." 
 
^ 157 Be- 
 
 Philemon and Baucis looked at one another, and then, 
 — I know not which of the two it was who spoke, but 
 that one uttered the desire of both their hearts. 
 
 " Let us live together while we live, and leave the 
 world at the same instant when we die ! " 
 
 "Be it so!" replied the stranger, with majestic kind- 
 ness. " Now look toward your cottage." 
 
 They did so. What was their surprise on beholding a 
 tall edifice of white marble, with a wide-open portal, on the 
 spot where their humble residence had stood. 
 
 " There is your home," said the stranger. " Exercise 
 your hospitality in yonder palace as freely as in the poor 
 hut to which you welcomed us last evening." 
 
 The old people fell on their knees to thank him ; but, 
 behold ! neither he nor Quicksilver were there. 
 
 So Philemon and Baucis took up their residence in the 
 marble palace, and spent their time in making everybody 
 happy and comfortable who happened to pass that way. 
 The milk pitcher retained its marvellous quality of being 
 never empty when it was desirable to have it full. 
 
 Thus the old couple lived in their palace a very great 
 while, and grew older and older, and very old indeed. At 
 length, however, there came a summer morning when 
 Philemon and Baucis failed to make their appearance, as 
 on other mornings, with one hospitable smile overspreading 
 both their faces, to invite the guests of over night to 
 breakfast. The guests searched everywhere in the spa- 
 
-^ 158 8«- 
 
 cious palace, but all to no purpose. After a great deal of 
 perplexity they espied in front of the portal two venerable 
 trees, which no one could remember to have seen there 
 the day before. Yet there they stood, with their roots 
 fastened deep into the soil, and a huge breadth of foliage 
 overshadowing the whole front of the edifice. 
 
 While the guests were marvelling how these trees that 
 must have required a century to grow could have come to 
 be so tall and venerable in a single night, a breeze sprang 
 up and set their boughs astir. Then there was a deep 
 murmur in the air, as if the two trees were speaking. 
 
 '' I am old Philemon ! " murmured one. 
 
 '^ I am old Baucis ! " murmured the other. 
 
 But as the breeze grew stronger, the trees both spoke 
 at once, — " Philemon ! Baucis ! Baucis ! Philemon ! " — 
 as if one were both and both were one, and talking to- 
 gether in the depths of their mutual heart. And oh, 
 what a hospitable shade did they fling around them. 
 Whenever a wayfarer paused beneath it, he heard a pleas- 
 ant whisper of the leaves above his head, and wondered 
 how the sound could so much resemble words like these : — 
 
 " Welcome, welcome, dear traveller, welcome ! " 
 
 Some kind soul, that knew what would have pleased 
 Baucis and Philemon best, built a circular bench round 
 both their trunks, where the weary and hungry and thirsty 
 could repose themselves and quaff milk abundantly out of 
 
 the miraculous pitcher. - Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
-^ 159 »- 
 
 OUR COUNTRY NEIGHBORS i 
 
 retreat ^ 
 
 occupant 
 
 permanent 
 
 reluctantly 
 
 surveyor 
 
 anaconda 
 
 serpentine 
 
 enchanted 
 
 mysterious 
 
 ravages 
 
 reflectively 
 
 conservatory 
 
 copperhead 
 
 nocturnal 
 
 transformed 
 
 occasionally 
 
 We have just built our house in an out-of-the-way place, 
 on the bank of a river, and under the shade of some trees 
 which are all that remain of an ancient forest. The 
 checkerberry and partridge-plum, with their glossy green 
 leaves and scarlet berries, still carpet the ground in the 
 deep shadows of the wood ; and the prince' s-pine and 
 other evergreens declare its native wildness, — for these 
 are the children of the wild woods, that never come after 
 plough and harrow have once broken the soil. 
 
 When we tried to find a spot for our house, we had to 
 get a surveyor to go before us and cut a path through the 
 dense underbrush that was laced together in a network of 
 boughs and leaves, and grew so high as to overtop our 
 heads. Where the house stands, four or five great oaks 
 and chestnuts had to be cut away to let it in ; and now it 
 stands on the bank of the river, the edges of which are 
 still overhung with old forest trees, chestnuts and oaks, 
 which look at themselves in the glassy stream. 
 
 1 See note on page 262. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-« 160 8«- 
 
 A little knoll near the house was chosen for a garden 
 spot ; a dense, dark mass of trees above, of bushes in mid- 
 air, and of all sorts of ferns and wild flowers and creeping 
 vines on the ground. All these had to be cleared out, 
 and a dozen great trees cut down and dragged away to a 
 neighboring sawmill, there to be transformed into boards 
 to finish our house. 
 
 Then, bringing a machine, such as might be used to 
 pull a giant's tooth, with ropes, pulleys, oxen and men, 
 and might and main, we pulled out the stumps, with 
 their great prongs and their network of roots and fibres; 
 and then, alas ! we had to begin with all the pretty, wild, 
 lovely bushes, and the checkerberries and ferns and wild 
 blackberry and huckleberry bushes, and dig them up 
 remorselessly, that we might plant our corn and squashes. 
 And so we found a house and garden in the heart of the 
 wild woods, about a mile from the city. 
 
 People said it was a lonely place, and far from neigh- 
 bors, — by which they meant that it was a long way for 
 them to come to see us. But we soon found that whoever 
 goes into the woods to live finds neighbors of a new kind, 
 and some to whom it is rather hard to become accustomed. 
 
 For instance, on a fine day early in April, as we were on 
 our way to superintend the building of our house, w^e were 
 startled by a striped snake who raised himself to look at us 
 with his little bright eyes, and put out his red forked 
 tongue. There is no more harm in these little garden 
 
-^ 161 9«- 
 
 snakes than there is in a robin or a squirrel ; they are 
 poor, peaceable, timid creatures, which could not do any 
 harm if they would. So we tried to turn out of our path 
 into a tangle of bushes; and there, instead of one, we 
 found four snakes. We turned to the other side and 
 there were two more. In short, everywhere we looked, 
 the dry leaves were rustling and coiling with them ; and 
 we were in despair. 
 
 In vain we said that they were harmless as kittens, 
 and tried to persuade ourselves that their bright eyes were 
 pretty, and that their serpentine movements were in the 
 exact line of beauty. We could not help remembering, 
 however, their family name and connections ; we thought 
 of those disagreeable gentlemen, the anacondas, the rattle- 
 snakes, and the copperheads. But our troubles in this 
 direction were soon over. The snakes had crawled out of 
 their holes to warm themselves in the bright spring sun, 
 and after a few days they were rare visitors, though now 
 and then one appeared. 
 
 Another of our wild woodland neighbors made us some 
 trouble. It was no other than a woodchuck, whose hole 
 we had often wondered at when we were scrambling 
 through the underbrush after the spring ploughing. The 
 hole was about the size of a peck measure, and had two 
 openings about six feet apart. The occupant was a 
 gentleman we never had the pleasure of seeing, but we 
 soon learned of his existence from his ravages in our 
 
■^ 162 8«- 
 
 garden. He had a taste, it appears, for the very things 
 we wished to eat ourselves, and helped himself without 
 asking. 
 
 We had a row of fine, crisp heads of lettuce, which 
 were the pride of our gardening, and out of which he 
 would from day to day select for his table just the plants 
 which we had marked for ours. He also nibbled our 
 young beans ; and so at last we were reluctantly obliged 
 to let John Gardiner set a trap for him. 
 
 Our house had a central court on the southern side, 
 into which looked the library, dining room, and front hall, 
 as well as several of the upper chambers. It was designed 
 to be closed in with glass, to serve as a conservatory in 
 winter ; and meanwhile we had filled it with splendid 
 plumy ferns, taken up out of the neighboring wood. In 
 the centre was a fountain surrounded by stones, shells, 
 mosses, and various water plants. We had bought three 
 little goldfishes to swim in the basin ; and the spray, as it 
 rose in the air and rippled back into the water, was the 
 pleasantest possible sound on a hot afternoon. 
 
 We used to lie on the sofa in the hall, and look into 
 the court and fancy that we saw some scene of fairy -land, 
 with water sprites coming up from the fountain. Sud- 
 denly a new-comer presented himself, — no other than an 
 immense frog, that had hopped up from the river, appar- 
 ently with a view of making a permanent settlement in 
 and about our fountain. He was to be seen, often for 
 
^ 163 ^ 
 
 hours, sitting reflectively on the edge of it, beneath the 
 broad shadow of the calla leaves. 
 
 We gave him the name of Unke, and declared that he 
 showed his good taste by coming to live in our conserva- 
 tory. We even defended his personal appearance, praised 
 the green coat which he wore on his back, his gray vest 
 and solemn gold spectacles. ^' Who knows, after all," we 
 said, " but that he is a beautiful young prince, enchanted 
 by some cruel witch, and obliged to live in the water until 
 the princess comes to drop a golden ball into the fountain, 
 and so give him his freedom and an opportunity to marry 
 her, after the manner of the German fairy tales ? " 
 
 Of other woodland neighbors there were some which 
 we saw occasionally. The shores of the river were lined, 
 here and there, with the homes of the muskrats. There 
 were also owls, whose nests were high up in some of the 
 old chestnut trees. Often in the lonely hours of the night 
 we could hear them gibbering, with a sort of wild, hollow 
 laugh, among the distant trees. 
 
 One tenant of the woods made us some trouble in the 
 autumn. It was a little flying-squirrel, who made excur- 
 sions into our house in the night, coming down the chim- 
 ney into the chambers, rustling about among the clothes, 
 cracking nuts or nibbling at morsels of anything that suited 
 his fancy. For a long time the inmates of the rooms 
 were awakened in the night by mysterious noises, thumps 
 and rappings, and so lighted candles, and searched in vain 
 
-« 164 S«- 
 
 to find whence they came ; for the moment any movement 
 was made, the rogue hurried up the chimney. 
 
 But one night the little fellow jumped in at the win- 
 dow of a room which had no fireplace ; and the occupant 
 shut the window, without suspecting that she had cut off 
 the retreat of any of her woodland neighbors. The next 
 morning she was startled by what she thought was a gray 
 rat running past her bed. She rose to pursue him, when 
 he ran up the wall, and clung against the plastering, 
 showing himself very plainly to be a gray flying-squirrel. 
 He was chased into the conservatory, where he flew out 
 of an open window and made away for his native woods, 
 thus putting an end to many fears as to the nature of the 
 nocturnal rappings. 
 
 The autumn months are now coming on (for it is Octo- 
 ber while I write), the flowers are dying night by night 
 as the frosts grow heavier, the squirrels are racing about, 
 full of business, getting in their winter's supply of nuts ; 
 everything now is active and busy among our country 
 neighbors. In a cottage about a quarter of a mile from 
 us, a whole family of squirrels have made the discovery 
 that a house is warmer in winter than the best hollow 
 tree, and so have gone into a chink between the walls, 
 where Mr. and Mrs. Squirrel can often be heard late at 
 night chattering about the arrangement of their household 
 goods fpr the coming season. 
 
 — Harribt Bekchkr Stowk. 
 
-« 165 8€- 
 
 ROBIN REDBREAST 
 
 Good-by, good-by to Summer ! 
 
 For Summer's nearly done ; 
 The garden smiling faintly, 
 
 Cool breezes in the sun ; 
 Our thrushes now are silent, 
 
 Our swallows flown away, — 
 But Robin's here with coat of brown, 
 
 And ruddy breast-knot gay. 
 Robin, Robin Redbreast, 
 
 Robin dear ! 
 Robin sings so sweetly 
 
 In the falling of the year. 
 
 Bright yellow, red and orange. 
 
 The leaves come down in hosts ; 
 The trees are Indian princes. 
 
 But soon they'll turn to ghosts ; 
 The scanty pears and apples 
 
 Hang russet on the bough ; 
 It's Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 
 
 'Twill soon be winter now. 
 Robin, Robin Redbreast, 
 
 Robin dear ! 
 And what will this poor Robin do ? 
 
 For pinching days are near. 
 
 — William Allinqham. 
 
-»S 166 8«- 
 
 THE FRINGED GENTIAN 
 
 Thou blossom bright with autumn dew, 
 And covered with the heaven's own blue, 
 That openest when the quiet light 
 Succeeds the keen and frosty night. 
 
 Thou comest not when violets lean 
 O'er wandering brooks and springs unseen, 
 Or columbines, in purple dressed. 
 Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden nest. 
 
 Thou waitest late, and com'st alone. 
 When woods are bare and birds are flown, 
 And frosts and shortening days portend 
 The aged year is near his end. 
 
 Then dost thy sweet and quiet eye 
 Look through its fringes to the sky, 
 Bhie, — blue — as if that sky let fall 
 A flower from its cerulean wall. 
 
 I would that thus, when I shall see 
 The hour of death draw near to me, 
 Hope, blossoming within my heart. 
 May look to heaven as I depart. 
 
 — Wll^LIAM CULLBN BRYANT. 
 
^ 167 Q^ 
 TOM BROWN AT RUGBY i 
 
 resent ^ 
 
 close 
 
 introduced 
 
 pursuit 
 
 matron 
 
 patronizing 
 
 assented 
 
 vigorous 
 
 astonishment 
 
 residence 
 
 creditably 
 
 notwithstanding 
 
 '^And so here's Rugby, sir, at last, and you'll be in 
 plenty of time for dinner at the school-house, as I told 
 you," said the guard, pulling his horn out of its case, and 
 tootle-tooing away, while the coachman shook up his 
 horses, and carried them along the side of the school 
 close, past the school gates, and down the street to the 
 Spread Eagle. 
 
 Tom's heart beat quickly as he passed the great school 
 field, or close, with its noble elms, in which several games 
 of football were going on, and tried to take in at once the 
 long line of gray buildings, beginning with the chapel and 
 ending with the residence of the head master, where the 
 great flag was lazily waving from the highest round 
 tower. And he began already to be proud of being a 
 Rugby boy, as he passed the school gates and saw the 
 boys standing there, looking as if the town belonged to 
 them, and nodding in a familiar manner to the coachman, 
 as if any one of them would be quite equal to getting on 
 the box and driving the horses as well as he. 
 
 1 See note on page 262. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
^ 168 8«- 
 
 One of the young heroes, however, ran out from the 
 rest, and scrambled up behind, where, having righted him- 
 self and nodded to the guard, he turned to Tom, and, 
 after looking him over for a minute, began, " I say, is 
 your name Brown ? " 
 
 " Yes," said Tom, in astonishment, glad however to 
 meet some one already who seemed to know him. 
 
 " Ah, I thought so ; you know my aunt, Miss East ; 
 she lives somewhere down your way in Berkshire. She 
 wrote to me that you were coming to-day, and asked me 
 to look out for you." 
 
 Tom was somewhat inclined to resent the patronizing 
 air of his new friend — a boy of just about his own height 
 and age ; but he could not help admiring and envying him, 
 especially when he began arranging with one of the porters, 
 whom he called Cooey, to carry Tom's luggage up to the 
 school-house for sixpence. 
 
 " And remember, Cooey, it must be there in ten min- 
 utes or no more w^ork from me. Come along. Brown." 
 And away goes the young lad, with his hands in his 
 pockets, and Tom at his side. 
 
 " All right, sir," said Cooey, touching his hat, with 
 a laugh and a wink at his companions. 
 
 East took delight in his character of guide. He led 
 Tom through the great gates, where there were now only 
 two or three boys. They asked him the questions that 
 were asked of all new boys — " What is your name ? 
 
^ 169 ^ 
 
 Where do you come from? How old are you? Where 
 do you board ? " and " What form are you in ? " — and so 
 they passed on through the yard and into the matron's 
 room, where Tom was introduced and told to leave the 
 key of his trunk. 
 
 Then East marched him off into the school yard again, 
 and began showing him the schools, and examining him 
 as to his previous lessons to see if they could be in the 
 same form and learn their lessons together. 
 
 '' And now come in and see my study ; we shall have 
 just time before dinner." 
 
 Tom followed his guide through the school-house hall, 
 which opens into the yard. It is a room thirty feet 
 long, with two tables running the whole length, and 
 two large fireplaces at the side. Several boys were stand- 
 ing before one of these fires, and they shouted to East to 
 stop ; but he hurried along with Tom, and landed him in 
 a long, dark passage with a fireplace at the end of it and 
 small rooms opening on each side. 
 
 Into one of these East pushed Tom, and then, jumping 
 in himself, he slammed and bolted the door behind them, 
 in case of pursuit from the hall. 
 
 Tom had not been prepared for separate rooms, and 
 was not a little astonished and delighted with the study 
 in question. It was certainly not very large, being about 
 six feet long by four broad, but it looked very comfort- 
 able, Tom thought. 
 
-^ 170 Q^ 
 
 The space under the window was occupied by a square 
 table covered with a red and blue checked table-cloth ; a 
 hard-seated sofa covered with red occupied one side, run- 
 ning up to the end, and making a seat for one, or, by 
 sitting close, for two, at the table ; and a stout wooden 
 chair a&rded a seat for another boy, so that three could 
 sit and work together. Over the door was a row of 
 hat pegs, and on each side book-cases with cupboards at 
 the bottom ; shelves and cupboards being filled with 
 school-books, a cup or two, a mouse-trap, brass candle- 
 sticks, leathern straps, a bag, and some curious articles, 
 which puzzled Tom until his friend explained that they 
 were climbing irons, and showed their use. A cricket bat 
 and small fishing rod stood in the corner. 
 
 This was the residence of East and another boy in the 
 same form, and had more interest for Tom than Windsor 
 Castle or any other residence in the British Isles. For 
 was he not about to become joint owner of a similar 
 home, the first place which he could call his own ? 
 
 ^' And I shall have a study like this ? " said Tom. 
 
 " Yes, of course, you'll be chummed with some fellow 
 on Monday, and you can sit here till then." 
 
 " What nice places." 
 
 ''They're well enough," answered East, "only very 
 cold at night sometimes. Gower — that's my chum — 
 and I make a fire with paper on the floor after supper 
 generally, only that makes it so smoky." 
 
-98 171 8«- 
 
 A quarter past one now struck, and the bell began 
 tolling for dinner, so they went into the hall and took 
 their places, Tom at the very bottom of the second table, 
 next to the tutor,^and East a few paces higher. And 
 now Tom for the first time saw his future school-fellows 
 in a body. In they came, some hot and ruddy from 
 football or long walks, some pale and chilly from hard 
 reading in their studies. A large man, whom Tom took 
 for a master, began calling over the names, while the 
 meat was being rapidly carved on a third table in the 
 corner. 
 
 Tom's turn came last, and meanwhile he was all eyes, 
 looking first with awe at the great man who sat close to 
 him, and was helped first, and who read a hard-looking 
 book all the time he was eating ; and when he got up and 
 walked off to the fire, at the small boys round him, some 
 of whom were reading, and the rest talking in whispers 
 to one another. However, notwithstanding his curiosity, 
 he managed to make a capital dinner by the time the big 
 man called " Stand up ! " and said grace. 
 
 As soon as dinner was over, and Tom had been ques- 
 tioned by such of his neighbors as were curious as to his 
 birth, parentage, education, and other like matters. East 
 proposed having a look at the close, which Tom gladly 
 assented to, and they went out through the yard and into 
 the great playground. 
 
 " That's the chapel, you see," said East, " and all this 
 
^ 172 Q^ 
 
 part where we are is the little-side ground, right up to the 
 trees, and on the other side of the trees is the big- side 
 ground. But, I say, it's awfully cold, let's have a run 
 across," and away went East, Tom close behind him. 
 
 East was evidently trying to do his best, and Tom, 
 who was proud of his running and anxious to show his 
 friend that although he was a new boy he was not a 
 baby, ran as hard as he could. Across the close they 
 went, each doing the very best he could, and there wasn't 
 a yard between them when they stopped at the other 
 side. 
 
 " I say," said East, as soon as he caught his breath, 
 '^ you run pretty well for a new boy. Well, I'm as warm 
 as toast now. Hurrah ! Here's the punt-about — come 
 and try your hand at a kick." 
 
 The punt-about is a practice ball, which is brought out 
 and kicked about from one boy to another before roll-call 
 and dinner, and at other odd times. They joined the 
 boys who had brought it out, and Tom had the pleasure 
 of trying his skill at kicking it. 
 
 Presently more boys came out and more balls 
 were sent for. The crowd thickened as three o'clock 
 approached ; and when the hour struck, one hundred and 
 fifty boys were hard at work. Then the balls were held, 
 the master of the week came down in cap and gown to 
 roll-call, and the whole school of three hundred boys 
 swept into the big school to answer to their names. 
 
 — Thomas Hughes. 
 
-« 173 ^ 
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS i 
 
 senior ^ 
 
 turnpike 
 
 recording 
 
 vantage 
 
 collapse 
 
 grievances 
 
 prophecy 
 
 obedience 
 
 redoubtable 
 
 incident 
 
 sumptuous 
 
 superfluous 
 
 Tom soon gained the character of a good-natured, 
 willing boy, who was ready to do a kindness for any one. 
 In all the games he joined with all his heart, and soon 
 became well versed in the mysteries of football, by con- 
 tinued practice at the school-house little-side, which played 
 daily. 
 
 The only incident worth recording here, however, was 
 his first run at hare and hounds. On the last Tuesday but 
 one of the half-year he was passing through the hall after 
 dinner, when he was hailed with shouts from Taylor and 
 several other boys who were seated at one of the long 
 tables, the chorus of which was, " Come and help us tear 
 up scent." 
 
 Tom approached the table in obedience to the mys- 
 terious summons, always ready to help, and found the 
 party engaged in tearing up old newspapers, copy-books, 
 and magazines into small pieces with which they were fill- 
 ing four large canvas bags. 
 
 1 See note on page 262. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 174 8«- 
 
 " It's the turn of our house to find scent for big-side 
 hare and hounds," explained Taylor; "tear away, there's 
 no time to lose before roll-call." 
 
 " I think it's a great shame," said another small boy, 
 "to have such a hard run for the last day." 
 
 " Which run is it ? " asked Taylor. 
 
 " Oh, the Barby run, I hear," answered the other ; 
 " nine miles at least, and hard ground ; no chance of get- 
 ting in at the finish unless you are a first-rate runner." 
 
 "Well, I'm going to try," said Taylor, "if it is the 
 last run of the half-year." 
 
 " I should like to try, too," said Tom. 
 
 " Well, then, leave your waistcoat behind, and listen at 
 the door after roll-call, and you'll hear where the meet is." 
 
 After roll-call, sure enough, there were two boys at the 
 door calling out, " Big-side hare and hounds meet at White 
 Hall ; " and Tom, having girded himself with a leather 
 strap, and left all superfluous clothing behind, set off for 
 White Hall, with East, whom he had persuaded to join, 
 notwithstanding his prophecy that they could never get in 
 at the end, as it was the hardest run of the year. 
 
 At the meet they found sQme forty or fifty boys, and 
 Tom felt sure, from having seen many of them run at 
 football, that he and East were more likely to get in at 
 the finish than they. 
 
 After a few minutes' waiting, two well-known runners, 
 chosen for the hares, buckled on the four bags filled with 
 
-^ 175 8«- 
 
 scent, compared their watches with those of young Brooke 
 and Thome, and started off at a long swinging trot across 
 the fields in the direction of Barby. 
 
 Then the hounds clustered round Thorne, who ex- 
 plained shortly, " They are to have six minutes' start. 
 We run to the Inn, and every one who comes in within a 
 quarter of an hour of the hares will be counted, if he has 
 been round Barby church." Then comes a pause, the 
 watches are pocketed, and the pack is led through the 
 gateway into the field which the hares had first crossed. 
 Here they break into a trot, scattering over the field to 
 find the first traces of the scent which the hares throw out 
 as they go along. 
 
 The old hounds make straight for the best points, and 
 in a minute a cry of "forward" comes from one of them, 
 and the whole pack quicken their pace for the spot, while 
 the boy who hit the scent first, and two or three nearest 
 to him, are over the first fence, and hurrying along the 
 hedgerow in the long grass beyond. The rest of the pack 
 rush at the gap already made, and scramble through, 
 jostling one another. 
 
 "Forward" again before they are half through; the 
 pace quickens into a sharp run, the tail hounds all hurry- 
 ing to catch up with the lucky leaders. They are gallant 
 hares, and the scent lies thick across another meadow and 
 into a ploughed field, where the pace begins to tell; and 
 then over a hedge with a ditch on the other side, and 
 
-^ lie s«- 
 
 down a large pasture studded with old thorns, which 
 slopes down to the first brook. The brook is a small one, 
 and the scent lies right ahead up the opposite slope, and 
 as thick as ever, not a turn or a check to favor the tail 
 hounds, who strain on, now trailing in a long line, many 
 a youngster beginning to drag his legs heavily, and feel 
 his heart beat like a hammer. 
 
 Tom, East, and Taylor had a good start, and are well 
 up for such young lads, and after rising the slope and 
 crossing the next field, find themselves up with the lead- 
 ing hounds, who have overrun the scent and are coming 
 back. They have come a mile and a half in eleven min- 
 utes, a pace which shows that it is the last day. About 
 twenty-five of the original starters are left, the rest hav- 
 ing already given in ; the leaders are busy making casts 
 into the fields on the left and right, and the others are 
 trying to catch their breath. 
 
 Then comes the cry of '^ forward " again, from young 
 Brooke, from the extreme left, and the pack settles down 
 to work again, the whole keeping pretty well together. 
 
 The scent, though still good, is not so thick, there is 
 no need of that, for in this part of the run every one 
 knows the line which must be taken, and so there are 
 no casts to be made, but good downright running and fence 
 climbing to be done. All who are now in the pack mean to 
 be in at the finish, and they come to the foot of Barby Hill 
 without losing more than two or three more of the pack. 
 
-^ 177 ^ 
 
 HARE AND HOUNDS 
 
^ 178 8«- 
 
 This last straight two miles and a half is always a vantage 
 ground for the hounds, and the hares know it well ; they 
 are generally viewed on the side of Barby Hill, and all 
 eyes are on the lookout for them to-day. But not a sign 
 of them appears, so now will be the hard work for the 
 hounds ; and there is nothing for it but to cast about for 
 the scent, for it is now the hares' turn, and they may 
 baffle the pack in the next two miles. 
 
 Now comes a brook, with stiff clay banks, from which 
 they can hardly drag their legs, and they hear faint cries 
 for help from the wretched Taylor, who has stuck fast. 
 But they have too little run left in themselves to wait 
 even for their own brothers. Three fields more, and 
 another check, and then " forward " called away to the 
 extreme right. 
 
 The courage of the two boys dies within them ; they 
 can never do it. Young Brooke thinks so, too, and says 
 kindly, " You'll cross a lane after the next field, follow it, 
 and you'll reach the Dunchurch road below the Inn," and 
 then he hurries away for the run in, as fresh as if he were 
 just starting. 
 
 The lads struggle on across the next field, the " for- 
 wards" getting fainter and fainter, and then ceasing. 
 The whole hunt is out of earshot, and all hope of coming 
 in is over. 
 
 " I told you how it would be," broke out East, as soon 
 as he had got breath enough. " What a goose I was to 
 
-^ 179 8«- 
 
 come. Here we are, tired out, and yet I know we are 
 close to the run in, if we knew the country," 
 
 " Well," said Tom, gulping down his disappointment, 
 " it can't be helped. We did our best, anyway. Hadn't 
 we better find the lane as young Brooke told us ? " 
 
 ^'I suppose so — nothing else for it," said East. 
 
 So they walked back slowly and sorrowfully, and found 
 the lane, and went limping down it, splashing in the pools 
 of muddy water, and beginning to feel how the run had 
 tired them. The evening closed in fast and clouded over, 
 dark and cold and dreary. 
 
 " It must be locking-up time, I should think," re- 
 marked East, breaking the silence ; " it's so dark." 
 
 " What if we are late ? " said Tom. 
 
 " No tea, and sent up to the doctor," answered East. 
 
 The thought did not add to their cheerfulness. Pres- 
 ently a faint halloo was heard from an adjoining field. 
 They answered it and stopped, hoping for some one to 
 guide them, when over a gate, some twenty yards away, 
 crawled the wretched Taylor in a state of collapse ; he 
 had lost a shoe in the brook, and been groping after it up 
 to his elbows in the stiff wet clay, and a more miserable 
 creature in the shape of a boy has seldom been seen. 
 
 The sight of him, however, cheered Tom and his friend, 
 for he was several degrees more wretched than they. 
 They also cheered him, as he was now no longer under 
 the dread of passing the night alone in the fields. And 
 
-« 180 e«- 
 
 so in better heart, the three splashed painfully down the 
 never ending lane. At last it widened, just as utter dark- 
 ness set on, and they came out on a turnpike road, and 
 there paused bewildered, for they had lost their way, and 
 knew not whether to turn to the right or the left. 
 
 Luckily for them they did not have to decide, for 
 lumbering along the road, with one lamp lighted, and 
 two old horses in the shafts, came a heavy coach, which 
 after a moment's suspense they recognized as the Oxford 
 coach, the redoubtable Pig and Whistle. 
 
 It lumbered slowly up, and the boys, mustering their 
 last run, caught it as it passed, and began scrambling up 
 behind, in which exploit East missed his footing and fell 
 flat on his nose along the road. Then the others hailed 
 the coachman, who pulled up his horses and agreed to 
 take them in for a shilling. So tliere they sat in the back 
 seat, drumming with their heels, and their teeth chattering 
 with cold, and jogged into Rugby about forty minutes 
 after time for locking up. 
 
 Five minutes later, three small, limping, shivering 
 figures steal along through the doctor's garden, and into 
 the house by the back door, where the first thing they 
 come upon in the passage is old Thomas, ambling along, 
 candle in one hand and keys in the other. 
 
 He stops and examines their condition with a grim 
 smile. "Ah, East, Taylor, and Brown, late for locking 
 up. Must go up to the doctor's study at once." 
 
^ 181 S«- 
 
 "Well, but Thomas, mayn't we go and wash first? 
 You can put down the time, you know." 
 
 " Doctor's study directly you come in — that's the 
 orders," replied old Thomas, motioning toward the stairs 
 at the end of the passage which led up into the doctor's 
 house ; and the boys turned ruefully down it. Upon the 
 short flight of stairs they paused to hold counsel. 
 
 " Who'll go in first ? " inquired Taylor. 
 
 "You — you're the senior," answered East. 
 
 "Not I — look at the condition I'm in," rejoined 
 Taylor, showing the arms of his jacket. "I must get 
 behind you two." 
 
 " Well, but look at me," said East, indicating the mass 
 of clay behind which he was standing; "I'm worse than 
 you, two to one ; you might grow cabbages on my 
 trousers." 
 
 " That's all doAvn beloAv, and you can keep your legs 
 behind the sofa," said Taylor. 
 
 " Here, Brown, you're the show figure — you must 
 lead." 
 
 " But my face is all muddy," argued Tom. 
 
 " Come on ; we're only making it worse staying here," 
 urged East. 
 
 "Well, just give me a brush, then," said Tom; and 
 they began trying to rub off the superfluous dirt from 
 each other's jackets, but it was not dry enough, and the 
 rubbing made it worse ; so in despair they pushed through 
 
-« 182 S«- 
 
 the swing door at the head of the stairs, and found them- 
 selves in the doctor's hall. 
 
 " That's the library door," said East, in a whisper, 
 pushing Tom forward. The sound of merry voices and 
 laughter came from within, and his first hesitating knock 
 was unanswered. But at the second, the doctor's voice 
 said, " Come in." Tom turned the handle, and he, with 
 the others behind him, sidled into the room. 
 
 The doctor looked up from his task ; he was working 
 away with a great chisel at the bottom of a boy's sailing 
 boat. Round him stood three or four children ; the can- 
 dles burned brightly on a large table covered with books 
 and papers, and a great fire threw a ruddy glow over the 
 rest of the room. All looked so kindly and comfortable 
 that the boys took heart in a moment, and Tom advanced 
 from behind the shelter of the great sofa. The doctor 
 nodded to the children, who went out, casting curious and 
 amused glances at the three young scarecrows. 
 
 " Well, my little lads," began the doctor, drawing 
 himself up with his back to the fire, his eyes twinkling 
 as he looked them over ; '- what makes you so late ? " 
 
 " Please, sir, we've been out big-side hare-and-hounds, 
 and lost our way.'* 
 
 " Ha ! you couldn't keep up, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Well, sir," said East, stepping out, and not liking to 
 have the doctor think lightly of his running powers, " we 
 got round Barby all right, but then — " 
 
-« 183 B«- 
 
 " Why, what a condition you're in, my boy ! " inter- 
 rupted the doctor, as the pitiful state of East's garments 
 was fully revealed to him. 
 
 '^ That's the fall I got, sir, in the road," said East, 
 looking down at himself. " The old Pig came by — " 
 
 " The what ? " said the doctor. 
 
 " The Oxford coach, sir," explained Taylor. 
 
 " Oh, yes," said the doctor. 
 
 " And I tumbled on my face trying to get up behind." 
 
 " You're not hurt, I hope ? " said the doctor. 
 
 " Oh, no, sir." 
 
 " Well now, run up stairs, all three of you, and get 
 clean things on, and then tell the housekeeper to give you 
 some tea. You're too young to try such long runs. Let 
 Warner know I've seen you. Good night." 
 
 " Good night, sir." And away hurried the three boys 
 in high glee. 
 
 " Wasn't he good not to give us even twenty lines 
 to learn ! " said Taylor, as they reached their bedroom ; 
 and in half an hour they were sitting by the fire in 
 the housekeeper's room at a sumptuous tea, with cold 
 meat. " Twice as good a supper as we should have had 
 in the hall," said Taylor, with a laugh, his mouth full of 
 buttered toast. All their grievances were forgotten, and 
 they were thinking hare-and-hounds the most delightful of 
 games. 
 
 — Thomas Hughes. 
 
-^ 184 8<- 
 
 SINDBAD, THE SAILORS 
 
 porter^ 
 
 perfume 
 
 Arabian 
 
 obtain 
 
 inclined 
 
 resistance 
 
 dainties 
 
 enriched 
 
 indiscreet 
 
 fatigue 
 
 venerable 
 
 instruments 
 
 Many years ago there lived in Bagdad a poor porter 
 called Hindbad. One day he was employed to carry a 
 heavy burden to a distant part of the city. He went 
 through a street where the pavement had been sprinkled 
 with rose water ; and as there was a pleasant breeze, he 
 laid down his burden and seated himself near the wall 
 of a house to rest. 
 
 As he was enjoying the agreeable odor of the perfume 
 he heard the sound of many instruments, and saw that a 
 fine feast was to be served in the house. As he seldom 
 passed through this street, he knew not whose house it 
 was ; but on asking one of the passers, he was told that 
 it belonged to Sindbad, the sailor. 
 
 While Hindbad thought that this beautiful building 
 belonged to a prince he was not disturbed ; but when he 
 learned that it was the property of a person whom he 
 supposed had been of his own degree, envy took possession 
 of his breast. He returned sullenly to his burden, and 
 
 1 See note on p. 202. 
 
 2 Find the pronunciation and definition of these words in the vocabuhirv. 
 
■^ 185 8«- 
 
 murmured against Providence, who had given to the happy 
 Sindbad a life of ease and luxury, while to him was given 
 work and poverty. 
 
 While he was expressing these thoughts aloud, two 
 servants came to him and desired him to follow them. 
 
 Hindbad did not willingly obey them ; but as resistance 
 was in vain, he allowed himself to be led by them into a 
 great hall where there were a number of persons seated at 
 dinner. At the upper end of the table there sat a comely, 
 venerable gentleman with a long white beard. This grave 
 gentleman was Sindbad. When the porter was brought 
 forward, Sindbad asked him to be seated at his right hand, 
 and himself served him with the choicest dainties. 
 
 When dinner was over, Sindbad began to talk with 
 the porter ; and calling him brother, after the manner of 
 the Arabians when they are familiar with one another, he 
 asked him what it was he had said awhile ago in the street. 
 "I confess, sir," replied the porter, "my fatigue put me 
 out of humor, and I uttered some indiscreet words, which 
 I humbly request you to pardon." 
 
 " I did not send for you," replied Sindbad, " in anger ; 
 but as you murmur because I have obtained the wealth 
 which I enjoy, I will relate to you the adventures by which 
 I have gained this wealth. I am inclined to think you 
 would rather continue in your safe and easy poverty than 
 be exposed to the dangers I have suffered, though they 
 have so greatly enriched me." 
 
^ 186 S«- 
 
 SINDBAD'S FIRST VOYAGE 
 
 traffic 1 
 
 confident 
 
 diminished 
 
 musicians 
 
 venture 
 
 freighted 
 
 fatigued 
 
 becalmed 
 
 sequins 
 
 enormous 
 
 merchandise 
 
 cargo 
 
 My father left me a fortune which I carelessly 
 diminished. I then engaged in traffic, freighted a ves- 
 sel, and set out on a trading voyage. 
 
 One day, while we were under sail, we were becalmed 
 close to a little island, almost even with the surface of the 
 water, which resembled a green meadow. The captain 
 ordered the sails to be furled, and permitted those who 
 wished to do so to go on shore. 
 
 We had just landed when the island trembled and 
 shook. The men on board called to us to reembark 
 directly, as what we had taken for an island was the back 
 of an enormous fish. The nimblest of us got into the 
 sloop ; others jumped into the sea, and swam toward the 
 vessel; but I was still on the back of the fish when it 
 dived into the sea. T got hold of a piece of timber which 
 we had brought to make a fire with, and was preserved 
 from sinking, but I found it impossible to return to the ship. 
 
 I continued in this situation' till the next day, when I 
 reached land, much fatigued. As I advanced from the 
 shore, sundry voices called out to me, which seemed to 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of tliese words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 187 Be- 
 come from under the ground. Looking around I saw a 
 hollow sunk in the earth, in which were several men who 
 received me with great kindness. 
 
 These men were soldiers of King Mihrage w^ho had 
 come to this island on the king's business. Had I been a 
 day later I must have perished ; for the island was unin- 
 habited, and they had so nearly finished their business that 
 they set out on their return the next morning. On our 
 arrival they presented me to the king, who ordered me 
 supplied with everything I needed. 
 
 I lived here many weeks, seeking vainly to find a way 
 of returning to my native land. At last, one day as I was 
 at the port, I saw some bales that w^ere being unloaded 
 from a vessel, and presently discovered that they w^ere my 
 own. I sought the captain, but it was some time before 
 I could persuade him that I was Sindbad, so confident 
 was he that he had seen me perish. When he was con- 
 vinced, he restored my cargo to me, which I sold to very 
 great advantage. 
 
 I loaded my part of the vessel with the best produce 
 of the country, and had a safe and speedy passage home ; 
 where I disposed of my merchandise for ten thousand 
 sequins. 
 
 Sindbad stopped here and ordered the musicians to 
 renew the concert. In the evening he gave the poor 
 porter a purse of a hundred sequins, and bade him come 
 the next day to hear more of his adventures. 
 
-^ 188 B^ - 
 SINDBAD'S SIXTH VOYAGE 
 
 rivulet ^ 
 
 Arabic 
 
 caliph 
 
 potent 
 
 Serendib 
 
 absolutely- 
 
 enormous 
 
 Haroun al Raschid 
 
 importuning 
 
 Several months after my last voyage a few of my 
 friends agreed on a voyage ; and they did not cease im- 
 portuning me until I consented to go with them. 
 
 For some time we had pleasant weather. We sailed 
 many days without seeing land, but having perfect faith 
 in our captain, we were not troubled. At length the ship 
 was forced along by a strong current. The moment the 
 captain perceived it he exclaimed, " We are lost ! " He 
 immediately ordered all the sails to be set against the cur- 
 rent, but in vain ; the ropes broke and the sails dropped. 
 
 The ship, in spite of our utmost efforts, continued to 
 be forced on by the current until we came to the foot of 
 a mountain, where she ran ashore and was soon dashed to 
 pieces against the rocks. 
 
 Most of the crew perished. The captain, two seamen, 
 and I escaped, but we were all much bruised. The cap- 
 tain told us that all hope of escape from the place was 
 vain, as the current was so strong that no vessel could 
 possibly sail against it. This discouraged us exceedingly ; 
 and, indeed, what we saw too strongly confirmed his state- 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-^ 189 8«- 
 
 ments. The whole shore was covered with the wrecks of 
 vessels, and the great quantity of riches with which the 
 strand was covered only served to aggravate our sorrows. 
 
 Whether it was from our hopeless condition, or from 
 the bruises they had received, I know not ; but the next 
 day the captain and the two sailors expired, and I was 
 left alone in this terrible situation. 
 
 I was, however, too much accustomed to misfortune 
 to despair, and I began to survey the shore and to seek 
 everywhere for a possibility of relief. On examining the 
 mountain I found that all hope of climbing it was vain, 
 for it was not only enormously high, but in many places 
 absolutely perpendicular. 
 
 I had almost given up every hope, when I discovered 
 a rivulet of fresh water which, instead of running into the 
 sea, penetrated the foot of the mountain. To this place I 
 brought, with great difficulty, pieces of our wrecked vessel, 
 and with them made a strong float. Having secured this 
 properly, I went in search of provisions. An edible crab, 
 which I found in great abundance, I placed on my float, 
 resolving to trust myself on it, and take the chance of 
 being carried to a place of safety by the stream. Before 
 embarking, I collected great quantities of diamonds, ru- 
 bies, and precious stones, together with other valuable 
 material which had been deposited on the shore from the 
 numerous wrecks. These I fastened securely to my float, 
 and cutting the cable, I drifted down the stream. 
 
•^ 190 8«- 
 
 I was conveyed into a hollow passage under the moun- 
 tain, which was entirely dark. Here I sailed until at last my 
 food was exhausted ; I grew faint, and fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 When I awoke I found that my float had been drawn 
 to the shore, and was surrounded by a number of strange- 
 looking men. They spoke to me, but I could not under- 
 stand them. I was, however, so overjoyed at being 
 among men, that I cried aloud in Arabic. 
 
 Fortunately one of the men understood Arabic, and 
 from him I learned that my float had been seen by the 
 king, and he had ordered it to be drawn to the shore. 
 He then requested that I would tell him by what accident 
 I came into such a situation. I related my story, which 
 he interpreted to the others. 
 
 When I had finished, he desired that I would permit 
 them to conduct me to the king, that I might relate such 
 an extraordinary adventure to him myself. I cheerfully 
 consented, and while some of them conducted me to the 
 palace, others followed, bearing the cargo from my float. 
 I was very favorably received by the king, and thankfully 
 accepted his invitation to remain in his court while I 
 recovered from my fatigue. 
 
 The island was called Serendib, and was exceedingly 
 pleasant and fertile. The people were hospitable, and so 
 just that lawsuits are unknown among them. The mag- 
 nificence of the palace and the splendor of their ruler 
 when he appears, in public are truly wonderful. 
 
^ 191 8«- 
 
 On this occasion the king has a throne fixed on the 
 back of an elephant ; before him an officer carries a 
 golden lance in his hand, and behind the throne another 
 officer supports a column of gold ; the guard consists of 
 a thousand men, all clad in silk and cloth of gold. As 
 the king advances, the officer who carries the lance cries 
 out occasionally : " Behold the great monarch ; the potent 
 and redoubtable sultan of the Indies ; whose palace is cov- 
 ered with a hundred thousand rubies, and who possesses 
 twenty thousand crowns, enriched w^ith diamonds ; behold 
 the crowned monarch, greater than the greatest of princes! " 
 
 After I had lived several months in the capital, I re- 
 quested the king's permission to return to my own coun- 
 try, w^hich he immediately granted in the most obliging 
 and honorable manner. He forced me to accept a very 
 rich present, and at the same time intrusted to my care a 
 gift of immense value, which he directed me to present 
 with a letter, in his name, to our sovereign, the Caliph 
 Haroun al Raschid. 
 
 Our voyage was short and pleasant. I had the honor 
 to deliver the letter and gift of the King of Serendib to 
 our caliph with my own hands ; after which I retired 
 to my home, rejoicing with my friends on my safe return, 
 and resolving to pass the rest of my days among them. 
 
 Sindbad presented the porter as before with a purse of 
 a hundred sequins, and desired him to come the following 
 day to hear an account of his last voyage. 
 
-^ 192 6«- 
 
 SINDBAD'S SEVENTH VOYAGE 
 
 acquaint ^ Balsora patron 
 
 sagacity reputation faculties 
 
 composed commission sufficiently 
 
 narrative generosity graciously 
 
 I had now determined to go no more to sea. My 
 wealth was unbounded, my reputation established, my 
 curiosity gratified, and my years began to demand rest ; 
 so that I wished to enjoy the fruits of my former toils 
 and dangers. But the caliph sent for me, told me he had 
 resolved to answer the letter of the King of Serendib, and 
 to return to him a gift of equal value to that which I had 
 brought to him, and that he had fixed on me as the bearer 
 of the letter and gift. 
 
 I begged to be excused, and related to the caliph the 
 many perils I had endured. He expressed his surprise 
 and satisfaction at my narrative, but persisted in his desire, 
 and I cheerfully prepared to obey his commands. 
 
 As soon as the caliph's letter and gift were delivered 
 to me, I set sail, and after a pleasant voyage, I arrived at 
 the island of Serendib and discharged my commission. 
 The king received me in the most distinguished manner, 
 and expressed his pleasure with the caliph's friendship. I 
 stayed a short time at the palace, and then reembarked 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of tliese words in the vocabulary. 
 
-58 193 3«- 
 
 for Balsora, but had not the good fortune to arrive there 
 as I hoped. 
 
 Within three days of our departure we fell in with a 
 pirate who took us captive and, carrying us into port, sold 
 us all for slaves. I was bought by a wealthy merchant, 
 who treated me kindly. He inquired if I understood the 
 use of the bow, and seemed much pleased when I told him 
 it had been one of the exercises of my youth, and that I 
 had always delighted in it. He gave me a bow and 
 arrows, and led me to a vast forest. " Climb one of these 
 trees," he said. " This forest abounds with elephants; as 
 they come within bow-shot, shoot at them, and if one falls, 
 come and give me warning." 
 
 I remained in the tree all night. In the evening I 
 saw many elephants, and shot at them ; at last one fell. 
 I hastened to acquaint my patron with my success. We 
 returned to the forest and removed the ivory tusks from 
 the elephant which I had killed. 
 
 For two months I continued to kill an elephant every 
 day, sometimes from one tree and sometimes from an- 
 other. One morning, while I was watching for them, I 
 perceived that they did not cross the forest as usual, but 
 came in great numbers directly toward the tree where I 
 was. Their approach alarmed me so much that my bow 
 and arrows fell from my hand ; and my terror greatly in- 
 creased when one of the largest of the huge creatures 
 wound his trunk around the body of the tree in which I 
 
-« 194 8«- 
 
 was hidden, and pulled so hard that he soon tore the tree 
 lip by the roots, and threw it on the ground. 
 
 As I was falling with the tree I gave myself up for 
 lost ; but the elephant, when I reached the earth, took me 
 up gently and placed me on his back. He then marched 
 at the head of his companions into the heart of the forest, 
 where he stopped, took hold of me with his trunk and 
 seated me on the ground. Immediately he and all of his 
 companions retired and left me. 
 
 I had been so terribly frightened during all this time 
 that it was long before I recovered the use of my faculties. 
 When I became composed enough to look about me, I 
 found that I was upon a long, broad hill, covered all over 
 with the bones of elephants. Among them were hundreds 
 of the valuable ivory tusks. I could not but admire the 
 sagacity of these animals. They had perceived, no doubt, 
 that after I killed their companions, we removed the 
 tusks ; and had conducted me to their burial-place that we 
 might obtain what we wished without the necessity of 
 killing them. 
 
 I returned to the city and found my patron in great 
 trouble about me. I related to him my adventure, which 
 he would hardly believe. We set out the next morning 
 for the hill, however, where he soon found that every- 
 thing I had told him was true. We took away with us 
 ivory of great value ; and on our return to the city, my 
 patron said: "Brother, I give you your liberty; I will 
 
-«i95e^ 
 
 SINDBAD. THE SAILOR 
 
-« 196 B^ 
 
 not hold in bondage a moment longer the man who hath 
 so greatly enriched me. Think not that by restoring 
 you to freedom, I suppose you sufficiently rewarded. 
 When I procure a vessel to convey you to your home, 
 you will find that I shall prove my gratitude to you still 
 further." 
 
 According to his promise my patron provided me with 
 a ship, and having freighted it with ivory, he made me 
 a present of both ship and cargo ; and in a short time I 
 returned home with another great addition to my wealth. 
 
 On my arrival at Bagdad, I waited on the caliph, and 
 related to him my adventures, which he heard with much 
 interest. He dismissed me very graciously, and I have 
 since devoted my time wholly to my family, kindred, and 
 friends. 
 
 Sindbad finished the relation of his voyages, and ad- 
 dressed Hindbad thus : " You now know by what means 
 I have acquired the wealth which you envied. Do you 
 not think that I have gained it through dangers more 
 than equal to its value, and ought I not to enjoy the 
 fruits of my labors?" 
 
 The porter modestly owned the truth of Sindbad's 
 reasoning, adding thanks to him for his generosity. 
 Sindbad again presented him with a hundred sequins, 
 and finding him worthy of esteem, gave him a place 
 among his retinue of servants. 
 
 — From "Arabian Nights." 
 
-»e 197 8«- 
 
 THE FROST SPIRIT 
 
 He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes! — You 
 
 may trace his footsteps now 
 On the naked woods and the blasted fields and the brown 
 
 hill's withered brow. 
 He has smitten the leaves of the gray old trees where 
 
 their pleasant green came forth, 
 And the winds, which follow wherever he goes, have 
 
 shaken them down to earth. 
 
 He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! — from 
 the frozen Labrador — 
 
 From the icy bridge of the Northern Seas, which the 
 white bear wanders o'er. 
 
 Where the fisherman's sail is stiff with ice, and the luck- 
 less forms below 
 
 In the sunless cold of the lingering night into marble 
 statues grow ! 
 
 He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! — on the 
 
 rushing Northern blast, 
 And the dark Norwegian pines have bowed as his fearful 
 
 breath went past. 
 ^Yit\l an unscorched wing he has hurried on, where the 
 
 fires of Hecla glow 
 On the darkly beautiful sky above and the ancient ice 
 
 below. 
 
^ 198 d^ 
 
 He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! — and 
 
 the quiet lake shall feel 
 The torpid touch of his glazing breath, and ring to the 
 
 skater's heel ; 
 And the streams which danced on the broken rocks, or 
 
 sang to the leaning grass, 
 Shall bow again to their winter chain, and in mournful 
 
 silence pass. 
 
 He comes — he comes — the Frost Spirit comes ! — let us 
 meet him as we may. 
 
 And turn with the light of the parlor-fire his evil power 
 away ; 
 
 And gather closer the circle round, when that fire-light 
 dances high. 
 
 And laugh at the shriek of the baffled Fiend as his sound- 
 ing wing goes by ! 
 
 — John Grkenleaf Whittikr. 
 
 THE SNOWSTORM 
 
 Announced by all the trumpets of the sky, 
 Arrives the snow, and, driving o'er the fields, 
 Seems nowhere to alight ; the whited air 
 Hides hills and woods, the river, and the heaven, 
 And veils the farm-house at the garden's end. 
 
-^ 199 S«- 
 
 The sled and traveller stopped, the courier's feet 
 Delayed, all friends shut out, the house-mates sit 
 Around the radiant fireplace, inclosed 
 In a tumultuous privacy of storm. 
 Come see the north-wind's masonry. 
 Out of an unseen quarry evermore 
 Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer 
 Curves his white bastions with projected roof 
 Round every windward stake, or tree, or door. 
 Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work 
 So fanciful, so savage, naught cares he 
 For number or proportion. Mockingly, 
 On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths; 
 A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn ; 
 Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall, 
 Maugre the farmer's sighs ; and, at the gate, 
 A tapering turret overtops the work. 
 And when his hours are numbered, and the world 
 Is all his own, retiring, as he were not. 
 Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art 
 To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone. 
 Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work. 
 The frolic architecture of the snow. 
 
 — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
^ 200 B^ 
 
 THE NEW YEARi 
 
 Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, 
 The flying cloud, the frosty light r 
 The year is dying in the night ; 
 
 Ring out, wild bells, and let hiin die. 
 
 Ring out the old, ring in the new, 
 
 Ring, happy bells, across the snow : 
 The year is going, let h'un go ; 
 
 Ring out the false, ring in the true. 
 
 Ring out the grief that saps the mind. 
 For those that here we see no more : 
 Ring out the feud of rich and poor, 
 
 Ring in redress to all mankind. 
 
 Ring out a slowly dying cause, 
 
 And ancient forms of party strife ; 
 Ring in the nobler modes of life. 
 
 With sweeter manners, purer laws. 
 
 Ring out the want, the care, the sin, 
 The faithless coldness of the times : 
 Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes, 
 
 But ring the fuller minstrel in. 
 
 1 See note on page 262. 
 
■^ 201 B«- 
 
 Ring out false pride in place and blood, 
 The civic slander and the spite ; 
 Ring in the love of truth and right, 
 
 Ring in the common love of good. 
 
 Ring out old shapes of foul disease ; 
 
 Ring out the narrowing lust of gold : 
 Ring out the thousand wars of old. 
 
 Ring in the thousand years of peace. 
 
 Ring in the valiant man and free, 
 
 , The larger heart, the kindlier hand : 
 Ring out the darkness of the land. 
 Ring in the Christ that is to be. 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 THE NOBLE NATURE 
 
 It is not growing like a tree 
 
 In bulk, doth make man better be ; 
 
 Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
 
 To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere ; 
 A lily of a day 
 Is fairer far in May, 
 Although it fall and die that night — 
 It was the plant and flower of Light. 
 
 In small proportions we just beauty see ; 
 
 And in short measures life may perfect be. 
 
 — Bbn Jonson. 
 
^ 202 ^ 
 
 MR. PICKWICK DRIVES 1 
 
 balmy ^ 
 
 chase 
 
 vehicle 
 
 manoeuvre 
 
 revelry 
 
 hostler 
 
 equestrian 
 
 presentiment 
 
 sundries 
 
 rotatory 
 
 respective 
 
 preliminary 
 
 resource 
 
 destination 
 
 symmetry 
 
 indisputable 
 
 reflective 
 
 sauntered 
 
 propensity 
 
 battlements 
 
 consumers 
 
 hospitable 
 
 impetuosity 
 
 balustrade 
 
 Bright and pleasant was the sky, balmy the air, and 
 beautiful the appearance of every object around, as Mr. 
 Pickwick leaned over the balustrade of Rochester Bridge, 
 contemplating nature, and waiting for breakfast. The 
 scene was indeed one which might well have charmed a 
 far less reflective mind than that to which it was pre- 
 sented. 
 
 On the left of the spectator lay the ruined wall, broken 
 in many places, and in some, overhanging the narrow beach 
 below in rude and heavy masses. Huge knots of sea-weed 
 hung upon the jagged and pointed stones, trembling in 
 every breath of wind, and the green ivy clung mournfully 
 round the dark and ruined battlements. Behind it rose 
 the ancient castle, its towers roofless, and its massive walls 
 crumbling away, but telling as proudly of its own might 
 and strength, as when, seven hundred years ago, it rang 
 
 1 See note on page 263. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
■^ 203 B^ 
 
 with the clash of arms, or resounded with the noise of 
 feasting and revelry. 
 
 On either side the banks of the Medway, covered with 
 corn-fields and pastures, with here and there a windmill, 
 or a distant church, stretched away as far as the eye could 
 see, presenting a rich and varied landscape, rendered more 
 beautiful by the changing shadows which passed swiftly 
 across it, as the thin and half-formed clouds skimmed 
 away in the light of the morning sun. The river, reflect- 
 ing the clear blue of the sky, glistened and sparkled as it 
 flowed noiselessly on ; and the oars of the fishermen dipped 
 into the water with a clear and liquid, sound, as the heavy 
 but picturesque boats glided slowly down the stream. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick gazed so long at the landscape that when 
 he returned to the inn he found his three companions had 
 risen, and were waiting his arrival to commence breakfast, 
 which was ready, laid in a tempting display. They sat 
 down to the meal ; and broiled ham, eggs, tea, coffee, and 
 sundries began to disappear with a rapidity which at once 
 bore testimony to the excellence of the fare and the appe- 
 tites of its consumers. 
 
 " Now, about Manor Farm," said Mr. Pickwick. " How 
 shall we go ? " 
 
 " We had better consult the waiter, perhaps," said Mr. 
 Tupman, and the waiter was summoned accordingly. 
 
 " Dingley Dell, gentlemen — fifteen miles, gentlemen 
 — cross-road — post-chaise, sir ? " 
 
-« 204 9«- 
 
 " Post-chaise won't hold more than two," said Mr. Pick- 
 wick. 
 
 " True, sir — beg your pardon, sir. Very nice four- 
 wheeled chaise, sir — seat for two behind — one in front 
 for the gentleman that drives — oh ! beg your pardon, sir, 
 — that'll only hold three." 
 
 " What's to be done ? " said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Perhaps one of the gentlemen would like to ride, 
 sir ? " suggested the waiter, looking toward Mr. Winkle. 
 " Very good saddle horses, sir, — any of Mr. Wardle's 
 men coming to Rochester can bring them back, sir." 
 
 " The very thing," said Mr. Pickwick. " Winkle, will 
 you go on horseback ? " 
 
 Mr. Winkle did entertain considerable misgiving in 
 the very lowest recesses of his own heart, relative to his 
 equestrian skill, but, as he would not have them even 
 suspected on any account, he at once replied with great 
 hardihood, " Certainly, I should enjoy it of all things." 
 
 Mr. Winkle had rushed upon his fate ; there was no 
 resource. " Let them be at the door by eleven," said Mr. 
 Pickwick. 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied the waiter. 
 
 The waiter retired ; the breakfast concluded ; and the 
 travellers retired to their respective^ bedrooms to prepare 
 a change of clothing, to take with them on their approach- 
 ing expedition. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had made his preliminary arrangements 
 
^ 205 ^ 
 
 and was looking over the coffee-room blinds at the passen- 
 gers in the street, when the waiter entered and announced 
 that the chaise was ready ; an announcement which the 
 vehicle itself confirmed, by forthwith appearing before 
 the coffee-room blinds. 
 
 It was a curious little green box on four wheels, with 
 a low place for two behind, and an elevated seat for one 
 in front, drawn by an immense brown horse, displaying 
 great symmetry of bone. A hostler stood near, holding 
 by the bridle another immense horse — apparently a near 
 relative of the animal in the chaise — ready saddled for 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " said Mr. Pickwick, as they stood 
 upon the pavement while the coats were being put in. 
 " Bless my soul ! who's to drive ? I never thought of 
 that." 
 
 " Oh ! you, of course," said Mr. Tupman. 
 
 " Of course," said Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Not the slightest fear, sir," interposed the hostler. 
 " Warrant him quiet, sir ; a hinfant in arms might drive 
 him." 
 
 '^ He doesn't shy, does he ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Shy, sir ? He wouldn't shy if he was to meet a 
 vaggin-load of monkeys with their tails burnt off." 
 
 The last recommendation was indisputable. Mr. Tup- 
 man and Mr. Snodgrass climbed into the chp^ise ; Mr. 
 
-« 206 ^ 
 
 Pickwick ascended to his seat, and deposited his feet on a 
 floor-cloth shelf, erected beneath it for that purpose. 
 
 "Now, shiny Villiam," said the hostler to the deputy 
 hostler, " give the gentleman the ribbons." " Shiny 
 Villiam" — so called, probably, from his sleek hair and 
 oily countenance — placed the reins in Mr. Pickwick's left 
 hand, and the hostler thrust the whip into his right. 
 
 " Wo-o ! " cried Mr. Pickwick, as the tall quadruped 
 evinced a decided inclination to back into the coffee-room 
 window. 
 
 "Wo-o ! " echoed Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
 " Only his playfulness, gentlemen," said the head hos- 
 tler encouragingly ; "just catch hold of him, Villiam." 
 
 The deputy restrained the animal's impetuosity, and 
 the hostler ran to assist Mr. Winkle in mounting. 
 
 " The other side, sir, if you please." 
 
 " The gentleman w^as getting up on the wrong side," 
 whispered a grinning post-boy to the waiter. 
 
 Mr. Winkle, thus instructed, climbed into his saddle 
 with about as much difficulty as he would have experi- 
 enced in getting up the side of a first-rate man-of-war. 
 
 " All right ? " inquired Mr. Pickwick, with an inward 
 presentiment that it was all wrong. 
 
 " All right," replied Mr. Winkle faintly. 
 
 " Let 'em go," cried the hostler ; " hold him in, sir," — 
 and away went the chaise, and the saddle horse, with Mr. 
 Pickwick on the box of the one, and Mr. Winkle on the 
 
-^ 207 8«- 
 
 back of the other, to the delight and gratification of the 
 whole inn yard. 
 
 '' What makes him go so sideways ? " said Mr. Snod- 
 grass in the chaise to Mr. Winkle in the saddle. 
 
 " I can't imagine," replied Mr. Winkle. His horse was 
 drifting up the street in the most mysterious manner — 
 side first, with his head toward one side of the way, and 
 his tail toward the other. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick had no leisure to observe either this or 
 any other particular, the whole of his faculties being con- 
 centrated in the management of the animal attached to 
 the chaise, who displayed various peculiarities, highly 
 interesting to a bystander, but by no means equally amus- 
 ing to any one seated behind him. 
 
 Besides constantly jerking his head up, in a very un- 
 pleasant and uncomfortable manner, and tugging at the 
 reins to an extent which rendered it a matter of great 
 difficulty for Mr. Pickwick to hold them, he had a singular 
 propensity for darting suddenly every now and then to the 
 side of the road, then stopping short, then rushing forward 
 for some minutes at a speed which it was wholly impos- 
 sible to control. 
 
 "What can he mean by this?" said Mr. Snodgrass, 
 when the horse had executed this manoeuvre for the 
 twentieth time. 
 
 '' I don't know," replied Mr. Tupman ; " it looks very 
 like shying, doesn't it ? " 
 
-^ 208 S«- 
 
 Mr. Snodgrass was about to reply, when he was inter- 
 rupted by a shout from Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 " Wo-o ! " said that gentleman ; '' I have dropped 
 my whip." 
 
 "Winkle," said Mr. Snodgrass, as the equestrian came 
 trotting up on the tall horse, with his hat over his ears, 
 and shaking all over, as if he would shake to pieces with 
 the violence of the exercise, " pick up the whip, there's a 
 good fellow." 
 
 Mr. Winkle pulled at the bridle of the tall horse till 
 he was black in the face ; and having at length succeeded 
 in stopping him, he dismounted, handed the whip to Mr. 
 Pickwick, and grasping the reins firmly in his right hand, 
 prepared to remount. 
 
 Now, whether the tall horse, in the natural playfulness 
 of his disposition, was desirous of having a little innocent 
 recreation with Mr. Winkle, or whether it occurred to him 
 that he could perform the journey as much to his own 
 satisfaction without a rider as with one, are points upon 
 which, of course, we can arrive at no definite and distinct 
 conclusion. By whatever motives the animal was actu- 
 ated, certain it is that Mr. Winkle had no sooner touched 
 the reins than he slipped them over his head, and darted 
 backwards to their full length. 
 
 "Poor fellow," said Mr. Winkle, soothingly, — "poor 
 fellow — good old horse." The "poor fellow" was proof 
 against flattery : the more Mr. Winkle tried to get nearer 
 
-^ 209 ^ 
 
 him, the more he sidled away ; and notwithstanding all 
 kinds of coaxing and w^heedling, there were Mr. Winkle 
 and the horse going round and round each other for ten 
 minutes, at the end of which time each was precisely the 
 same distance from each other as when they first com- 
 menced — an unsatisfactory sort of thing under any cir- 
 cumstances, but particularly so in a lonely road, where no 
 assistance can be procured. 
 
 "What am I to do?" shouted Mr. Winkle, after the 
 dodging had been prolonged for a considerable time. 
 " What am I to do ? He won't stand still. I can't get 
 on him." 
 
 " You had better lead him till we come to a turnpike," 
 replied Mr. Pickwick from the chaise. 
 
 '^But he won't come!" roared Mr. Winkle. "Do 
 come and hold him." 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was the very personation of kindness 
 and humanity ; he threw the reins on the horse's back, 
 and having descended from his seat, carefully drew the 
 chaise into the hedge, lest anything should come along the 
 road, and stepped back to the assistance of his distressed 
 companion, leaving Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in 
 the vehicle. 
 
 The horse no sooner beheld Mr. Pickwick advancing 
 toward him with the chaise whip in his hand, than he 
 exchanged the rotatory motion in which he had previously 
 indulged, for a backward movement of so very determined 
 
-^ 210 8«- 
 
 a character, that it at once drew Mr. Winkle, who was 
 still at the end of the bridle, at a rather quicker rate* than 
 fast walking, in the direction from which they had just 
 come. Mr. Pickwick ran to his assistance, but the faster 
 Mr. Pickwick ran forward, the faster the horse ran back- 
 ward. There was a great scraping of feet and kicking 
 up of the dust; and at last Mr. Winkle, his arms being 
 nearly pulled out of their sockets, fairly let go his hold. 
 The horse paused, stared, shook his head, turned round, 
 and quietly trotted home to Rochester, leaving Mr. Win- 
 kle and Mr. Pickwick gazing on each other with counte- 
 nances of blank dismay. 
 
 A rattling noise at a little distance attracted their 
 attention. They looked up. '^ Bless my soul ! " exclaimed 
 the agonized Mr. Pickwick, " there's the other horse run- 
 ning away ! " 
 
 It was but too true. The animal was startled by the 
 noise, and the reins were on his back. The result may 
 be guessed. He tore off with the four-wheeled chaise 
 behind him, and Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass in the 
 four-wheeled chaise. The heat was a short one. Mr. 
 Tupman threw himself into the hedge, Mr. Snodgrass fol- 
 lowed his example, the horse dashed the four-wheeled 
 chaise against a wooden bridge, separated the wheels from 
 the body, and finally stood stock still to gaze upon the 
 ruin he had made. 
 
 The first care of the two unspilt friends was to help 
 
-96 211 8«- 
 
 MR. PICKWICK DRIVES 
 
■^ 212 8<- 
 
 their unfortunate companions from their bed of quickset, 
 — a process which gave thein the satisfaction of discov- 
 ering that they had sustained no injury beyond sundry 
 rents in their garments, and various scratches from the 
 brambles. The next thing to be done was to unharness 
 the horse. This complicated process having been finally 
 effected, the four gentlemen walked slowly forward, lead- 
 ing the horse among them, and abandoning the chaise to 
 its fate. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon when the four friends and 
 their four-footed companion turned into the lane leading to 
 Manor Farm ; and even when they were so near their 
 place of destination, the pleasure they would have other- 
 wise experienced was damped as they reflected on their 
 appearance, and the absurdity of their situation. 
 
 Torn clothes, lacerated faces, dusty shoes, exhausted 
 looks, and, above all, the horse ! Oh, how Mr. Pickwick 
 cursed that horse ! He had eyed the noble animal from 
 time to time with looks expressive of hatred and revenge ; 
 more than once he had calculated the probable amount of 
 the expense he would incur by cutting his throat ; and 
 now the temptation to destroy him, or to cast him loose 
 upon the world, rushed upon his mind with tenfold force. 
 He was roused from a meditation of these dire imaginings 
 by the sudden appearance of two figures at a turn of the 
 lane. It was Mr. Wardle and his faithful attendant, the 
 fat boy. 
 
^ 213 Q^ 
 
 " Why, where ham you been ? " said the hospitable old 
 gentleman ; " I have been waiting for you all day. Well, 
 you do look tired. What ! Scratches ! Not hurt, I hope 
 — eh ? Well, I am glad to hear that — very. So you've 
 been spilt, eh ? Never mind. Common accident in these 
 parts. Joe — he's asleep again ! — Joe, take that horse 
 from the gentleman, and lead it into the stable." 
 
 The fat boy sauntered heavily behind them with the 
 animal ; and the old gentleman, condoling with his guests 
 in homely phrase on so much of the day's adventures as 
 they thought proper to comnumicate, led the way to the 
 kitchen. 
 
 " We'll have you put to rights here," said the old gen- 
 tleman, '• and then I'll introduce you to the people in the 
 parlor. Emma, bring a needle and thread ; towels and 
 water, Mary. Come, girls, bustle about." 
 
 When his guests had been washed, mended, and 
 brushed, Mr. Wardle led them through several dark pas- 
 sages, until they arrived at the parlor door. 
 
 "Welcome," said their hospitable host, throwing the 
 door open and stepping forward to announce them, "wel- 
 come, gentlemen, to Manor Farm." 
 
 — Charles Dickens. 
 
■^ 214 »- 
 
 MR. WINKLE SKATES! 
 
 depicted ^ 
 
 impetuous 
 
 reference 
 
 dexterity 
 
 remonstrated 
 
 frenzied 
 
 prodigies 
 
 spectator 
 
 extricated 
 
 testimony 
 
 spasmodic 
 
 disengage 
 
 marvellous 
 
 evolutions 
 
 lineament 
 
 emphatic 
 
 predecessor 
 
 probability 
 
 unparalleled 
 
 invigorating 
 
 On Christmas morning Mr. Wardle invited Mr. Pick- 
 wick, Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and his 
 other guests to go down to the pond. 
 
 *^You skate, of course, Winkle?" said Mr. Wardle. 
 
 "Ye — s: oh! yes," replied Mr. Winkle. "I — I — 
 am rather out of practice." 
 
 " Oh, do skate, Mr. Winkle," said Arabella. " I like 
 to see it so much." 
 
 " Oh, it is so graceful," said another young lady. 
 
 A third young lady said it was " elegant," and a fourth 
 expressed her opinion that it was " swanlike." 
 
 " I should be very happy, I am sure," said Mr. Winkle, 
 reddening, " but I have no skates." 
 
 This objection was at once overruled. Trundle had 
 a couple of pairs, and the fat boy announced that there 
 were half a dozen more downstairs ; whereat Mr. Winkle 
 expressed exquisite delight, and looked exquisitely uncom- 
 fortable. 
 
 1 See note on page 263. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-« 215 8«- 
 
 Mr. Wardle led the way to a pretty large sheet of ice ; 
 and the fat boy and Mr. Weller having shovelled and 
 swept away the snow wliich had fallen on it during the 
 night, Mr. Bob Sawyer adjusted his skates with a dex- 
 terity which to Mr. Winkle was perfectly marvellous, and 
 described circles with his left leg, and cut figures of eight, 
 and inscribed upon the ice, without once stopping for 
 breath, a great many other pleasant and astonishing 
 devices, — to the excessive satisfaction of Mr. Pickwick, 
 Mr. Tupman, and the ladies, — which reached a pitch of 
 positive enthusiasm, when Mr. Wardle and Benjamin 
 Allen, assisted by Bob Sawyer, performed some mystic 
 evolutions, which they called a reel. 
 
 All this time Mr. Winkle, with his face and hands 
 blue with the cold, had been forcing a gimlet into the 
 soles of his shoes, and putting his skates on, with the 
 points behind, and getting the straps into a very com- 
 plicated state, with the assistance of Mr. Snodgrass, who 
 knew rather less about skates than a Hindoo. At length, 
 however, with the assistance of Mr. Weller, the unfor- 
 tunate skates were firmly screwed and buckled on, and 
 Mr. Winkle was raised to his feet. 
 
 '' Now, then, sir," said Sam, in. an encouraging tone, 
 • off with you, and show them how to do it." 
 
 " Stop, Sam, stop ! " said Mr. Winkle, trembling vio- 
 lently, and clutching hold of Sam's arms with the grasp 
 of a drowning man. " How slippery it is, Sam ! " 
 
-« 216 S«- 
 
 '^Not an uncommon thing upon ice, sir," replied Mr. 
 Weller. " Hold up, sir ! " 
 
 This last observation of Mr. Weller' s bore reference 
 to a demonstration Mr. Winkle made at the instant of a 
 frantic desire to throw his feet in the air, and dash the 
 back of his head on the ice. 
 
 "These — these — are very awkward skates; aren't 
 they, Sam ? " inquired Mr. Winkle, staggering. 
 
 " I'm afraid there's an awkward gentleman in 'em, 
 sir," replied Sam. 
 
 " Now, Winkle," cried Mr. Pickwick, quite uncon- 
 scious that there was anything the matter. "Come; the 
 ladies are all anxiety." 
 
 "Yes, yes," replied Mr. Winkle, with a ghastly smile. 
 " I'm coming." 
 
 " Just going to begin," said Sam, endeavoring to dis- 
 engage himself. " Now, sir, start off ! " 
 
 " Stop an instant, Sam," gasped Mr. Winkle, clinging 
 most affectionately to Mr. Weller. " I find I've got a 
 couple of coats at home that I don't want, Sam. You 
 may have them, Sam." 
 
 "Thank 'ee, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Never mind touching your hat, Sam," said Mr. 
 Winkle, hastily. "You needn't take your hand away 
 to do that. I meant to have given you five shillings this 
 morning for a Christmas-box, Sam. I'll give it to you 
 this afternoon, Sam." 
 
-^ 217 ^ 
 
 MR. WINKLE SKATES 
 
-^ 218 ^ 
 
 " You're wery good, sir," replied Mr. Weller. 
 
 " Just hold me at first, Sam, will you ? " said Mr. 
 Winkle. "There — that's right. I shall soon get in the 
 way of it, Sam. Not too fast, Sam ; not too fast." 
 
 Mr. Winkle, stooping forward, with his body half 
 doubled up, was being assisted over the ice by Mr. 
 Weller, in a very singular and unswanlike manner, when 
 Mr. Pickwick most innocently shouted from the bank, 
 " Sam ! " 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 " Here. I want you." 
 
 " Let go, sir," said Sam. " Don't you hear the gov- 
 ernor calling ? Let go, sir." 
 
 With a violent effort, Mr. Weller disengaged himself 
 from the grasp of the agonized Pickwickian, and in 
 so doing, administered a considerable impetus to the 
 unhappy Mr. Winkle. With an accuracy which no 
 degree of dexterity or practice could have insured, that 
 unfortunate gentleman bore swiftly down into the centre 
 of the reel, at the very moment when Mr. Bob Sawyer 
 was performing a flourish of unparalleled beauty. ' Mr. 
 Winkle struck wildly against him, and with a loud crash 
 they both fell heavily. Mr. Pickwick ran to the spot. 
 Bob Sawyer had risen to his feet, but Mr. Winkle was 
 far too wise to do anything of the kind in skates. He 
 was seated on the ice, making spasmodic efforts to smile ; 
 but anguish was depicted on every lineament of his face. 
 
^ 219 e^ 
 
 "Are you hurt?" inquired Mr. Benjamin Allen, with 
 great anxiety. 
 
 " Not much/' said Mr. Winkle, rubbing his back very 
 hard. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick was excited and indignant. He beck- 
 oned to Mr. Weller, and said in a stern voice, " Take his 
 skates off." 
 
 " No ; but really I had scarcely begun," remonstrated 
 Mr. Winkle. 
 
 " Take his skates off," repeated Mr. Pickwick firmly. 
 
 The command was not to be resisted. Mr. Winkle 
 allowed Sam to obey it in silence. 
 
 "Lift him up," said Mr. Pickwick. Sam assisted him 
 to rise. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick retired a few paces apart from the 
 bystanders ; and beckoning his friend to approach, fixed 
 a searching look upon him, and uttered in a low but 
 distinct and emphatic tone, these remarkable words, 
 " You're a humbug, sir." 
 
 " A what ? " said Mr. Winkle, starting. 
 
 " A humbug, sir. I will speak plainer, if you wish it. 
 An impostor, sir." 
 
 With those words Mr. Pickwick turned slowly on his 
 heel, and rejoined his friends. 
 
 While Mr. Pickwick was delivering himself of the 
 sentiment just recorded, Mr. Weller and the fat boy, 
 having by their joint endeavors cut out a slide, were 
 
-^ 220 d^ 
 
 exercising themselves thereupon in a very masterly and 
 brilliant manner. Sam Weller, in particular, was dis- 
 playing that beautiful feat of fancy sliding which is cur- 
 rently called " knocking at the cobbler's door," and which 
 is achieved by skimming over the ice on one foot, and 
 occasionally giving a postman's knock upon it with the 
 other. It was a good long slide, and there was some- 
 thing in the motion which Mr. Pickwick, who was very 
 cold with standing still, could not help envying. 
 
 " It looks like a nice warm exercise that, doesn't it ? " 
 he inquired of Mr. Wardle. 
 
 "Ah, it does indeed," replied Wardle. "Do you 
 slide ? " 
 
 " I used to do so on the gutters, when I was a boy," 
 replied Mr: Pickwick. 
 
 " Try it now," said Wardle. 
 
 " Oh, do, please, Mr. Pickwick ! " cried all the ladies. 
 
 " I should be very happy to afford you any amuse- 
 ment," replied Mr. Pickwick, " but I haven't done such 
 a thing these thirty years." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! Nonsense ! " said Wardle, dragging off 
 his skates with the impetuosity which characterized all 
 his proceedings. " Here, I'll keep you company ; come 
 along ! " And away went the good-tempered old fellow 
 down the slide, with a rapidity which came very close 
 upon Mr. Weller, and beat the fat boy all to nothing. 
 
 Mr. Pickwick paused, considered, pulled off his gloves 
 
-^ 221 8«- 
 
 and put them in his hat, took two or three short runs, 
 stopped as often, and at last took another run and went 
 slowly and gravely down the slide, with his feet about a 
 yard and a quarter apart, amidst the gratified shouts of all 
 the spectators. 
 
 "Keep the pot a-boiling, sir," said Sam; and down 
 went Wardle again, and then Mr. Pickwick, and then Sam, 
 and then Mr. Winkle, and then Mr. Bob Sawyer, and then 
 the fat boy, and then Mr. Snodgrass, following closely 
 upon each other's heels, and running after each other with 
 as much eagerness as if all their future prospects in life 
 depended on their expedition. 
 
 It was the most intensely interesting thing to observe 
 the manner in which Mr. Pickwick performed his share in 
 the ceremony ; to w^atcli the torture of anxiety with which 
 he viewed the person behind gaining upon him at the 
 imminent hazard of tripping him up ; to see him gradually 
 expend the painful force he had put on at first, and turn 
 slowly round on the slide, with his face toward the point 
 from which he had started ; to contemplate the playful 
 smile w^hich mantled his face when he had accomplished 
 the distance, and the eagerness with which he turned 
 round when he had done so and ran after his predecessor ; 
 his black gaiters tripping pleasantly through the snow, and 
 his eyes beaming cheerfulness and gladness through his 
 spectacles; and when he was knocked down (which 
 happened on the average of every third round), it was 
 
-^ 222 8<- 
 
 the most invigorating sight that can possibly be imagined 
 to behold him gather up his hat, gloves, and handkerchief, 
 with a glowing countenance, and resume his station in the 
 rank with an ardor and enthusiasm that nothing could 
 abate. 
 
 The sport was at its height, the sliding was at the 
 quickest, the laughter was at the loudest, when a sharp, 
 smart crack was heard. There was a quick rush toward 
 the bank, a wild scream from the ladies, and a shout from 
 Mr. Tupman. A large mass of ice disappeared ; the water 
 bubbled up over it ; Mr. Pickwick's hat, gloves, and 
 handkerchief were floating on the surface, and this was 
 all of Mr. Pickwick that anybody could see. 
 
 Dismay and anguish were depicted on every counte- 
 nance ; the men turned pale and the women fainted ; 
 Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle grasped each other by 
 the hand, and gazed with frenzied eagerness at the spot 
 where their leader had gone down ; while Mr. Tupman, 
 by way of rendering the promptest assistance, ran off 
 across the country at his utmost speed, screaming " Fire ! " 
 with all his might. 
 
 It was at this moment, when Mr. Wardle and Sam 
 Weller were approaching the hole with cautious steps, that 
 a face, head, and shoulders emerged from beneath the water, 
 and disclosed the features and spectacles of Mr. Pickwick. 
 
 "Keep yourself up for an instant — for only one 
 instant ! " bawled Mr. Snodgrass. 
 
^ 223 8«- 
 
 " Yes, do, let me implore you — for my sake ! " roared 
 Mr. Winkle, deeply affected. 
 
 " Do you feel the bottom there, old fellow ? " said 
 Wardle. 
 
 " Yes, certainly," replied Mr. Pickwick, wringing the 
 water from his head and face, and gasping for breath. 
 " I fell upon my back. I couldn't get on my feet at first." 
 
 The clay upon so much of Mr. Pickwick's coat as was 
 yet visible bore testimony to the truth of this statement ; 
 and as the fears of the spectators were still further 
 relieved by the fat boy's suddenly recollecting that the 
 water was nowhere more than five feet deep, prodigies of 
 valor were performed to get him out. After a vast quan- 
 tity of splashing, and cracking, and struggling, Mr. Pick- 
 wick was at length fairly extricated from his unpleasant 
 position, and once more stood on dry land. 
 
 '- Oh, he'll catch his death of cold," said Emily. 
 
 " Let me wrap this shawl round you," said Arabella. 
 
 "Ah, that's the best thing you can do," said Wardle; 
 " and when you've got it on, run home as fast as your legs 
 can carry you, and jump into bed directly." 
 
 A dozen shawls were offered on the instant. Three 
 or four of the thickest having been selected, Mr. Pickwick 
 was wrapped up, and started off, under the guidance of 
 Mr. Weller, presenting the singular appearance of an 
 elderly gentleman, dripping wet, and without a hat, with 
 his arms bound down to his sides, skimming over the 
 
-^ 224 »- 
 
 ground, without any clearly defined purpose, at the rate 
 of six good English miles an hour. 
 
 But Mr. Pickwick cared not for appearances in such 
 an extreme case, and urged on Ipy Mr. Weller, he kept at 
 the very top of his speed until he reached the door of 
 Manor Farm, where he paused not an instant till he was 
 snug in hed/ — chables dickens. 
 
 EACH AND ALL 
 
 Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown 
 
 Of thee from the hilltop looking down ; 
 
 The heifer that lows in the upland farm. 
 
 Far heard, lows not thine ear to charm ; 
 
 The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, 
 
 Deems not that great Napoleon 
 
 Stops his horse, and lists with delight, 
 
 Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height ; 
 
 Nor knowest thou what argument 
 
 Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. 
 
 All are needed by each one ; 
 
 Nothing is fair or good alone. 
 
 I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, 
 Singing at dawn on the alder bough ; 
 I brought him home, in his nest, at even ; ' 
 He sings the song, but it cheers not now. 
 For I did not bring home the river and sky ; 
 He sang to my ear, — they sang to my eye. 
 
^ 225 B«- 
 
 The delicate shells lay on the shore ; 
 
 The bubbles of the latest wave 
 
 Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, 
 
 And the bellowing of the savage sea 
 
 Greeted their safe escape to me. 
 
 I wiped away the weeds and foam, 
 
 I fetched my sea-born treasures home ; 
 
 But the poor, unsightly, noisome things 
 
 Had left their beauty on the shore 
 
 With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. 
 
 Then I said, " I covet truth ; 
 
 Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat ; 
 
 I leave it behind with the games of youth : — " 
 
 As I spoke, beneath my feet 
 
 The ground pine curled its pretty wreath, 
 
 Running over the club moss burs ; 
 
 I inhaled the violet's breath ; 
 
 Around me stood the oaks and firs; 
 
 Pine cones and acorns lay on the ground ; 
 
 Over me soared the eternal sky, 
 
 Eull of light and of deity ; 
 
 Again I saw, again I heard, 
 
 The rolling river, the morning bird ; 
 
 Beauty through my senses stole ; 
 
 I yielded myself to the perfect whole. 
 
 — Ralph Waldo Emerson. 
 
■^ 226 8«- 
 GULLIVER'S VOYAGE TO LILLIPUT 
 
 posture ^ 
 
 inured 
 
 dexterity 
 
 retinue 
 
 jerkin 
 
 conveyed 
 
 metropolis 
 
 excessive 
 
 imperial 
 
 surveyed 
 
 encompassed 
 
 frequently 
 
 edifice 
 
 prodigious 
 
 magnificence 
 
 apprehensive 
 
 On the fifth of November, which was the beginning of 
 summer in the South Sea, we spied a rock within half a 
 cable's length of the ship ; but the wind was so strong 
 that we were driven directly upon it, and immediately 
 wrecked. Six of the crew, of whom I was one, having 
 let down the boat into the sea, succeeded in getting clear 
 of the ship and rock. 
 
 We trusted ourselves to the mercy of the waves, and 
 in about half an hour the boat was overturned by a sudden 
 gust from the north. What became of my companions in 
 the boat, as well as those who escaped on the rock, I could 
 not tell, but I concluded that they were all lost. 
 
 For my own part, I swam as fortune directed me, and 
 was pushed forward by wind and tide. I was almost 
 exhausted, when I suddenly found myself within my 
 depth ; and by this time the" storm was much abated. I 
 walked nearly a mile before I got to the shore; and then 
 advanced nearly half a mile across the country, but could 
 not discover any sign of houses or inhabitants. 
 
 1 See note on page 263. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
^ 227 ^ 
 
 I was extremely tired, and with that, and the heat of 
 the weather, I found myself much inclined to sleep. I 
 lay down on the grass, which was very short and soft, 
 where I slept more soundly than ever I remember to have 
 done in my life. When I waked, it was just daylight. 
 I attempted to rise, but was not able to stir ; for as I 
 happened to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs 
 were strongly fastened on each side to the ground ; and 
 my hair, which was long and thick, was tied down in the 
 same manner. I heard a confused noise about me ; but 
 in the posture I lay, could see nothing but the sky. 
 
 In a little while I felt something alive moving on my 
 left leg, which advancing gently forward on my breast, 
 came almost up to my chin ; then turning my eyes down- 
 ward as much as I could, I perceived it to be a human 
 creature not six inches high, with a bow and arrow in his 
 hands, and a quiver at his back. In the meantime, I felt 
 at least forty more of the same kind following the first. 
 I was in the utmost astonishment, and roared so loudly, 
 that they all ran back in a fright ; and some of them, as 
 I was afterward told, were hurt with the falls they got 
 by leaping from my sides upon the ground. They soon 
 returned, however, and one of them, who ventured so far 
 as to get a full sight of my face, lifting up his hands and 
 eyes by way of admiration, said a few words in a shrill 
 voice ; the others repeated these words several times, but 
 I knew not what they meant. 
 
-^ 228 ^ 
 
 I lay all this while, in great uneasiness ; at length, 
 struggling to get loose, I had the fortune to break the 
 strings, and wrench out the pegs that fastened my left 
 arm to the ground. At the same time, with a violent 
 pull, which gave me excessive pain, I loosened the strings 
 that tied down my hair on the left side, so that I was 
 able to turn my head about two inches. But the crea- 
 tures ran o:ff a second time, before I could seize them; 
 whereupon there was a great shout in a very shrill 
 accent, and in an instant I felt a hundred arrows dis- 
 charged on my left hand, which pricked me like so many 
 needles. 
 
 When this shower of arrows was over, I tried again 
 to get loose, but they discharged another volley larger 
 than the first, and some of them attempted with spears 
 to stick me in the sides. By good luck I had on a buff 
 jerkin, which they could not pierce. I thought it the 
 most prudent method to lie still, and when the people 
 observed that I was quiet, they discharged no more 
 arrows ; but by the noise I heard, I knew their numbers 
 increased ; and about four yards from me, near my right 
 ear, I heard a knocking for more than an hour, like that 
 of people at work. On turning my head that way, as 
 well as the pegs and strings would permit me, I saw a 
 stage erected about a foot and a half from the ground, 
 capable of holding four of the inhabitants, with two or 
 three ladders to mount it; from whence one of them, 
 
^ 229 8«- 
 
 who seemed to be a person of quality, made me a long 
 speech, whereof I understood not one syllable. 
 
 I answered in a few words, but in a most submissive 
 manner, and being almost famished with hunger, I could 
 not forbear showing my impatience by putting my finger 
 frequently to my mouth, to signify that I wanted food. 
 The orator then descended from the stage, and com- 
 manded that several ladders should be applied to my 
 sides, on which a hundred of the inhabitants mounted, 
 and walked toward my mouth, laden with baskets full 
 of meat, which had been provided and sent thither by 
 the king's orders. 
 
 I observed there was the flesh of several animals, but 
 could not distinguish them by the taste. There were 
 shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like those of mutton, 
 and very well dressed, but smaller than the wings of a 
 lark. I ate them by two or three at a mouthful, and 
 took three loaves of bread at a time, about the size of 
 musket bullets. They supplied me as fast as they could, 
 showing a thousand marks of wonder and astonishment 
 at my appetite. 
 
 I then made another sign that I wanted drink. They 
 found by my eating that a small quantity would not 
 suffice me, and slung up with great dexterity one of 
 their largest hogsheads, then rolled it toward my hand, 
 and beat out the top. I drank it off at a draught, which 
 I might well do, for it did not hold half a pint. A second 
 
-^ 230 B«- 
 
 hogshead I drank in the same manner, and made signs 
 for more; but they had none to give me. 
 
 When I had performed these wonders, they shouted 
 for joy, and danced upon my breast. I confess I was 
 often tempted, while they were passing to and fro on my 
 body, to seize forty or fifty of the first that came in my 
 reach, and dash them against the ground. But I now 
 considered myself as bound by the laws of hospitality to 
 a people who had treated me with so much expense and 
 magnificence. 
 
 After some time, when they observed that I made no 
 more demands for food, there appeared before me. a person 
 of high rank from his imperial majesty. His excellency 
 having mounted on my ankle, advanced forward up to 
 my face, with a dozen of his retinue, and spoke about 
 ten minutes, pointing forward, which, as I afterward 
 found, was toward the capital city, about a half a mile 
 distant ; whither it was agreed by his majesty that I 
 must be conveyed. I made a sign with my hand that 
 was loose, to signify that I desired my liberty. It 
 appeared that he understood me, for he shook his head 
 and held his hand in a posture to show that I must be 
 carried as a prisoner. 
 
 However, he made other signs to let me understand 
 that I should have meat and drink enough, and very good 
 treatment. Soon after I heard a general shout, and I felt 
 great numbers of people on my left side relaxing the 
 
-^ 231 8€- 
 
 cords to such a degree that I was able to turn upon my 
 right side. 
 
 It seems that when I was discovered sleeping on the 
 ground, after my landing, the emperor had notice of it 
 by a messenger, and he determined that I should be tied 
 while I slept, that plenty of meat and drink should be 
 sent me, and a machine prepared to carry me to the 
 capital city. 
 
 This emperor has several machines fixed on wheels 
 for the carriage of trees and other great weights. He 
 often builds his largest men-of-war, whereof some are 
 nine feet long, in the woods where the timber grows, 
 and has them carried on these engines three or four 
 hundred yards to the sea. Five hundred carpenters and 
 engineers were immediately set at work to prepare the 
 greatest engine they had. It was a frame of wood raised 
 three inches from the ground, about seven feet long and 
 four feet wide, and moving upon twenty-two wheels. 
 
 The shout I heard was upon the arrival of the engine, 
 which set out in four hours after my landing. It was 
 brought parallel to me as I lay, but the principal difficulty 
 was to raise and place me in this vehicle. Eighty poles, 
 each one foot high, were erected for this purpose, and 
 very strong cords, of the bigness of coarse thread, were 
 fastened by hooks to many bandages, which the workmen 
 had tied round my neck, hands, body, and legs. Nine 
 hundred of the strongest men were employed to draw up 
 
-^ 232 ^ 
 
 these cords, by many pulleys fastened on the poles, and 
 thus, in less than three hours, I was raised and slung into 
 the engine, and there tied fast. All this I was told ; for 
 while it was being done, I lay in a profound sleep. 
 
 Fifteen hundred of the emperor's largest horses, each 
 about four and a half inches high, were employed to draw 
 me toward the metropolis, which as I said was half a 
 mile distant. We made a long march during the remain- 
 ing part of the day, and rested at night with five hundred 
 guards on each side of me, half with torches and half 
 with bows and arrows, ready to shoot me if I should offer 
 to stir. 
 
 The next morning at sunrise we continued our march, 
 and arrived within two hundred yards of the city gate 
 about noon. The emperor and all his court came out to 
 meet us ; but his officers would by no means allow his 
 majesty to endanger his person by mounting on my 
 body. 
 
 At the place where the carriage stopped, there stood 
 an ancient temple, esteemed to be the largest in the whole 
 kingdom, and in this edifice it was determined I should 
 lodge. On each side of the gate was a small window, not 
 more than six inches from the ground, and into the one 
 on the left side, the king's smiths conveyed four score and 
 eleven chains (about as large as watch chains), which were 
 locked to my left leg with six-and-thirty padlocks. When 
 the workmen found it was impossible for me to break 
 
^ 233 B^ 
 
 loose, they cut all the strings that bound me, whereupon 
 I rose to my feet and looked about me. 
 
 I must confess that I never beheld a more entertain- 
 ing prospect. The country around appeared like a gar- 
 den, and the enclosed fields, which were generally forty 
 feet square, resembled so many flower-beds. These fields 
 were intermingled with woods, and the tallest trees, as I 
 could judge, appeared to be seven feet high. I viewed 
 the town on my left hand, which looked like the painted 
 scene of a city in a theatre. 
 
 The emperor now advanced on horseback and sur- 
 veyed me with great admiration, but kept beyond the 
 length of my chain. He ordered his cooks and butlers 
 to give me food and drink, which they pushed forward in 
 a sort of vehicle upon wheels. I took these vehicles and 
 soon emptied them all ; twenty of them were filled with 
 meat, and ten with drink ; each of the former afforded me 
 two or three good mouthfuls, and I drank off the liquid 
 at one draught. His imperial majesty spoke often to me, 
 and I returned answers ; but neither of us could under- 
 stand a syllable. After about two hours the court retired, 
 and I was left with a strong guard. 
 
 Toward night I crept with some difficulty into my 
 house, where I lay on the ground, and continued to do so 
 for about a fortnight ; during which time the emperor 
 gave orders to have a bed prepared for me. Six hundred 
 beds were brought in carriages, and worked up in my 
 
-^ 234 B^ 
 
 house ; a hundred and fifty of the beds, sewn together, 
 made up the breadth and length, and these were four 
 double ; which, however, kept me but indifferently from 
 the hardness of the stone floor. In the same way, they 
 provided me with sheets, blankets, and coverlets, good 
 enough for one who had been so long inured to hardships. 
 
 An establishment was also made of six hundred per- 
 sons to be my servants, and tents were built for them very 
 conveniently on each side of my door. It was likewise 
 ordered that three hundred tailors should make me a suit 
 of clothes, after the fashion of the country ; that six of 
 his majesty's greatest scholars should be employed to in- 
 struct me in their language ; and, lastly, that the emperor's 
 horses, and those of the nobility and troops of guards, 
 should be frequently exercised in m}^ sight, to accustom 
 themselves to me. 
 
 All these orders were duly put in execution ; and in 
 about three weeks I made great progress in learning their 
 language ; during which time the emperor frequently hon- 
 ored me with his visits, and was pleased to assist my mas- 
 ters in teaching me. My gentleness and good behavior 
 had gained so far on the emperor and his court, and 
 indeed upon the army and people in general, that I began 
 to conceive hopes of getting my liberty in a short time. I 
 took all possible methods to cultivate this favorable dispo- 
 sition. The natives came, by degrees, to be less apprehen- 
 sive of any danger from me. I would sometimes lie down 
 
-^ 235 9«- 
 
 and let five or six of tliem dance on my head ; and at last 
 the boys and girls would venture to come and play hide- 
 and-seek in my hair. 
 
 The horses of the army, having been daily led before 
 me, were no longer shy, but would come up to my very 
 feet without starting. The riders would leap them over 
 my hand, as I held it on the ground ; and one of the 
 emperor's huntsmen, upon a large courser, took my foot, 
 shoe and all ; which was indeed a prodigious leap. 
 
 I had sent so many petitions for my liberty, that his 
 majesty at length mentioned the matter, first in the cabi- 
 net, and then in full council, where it was opposed by 
 none. 
 
 The first request I made after I had obtained my lib- 
 erty was that I might hg^ve permission to see Mildendo, 
 the metropolis ; which the emperor readily granted, but 
 with a special charge to do no hurt either to the houses or 
 inhabitants. The people had notice, by proclamation, of 
 my design to visit the town. The wall which encom- 
 passed it is two feet and a half high, and at least eleven 
 inches broad, so that a coach and horses may be driven 
 very safely round it ; and it is flanked with strong towers 
 at ten feet distance. 
 
 I stepped over the great western gate, and passed very 
 gently sideways through the two principal streets, wearing 
 only my short waistcoat, for fear of damaging the roofs 
 and eaves of the houses with the skirts of my coat. I 
 
^ 236 e«- 
 
 walked with the utmost care, to avoid treading on any 
 stragglers who might remain in the streets ; although the 
 orders were very strict that all people should keep in their 
 houses at their own peril. 
 
 The garret windows and tops of houses were so 
 crowded with spectators that I thought in all my travels 
 I had not seen a more populous place. The city is an 
 exact square, each side of the wall being five hundred feet 
 long. The two great streets which run across and divide 
 it into four quarters are five feet wide. The lanes and 
 alleys, which I could not enter, but only viewed as I 
 passed, are from twelve to eighteen inches. The town 
 is capable of holding five hundred thousand persons ; the 
 houses are from three to five stories high, and the shops 
 and markets are well provided. 
 
 The emperor had a great desire that I should see his 
 palace. By stepping over the buildings I contrived to 
 get into the inmost court; and then, lying down upon 
 my side, I looked in at the windows of the middle stories. 
 There I saw the most splendid apartments that can be 
 imagined. The empress smiled at me from one of the 
 windows and gave me her hand to kiss. 
 
 —Jonathan Swift. 
 

 
 ^ 237 8«- 
 
 
 
 TWO 
 
 OLD SOLDIERS 1 
 Part I 
 
 
 deign ^ 
 
 assemble 
 
 fluent 
 
 Segovia 
 
 route 
 
 trumpeter 
 
 pinioned 
 
 Guadarama 
 
 durance 
 
 Morisco 
 
 bandolero 
 
 Escurial 
 
 corporal 
 
 Granada 
 
 caparisoned 
 
 Andalusia 
 
 warrior 
 
 Alhambra 
 
 potentate 
 
 contrabandista 
 
 One bright summer morning a patrol, consisting of 
 a corporal, a trumpeter, and two privates, was seated 
 beside the road which leads dowm from the Mountain of 
 the Sun, when they heard the tramp of a horse, and a 
 male voice singing in rough, though not unmusical tones, 
 an old Castilian campaigning song. 
 
 Presently they beheld a sturd}^, sunburnt fellow, clad 
 in the ragged garb of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful 
 Arabian horse caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion. 
 
 Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier descend- 
 ing, steed in hand, from that solitary mountain, the cor- 
 poral stepped forth and challenged him. 
 
 " Who goes there ? " 
 
 " A friend." 
 
 " Who and what are you ? " 
 
 1 See note on page 263. 
 
 2 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-« 238 B^ 
 
 "A poor soldier just from the wars, with a cracked 
 crown and empty purse for a reward." 
 
 By this time they were able to view him more nar- 
 rowly. He had a black patch across his forehead, a griz- 
 zled beard, and a slight squint which threw into his face 
 an occasional gleam of roguish good-humor. 
 
 Having answered the questions of the patrol, the sol- 
 dier seemed to consider himself entitled to make others in 
 return. " May I ask," said he, " what city that is which 
 I see at the foot of the hill ? " 
 
 "What city!" cried the trumpeter; "come, that is 
 too bad. Here's a fellow lurking about the Mountain 
 of the Sun and demands the name of the great city of 
 Granada ! " 
 
 " Granada ! Can it be possible ? " 
 
 "Perhaps not!" rejoined the trumpeter; "and per- 
 haps you have no idea that yonder are the towers of the 
 Alhambra." 
 
 " Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, " do not 
 trifle with me. If this be indeed the Alhambra, I have 
 some strange matters to reveal to the governor." 
 
 "You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, 
 " for we mean to take you before him." The trumpeter 
 seized the bridle of the steed, the two privates secured an 
 arm of the soldier, the corporal put himself in front, gave 
 the word of command, " Forward t- march ! " and away 
 they marched for the Alhambra. 
 
-« 239 B«- 
 
 The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian 
 horse, brought in captive by the patrol, attracted the at- 
 tention of all the idlers of the fortress, and of those 
 gossip groups that generally assemble about wells and 
 fountains at early dawn. A motley train gradually 
 gathered in the rear of the escort. 
 
 Knowing nods and winks and conjectures passed from 
 one to another. " It is a deserter," said one ; " A contra- 
 bandista," said another; " A bandolero," said a third; — 
 until it was affirmed that a captam of a desperate band of 
 robbers had been captured by the prowess of the corporal 
 and his patrol. " Well, well," said the old crones, one to 
 another, " captain or not, let him get out of the grasp of 
 old Governor Manco, if he can, though he is but one- 
 handed." 
 
 Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner halls 
 of the Alhambra, taking his morning cup of chocolate. A 
 demure, dark-eyed damsel, the daughter of the house- 
 keeper, was attending upon him. 
 
 When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had 
 been taken lurking about the fortress, and was actually in 
 the outer court, in durance of the corporal, waiting the 
 pleasure of his Excellency, the pride and stateliness of 
 office swelled the bosom of the governor. Giving back 
 his chocolate-cup into the hands of the demure damsel, he 
 called for his basket-hilted sword, girded it to his side, 
 twirled up his mustache, took his seat in a large high- 
 
-^ 240 3«- 
 
 backed chair, assumed a forbidding aspect, and ordered 
 the prisoner into his presence. The soldier was brought 
 in, still closely pinioned by his captors, and guarded by 
 the corporal. He maintained, however, a resolute, self- 
 confident air, and returned the sharp, scrutinizing look of 
 the governor with an easy squint, which by no means 
 pleased the potentate. 
 
 ^^ Well, culprit," said the governor, after he had re- 
 garded him for a moment in silence, " what have you to 
 say for yourself — who are you ? " 
 
 " A soldier from the wars, who has brought away 
 nothing but scars and bruises." 
 
 " A soldier — humph — a foot-soldier by your garb. I 
 understand you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume 
 you brought him, too, from the wars, besides your scars 
 and bruises." 
 
 "May it please your Excellency, I have something 
 strange to tell about that horse. Indeed, I have one of 
 the most wonderful things to relate. Something, too, that 
 concerns the security of this fortress, indeed of all Granada. 
 But it is a matter to be imparted only to your private ear, 
 or in the presence of such Only as are in your confidence." 
 
 The governor considered for a moment, and then di- 
 rected the corporal and his men to withdraw, but to post 
 themselves outside of the door, and be ready at a call. 
 "This holy friar," said he, "is my confessor, you may 
 say anything in his presence; and this damsel," nodding 
 
^ 241 e«- 
 
 toward the handmaid, " this damsel is of great discretion, 
 and to be trusted with anything." 
 
 When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier com- 
 menced his story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued 
 varlet, and had a command of language above his ap- 
 parent rank. 
 
 " May it please your Excellency," said he, " I am, as I 
 before observed, a soldier, and have seen some hard ser- 
 vice, but my term of enlistment being expired, I w^as dis- 
 charged, not long since, from the army, and set out on 
 foot for my native village in Andalusia. Yesterday even- 
 ing the sun went down as I was traversing a great dry 
 plain of Old Castile." 
 
 " Hold ! " cried the governor ; " what is this you say ? 
 Old Castile is some two or three hundred miles from 
 this." 
 
 " Even so," replied the stranger, coolly. " I told your 
 Excellency I had strange things to relate ; but not more 
 strange than true, as your Excellency will find, if you will 
 deign me a patient hearing." 
 
 " Proceed, culprit," said the governor. 
 
 " As the sun went down," continued the soldier, " I 
 cast my eyes about in search of quarters for the night, 
 but as far as my sight could reach there were no signs of 
 habitation. I saw that I should have to make my bed on 
 the naked plain, with my knapsack for a pillow ; but your 
 Excellency is an old soldier, and knows that to one who 
 
-^ 242 8<- 
 
 has been in the wars such a night's lodging is no great 
 hardship." 
 
 The governor nodded assent. 
 
 " Well, to make a long story short/' continued the sol- 
 dier, " I trudged forward for several miles until I came to 
 a bridge over a deep ravine, through which ran a little 
 thread of water, almost dried up by the summer heat. 
 At one end of the bridge was a Moorish tower, the upper 
 end all in ruins, but a room in the foundation quite entire. 
 Here, thinks I, is a good place to make a halt ; so I went 
 down to the stream, and took a hearty drink, for the 
 water was pure and sweet, and I was parched with 
 thirst ; then, opening my wallet, I took out an onion and 
 a few crusts, which were all my provisions, and seating 
 myself on a stone on the margin of the stream, began to 
 make my supper, — intending afterwards to quarter my- 
 self for the night in the tower, and capital quarters they 
 would have been for a campaigner just from the wars, as 
 your Excellency, who is an old soldier, may suppose." 
 
 " I have put up gladly with worse in my time," said 
 the governor. 
 
 " While I was quietly crunching my crusts," pursued 
 the soldier, " I heard something stir within the tower ; I 
 listened — it was the tramp of a horse. By and by a man 
 came from a door in the foundation of the tower, leading 
 ia, powerful horse by the bridle. I could not well make 
 out what he was, by the starlight. It had a suspicious 
 
-^ 243 8«- 
 
 look to be lurking among the ruins of a tower, in that 
 wild, solitary place. He might be a mere wayfarer like 
 myself; he might be a contrabandista ; he might be a 
 bandolero ! what of tjiat ! thank heaven and my poverty, 
 I had nothing to lose; so I sat still and crunched my 
 crust. 
 
 " He led his horse to the water, close by where I was 
 sitting, so that I had a fair opportunity of looking him 
 over. To my surprise he was dressed in a Moorish garb, 
 with a cuirass of steel. His horse, too, was caparisoned 
 in the Morisco fashion, with great stirrups. He led 
 him, as I said, to the side of the stream, into which the 
 animal plunged his head almost to the eyes, and drank 
 until I thought he would have burst. 
 
 " ' Comrade,' said I, ' your steed drinks well ; it is a 
 good sign when a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into 
 the water.' 
 
 ^' ' He may well drink,' said the stranger, speaking 
 with a Moorish accent ; ^ it is a good year since he had 
 his last draught.' 
 
 " ' That beats even the camels I have seen in Africa,' 
 said I. ' But come, you seem to be something of a soldier, 
 will you sit down and take part of a soldier's fare ? ' In 
 fact, I felt the want of a companion in this lonely place. 
 Besides, as your Excellency well knows, a soldier is never 
 particular about his company, and soldiers of all countries 
 are comrades on peaceable grounds." 
 
^ 244 8«- 
 
 The governor again nodded assent. 
 
 " Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my 
 supper, such as it was, for I could not do less in common 
 hospitality. ^I have no time to pause for meat or drink,' 
 said he. ' I have a long journey to make before morning.' 
 
 " ' In what direction ? ' said I. 
 
 " ' Andalusia,' said he. 
 
 " ' Exactly my route,' said I ; 'so, as you won't stop 
 and eat with me, perhaps you will let me mount and ride 
 with you. I see your horse is of a powerful frame ; I'll 
 warrant he'll carry double.' 
 
 u i Agreed,' said the trooper ; and, indeed, it would not 
 have been civil and soldier-like for him to refuse my 
 request, especially as I had offered to share my supper 
 with him. So he mounted his horse, and up I mounted 
 behind him. 
 
 " ' Hold fast,' said he. ' My steed goes like the wind, 
 and I have no time to lose.' 
 
 " ' Never fear for me,' said I, and off we set. 
 
 " From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, and 
 from a trot to a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum- 
 scarum scamper. It seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, 
 everything, flew hurry-scurry behind us. 
 
 " ' What town is this ? ' said I. 
 
 " ' Segovia,' said he ; and before the words were out of 
 his mouth the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We 
 swept up the Guadarama Mountains, and down by the 
 
^ 245 S«- 
 
 Escurial ; and we skirted the walls of Madrid, and we 
 scoured away across the plains of La Mancha. In this way 
 we went up hill and down dale, by towers and cities, all 
 buried in deep sleep, and across mountains, and plains, and 
 rivers, just glimmering in the starlight. 
 
 " To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your 
 Excellency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of 
 a mountain. ' Here we are,' said he, ' at the end of our 
 journey.' I looked about but could see no signs of habi- 
 tation, nothing but the mouth of a cavern. While I looked 
 I saw multitudes of people in Moorish dress, some on horse- 
 back, some on foot, arising as if borne by the wind from 
 all points of the compass, hurrying into the mouth of the 
 cavern like bees into a hive. Before I could ask a ques- 
 tion, the trooper struck his long Moorish spurs into the 
 horse's flanks, and dashed in with the throng. 
 
 " We passed along a steep winding way, that descended 
 into the very depths of the mountain. ^ As we pushed on, 
 a light began to glimmer up, little by little, like the first 
 glimmerings of day, but what caused it I could not discern. 
 It grew stronger and stronger, and enabled me to see 
 everything around. I now noticed, as we passed along, 
 great caverns opening to the right and left, like halls in 
 an arsenal. In some there were shields, helmets, lances 
 and cimeters, hanging against the walls ; in others there 
 were great heaps of warlike munitions, and tent equipage 
 lying upon the ground. 
 
-58 246 8«- 
 
 *^It would have done your Excellency's heart good, 
 being an old soldier^ to have seen such grand provision for 
 war. Then, in other caverns, there were long rows of 
 horsemen armed to the teeth, with lances raised and ban- 
 ners unfurled, all ready for the field ; but they all sat 
 motionless in their saddles, like so many statues. In other 
 halls were warriors sleeping on the ground beside their 
 horses, and foot-soldiers in groups ready to fall into 
 the rank. All were in old-fashioned Moorish dress and 
 armor. 
 
 " Well, your Excellency, to cut a long story short, we 
 at length entered an immense cavern, or I may say palace, 
 of grotto-work, the walls of which seemed to be veined 
 with gold and silver, and to sparkle with diamonds and 
 sapphires, and all kinds of precious stones. 
 
 " At the upper end sat a Moorish king on a golden 
 throne, with his nobles on each side, and a guard of 
 soldiers with drawn cimeters. All the crowd that con- 
 tinued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and thou- 
 sands, passed one by one before his throne, each paying 
 homage as he passed. Some of the multitude were dressed 
 in magnificent robes, without stain or blemish, and spark- 
 ling with jewels ; others were clad from head to foot in 
 burnished and enamelled armor; while others were in 
 mouldered and mildewed garments, and in armor all 
 battered and dented and covered with rust. 
 
 " I had hitherto held my tongue, for your Excellency 
 
^ 247 B«- 
 
 THE COURT AND ARMY OF BOABDIL 
 
-^ 248 ^ 
 
 well knows it is not for a soldier to ask many questions 
 when on duty, but I could keep silent no longer. 
 
 " ' Prithee, comrade,' said I, ' what is the meaning of 
 all this ? ' 
 
 " ' This,' said the trooper, ' is a great and fearful mys- 
 tery. Know, Christian, that you see before you the 
 court and army of Boabdil, the last king of Granada.' 
 
 " ' What is this you tell me ? ' said I. ' Boabdil and 
 his court were exiled from the land hundreds of years 
 ago, and all died in Africa.' 
 
 " ' So it is recorded in your lying chronicles,' replied 
 the Moor, ' but know that Boabdil and the warriors who 
 made the last struggle for Granada were all shut up in the 
 mountain by powerful enchantment. And furthermore 
 let me tell you, friend, that all Spain is a country under 
 the power of enchantment. There is not a mountain- 
 cave, not a lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor ruined 
 castle on the hills, but has some spell-bound warriors sleep- 
 ing from age to age within its vaults. 
 
 " ' Once every year they are released from enchant- 
 ment from sunset to sunrise, and permitted to repair here 
 to pay homage to their sovereign ; and the crowds which 
 you beheld swarming into the cavern are Moslem warriors 
 from their haunts in all parts of Spain. For my own part, 
 you saw the ruined tower of the bridge in Old Castile, 
 where I have now wintered and summered for many hun- 
 dred years, and where I must be back again by daybreak. 
 
-« 249 B^ 
 
 As to the battalions of horse and foot which you beheld 
 drawn up in array in the neighboring caverns, they are the 
 spellbound warriors of Granada. It is written in the book 
 of fate, that when the enchantment is broken, Boabdil will 
 descend the mountain at the head of this army, resume 
 his throne in the Alhambra and his sway of Granada, and 
 gathering together the enchanted warriors from all parts 
 of Spain, will reconquer the peninsula and restore it to 
 the Moslem rule/ 
 
 " ' And when shall this happen ? ' said I. 
 
 " ' Allah alone knows ; we had hoped the day of deliv- 
 erance was at hand ; but there reigns at present a vigilant 
 governor in the Alhambra, a stanch old soldier, well 
 known as Governor Manco. While such a warrior holds 
 command of the very outpost, and stands ready to check 
 the first eruption from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and 
 his soldiery must be content to rest upon their arms.' " 
 
 Here the governor raised himself, adjusted his sword, 
 and twirled up his mustache. 
 
 " To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your 
 Excellency, the trooper, having given me this account, dis- 
 mounted from his steed. 
 
 " ' Tarry here,' said he, ' and guard my steed, while I 
 go and bow the knee to Boabdil.' So saying, he strode 
 away among the throng that pressed forward to the 
 throne." 
 

 
 -^ 250 Q^ 
 
 
 
 
 Part II 
 
 
 Toledo^ 
 
 convoy 
 
 visage 
 
 hyena 
 
 bolero 
 
 tradition 
 
 habitation 
 
 function 
 
 veteran 
 
 decorum 
 
 universal 
 
 menagerie 
 
 mollify 
 
 fugitives 
 
 mitigate 
 
 merchandise 
 
 sentinel 
 
 sagacity 
 
 esplanade 
 
 subterranean 
 
 "^What's to be done?' thought I, when thus left to 
 myself ; ' shall I wait here until this ghost returns to 
 whisk me off on his goblin steed, or shall I make the 
 most of my time and beat a retreat from this hobgoblin 
 community ? ' A soldier's mind is soon made up, as your 
 Excellency well knows. As to the horse, he belonged to 
 an avowed enemy of the realm, and was a fair prize 
 according to the rules of war. So, hoisting myself from 
 the crupper into the saddle, I turned the reins, struck the 
 Moorish stirrups into the sides of the steed, and urged 
 him to make the best of his way out of the passage by 
 which he had entered. 
 
 '' As we scoured by the halls where the Moslem horse- 
 men sat in motionless battalions, I thought I heard the 
 clang of armor and a hollow murmur of voices. I gave 
 the steed another taste *of the stirrups and doubled my 
 speed. There was now a sound behind me like a rushing 
 blast ; I heard the clatter of a thousand hoofs ; a count- 
 
 1 Find the definition and pronunciation of these words in the vocabulary. 
 
-« 251 d^ 
 
 less throng overtook me. I was borne along in the press, 
 and hurled forth from the mouth of the cavern, while 
 thousands of shadowy forms were swept off in every 
 direction by the four winds of heaven. 
 
 " In the whirl and confusion of the scene I was 
 thrown senseless to the earth. When I came to myself, 
 I was lying on the brow of a hill, with the Arabian steed 
 standing beside me ; for, in falling, my arm had slipped 
 within the bridle, which, I presume, prevented his whisk- 
 ing off to Old Castile. 
 
 " Your Excellency may .easily judge of my surprise, 
 on looking round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian 
 figs and other proofs of a southern climate, and to see 
 a great city below me, with towers and a grand cathedral. 
 
 "I descended the hill cautiously, leading my steed, 
 for I was afraid to mount him again, lest he should 
 play me some trick. As I descended I met your patrol, 
 who let me into the secret that it was Granada that lay 
 before me, and that I was actually under the walls of the 
 Alhambra, the fortress of the redoubted Governor Manco, 
 the terror of all enchanted Moslems. When I heard this, 
 I determined at once to seek your Excellency, to inform 
 you of all that I had seen, and to warn you of the perils 
 that surround and undermine you, that you may take 
 measures in time to guard your fortress, and the kingdom 
 itself, from this army that lurks in the very depths of the 
 earth." 
 
-« 252 8«- 
 
 ^' And prithee, friend, you who are a veteran cam- 
 paigner, and have seen so much service," said the gov- 
 ernor, " how would you advise me to proceed, in order to 
 prevent this evil ? " 
 
 " It is not for a humble private of the ranks," said the 
 soldier, modestly, '^ to pretend to instruct a conimander of 
 your Excellency's sagacity; but it appears to me that your 
 Excellency might cause all the caves and entrances into 
 the mountains to be walled up with solid mason-work, so 
 that Boabdil and his army might be completely corked 
 up in their subterranean habitation." 
 
 The governor now placed his arms akimbo, with his 
 hand resting on the hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon 
 the soldier, and, gently wagging his head from one side to 
 the other : " So, friend," said he, " then you really sup- 
 pose I am to be cheated with this story about enchanted 
 mountains and enchanted Moors? Hark ye, culprit! not 
 another word. An old soldier you may be, but you'll 
 find you have an older soldier to deal with, and one not 
 easily outgeneralled. Ho! guards there! put this fellow 
 in irons." 
 
 The demure handmaid would have put in a word in 
 favor of the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with 
 a look. 
 
 As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the guards 
 felt something of bulk in his pocket, and, drawing it 
 forth, found a long leathern purse that appeared to be well 
 
^ 253 ^ 
 
 filled. Holding it by one corner, he turned the contents 
 upon the table before the governor. Out tumbled rings, 
 jewels, rosaries of pearls, sparkling diamond crosses, and 
 a profusion of ancient golden coin, some of which fell 
 jingling to the floor, and rolled away to the uttermost 
 parts of the chamber. 
 
 For a time the functions of justice were suspended ; 
 there was a universal scramble after the glittering fugi- 
 tives. The governor alone, who was imbued with true 
 Spanish pride, maintained his stately decorum, though 
 his eye betrayed a little anxiety until the last coin and 
 jewel was restored to the sack. 
 
 " Where hast thou stolen these precious jewels ? " de- 
 manded Governor Manco. 
 
 "I was just going to tell your Excellency, when you 
 interrupted me, that, on taking possession of the trooper's 
 horse, I unhooked a leathern sack which hung at the 
 saddle-bow." 
 
 '^ A clever tale ! At present you will make up your 
 mind to take up your quarters in a chamber of the ver- 
 milion tower, which, though not under a magic spell, will 
 hold you as safe as any cave of your enchanted Moors." • 
 
 " Your Excellency will do as you think proper," said 
 the prisoner, coolly. " I shall be thankful to your Excel- 
 lency for any accommodation in the fortress. A soldier 
 who has been in the wars, as your Excellency well knows, 
 is not particular about his lodgings." 
 
-^ 254 8«- 
 
 Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted 
 to a strong dungeon in the vermilion tower, the Arabian 
 steed was led to his Excellency's stable, and the trooper's 
 sack was deposited in his Excellency's strong box. 
 
 To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the 
 part of old Governor Manco, it is proper to observe that 
 about this time the mountains in the neighborhood of 
 Granada were terribly infested by a gang of robbers, 
 under the command of a daring chief named Manuel 
 Borasco, who was accustomed to prowl about the country, 
 and even to enter the city in various disguises, to gain 
 intelligence of the departure of convoys of merchandise, 
 or of travellers with well-lined purses, whom they took 
 care to waylay in distant and solitary passes of the road. 
 
 The vermilion tower, as is well known, stands apart 
 from the Alhambra on a sister hill, separated from the 
 main fortress by the ravine, down which passes the main 
 avenue. There were no outer walls, but a sentinel pa- 
 trolled before the tower. The window of the chamber in 
 which the soldier was confined was strongly grated, and 
 looked upon a small esplanade. Here the good folk of 
 Granada repaired to gaze at him, as they would at a 
 laughing hyena, grinning through the cage of a menag- 
 erie. Visitors came not merely from the city, but from 
 all parts of the country; but nobody knew him, and 
 there began to be doubts in the minds of the common 
 people whether there might not be some truth in his 
 
^ 255 ^ 
 
 story. That Boabdil and his army were shut up in the 
 mountains was an old tradition, which many of the 
 ancient inhabitants had heard from their fathers. Num- 
 bers went up to the Mountain of the Sun, or rather of 
 St. Elena, in search of the cave mentioned by the soldier ; 
 and saw and peeped into the deep, dark pit, descending, 
 no one knows how far, into the mountain, and which 
 remains there to this day — the fabled entrance to the 
 subterranean abode of Boabdil. 
 
 By degrees the soldier became popular with the com- 
 mon people, and many of them looked upon the prisoner 
 in the light of a martyr. 
 
 The soldier, moreover, was a mferry fellow, who had a 
 joke for every one who came near his window. He had 
 procured an old guitar, and would sit by his window 
 and sing ballads to the delight of the women of the 
 neighborhood, who would assemble on the esplanade in 
 the evening and dance boleros to his music. Having 
 trimmed off his rough beard, his sunburnt face found 
 favor in the eyes of the fair handmaid of the governor. 
 This kind-hearted damsel had from the first evinced a 
 deep sympathy in his fortunes, and, having in vain tried 
 to mollify the governor, had set to work privately to 
 mitigate the rigor of his dispensations. Every day she 
 brought the prisoner some crumbs of comfort which had 
 fallen from the governor's table, or been abstracted from 
 his larder. 
 
-^ 256 B«- 
 
 While this petty treason was going on in the old 
 governor's citadel, a storm of open war was brewing 
 among his external foes. The circumstance of a bag of 
 gold and jewels having been found upon the person of 
 the supposed robber, had been reported in Granada. A 
 question of territorial right was immediately started by 
 the governor's rival, the captain-general. He therefore 
 threatened to send a body of soldiers to transfer the 
 prisoner from the vermilion tower to the city. 
 
 News of this was brought late at night to Governor 
 Manco. " Let them come," said he, " they'll find me be- 
 forehand with them ; he must rise bright and early who 
 would take in an old soldier." 
 
 He accordingly issued orders to have his prisoner re- 
 moved at daybreak, to the donjon-keep within the walls 
 of the Alhambra. " And d'ye hear, child," said he to the 
 handmaid, " tap at my door and wake me before cock- 
 crowing, that I may see to the matter myself." 
 
 The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped 
 at the door of the governor. The sun rose high above 
 the mountain tops, and glittered in at his casement, ere 
 the governor was awakened from his morning dreams by 
 his veteran corporal, who stood before him with terror 
 stamped upon his iron visage. 
 
 " He's off ! he's gone ! " cried the corporal. 
 
 " Who's off — who's gone ? " 
 
 " The soldier — the robber; his dungeon is empty, but 
 
-^ 257 ^ 
 
 the door is locked ; no one knows how he has escaped out 
 of it." • 
 
 " Who saw him last ? " 
 
 " Your handmaid ; she brought him his supper." 
 
 " Let her be called instantly." 
 
 Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of 
 the demure damsel was likewise empty. Her bed had 
 not been slept in : she had doubtless gone off with the 
 culprit, as she had appeared, for several days past, to 
 have frequent conversations with him. 
 
 This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, 
 but he had scarce time to wince at it, when new misfor- 
 tunes broke upon his view. On going into his cabinet he 
 found his strong box open, and the leather purse of the 
 trooper abstracted. 
 
 But how had the fugitives escaped? A peasant who 
 lived by the roadside leading up into the Sierra declared 
 that he had heard the tramp of a powerful steed just 
 before daybreak, passing up into the mountains. He had 
 looked out of his casement, and could just distinguish % 
 horseman with a woman seated before him. 
 
 " Search the stables ! " cried Governor Manco. 
 
 The stables were searched; all the horses were in 
 their stalls excepting the Arabian steed. In his place 
 was a stout cudgel, tied to the manger, and on it a label 
 bearing these words, " A Gift to Governor Manco, from 
 
 an Old Soldier." —Washington Irving. 
 
NOTES ON THE STORIES AND POEMS 
 
 {To he Bead by Teachers and Pupils.) 
 
 The Sabot of Little Wolff is translated from the French of Francois 
 Coppee (1842- ), a French poet, dramatist, and novelist. 
 
 Perronet is selected from a book of short stories entitled "A Great 
 Emergency and Other Tales," by Juliana Horatia Ewing (1841-1885), 
 an Englishwoman, who wrote many charming stories for old and 
 young. Among the most popular of her books are "Jackanapes," 
 " Jan of the Windmill," and " The Story of a Short Life." 
 
 March, The Gladness of Nature, and The Fringed Gentian were written 
 by William Cullen Bryant (1794-1878), an American poet and jour- 
 nalist. He wrote many poems about birds, flowers, and the chang- 
 ing seasons, which prove him to be a thoughtful and loving student 
 of nature. 
 
 Daffodils was written by William Wordsworth (1770-1850), a 
 celebrated English poet. He wrote many poems which express a 
 genuine love of nature, and a familiar knowledge of her ways. 
 
 The River of Gold. — This is a selection from " The King of the 
 Golden River," a charming story for children written by John 
 Kuskin (1819-1900), an English author, celebrated for his prose 
 style. 
 
 In reading this story one should note the beautiful description of 
 the mountains, glacier, sky, clouds and sunsets, and how with a 
 few well-chosen words the author changes the whole effect of the 
 landscape from bright and cheering to dull and lowering. 
 
 The White Knight. — Lewis Carroll was the pen-name of Charles L. 
 Dodgson, an English author (1832-1898), who wrote "Alice in 
 Wonderland " and " Alice through the Looking-Glass." These are 
 
^ 260 e<- 
 
 two delightful books for children, which recount the adventures of a 
 little girl who visits Wonderland, and the country of which we catch 
 a glimpse in the looking-glass. The friends she makes on these visits 
 are known to thousands of children and grown people. 
 
 The lied Knight and the White Knight, the Red Queen and 
 the White Queen, the White Rabbit, the Hatter, the Cheshire Cat, 
 Humpty Dumpty, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, are among the 
 most familiar characters in child literature. 
 
 Swiss Family Robinson. — This story was founded on the report 
 of the captain of a Russian vessel, who discovered a group of islands 
 southeast of Java. On landing on one of these islands he was sur- 
 prised to find a family consisting of a father, mother, and four sons. 
 These people had sailed from England, been overtaken by a fierce 
 storm, and shipwrecked. They reached an uninhabited island where 
 they lived many years. 
 
 The father tells the story of the trials through which his wife 
 and children pass, the wonderful discoveries they make, and the 
 dangers they encounter. This story was originally told by Johann 
 David Wyss to his four children, and was afterward written out 
 and published in Germany by his son, Rodolphe. 
 
 A Day in June. — This selection forms the prelude to "The 
 Vision of Sir Launfal," a poem written by James Russell Lowell 
 (1819-1891). The author was a distinguished American scholar, 
 editor, essayist, and poet. 
 
 Black Beauty. — This selection is made from a book by the 
 same name written by Anna Sewell (1820-1877), an Englishwoman. 
 The story was written to teach kindness, sympathy, and common 
 sense in the treatment of horses, and has done much to improve 
 their condition. Thousands of copies of the book have been dis- 
 tributed by humane societies, both in Europe and America. 
 
 Don Quixote and the Lion ; Don Quixote, Knight-Errant. — These 
 selections recount the adventures of one Don Quixote, whose 
 
^ 261 S^ 
 
 fancy became so full of enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, 
 wounds, and wooings (which he read of in books of chivalry), that 
 he became quite mad, and fancied that it was right and requisite 
 that he should make a knight-errant of himself, roaming the world 
 over in full armor and on horseback, in quest of adventures, putting 
 in practice all that he had read of knights-errant, righting every 
 kind of wrong, and exposing himself to peril and danger, from 
 which he was to reap eternal renown and fame. 
 
 The Don's imagination makes something extraordinary out of 
 the most prosaic incident; whenever he acts he gets into trouble. 
 His world and the real world continually clash, much to his 
 astonishment. 
 
 The book entitled "Don Quixote" was written by Miguel de 
 Cervantes (1547-1616), a Spanish poet and novelist, and its satire 
 swept away the last relics and practices of the days of chivalry. 
 
 Anselmo is a story written by Jean Ingelow (1820-1897), an 
 Englishwoman who wrote poems, novels, and books for children. 
 She is best known to the children as the author of the poem " Seven 
 Times One," and the story of " Mopsa, the Fairy." 
 
 The Building of the Ship was written by Henry Wadsworth 
 Longfellow (1807-1882), an American poet. Among his best known 
 poems are "Evangeline," "Hiawatha," "The Children's Hour," 
 " The Village Blacksmith," and " A Psalm of Life." 
 
 Longfellow was born at Portland, Me., and lived many years at 
 Cambridge, Mass., while he was a professor at Harvard College. 
 
 The Miraculous Pitcher is one of the stories in the "Wonder 
 Book," which was written by Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864), a 
 famous American author who wrote many novels and books for 
 children. 
 
 The "Wonder Book" contains several stories, all of which are 
 founded on classic myths. " The Miraculous Pitcher " is founded 
 on a Greek tale, according to which Philemon and Baucis offered hos- 
 
^ 262 B«- 
 
 pitality to the two Greek gods Zeus (Jupiter) and Hermes (Mer- 
 cury), and were rewarded for their generosity. Another one of 
 these stories is called "The Golden Touch," and is founded on 
 the familiar story of King Midas. 
 
 Our Country Neighbors was written by Harriet Beecher Stowe 
 (1811-1896), a noted American writer. She wrote several novels 
 and stories for children. Her most famous work was "Uncle 
 Tom's Cabin," published before the Civil War. It has been trans- 
 lated into more than twenty languages, and has been dramatized 
 and acted in many towns and cities both in Europe and America. 
 
 Tom Brown at Rugby ; Hare and Hounds. — Thomas Hughes (1823- 
 1896), an English author and reformer, who was educated at Rugby 
 (a school for boys in England), wrote "Tom Brown's School Days," 
 from which these selections are made. He wrote later a sequel to 
 the book entitled " Tom Brown at Oxford," which gives as accurate 
 a picture of life in that famous university as " Tom Brown's School 
 Days" gives of the life of a schoolboy at Rugby. 
 
 Sindbad, the Sailor, is one of the many delightful stories in the 
 " Arabian Nights' Entertainments." This is a book which has been 
 enjoyed by English-speaking people for nearly two hundred years. 
 Before that time it had been the delight of Western Asia and of the 
 Mohammedan colonies in Europe and Northern Africa for many 
 centuries. Since its first translation into French it has been trans- 
 lated into every language of Europe. 
 
 The stories are pure narrative, — narrative without a moral, 
 without any object but that of amusing the reader : they are simply 
 stories. Two of the most familiar are " Aladdin's Lamp " and " Ali 
 Baba and the Forty Thieves." 
 
 The New Year was written by Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), who 
 was poet-laureate of England in the reign of Queen Victoria, from 
 1845 until the time of his death. His poems have had the greatest 
 popularity of any written in the nineteenth century. 
 
^ 263 d^ 
 
 Mr. Pickwick Drives ; Mr. Winkle Skates. — These two selections 
 are taken from " Pickwick Papers " by Charles Dickens (1812-1870), 
 one of the most popular of English novelists. 
 
 "Pickwick Papers" contains a most humorous account of the 
 fortunes and misfortunes of the four gentlemen, Messrs. Pickwick, 
 Snodgrass, Tupman, and Winkle, who together formed the Pickwick 
 Club, and whose humorous though impossible adventures have been 
 laughed over for years by the people of two continents. Sam 
 Weller is one of the best known figures in humorous fiction. 
 
 Gulliver's Voyage to Lilliput. — This is a selection from "Gulli- 
 ver's Travels " which was written by Jonathan Swift (1667-1745), 
 an English man of letters. The book contains an accounl of four 
 voyages of an English sailor, named Lemuel Gulliver. On one of 
 these voyages he was shipwrecked on the island of Lilliput, the 
 inhabitants of which were so small that Gulliver seemed to them 
 a giant. On another voyage he visited Brobdingnag, the home of 
 a race of giants. 
 
 Two Old Soldiers is a selection from " The Alhambra " by Wash- 
 ington Irving (1783-1859), an American historian, essayist, and 
 novelist. He became greatly interested in Spain, and spent several 
 years in that country. While there he wrote " The Life and Voy- 
 ages of Columbus," " The Conquest of Granada," and " The Alham- 
 bra." The latter grew out of a few months' residence in the almost 
 deserted palace and fortification of Alhambra in Granada. It con- 
 sists of chapters of Moorish history and a number of Moorish 
 legends. 
 
 Irving's best known tales are "Eip Van Winkle" and "The 
 Legend of Sleepy Hollow." 
 
KEY TO PRONUNCIATION 
 
 a as in 
 
 made 
 
 a " 
 
 rat 
 
 a " 
 
 ask 
 
 ar " 
 
 far 
 
 a ^' 
 
 all 
 
 a " 
 
 care 
 
 a " 
 
 above 
 
 e «s in 
 
 me 
 
 e " 
 
 let 
 
 e " 
 
 her 
 
 e " 
 
 hundred 
 
 i as in 
 
 ride 
 
 i " 
 
 pin 
 
 1 '' 
 
 fir 
 
 y as in 
 
 fly 
 
 y " 
 
 pretty 
 
 d as' in 
 
 old 
 
 6 " 
 
 on 
 
 6 " 
 
 love 
 
 " 
 
 move 
 
 6 " 
 
 for 
 
 o " 
 
 parlor 
 
 u as in 
 
 use 
 
 u '' 
 u " 
 
 cup 
 full 
 
 u " 
 
 fur 
 
 00 as in 
 
 boot 
 
 do " 
 
 foot 
 
 q as in 
 
 n '' 
 
 mige 
 bank 
 
 i " 
 
 cage 
 
 § " 
 
 eye§ 
 
 264 
 
VOCABULARY 
 
 ab'so lately, entirely; wholly; com- 
 pletely. 
 
 ab 8&rb', engross ; imbibe. 
 
 a blin'dant, plentiful ; sufficient. 
 
 ac coun'ta ble, responsible ; answer- 
 able. 
 
 ac quaint', inform; introduce; make 
 known. 
 
 ac quain'tan^e, knowledge of ; a per- 
 son known to one. 
 
 ad van^e', move forward. 
 
 ad'verse, hostile ; opposing desire. 
 
 ag I ta'tion (shun), disturbance of 
 mind ; state of being shaken or 
 moved. 
 
 fig rl cttl'tur al, pertaining to or con- 
 nected with farming. 
 
 a kim' bo, bent ; crooked. 
 
 Al hfim'bra, a citadel in Spain. 
 
 fil'pine, pertaining to the Alpine 
 mountains. 
 
 al ter'nate ly, by turns ; following 
 one another. 
 
 fim bro'§Ia, the food of gods. 
 
 a mend§', recompense ; satisfaction. 
 
 a'mi a ble, friendly ; loving ; kindly. 
 
 fim mu nl'tion (shun) , military stores. 
 
 fin a con'da, a very large serpent. 
 
 An dfi lu sia (lo'zi a) a province in 
 Spain. 
 
 anx ious ly (angk'shus) in a greatly 
 troubled manner. 
 
 a p61'o g^, excuse for fault ; defence. 
 
 fip pa rl'tion (shun), a ghostly ap- 
 pearance ; a spectre. 
 
 fip pre hen'sive, feeling alarm ; fear- 
 ful. 
 
 ap pren'tt^e, a learner ; a novice ; 
 one who is bound to serve for a 
 specific time. 
 
 A ra'bi an, pertaining to Arabia. 
 
 Ar'a bic, belonging to Arabia. 
 
 fir'ro gant, haughty ; proud ; over- 
 bearing. 
 
 as 96nt', act of climbing. 
 
 fis ^er tain', make certain ; find out 
 by trial. 
 
 fis'pgct, view ; look. 
 
 as s^m'ble, meet ; come together. 
 
 as s6nt', agree ; approve ; consent. 
 
 a ston'Ish ment, surprise ; amaze- 
 ment. 
 
 ftv a ri clous (rish'us), greedy. 
 
 bal'my, soft ; soothing ; refreshing. 
 
 Bfil so'ra, a city. 
 
 bfil fis trade', an ornamental rail- 
 ing. 
 
 bfit tfil'ion (yun), an army in battle 
 array. 
 
 bfit'tle ment, a high wall for defence. 
 
 B^u'^Is, a woman's name. 
 
 be calm', make quiet ; deprive of 
 wind. 
 
 be n6f 'I ^ent ly, in a generous man- 
 ner ; liberally. 
 
 265 
 
^ 266 8«- 
 
 be nign', gracious ; kind ; genial. 
 bip seech', entreat ; implore ; beg. 
 be wil'der ment, a state of being 
 
 confused. 
 be witch', charm ; fascinate. 
 bo le ro (la'), a Spanish dance. 
 br^u'dish, flourish about ; shake ; 
 
 wave. 
 bri'dle, a part of a horse's harness. 
 bur'go mas ter, chief magistrate. 
 
 cSl'a bash, a tree bearing a gourd-like 
 fruit from which cups, basins, etc., 
 are made. 
 
 eai'dron, large kettle or boiler. 
 
 ca'Hph, the title of a monarch in the 
 East. 
 
 caout chouc (ko'chiik), a tree from 
 which an elastic, gummy sub- 
 stance is obtained. 
 
 ca pSr'I soned, adorned ; decked. 
 
 cftp tlv'i ty, confinement ; imprison- 
 ment. 
 
 car'go, lading of a ship; merchan- 
 dise; goods. 
 
 car'nl val, a revelry ; a feast. 
 
 cSs cade', waterfall. 
 
 ^gn'tu r^, one hundred years ; one 
 hundred. 
 
 ^haige, a carriage. 
 
 chasm (kSzm), gulf; cleft; yawning 
 hollow. 
 
 ^ir'cult, out of the direct road. 
 
 9ir ctini'fer en^e, line that bounds a 
 circle. 
 
 clftm'ber, climb with difficulty. 
 
 close, an enclosed place. 
 
 c51 Iftpse', break down ; ruin. 
 
 cdm'ba tant, one who fights. 
 
 commission (mish'un), charge; 
 order ; mandate. 
 
 com mo'tlon (shun), disturbance ; 
 agitation. 
 
 c5m mn'nl ty, village ; township. 
 
 cSm'pSct, an agreement. 
 
 com pSr'I son, similitude ; act of com- 
 paring. 
 
 com p6t'l tor, one who competes with 
 another. 
 
 com plete'ly, entirely ; perfectly 
 wholly. 
 
 com po§ed', tranquil ; calm. 
 
 com piil'sion (shun), overruling force ; 
 constraint. 
 
 con ^eal', hide ; secrete. 
 
 con clii'sion (zhun), end ; close ; ter- 
 mination. 
 
 con'fl dent, assured. 
 
 con firm', make certain ; certify ; 
 ratify. 
 
 con fB§e', bewilder ; embarrass ; per- 
 plex. 
 
 con grSt u la'tion (shun), compli- 
 ment. 
 
 con ser'va to ry, greenhouse. 
 
 con su'mer, one who uses, destroys, 
 or spends. 
 
 cdn tgm'plate, view ; consider ; re- 
 gard. 
 
 cSn'tra bftn dis'ta, a smuggler. 
 
 cdn ver sa'tion (shun), familiar talk. 
 
 crtnvey(va'), carry; bear; trans- 
 port. 
 
 cfin'voy, escort for protection. 
 
 cdp'per hSad, a venomous serpent. 
 
 cOr'po ral, the lowest non-commis- 
 sioned officer. 
 
 coun'te nan^e, features ; face ; visage. 
 
 crgd'I ta bl^, without disgrace ; hon- 
 orably. 
 
 cru ^I ble (cro'), a melting-pot. 
 
 cu r6 (ra') , a French priest. 
 
-^ 267 S«- 
 
 dain'ty, delicacy. 
 
 daunt (dant), subdue; check; fright. 
 
 de co'rttm, propriety ; formal polite- 
 ness. 
 
 deign (dan) , vouchsafe ; condescend. 
 
 de mean'or, conduct ; management ; 
 treatment. 
 
 de pict', portray ; paint ; describe. 
 
 des'o late, lonely ; forsaken ; solitary. 
 
 des'per ate, without hope ; rash ; 
 reckless. 
 
 des ti na'tlon (shun), end of journey ; 
 goal. 
 
 dgs'tine, ordain ; doom ; devote. 
 
 de ter'mine, fix ; establish ; resolve. 
 
 d6x ter'I ty, skill ; tact ; ability. 
 
 di Igm'ma, predicament. 
 
 dil'i g^nt ly, industriously ; carefully. 
 
 dl min'ish, lessen ; detract ; lower. 
 
 di min'u tive, small ; little ; con- 
 tracted. 
 
 dis con'so late ly, without hope ; 
 sadly. 
 
 dIs con t6n't6d, dissatisfied ; un- 
 happy. 
 
 dis dain', despise ; spurn ; reject. 
 
 dIs 6n gage', set free ; release ; lib- 
 erate. 
 
 dis may', trouble ; fright ; discour- 
 agement. 
 
 dIs 6r'der ly, confused ; lawless ; un- 
 restrained. 
 
 dls'tatr, a stick on which is wound 
 wool, cotton, or flax to be 
 spun. 
 
 dIs tinc'tion (shun), eminence in 
 rank ; superiority. 
 
 dIs tln'guish a ble, discernible ; per- 
 ceptible. 
 
 dIs trac'tion (shun), despair; ex- 
 treme annoyance. 
 
 do mfis'tlc, relating or belonging to 
 the household. 
 
 ddm'T no, a half mask ; also, a loose 
 garment. 
 
 doubt/fiil ly, in an uncertain man- 
 ner ; vaguely. 
 
 draught, act of drinking ; a quantity 
 of liquid drunk at one time. 
 
 dun'geon, a close cell ; a dark place 
 of confinement. 
 
 du'ran^e, imprisonment. 
 
 ec'sta sy, rapture; delight; joy. 
 
 ed'i f i^e, a building ; a structure. 
 
 6f fec'tu al, successful ; thorough ; 
 complete. 
 
 gm phat'ic, earnest ; energetic ; for- 
 cible. 
 
 6n chant', bewitch ; charm. 
 
 en coni'pass, surround ; enclose. 
 
 gn cour'age, give hope ; promote ; 
 help forward. 
 
 e nOr'mofis, huge ; monstrous ; im- 
 mense. 
 
 6n rich', make rich. 
 
 Sn'ter prige, an undertaking ; a Vfen- 
 ture. 
 
 6n treat', beg ; beseech ; solicit. 
 
 e qugs'trl an, pertaining to horses or 
 horsemanship. 
 
 gs pla nade', terrace. 
 
 e vap'o rate, pass off in vapor. 
 
 6v'i dent ly, clearly ; plainly ; ob- 
 viously. 
 
 gv p la'tion (shun), a turning or 
 shifting movement ; develop- 
 ment. 
 
 Sx ^eed'Ing ly, extremely ; greatly. 
 
 6x ^gs'slve, extreme ; superfluous ; un- 
 reasonable. 
 
 gx'e cute, perform ; accomplish. 
 
-^ 268 8«- 
 
 6x pe'rl Snge, knowledge previously 
 acquired. 
 
 gx'qui §Ite, elegant ; exceedingly 
 choice; fine. 
 
 6x ten'sion (shun), an enlargement ; 
 expansion. 
 
 ex traor dl na ry (tror'), very un- 
 usual ; strange. 
 
 fix trgm'i ty, the utmost end. 
 
 ex'trl cate, disentangle ; free. 
 
 fSc'ul ties, powers; senses. 
 
 fa mil'iar (yar), intimate; friendly; 
 
 well known. 
 fan tas'tic, imaginary ; grotesque ; 
 
 quaint. 
 fa tigiie (t6g'), weariness. 
 fa'vor Ite, especially liked. 
 flu ont (flo'), ready in the use of 
 
 words. 
 fore told', predicted ; prophesied. 
 f6r tl fl ca'tlon (shun), fort ; castle ; 
 
 fortified place. 
 fOr'tr tude, courage ; endurance ; 
 
 resolution. 
 fdritrfiss, stronghold; fort; place of 
 
 defence. 
 frag'mgnt, a portion broken off ; bit ; 
 
 remnant. 
 freight (frat), to load with goods. 
 fpgn'zy, rage ; fury ; madness. 
 fre'qiient ly, often ; many times ; at 
 
 short intervals, 
 fru gal (fro'), thrifty; economical; 
 
 sparing. 
 fptis'trate, thwart ; defeat. 
 fu'gl tlve, deserter; runaway. 
 fflnc'tioii (shun), office; duty; work. 
 
 ggii'er ftl li^, 
 
 chiefly. 
 
 usually ; ordinarily 
 
 ggn er 6a'i ty, liberality ; bounty. 
 
 gla'cier (shier), a river of ice. 
 
 glimpse, hurried view ; glance. 
 
 gnash (nSsh), snap or grate the teeth. 
 
 gra'cious ly (shiis) , kindly ; benefi- 
 cently. 
 
 GrS na'da, a former kingdom of 
 Spain. 
 
 grat'I tade, thankfulness ; grateful- 
 ness. 
 
 grSv'! ty, solemnity ; dignity ; serious- 
 ness. 
 
 griev'anee, a sort of annoyance. 
 ad a ra'ma, mountains in Spain. 
 
 gym nfts'tle, pertaining to athletic 
 exercises. 
 
 hab I ta'tion (shun), dwelling; place 
 of abode. 
 
 hag'gard, gaunt ; careworn. 
 
 Ha roun' ill Ras chid (rash'Id), a 
 caliph of Bagdad. 
 
 hgath'er, a plant. 
 
 hei'met, a defensive cover for the 
 head. 
 
 herb age (er'bag), vegetation. 
 
 hos'pl ta ble, affording generous en- 
 tertainment. 
 
 hds pi tai'l ty, act of being hospitable. 
 
 hds'tler, one who has the care of 
 horses. 
 
 hy e'na, a carnivorous animal. 
 
 Ig'no rant, untaught ; showing want 
 
 of knowledge. 
 Im'ml n6nt, threatening ; impendmg. 
 Im mure', confine ; enclose within 
 
 walls. 
 Impa'tientl^ (shent), restlessly; 
 
 impetuously. 
 
-^ 269 ^ 
 
 im pe'rl al, pertaining to an empire ; 
 sovereign. 
 
 im pet u os'i ty, act of being rash ; 
 vehement. 
 
 im p6t'u Otis, acting suddenly ; vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 im por tune', crave ; beg ; request ; 
 urge. 
 
 Im pru'dgnt (pro), not careful ; rash ; 
 heedless. 
 
 in '51 dent, occurrence ; circumstance. 
 
 in ei sion (sizh'on), a cut ; a gash. 
 
 in clined', disposed. 
 
 in crDst', to cover ; decorate. 
 
 in dis creet', imprudent ; unwise. 
 
 in dis'pu ta ble, undoubtedly true ; 
 certain ; positive. 
 
 In dom'I ta ble, untamable ; uncon- 
 querable. 
 
 in ex haus'ti ble, unfailing. 
 
 in her'i tan^e, heritage ; patrimony. 
 
 in nu'mer a ble, countless ; number- 
 less ; myriad. 
 
 In quire', ask about ; question ; seek. 
 
 In spire', animate ; rouse. 
 
 In'stant ly, immediately ; without 
 delay. 
 
 In'stru ment (stro), a tool. 
 
 In ter riipt', disturb ; break in upon. 
 
 in tol'er a ble, not to be endured ; 
 unbearable. 
 
 in trg pid'I ty, undaunted courage. 
 
 In tro du^e', conduct ; bring to notice. 
 
 In ure', accustom ; harden ; adapt. 
 
 jer'kin, a leather jacket. 
 
 knead (n6d), mix thoroughly. 
 
 Iftm gn ta'tion (shun), bewailing; 
 mournful outcry. 
 
 league (leg), band; union. 
 
 leis ure ly (le'zhur) , deliberately ; not 
 
 hastily. 
 lln'e a ment, feature. 
 live'li hood, support of life ; means 
 
 of living. 
 
 raSg nlf I cent, superb ; splendid ; 
 gorgeous. 
 
 majes'tic, stately; grand; sublime. 
 
 ma 11 clous (lish'us), ill-disposed ; 
 spiteful ; resentful. 
 
 ma noeu vre (no'ver), trick ; strata- 
 gem. 
 
 mar'vel loiis, extraordinaiy ; wonder- 
 ful. 
 
 ma'trou. a married woman ; a house- 
 keeper. 
 
 mea'gre (ger), scanty ; spare ; thin. 
 
 me an'der, to wind ; turn. 
 
 me nSg'er le, a collection of wild ani- 
 mals. 
 
 mer'chan di§e, goods ; wares ; com- 
 modities. 
 
 me trop'o lis, chief city. 
 
 mien, look ; appearance ; countenance. 
 
 mlr'a cle, a wonderful thing. 
 
 mi rftc'u lofls, exceedingly surprising 
 or wonderful. 
 
 ml§'er a ble, unhappy ; wretched. 
 
 mit'i gate, to make more tolerable ; 
 soften ; mollify ; relieve. 
 
 mock'er y, derision ; jest ; ridicule. 
 
 mol'li fy, soften ; appease ; soothe ; 
 calm. 
 
 mo not'o notts, unvarying ; uniform ; 
 tiresome. 
 
 men sleur (me sye'), a French word 
 for "mister." 
 
 Mo ris'co, a person of the Moorish 
 race : a Moor. 
 
-^ 270 B«- 
 
 mdr'sel, a small piece ; a mouthful ; 
 a bite. 
 
 moun tain eer', a climber of moun- 
 tains. 
 
 mourn'ful ly, sorrowfully ; dolefully. 
 
 mu si cian (zish'an), one who makes 
 music a profession. 
 
 myr'i ad, numberless ; innumerable. 
 
 mys te'rl otis, obscure ; mystic ; in- 
 comprehensible. 
 
 n&r'rsL tlve, tale ; story. 
 niche, corner ; nook. 
 nim'ble, swift ; lively ; spry. 
 noc tiir'nal, nightly ; in the night. 
 not -with st^nd'Ing, in spite of. 
 
 6 be'dl en^e, submission ; act of 
 
 obeying. 
 ob tain' acquire ; gain ; secure. 
 pc ca'sion al ly (zhun), sometimes ; 
 
 at times. 
 8c'cu pant, inhabitant ; tenant. 
 6f fend', displease ; annoy ; molest. 
 o ver whelm' (hw61m'), overpower ; 
 
 crush : overcome. 
 
 to the 
 
 pftl'a ta ble, savory ; agreeable 
 taste. 
 
 par tic's lar ly, especially. 
 
 pa'tron, protector ; guardian. 
 
 pa'tron ize, favor ; assume a conde- 
 scending air toward one. 
 
 p6n'e trate, pierce ; permeate. 
 
 per ^eive', become aware of ; observe ; 
 notice. 
 
 per'tnme, odor ; scent. 
 
 per pl6x'I t^, bewilderment ; embar- 
 rassment. 
 
 per sist', continue steadily ; perse- 
 vere. 
 
 Phi le'mdn, a man^s name. 
 
 pin'ion (yun), bind ; shackle ; con- 
 fine. 
 
 pin'na cle, sharp point or peak. 
 
 pit'eously, sadly; mournfully; 
 pleadingly. 
 
 pit'l a ble, deserving pity. 
 
 plu mage (plo'), feathery covering of 
 birds. 
 
 pol'y po dy, a kind of fern. 
 
 pop'a late, furnish with inhabitants ; 
 T^eople. 
 rin ger, bowl. 
 
 por'tal, door ; gate. 
 
 por'ter, a carrier ; a bearer ; a gate- 
 keeper. 
 
 po'tgnt, powerful. 
 
 po'ten tate, sovereign ; monarch ; 
 ruler. 
 
 prg^'I pice, steep bank or cliff. 
 
 pre de §6s'sor, one who goes before. 
 
 pre lliii'l na ry, preparatory ; intro- 
 ductory. 
 
 pre sgn'tl ment, foreboding. 
 
 prig mftt'ic, having form of a prism ; 
 showing colors of the spectrum. 
 
 prig'on er (ner), one who is confined 
 in a prison ; one under arrest. 
 
 prdb a bll'I ty, likelihood. 
 
 pro claim', publish ; announce. 
 
 prdd'I gy, sign ; wonder ; miracle ; 
 marvel. 
 
 pro dIg'loQs, wonderful ; monstrous ; 
 huge. 
 
 pro pfin'sl tf, inclination ; tendency. 
 
 prdph'e 9y, prediction ; foretelling. 
 
 prCs p6r'I t^, good fortune ; well- 
 being. 
 
 pur suit', chase ; following up, or out. 
 
 rftb'ble, mob 
 
 blage. 
 
 crowd ; noisy assem- 
 
-«2718€- 
 
 rav'age, havoc ; waste ; ruin. 
 
 re'al, a Spanish silver coin worth about 
 five cents. 
 
 re ggss', a nook ; a niche or alcove. 
 
 rgc'on ^ile, adjust ; pacify ; settle. 
 
 re cOrd', recall ; repeat ; note ; in- 
 scribe. 
 
 re emit (crof), restore; refresh. 
 
 re doubt'a ble, formidable ; terrible. 
 
 re du^e', diminish ; degrade ; lessen : 
 decrease. 
 
 re dfic'tlon (shun), lessening; de- 
 crease ; contraction. 
 
 r6f er en^e, act of referring. 
 
 reflect', turn back; consider; medi- 
 tate. 
 
 re flgc'tive, giving reflection ; medi- 
 tative. 
 
 re lieve', remove ; alleviate ; lessen. 
 
 re lOc'tant ly, unwillingly ; not read- 
 ily. " 
 
 re mon'strate, reprove ; rebuke ; pro- 
 test. 
 
 re p61', drive back ; repulse ; check. 
 
 re plen'ish, fill again ; complete. 
 
 rep re §ent', describe ; portray ; depict. 
 
 r6p u ta'tion (shun), fame ; renown ; 
 name. 
 
 re qugst', beg ; ask ; beseech. 
 
 rgs^cfie, recapture ; free from danger. 
 
 re §6nt', to take ill ; be indignant. 
 
 rgg'I dent, inhabitant ; dweller. 
 
 re gls'tan^e, opposition. 
 
 re source', resort ; any source of aid 
 or support. 
 
 re spgc'tlve, several ; particular. 
 
 rgt'l nue, a body of retainers. 
 
 r6v'el ry, boisterous festivity ; merry- 
 making. 
 
 rl dic'u loOs, absurd ; outrageous ; 
 laughable. 
 
 riv'fi Igt, a small river ; a stream. 
 
 Ro cl iian'te, the name of Don Quix- 
 ote's horse, 
 
 ro'ta to ry, circular ; turning on an 
 axis. 
 
 route, way ; road ; passage ; jour- 
 ney. 
 
 rfif f I an, a robber ; cut-throat ; mur- 
 derer. 
 
 .; & bot (bo') , a wooden shoe. 
 
 sa gS^'I ty, intelligence ; wisdom ; 
 
 knowledge. 
 sa lute', greet ; welcome. 
 s^t IS fac'tion (shun), contentment; 
 
 atonement. 
 saun ter (san') , loiter ; stroll. 
 scab'bard, sheath. 
 scoun'drel, kna%'e ; rogue. 
 Se go'vl a, a province of old Spain. 
 sen'ior, elder. 
 
 sen'ti ngl, a watch ; a guard. 
 se'quin, a coin worth about $2.18. 
 S6r6n'dlb, an ancient name of 
 
 Ceylon. 
 ser'pen tine, coiling ; snake-like ; 
 
 writhing. 
 shn'ling, an English silver coin worth 
 
 about twenty-four cents. 
 sim'i lar, alike ; akin ; resembling one 
 
 another. 
 slSck'en, loosen ; relax. 
 so ci a hil'I ty (shi), disposition to be 
 
 friendly. 
 so'ci a bly (shi), familiarly. 
 sol 'J ta ry, retired ; secluded ; lonely. 
 spSg mod'ic, by fits and staits. 
 spec ta'tor, observer ; witness ; 
 
 looker-on. 
 Stras'bourg, the capital of Alsace- 
 Lorraine. 
 
^ 272 B«- 
 
 stir'rifp, the part of a horse's har- 
 ness which supports the rider's 
 foot. 
 
 siib ter ra'ne an, underground. 
 
 sttffl'cient (shent), enough; abun- 
 dant. 
 
 sfimp'to ods, rich ; gorgeous ; costly ; 
 expensive. 
 
 8Qn'drIe§, various small articles. 
 
 sn per'flu otts (flo) needless ; exces- 
 sive. 
 
 sur vey (va'), overlook ; inspect ; ex- 
 amine. 
 
 sur vey or (va') , one who determines 
 the boundaries of land. 
 
 tei'fi scope, an optical instrument by 
 which distant objects are made to 
 appear nearer. 
 
 te mer'I if, recklessness ; daring. 
 
 tes'tl mo ny, bearing witness. 
 
 to le'do, a sword blade made in To- 
 ledo. 
 
 tra dl'tlon (shun), a belief or report 
 handed down from age to age. 
 
 trftf He, trade ; commerce. 
 
 trftn'qun, calm ; quiet ; undisturbed ; 
 serene. 
 
 trans f5rm', change ; alter. 
 
 tr&ns par'ent, easily seen through. 
 
 tri fim'phant, victorious ; success- 
 ful. 
 
 trttf fle, an edible fungus which grows 
 in the earth. 
 
 trQm'pSt er, one who sounds a trum- 
 pet. 
 
 tiirn'pike, highway ; also a toll-gate. 
 
 u nl ver'sal, general ; common. 
 fin p&r'al ISled, unequalled ; un- 
 matched. 
 
 vfig'a bdnd, one who is without a 
 settled home. 
 
 vSl'or ofis, brave ; courageous ; val- 
 iant. 
 
 vftn'qulsh, subdue ; defeat j over- 
 power. 
 
 van'tage, gain ; profit. 
 
 ve'he ment ly, forcibly ; ardently. 
 
 ve'hl cle, a carriage. 
 
 ven'er a ble, worthy of reverence ; 
 aged. 
 
 vgn'ture, risk ; undertake ; hazard. 
 
 vfis'per, evening. 
 
 vet'er an, grown old in service. 
 
 vgx a'tion (shun), anger; indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 vic'to ry, triumph ; success. 
 
 vig'or otts, sound ; sturdy ; hearty ; 
 thrifty. 
 
 vi'o lent, furious ; rough ; fierce. 
 
 vir'tu otts, brave ; valorous ; pure ; 
 modest. 
 
 vig'age, appearance ; face ; counte- 
 nance. 
 
 wAr'rlor (y§r), soldier ; one engaged 
 
 in warfare. 
 wrftng'llng, quarrelling ; disputing. 
 
 ydn'der, at a distance. 
 
 ze'nith, the point in the heavens di- 
 rectly above one's head. 
 
^ 273 8«- 
 
 PART II 
 ADVANCED SELECTIONS 
 
 entitle 
 ascertain 
 marvellous 
 numerous 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST 
 
 variegated 
 tomahawk 
 eminence 
 apparition 
 
 prophesied 
 phenomenon 
 dexterously 
 transformation 
 
 In the year 1738 there came into the world, in the 
 town of Springfield, Pennsylvania, a Quaker infant, from 
 whom his parents and neighbors looked for wonderful 
 things. A famous preacher of the Society of Friends had 
 prophesied about little Ben, and foretold that he would 
 be one of the most remarkable characters that had 
 appeared on the earth since the days of William Penn. 
 
 On this account the eyes of many people were fixed 
 upon the boy. Some of his ancestors had won great 
 renown in the old wars of England and France ; but it was 
 probably expected that Ben would become a preacher, and 
 would convert multitudes to the peaceful doctrines of the 
 Quakers. Friend West and his wife were thought to be 
 very fortunate in having such a son. 
 
-»6 274 8«- 
 
 Little Ben lived to the ripe age of six years without 
 doing anything that was worthy to be told in history. 
 But one summer afternoon, in his seventh year, his 
 mother put a fan into his hand and bade him keep the 
 flies away from the face of a baby who lay fast asleep in 
 the cradle. She then left the room. 
 
 The boy waved the fan to and fro, and drove away the 
 buzzing flies whenever they had the impertinence to come 
 near the baby's face. When they had all flown out of 
 the window or into distant parts of the room, he bent 
 over the cradle and delighted himself with gazing at the 
 face of the sleeping infant. 
 
 It was, indeed, a very pretty sight. The little person- 
 age in the cradle slumbered peacefully, with its waxen 
 hands under its chin, looking as full of blissful quiet as 
 if angels were singing lullabies in its ear. Indeed, it 
 must have been dreaming about heaven; for while Ben 
 stooped over the cradle, the little baby smiled. 
 
 " How beautiful she looks ! " said Ben to himself. 
 " What a pity it is that such a pretty smile should not 
 last forever! " 
 
 Now Ben, at this period of his life, had never heard of 
 that wonderful art by which a look, that appears and 
 vanishes in a moment, may be made to last for hundreds 
 of years. But, though nobody had told him of such an 
 art, he may be said to have invented it for himself. On 
 a table near at hand there were pens and paper, and ink 
 
^ 275 8«- 
 
 of two colors, black and red. The boy seized a pen and 
 sheet of paper, and, kneeling beside the cradle, began to 
 draw a likeness of the infant. While he was busied in 
 this manner he heard his mother's step approaching, and 
 hastily tried to conceal the paper. 
 
 " Benjamin, my son, what " hast thou been doing ? " 
 inquired his mother, observing marks of confusion in his 
 face. 
 
 At first Ben was unwilling to tell ; for he felt as if 
 there might be something wrong in stealing the baby's 
 face and putting it upon a sheet of paper. However, as 
 his mother insisted, he finally put the sketch into her 
 hand, and then hung his head, expecting to be well 
 scolded. But when the good lady saw what was on the 
 paper, in lines of red and black ink, she uttered a scream 
 of surprise and joy. 
 
 " Bless me ! " cried she. " It is a picture of little Sally ! " 
 
 And then she threw her arms around our friend Ben- 
 jamin, and kissed him so tenderly that he never afterwards 
 was afraid to show his performances to his mother. 
 
 As Ben grew older, he was observed to take vast 
 delight in looking at the hues and forms of nature. For 
 instance, he was greatly pleased with the blue violets of 
 spring, the wild roses of summer, and the scarlet cardinal- 
 flowers of early autumn. 
 
 In the decline of the year, when the woods were varie- 
 gated with all the colors of the rainbow, Ben seemed to 
 
-^ 276 6«- 
 
 desire nothing better than to gaze at them from morn 
 till night. The purple and golden clouds of sunset were 
 a joy to him. And he was continually endeavoring to 
 draw the figures of trees, men, moimtains, houses, cattle, 
 geese, ducks, and turkeys, with a piece of chalk, on barn 
 doors or on the floor. 
 
 In these old times the Mohawk Indians were still 
 numerous in Pennsylvania. Every year a party of them 
 used to pay a visit to Springfield, because the wigwams 
 of their ancestors had formerly stood there. These wild 
 men grew fond of little Ben, and made him very happy 
 by giving him some of the red and yellow paint with 
 which they were accustomed to adorn their faces. 
 
 His mother, too, presented him with a piece of indigo. 
 Thus he had now three colors, — red, blue, and yellow, — 
 and could manufacture green by mixing the yellow with 
 the blue. Our friend Ben was overjoyed, and doubtless 
 showed his gratitude to the Indians by taking their like- 
 nesses in the strange dresses which they wore, with 
 feathers, tomahawks, and bows and arrows. 
 
 But all this time the young artist had no paint- 
 brushes ; nor were there any to be bought, unless he had 
 sent to Philadelphia on purpose. However, he was a 
 very ingenious boy, and resolved to manufacture paint- 
 brushes for himself. With this design he laid hold upon 
 — what do you think? Why, upon a respectable old 
 black cat, who was sleeping quietly by the fireside. 
 
^ 277 ee- 
 
 " Puss," said little Ben to the cat, " pray give me some 
 of the fur from the tip of thy tail." 
 
 Though he addressed the black cat so civilly, yet Ben 
 was determined to have the fur whether she were willing 
 or not. Puss, who had no great zeal for the fine arts, 
 would have resisted if she could ; but the boy was armed 
 with his mother's scissors, and very dexterously clipped 
 off fur enough to make a paint-brush. This was so much 
 use to him that he applied to Madam Puss again and 
 again, until her warm coat of fur had become so ragged 
 that she could hardly keep comfortable through the 
 winter. Poor thing ! she was forced to creep close into 
 the chimney corner, and eyed Ben with a very rueful face. 
 But Ben considered it more necessary that he should have 
 paint-brushes than that Puss should be warm. 
 
 About this period Friend West received a visit from 
 Mr. Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, who was 
 likewise a member of the Society of Friends. The visitor, 
 on entering the parlor, was surprised to see it ornamented 
 with drawings of Indian chiefs, and of birds with beautiful 
 plumage, and of the wild flowers of the forest. Nothing 
 of the kind was ever seen before in the habitation of a 
 Quaker farmer. 
 
 " Why, Friend West," exclaimed the Philadelphia mer- 
 chant, " what has possessed thee to cover thy walls with 
 all these pictures? Where on earth didst thou get 
 them?" 
 
-»8 278 8«- 
 
 Then Friend West explained that all these pictures 
 were painted by little Ben, with no better materials than 
 red and yellow ochre and a piece of indigo, and with 
 brushes made of the black cat's fur. 
 
 *^ Verily," said Mr. Pennington, "the boy hath a 
 wonderful faculty. Some of our friends might look upon 
 these matters as vanity ; but little Benjamin appears to 
 have been born a painter, and Providence is wiser than 
 we are." 
 
 The good merchant patted Benjamin on the head, and 
 evidently considered him a wonderful boy. When his 
 parents saw how much their son's performances were 
 admired, they, no doubt, remembered the prophecy of the 
 old Quaker preacher respecting Ben's future eminence. 
 Yet they could not understand how he was ever to become 
 a very great and useful man merely by making pictures. 
 
 One evening, shortly after Mr. Pennington's return to 
 Philadelphia, a package arrived at Springfield, directed 
 to our little friend Ben. 
 
 " What can it possibly be ? " thought Ben, when it was 
 put into his hands. " Who can have sent me such a 
 great square package?" 
 
 On taking off the thick brown paper which enveloped 
 it, behold! there was a paint-box, with a great many 
 cakes of paint, and brushes of various sizes. It was the 
 gift of good Mr. Pennington. There were likewise sev- 
 eral squares of canvas such as artists use for painting 
 
-^ 279 d^ 
 
 pictures upon, and, in addition to all these treasures, 
 some beautiful engravings of landscapes. These were 
 the first pictures that Ben had ever seen except those of 
 his own drawing. 
 
 What a joyful evening was this for the little artist ! 
 At bedtime he put the paint-box under his pillow, and got 
 hardly a wink of sleep ; for, all night long, his fancy was 
 painting pictures in the darkness. In the morning he 
 hurried to the garret, and was seen no more till the din- 
 ner hour ; nor did he give himself time to eat more than 
 a mouthful or two of food before he hurried back to the 
 garret again. The next day, and the next, he was just as 
 busy as ever ; until at last his mother thought it time to 
 ascertain what he was about. She accordingly followed 
 him to the garret. 
 
 On opening the door, the first object that presented 
 itself to her eyes was our friend Benjamin, giving the last 
 touches to a beautiful picture. He had copied portions of 
 two of the engravings, and made one picture out of both, 
 with such admirable skill that it was far more beautiful 
 than the originals. The grass, the trees, the water, the 
 sky, and the houses were all painted in their proper 
 colors. There, too, were the sunshine and the shadow, 
 looking as natural as life. 
 
 " My dear child, thou hast done wonders ! " cried his 
 mother. 
 
 The good lady was in an ecstasy of delight. And 
 
-^ 280 »- 
 
 well might she be proud of her boy ; for there were 
 touches in this picture which old artists, who had spent a 
 lifetime in the business, need not have been ashamed of. 
 Many a year afterwards this wonderful production was 
 exhibited at the Royal Academy in London. 
 
 When Benjamin was quite a large lad he was sent to 
 school at Philadelphia. Not long after his arrival he had 
 a slight attack of fever, which confined him to his bed. 
 The light, which would otherwise have disturbed him, 
 was excluded from his chamber by means of closed 
 wooden shutters. At first it appeared so totally dark 
 that Ben could not distinguish any objects in the room. 
 By degrees, however, his eyes became accustomed to the 
 scanty light. 
 
 He was lying on his back, looking up towards the 
 ceiling, when suddenly he beheld the dim apparition of a 
 white cow moving slowly over his head ! Ben started, 
 and rubbed his eyes in the greatest amazement at this 
 strange sight. 
 
 "What can this mean?" thought he. 
 
 The white cow disappeared ; and next came several 
 pigs, which trotted along the ceiling and vanished into 
 the darkness of the chamber. So lifelike did these 
 grunters look that Ben almost seemed to hear them 
 squeak. 
 
 " Well, this is very strange ! " said Ben to himself. 
 
 When the people of the house came to see him, Ben- 
 
-^ 281 8«- 
 
 jamin told them of the marvellous circumstance which 
 had occurred, but they would not believe him. 
 
 " Benjamin, thou art surely out of thy senses ! " cried 
 they. '' How is it possible that a white cow and a lit- 
 ter of pigs should be visible on the ceiling of a dark 
 chamber ? " 
 
 Ben, however, had great confidence in his own eye- 
 sight, and was determined to search the mystery to the 
 bottom. For this purpose, when he was again left alone, 
 he got out of bed and examined the window shutters. 
 He soon perceived a small chink in one of them, through 
 which a ray of light found its passage and rested upon 
 the ceiling. 
 
 Now, the science of optics will inform us that the pic- 
 tures of the white cow and the pigs, and of other objects 
 out of doors, came into the dark chamber through this 
 narrow chink, and were painted over Benjamin's head. 
 It is greatly to his credit that he discovered the scien- 
 tific principle of this phenomenon, and, by means of it, 
 constructed a camera obscura, or magic lantern, out of a 
 hollow box. This was of great advantage to him in 
 drawing landscapes. 
 
 Well, time went on, and Benjamin continued to draw 
 and paint pictures until he had now reached the age 
 when it was proper that he should choose a business for 
 life. His father and mother were in considerable per- 
 plexity about him. According to the ideas of the Qua- 
 
^ 282 ^ 
 
 kers, it is not right for people to spend their lives in 
 occupations that are no real and sensible advantage to the 
 world. Now, what advantage could the world expect 
 from Benjamin's pictures ? This was a difficult ques- 
 tion ; and, in order to set their minds at rest, his par- 
 ents determined to consult the preachers and wise men 
 of their society. Accordingly, they all assembled in the 
 meeting-house and discussed the matter from beginning 
 to end. 
 
 Finally they came to a very wise decision. It seemed 
 so evident that Providence had created Benjamin to be a 
 painter, and had given him abilities which would be 
 thrown away in any other business, that the Quakers 
 resolved not to oppose his inclination. They even ac- 
 knowledged that the sight of a beautiful picture might 
 convey instruction to the mind, and might benefit the 
 heart as much as a good book or a wise discourse. 
 
 They therefore committed the youth to the direction 
 of God, being well assured that He best knew what was 
 his proper sphere of usefulness. The old men laid their 
 hands upon Benjamin's head and gave him their blessing, 
 and the women kissed him affectionately. All consented 
 that he should go forth into the world and learn to be 
 a painter by studying the best pictures of ancient and 
 modern times. 
 
 So our friend Benjamin left the dwelling of his par- 
 ents, and his native woods and streams, and the good 
 
-«283 B«- 
 
 Quakers of Springfield, and the Indians who had given 
 him his first colors; he left all the places and persons 
 whom he had hitherto known, and returned to them no 
 more. 
 
 He went first to Philadelphia, and afterwards to 
 Europe. Here he was noticed by many great people, but 
 he retained all the sobriety and simplicity which he had 
 learned among the Quakers. It is related of him, that, 
 when he was presented at the court of the Prince of 
 Parma, he kept his hat upon his head even while kissing 
 the Prince's hand. 
 
 When he was twenty-five years old he went to Lon- 
 don, and established himself there as an artist. In due 
 course of time he acquired great fame by his pictures, and 
 was made chief painter to King George Third, and presi- 
 dent of the Royal Academy of Arts. 
 
 When the Quakers of Pennsylvania heard of his suc- 
 cess, they felt that the prophecy of the old preacher as to 
 little Ben's future eminence was now accomplished. It is 
 true, they shook their heads at his pictures of battle and 
 bloodshed, such as the Death of Wolfe, thinking that 
 these terrible scenes should not be held up to the admira- 
 tion of the world. 
 
 But they approved of the great paintings in which he 
 represented the miracles and sufferings of the Redeemer 
 of mankind. King George employed him to adorn a 
 large and beautiful chapel at Windsor Castle with pic- 
 
^ 284 ^ 
 
 tures of these sacred subjects. He likewise painted a mag- 
 nificent picture of Christ Healing the Sick, which he gave 
 to the hospital at Philadelphia. It was exhibited to the 
 public, and produced so much profit that the hospital was 
 enlarged so as to accommodate thirty more patients. If 
 Benjamin West had done no other good deed than this, 
 yet it would have been enough to entitle ^him to an hon- 
 orable remembrance forever. At this very day there are 
 thirty poor people in the hospital who owe all their com- 
 forts to that same picture. 
 
 We shall mention only a single incident more. The 
 picture of Christ Healing the Sick was exhibited at the 
 Royal Academy in London, where it covered a vast space, 
 and displayed a multitude of figures as large as life. On 
 the wall, close beside this admirable picture, hung a small 
 and faded landscape. It was the same that little Ben 
 had painted in his father's garret, after receiving the 
 paint-box and engravings from good Mr. Pennington. 
 
 He lived many years in peace and honor, and died in 
 1820, at the age of eighty-two. The story of his life is 
 almost as wonderful as a fairy tale ; for there are few 
 stranger transformations than that of a little unknown 
 Quaker boy in the wilds of America into the most dis- 
 tinguished painter of his day. 
 
 — Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
-^ 285 8«- 
 
 THE HUSKERS 
 
 It was late in mild October, and the long autumnal rain 
 Had left the summer harvest-fields all green with grass 
 
 again 
 
 The first sharp frosts had fallen, leaving all the wood- 
 lands gay 
 
 With the hues of summer's rainbow, or the meadow- 
 flowers of May. 
 
 Through a thin, dry mist, that morning, the sun rose 
 
 broad and red, 
 At first a rayless disk of fire, he brightened as he sped ; 
 Yet, even his noontide glory fell chastened and subdued. 
 On the cornfields and the orchard and softly pictured 
 
 wood. 
 
 And all that quiet afternoon, slow sloping to the night. 
 He wove with golden shuttle the haze with yellow light ; 
 Slanting through the painted beeches, he glorified the 
 
 hill ; 
 And, beneath it, pond and meadow lay brighter, greener 
 
 still. 
 
 And shouting boys in woodland haunts caught glimpses 
 
 of that sky. 
 Flecked by many tinted leaves, and laughed, they knew 
 
 not why ; 
 
-^ 286 8«- 
 
 And school-girls gay with aster flowers, beside the meadow 
 
 brooks, 
 Mingled the glow of autumn with the sunshine of sweet 
 
 looks. 
 
 From spire and barn looked westerly the patient weather- 
 cocks ; 
 
 But even the birches on the hill stood motionless as 
 rocks. 
 
 No sound was in the woodlands, save the squirrel's drop- 
 ping shell, 
 
 And the yellow leaves among the boughs, low rustling as 
 they fell. 
 
 The summer grains were harvested ; the stubble-fields lay 
 
 dry. 
 Where June winds rolled, in light and shade, the pale 
 
 green waves of rye ; 
 But still, on gentle hill-slopes, in valleys fringed with 
 
 wood, 
 Ungathered, bleaching in the sun, the heavy corn crop 
 
 stood. 
 
 Bent low, by autumn's wind and rain, through husks that, 
 
 dry and sere, 
 Unfolded from their ripened charge, shone out the yellow 
 
 ear ; 
 
-^ 287 Q^ 
 
 Beneath, the turnip lay concealed, in many a verdant 
 
 fold, 
 And glistened in the slanting light the pumpkin's sphere 
 
 of gold. 
 
 There wrought the busy harvesters ; and many a creak- 
 ing wain 
 
 Bore slowly to the long barn-floor its load of husk and 
 grain ; 
 
 Till broad and red as when he rose, the sun sank down, at 
 last. 
 
 And like a merry guest's farewell, the day in brightness 
 
 And lo ! as through the western pines, on meadow, stream, 
 
 and pond. 
 Flamed the red radiance of a sky, set all afire beyond. 
 Slowly o'er the eastern sea-bluffs a milder glory shone. 
 And the sunset and the moonrise were mingled into one ! 
 
 As thus into the quiet night the twilight lapsed away, 
 And deeper in the brightening moon the tranquil shadows 
 
 lay, 
 From many a brown old farm-house, and hamlet without 
 
 name. 
 Their milking and their home-tasks done, the merry 
 
 buskers came. 
 
^ 288 8«- 
 
 Swung o*er the heaped-up harvest, from pitchforks in 
 
 the mow, 
 Shone dimly down the lanterns on the pleasant scene 
 
 below ; 
 The growing pile of husks behind, the golden ears before, 
 And laughing eyes and busy hands and brown cheeks 
 
 glimmering o*er. 
 
 Half hidden in a quiet nook, serene of look and heart, 
 
 Talking their old times over, the old men sat apart ; 
 
 While, up and down the unhusked pile, or nestling in its 
 shade. 
 
 At hide-and-seek, with laugh and shout, the happy chil- 
 dren played. 
 
 Urged by the good host's daughter, a maiden young and 
 
 fair. 
 Lifting to light her sweet blue eyes and pride of soft 
 
 brown hair. 
 The master of the village school, sleek of hair and smooth 
 
 of tongue, 
 To the quaint tune of some old psalm a husking-ballad 
 
 sung. 
 
 — John Grbbnlbaf Whittier. 
 
-^ 289 6«- 
 
 SIR ISAAC NEWTON 
 
 apprentice conjecture 
 
 profession gravitation 
 
 architect reverential 
 
 nobility philosophy 
 
 miniature 
 Woolsthorpe 
 mechanical 
 magnificently 
 
 On Christmas day, in the year 1642, Isaac Newton 
 was born at the small village of Woolsthorpe, in England. 
 Little did his mother think that he was destined to 
 explain many matters which had been a mystery ever 
 since the creation of the world. Isaac went to live with 
 his grandmother when he was still a little boy, and she 
 was very kind to him and sent him to school. 
 
 In his early years he did not appear to be a very 
 bright scholar, but was chiefly remarkable for his ingenu- 
 ity in all mechanical occupations. He had a set of little 
 tools and saws of various sizes manufactured by himself. 
 With the aid of these Isaac contrived to make many curi- 
 ous articles, at which he worked with so much skill that 
 he seemed to have been born with a saw or chisel in hand. 
 
 The neighbors looked with vast admiration at the 
 things which Isaac manufactured, and his old grand- 
 mother, I suppose, was never weary of talking about him. 
 
 " He'll make a capital workman, one of these days," 
 she would probably say. " No fear but what Isaac will 
 do well in the world and be a rich man before he dies." 
 
■^ 290^8«- 
 
 It is amusing to conjecture what were the anticipa- 
 tions of his grandmother and the neighbors about Isaac's 
 future life and work. Some of them, perhaps, fancied 
 that he would make beautiful furniture of mahogany, 
 rosewood, or polished oak, inlaid with ivory and ebony, 
 and magnificently gilded. And then, doubtless, all the 
 rich people would purchase these fine things to adorn 
 their drawing-rooms. 
 
 Others probably thought that little Isaac was destined 
 to be an architect, and would build splendid mansions for 
 the nobility and gentry, and churches, too, with the tall- 
 est steeples that had ever been seen in England. 
 
 Some of his friends, no doubt, advised Isaac's grand- 
 mother to apprentice him to a clock-maker; for, besides 
 his mechanical skill, the boy seemed to have a taste for 
 mathematics, which would be very useful to him in that 
 profession. And then, in due time, Isaac would set up 
 for himself, and would manufacture curious clocks, like 
 those that contain sets . of dancing figures, which issue 
 from the dial plate when the hour is struck ; or like those 
 where a ship sails across the face of the clock, and is seen 
 tossing up and down on the waves as often as the pendu- 
 lum vibrates. 
 
 Indeed, there was some ground for supposing that 
 Isaac would devote himself to the manufacture of clocks ; 
 since he had already made one of a kind which nobody 
 had ever heard of before. It was set a-going, not by 
 
-^ 291 6«- 
 
 wheels and weights like other clocks, but by the dropping 
 of water. This was an object of great wonderment to all 
 the people round about, who came often to see this strange 
 clock; and it must be confessed that there are few boys, 
 or men either, who could contrive to tell what o'clock it 
 is by means of a bowl of water. 
 
 Besides the water-clock, Isaac made a sun-dial. Thus 
 his grandmother was never at a loss to know the hour ; 
 for the water-clock would tell it in the shade, and the 
 dial in the sunshine. The sun-dial is said to be still in 
 existence at Woolsthorpe, on the corner of the house 
 where Isaac dwelt. If so, it must have marked the pas- 
 sage of every sunny hour that has elapsed since Isaac 
 Newton was a boy. It marked all the famous moments 
 of his life ; it marked the hour of his death ; and still the 
 sunshine creeps slowly over it, as regularly as when Isaac 
 first set it up. 
 
 Yet we must not say that the sun-dial has lasted longer 
 than its maker ; for Isaac Newton will exist long after 
 the dial shall have crumbled to decay. 
 
 Isaac possessed a wonderful faculty of acquiring knowl- 
 edge by the simplest means possible. For instance, what 
 method do you suppose he took to find out the strength 
 of the wind ? You will never guess how the boy could 
 compel that unseen, inconstant, and ungovernable wonder, 
 the wind, to tell him the measure of its strength. Yet 
 nothing can be more simple. He jumped against the 
 
-« 292 Q^ 
 
 wind ; and by the length of his jump he could calculate 
 the force of a gentle breeze, a brisk gale, or a tempest. 
 Thus, even in his boyish sports, he was continually search- 
 ing out the secrets of philosophy. 
 
 Not far from his grandmother's residence there was a 
 windmill which operated on a new plan. Isaac was in the 
 habit of going thither frequently, and would spend whole 
 hours in examining its various parts. While the mill was 
 at rest he pried into its internal machinery. When its 
 broad sails were set in motion by the wind, he watched 
 the process by which the millstones were made to revolve 
 and crush the grain that was put into the hopper. After 
 gaining a thorough knowledge of its construction he was 
 observed to be unusually busy with his tools. 
 
 It was not long before his grandmother and all the 
 neighborhood knew what Isaac had been about. He had 
 constructed a model of the windmill, though not so large, 
 I suppose, as one of the box-traps which boys set to catch 
 squirrels ; yet every part of the mill and its machinery 
 was complete. 
 
 Its little sails were neatly made of linen, and whirled 
 round very swiftly when the mill was placed in a draft of 
 air. Even a puff of wind from Isaac's mouth or from a 
 pair of bellows was sufficient to set the sails in motion. 
 And, what was most curious, if a handful of grains of 
 wheat were put into the little hopper, they would soon be 
 converted into snow-white flour. 
 
^ 293 8e- 
 
 Isaac's playmates were enchanted with his new wind- 
 mill. They thought nothing so pretty and so wonderful 
 had ever been seen in the whole world. 
 
 " But, Isaac," said one of them, " you have forgotten 
 one thing that belongs to a mill." 
 
 " What is that ? " asked Isaac ; for he supposed that, 
 from the roof of the mill to its foundation, he had for- 
 gotten nothing. 
 
 " Why, where is the miller ? " said his friend. 
 
 " That is true — I must look out for one," said Isaac ; 
 and he set himself to consider how this deficiency should 
 be supplied. 
 
 He might easily make the miniature figure of a man ; 
 but then it would not have been able to move about and 
 perform the duties of a miller. As Captain Lemuel Gul- 
 liver had not yet discovered the island of Lilliput, Isaac 
 did not know that there were little men in the world 
 whose size was just suited to his windmill. It so hap- 
 pened, however, that a mouse had just been caught in the 
 trap; and, as no other miller of a suitable size could be 
 found, Mister Mouse was immediately appointed to that 
 important office. The new miller made a very respectable 
 appearance in his dark gray coat. To be sure, he had not 
 a very good character for honesty, and was suspected of 
 sometimes stealing a portion of the grain which was given 
 him to grind. 
 
 As Isaac grew older, it was found that he had far more 
 
->8 294 8«- 
 
 important matters in his mind than the manufacture of 
 toys like the windmill. All day long, if left to himself, 
 he was either absorbed in thought or engaged in some 
 book of mathematics or natural philosophy. At night, I 
 think it probable, he looked up with reverential curiosity 
 to the stars, and wondered whether they were worlds like 
 our own, and how great was their distance from the earth, 
 and what was the power that kept them in their courses. 
 Perhaps, even so early in life, Isaac Newton felt a presenti- 
 ment that he should be able, hereafter, to answer all these 
 questions. 
 
 When Isaac was fourteen years old, he spent a year or 
 two in assisting his mother in managing her farm. But 
 his mind was so bent on becoming a scholar that his 
 mother sent him back to school, and afterwards to the 
 University at Cambridge. 
 
 I have now finished my anecdotes of Isaac Newton's 
 boyhood. My story would be far too long were I to 
 mention all the splendid discoveries which he made after 
 he came to be a man. He was the first that found out 
 the nature of light ; for, before his day, nobody could tell 
 what the sunshine was composed of. 
 
 You remember, I suppose, the story of an apple's fall- 
 ing on his head, while he was lying in the grass under an 
 apple-tree, and thus leading him to discover the force of 
 gravitation, which keeps the heavenly bodies in their 
 courses. When he had once got hold of this idea, he 
 
-^ 295 ^ 
 
 never permitted his mind to rest until he had searched out 
 all the laws by which the planets are guided through the 
 sky. This he did as thoroughly as if he had gone up 
 among the stars and tracked them in their orbits. The 
 boy had found out the mechanism of a windmill; the 
 man explained to his fellow-men the mechanism of the 
 universe. 
 
 While making these researches he was accustomed to 
 spend night after night in a lofty tower, gazing at the 
 heavenly bodies through a telescope. His mind was 
 lifted far above the things of this world. He may be 
 said, indeed, to have spent the greater part of his life in 
 worlds that lie thousands and millions of miles away ; for 
 where the thoughts and the heart are, there is our true 
 existence. 
 
 Did you ever hear the story of Newton and his little 
 dog Diamond? One day, when he was fifty years old, 
 and had been hard at work more than twenty years 
 studying the theory of light, he went out of his chamber, 
 leaving this little dog asleep before the fire. On the table 
 lay a heap of manuscript papers, containing all the dis- 
 coveries which Newton had made during those twenty 
 years. When his master was gone, up rose little Diamond, 
 jumped upon the table, and overthrew the lighted candle. 
 The papers immediately caught fire. 
 
 Just as the destruction was completed Newton opened 
 the chamber door, and perceived that the labors of twenty 
 
-^ 296 8<- 
 
 years were reduced to a heap of ashes. There stood little 
 Diamond, the author of all the mischief. Almost any other 
 man would have sentenced the dog to immediate death, 
 but Newton patted him on the head with his usual kind- 
 ness, although grief was at his heart. 
 
 " Diamond, Diamond," exclaimed he, " thou little 
 knowest the mischief thou hast done ! " 
 
 The loss of these valuable papers affected his health 
 and spirits for some time afterwards; but, from his con- 
 duct towards the little dog, you may judge what was the 
 sweetness of his temper. 
 
 Newton lived to be a very old man, and acquired great 
 renown ; he was made a member of Parliament, and 
 received the honor of knighthood from the king. But he 
 cared little for earthly fame and honors, and felt no pride 
 in the vastness of his knowledge. All that he had learned 
 made him feel how little he knew in comparison to what 
 remained to be known. 
 
 " I seem to myself like a child," observed he, " playing 
 on the seashore, and picking up here and there a curious 
 shell or a pretty pebble, while the boundless ocean of 
 Truth lies undiscovered before me." 
 
 — Nathaniel Hawthorne. 
 
-« 297 B«- 
 
 THE JOURNAL OF ROBINSON CRUSOE 
 
 oakum 
 
 credible 
 
 diversion 
 
 interval 
 
 desisted 
 
 semicircle 
 
 mechanic 
 
 deficient 
 
 commodiously 
 
 gudgeon 
 
 occupancy 
 
 fortification 
 
 September 30, 1659, 1, poor, miserable Robinson Crusoe, 
 being shipwrecked during a dreadful storm in the offing, 
 came on shore on this dismal, unfortunate island, which 
 I. called the Island of Despair, all the rest of the ship's 
 company being drowned, and myself almost dead. 
 
 I had neither food, house, clothes, weapon, nor place to 
 fly to, and, in despair of any relief, saw nothing but 
 death before me, either that I should be devoured by wild 
 beasts, murdered by savages, or starved to death for want 
 of food. At the approach of night I slept in a tree, for 
 fear of wild creatures, but slept soundly, though it rained 
 all night. 
 
 October 1. In the morning I saw, to my great sur- 
 prise, the ship had floated with the high tide, and was 
 driven on shore much nearer the island. This was some 
 comfort ; for, seeing her sit upright, and not broken to 
 pieces, I hoped, if the wind abated, I might go on board, 
 and get some food or necessaries out of her for my relief. 
 On the other hand, it renewed my grief at the loss of my 
 comrades, who, I imagined, if we had all stayed on board. 
 
-^ 298 8«- 
 
 might have saved the ship, or at least that they would 
 not have been drowned, as they were, and that, had the 
 men been saved, we might, perhaps, have built us a boat 
 out of the ruins of the ship, to carry us to some other 
 part of the world. I spent a great part of this day in 
 perplexing myself about these things ; but, at length 
 seeing the ship almost dry, I walked upon the sand as 
 near as possible, and then swam on board. This day, 
 also, it continued raining, though with no wind at all. 
 
 From the first of October to the 24:th. All these days 
 were spent in making several voyages to get all T could 
 out of the ship, which I brought on shore, at every flood 
 tide, upon rafts. Much rain in these days, though with 
 some intervals of fair weather. It seems this was the 
 rainy season. 
 
 October 20. I overset my raft, and all the goods I 
 had upon it ; but, being in shoal water, and the things 
 being chiefly heavy, I recovered many of them when the 
 tide was out. 
 
 October 25. It rained all night and all day, with some 
 gusts of wind, during which time the ship broke in 
 pieces, and was no more to be seen, except the wreck of 
 her, and that only at low water. I spent the day in cov- 
 ering and securing the goods which I had saved, that the 
 rain might not spoil them. 
 
 October 26. I walked about the shore almost all day, 
 to find a place to fix my habitation, greatly concerned to 
 
-« 299 ^ ' 
 
 secure myself from any attack in the night, either from 
 wild beasts or men. Toward night I fixed upon a proper 
 place under a rock, and marked out a semicircle for my 
 encampment, which I resolved to strengthen with a wall, 
 or fortification made of double piles, lined within with 
 cables and without with turf. 
 
 From the 2^th to the SOth, I worked very hard in 
 carrying all my goods to my new fortification, though 
 some part of the time it rained exceeding hard. 
 
 November 1st. 1 set up my tent under a rock, making 
 it as large as I could with stakes driven in to swing my 
 hammock upon and lay there for the first night. 
 
 Novemher 2. I set up all my chests and boards, and 
 the pieces of timber which made my rafts, and with them 
 formed a fence round me, a little within the place I had 
 marked out for my fortification. 
 
 November 4. This morning I began to order my time 
 of work, time of going out with my gun, time of sleep, 
 and time of diversion. Every morning I walked out with 
 my gun for two or three hours, if it did not rain ; then 
 employed myself to work till about eleven o'clock ; then 
 ate what I had to live on, and from twelve to two I lay 
 down to sleep, the weather being excessively hot; and 
 then, in the evening, to work again. The working part 
 of this day, and of the next, was wholly employed in 
 making my table ; for I was yet but a very sorry work- 
 man, though time and necessity made me a complete 
 
^ 300 B^ 
 
 natural mechanic soon after, as I believe it -would do any 
 one else. 
 
 November 6. After my morning walk I went to work 
 with my table again, and finished it, though not to my 
 liking ; nor was it long before I learned to mend it. 
 
 Novemher 7. Now it began to be settled, fair weather. 
 The 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th, and a part of the 12th (for the 
 11th was Sunday), I took wholly up to make me a chair, 
 and with much ado brought it to a tolerable shape, but 
 never to please me ; and even in the making I pulled it 
 in pieces several times. 
 
 November 13. This day it rained, which refreshed me 
 exceedingly, and cooled the earth ; but it was accom- 
 panied with terrible thunder and lightning, which fright- 
 ened me dreadfully for fear of my powder. As soon as it 
 was over, I resolved to separate my stock of powder into 
 as many little parcels as possible, that it might not be in 
 danger. 
 
 November 14, 15, 16. These three days I spent in 
 making little square chests or boxes, which might hold 
 about a pound or two pounds at most, of powder ; and so, 
 putting the powder in, I stowed it in places as secure and 
 remote from one another as possible. On one of these 
 three days I killed a large bird that was good to eat, but 
 I know not what to call it. 
 
 November 17. This day I began to dig behind my tent 
 into the rock, to make room for my further convenience. 
 
-^ 301 B^ 
 
 Note. — Three things I needed for this work ; namely, a pick- 
 axe, a shovel, and a wheelbarrow or basket ; so I desisted from my 
 work, and began to consider how to supply this need, and make me 
 some tools. As for a pickaxe, I made use of iron crows which were 
 proper enough, though heavy ; but the next thing was a shovel or 
 spade. This was so absolutely necessary, that I could do nothing 
 without it ; but what kind of one to make I knew not. 
 
 November 18. The next day, in searching the woods, 
 I found a tree of that wood, or like it, which in the 
 Brazils they call the iron tree, for its exceeding hardness. 
 I cut a piece of this and brought it home, too, with 
 difficulty, for it was exceeding heavy. 
 
 The excessive hardness of the wood made me a long 
 while upon this tool ; for I worked it effectually by little 
 and little into the form of a shovel or spade, the handle 
 exactly shaped like ours in England, only that the broad 
 part having no iron upon it at the bottom, it would not 
 last me so long. However, it served well enough for the 
 uses which I had occasion to put it to ; but never was a 
 shovel, I believe, made after that fashion, or so long in 
 making. 
 
 I was still deficient, for I wanted a basket or a 
 wheelbarrow. A basket I could not make by any means, 
 having no such thing as twigs that would bend to make 
 wicker ware, — at least, not yet discovered ; and as to a 
 wheelbarrow, I fancied I could make all but the wheel, 
 but that I had no notion of, neither did T know how to 
 
-^ 302 8«- 
 
 go about it ; besides, I had no possible way to make the 
 iron gudgeons for the spindle or axis of the wheel to run 
 in, so I gave up this idea. For carrying away the earth 
 which I dug out of the cave, I made me a thing like a 
 hod, which the laborers carry mortar in, when they serve 
 the bricklayers. 
 
 This was not so difficult to me as the making the 
 shovel; and yet this, and the shovel, and the attempt 
 which I made in vain to make a wheelbarrow, took up 
 no less than four days ; I mean always excepting my 
 morning walk with my gun, which I seldom omitted. 
 
 November 23. My other work having now stood still 
 because of my making these tools, when they were fin- 
 ished I went on, and working every day as my strength 
 and time allowed, I spent eighteen days entirely in 
 widening and deepening my cave, that it might hold 
 my goods commodiously. 
 
 Note. — During all this time, I worked to make this room or cave 
 spacious enough to accommodate me as a warehouse or magazine, a 
 kitchen, a dining room, and a cellar ; as for my lodging, I kept to 
 the tent, except that sometimes in the wet season of the year it 
 rained so hard that I could not keep myself diy, which caused me 
 afterwards to cover all the place within the pale with long poles in 
 the form of rafters, leaning against the rock, and load them with 
 flags and large leq-ves of trees like a thatch. 
 
 December 10. I began now to think my cave or 
 vault finished ; when, on a sudden (it seems I had made 
 
-« 303 S«- 
 
 it too large), a great quantity of earth fell down from 
 the top and one side, so much, indeed, that it frightened 
 me. Upon this disaster I had a great deal of work to do 
 over again ; for, I had the loose earth to carry out ; and, 
 what was of more importance, I had the ceiling to prop 
 up, so that I might be sure no more would come down. 
 
 December 20. I carried everything into the cave, 
 which was at last ready for occupancy, and began to 
 finish my house, and set up some pieces of boards, like 
 a dresser, to place my food upon ; but boards began to 
 be very scarce with me. I made also another table. 
 
 December 24. Much rain all night and all day; no 
 stirring out. 
 
 December 25. Eain all day. 
 
 December 26. No rain ; and the earth much cooler 
 than before, and pleasanter. 
 
 December 27. Killed a young goat, and lamed another, 
 so that I caught it, and led it home by a string. When 
 I got it home, I bound and splintered up its leg, which 
 was broken. I took such care of it that it lived, and the 
 leg grew well and as strong as ever ; but, by nursing it 
 so long, it grew tame, and fed upon the little green at 
 my door, and would not go away. This was the first 
 time that I entertained a thought of having some tame 
 creatures, that I might have food when my powder and 
 shot was all spent. 
 
 December 28, 29, 30. Great heats and no breeze, so 
 
-^ 304 8«- 
 
 that there was no stirring abroad, except in the evening 
 for food. This time I spent in putting all my things in 
 order within doors. 
 
 January 1. Very hot still, but I went abroad early 
 and late with my gun, and lay still in the middle of the 
 day. This evening, going farther into the valleys, which 
 lay towards the centre of the island, I found there plenty 
 of goats, though they were exceeding shy on my approach ; 
 however, I resolved to try if I could not bring my dog to 
 hunt them down. 
 
 January 2. I went out to-day with my dog, and set 
 him upon the goats ; but I was mistaken, for they all 
 faced about upon the dog ; and he knew his danger too 
 well, for he would not go near them. 
 
 Jauuary 3. I began my fence or wall; which, being 
 still fearful of attack by savages, I resolved to make very 
 thick and strong. I was no less time than from the 
 3d of January to the 14th of April, in building, finish- 
 ing, and perfecting this wall, though it was no more 
 than about twenty-four yards in length, being a half- 
 circle from one place in the rock to another place about 
 eight yards from it, — the door of the cave being in the 
 centre behind it. 
 
 All this time I worked very hard, the rains hindering 
 me many days, nay, sometimes weeks together, but I 
 thought I should never be perfectly secure until this 
 wall was finished; and it is scarcely credible what in- 
 
-^ 305 8«- 
 
 expressible labor every thing was done with, especially 
 the bringing piles out of the woods, and driving them 
 into the ground, for I made them much bigger than I 
 need to have done. 
 
 When this wall was finished, and the outside double 
 fence with a turf-wall raised up close to it, I persuaded 
 myself that if any people were to come on shore they 
 would not perceive anything like a habitation ; and it 
 was very well I did so, as may be observed hereafter 
 upon a very remarkable occasion. 
 
 During this time I made my rounds in the woods for 
 game every day, when the rain permitted me, and made 
 frequent discoveries in these walks of something or other 
 to my advantage. Particularly I found a kind of wild 
 pigeons, who built, not as wood pigeons, in a tree, but 
 rather like house pigeons, in the holes of the rocks. 
 Taking some young ones, I endeavored to tame them, 
 and did so ; but, when they grew older they flew away, 
 which, perhaps, was at first from want of feeding them, 
 for I had nothing to give them. However, I frequently 
 found their nests, and got their young ones, which were 
 very good to eat. 
 
 And now, in managing my household affairs, I found 
 myself wanting in many things, which I thought at first 
 it was impossible for me to make, as indeed, as to some 
 of them it was ; for instance, I could not make a cask to 
 be hooped. I had a small runlet or two, but I could 
 
-^ 306 8«- 
 
 never succeed in making one of them, though I spent 
 many weeks about it. I could neither put in the heads, 
 or joint the staves so true to one another as to make 
 them hold water, so I gave that up also. 
 
 In the next place, I was at a great loss for candles ; 
 so that as soon as ever it was dark, which was generally 
 by seven o'clock, I was obliged to go to bed. The only 
 remedy I had was, that when I killed a goat I saved 
 the tallow, and with a little dish made of clay, which 
 I baked in the sun, to which I added a wick of some 
 oakum, I made a lamp. This gave me light, though not 
 a clear, steady light like a candle. 
 
 In the middle of all my labors, it happened that, 
 rummaging among my things, I found a little bag, which, 
 as I hinted before, had been filled with grain for the 
 feeding of poultry. What little remainder of grain had 
 been in the bag was all devoured by the rats, and I saw 
 nothing in the bag but husks and dust. Being willing 
 to have the bag for some other use (I think it was to 
 put powder in, when I divided it for fear of lightning, 
 or some such use), I shook the husks out of it on one side 
 of my fortifications under the rock. 
 
 It was a little before the great rains just now men- 
 tioned, that I threw this stuff away, taking no notice of 
 anything, and not so much as remembering that I had 
 thrown anything there. About a month after, I saw 
 a few stalks of something green shooting out of the 
 
-^ 307 B^ 
 
 ground, which I fancied might be some plant I had 
 not seen ; but I was surprised and perfectly astonished, 
 when, after a little longer time, I saw about ten or twelve 
 ears come out, which was perfect green barley of the 
 same kind as our European, nay, as our English barley. 
 
 I carefully saved the ears of this grain, you may be 
 sure, in their season, which was about the end of June, 
 and laying up every kernel I resolved to sow them all 
 again, hoping in time to have some quantity sufficient 
 to supply me with bread. It was not till the fourth year 
 that I could allow myself the least kernel of this grain to 
 eat, and even then but sparingly. I lost nearly all that I 
 sowed the first season, by not observing the proper 
 time ; for I sowed it just before the dry season, so that 
 it never came up at all, at least, not as it would have 
 done had it been sown in the wet season. 
 
 Besides the barley, there were twenty or thirty stalks 
 of rice, which I preserved with the same care, and whose 
 use was of the same kind ; namely, to make me food ; 
 for I found ways to cook it up without baking, though 
 I did that also after some time. But to return to my 
 journal. 
 
 I worked excessively hard for three or four months 
 to get my wall done ; and the 14th of April I closed it up, 
 contriving to go into it, not by a door, but over the wall 
 by a ladder, that there might be no sigji of my habita- 
 tion. — Daniel Defoe. 
 
■^ 308 8<- 
 
 ABOU BEN ADHEM 
 
 Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 
 Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 
 And saw within the moonlight in his room, 
 Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, 
 An angel writing in a book of gold : — 
 Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 
 And to the Presence in the room he said, 
 " What writest thou ? " — the vision raised its head, 
 And, with a look made of all sweet accord. 
 Answered, " The names of those who love the Lord." 
 " And is mine one ? " said Abou. " Nay, not so," 
 Replied the Angel. Abou spoke more low. 
 But cheerily, still ; and said, " I pray thee, then. 
 Write me as one that loves his fellowmen." 
 
 The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night 
 It came again, with a great wakening light. 
 And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, 
 And, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest ! 
 
 — Leigh Hunt. 
 
 Self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control, — 
 These three alone lead life to sovereign power. 
 
 — Tknnyson. 
 
^ 3C9 8«- 
 
 RALEIGH'S CLOAK 
 
 jerkin 
 halberd 
 retinue 
 wherries 
 
 alleged 
 gallantry 
 culverin 
 penitence 
 
 liegeman 
 deservedly 
 inclination 
 mysterious 
 
 reluctance 
 admiration 
 impetuosity 
 justification 
 
 A royal barge, manned with the queen's water-men, 
 richly attired in the regal liveries, and having the banner 
 of England displayed, lay at the great stairs which 
 ascended from the river, and along with it two or three 
 other boats for transporting such part of her retinue as 
 were not in immediate attendance on the royal person. 
 The yeomen of the guard, the tallest and most handsome 
 men whom England could produce, guarded with their 
 halberds the passage from the palace gate to the river- 
 side, and all seemed in readiness for the queen's coming 
 forth, although the day was yet early. 
 
 " By my faith, this bodes us no good," said Blount. 
 " It must be some perilous cause puts her grace in motion 
 thus untimely. By my counsel, we were best put back 
 again, to tell the earl what we have seen." 
 
 " Tell the earl what we have seen ! " said Walter ; 
 "why, what have we seen but a boat, and men with 
 scarlet jerkins, and halberds in their hands ? Let us do 
 his errand, and tell him what the queen says in reply." 
 
 So saying, he caused their boat to be pulled toward a 
 landing-place at some distance from the principal one, 
 
-98 310 8«- 
 
 which it would not, at that moment, have been thought 
 respectful to approach, and jumped on shore, followed, 
 though with reluctance, by his cautious and timid com- 
 panion. As they approached the gate of the palace, one 
 of the sergeant-porters told them they could not at pres- 
 ent enter, as her Majesty was in the act of coming forth. 
 The gentlemen used the name of the Earl of Sussex ; but 
 it proved no charm to subdue the officer, who alleged in 
 reply, that it was as much as the post was worth to dis- 
 obey in the least tittle the commands which he had 
 received. 
 
 "Nay, I told you as much before," said Blount; "do, 
 I pray you, my dear Raleigh, let us take our boat and 
 return." 
 
 " Not till I see the queen come forth," returned the 
 youth, composedly. 
 
 " Thou art mad, stark mad ! " answered Blount. 
 
 " And thou," said Raleigh, " art turned coward of a 
 sudden. I have seen thee face half a score of rough fel- 
 lows single-handed, and now thou wouldst blink and go 
 back to shun the frown of a fair lady ! " 
 
 At this moment the gates opened, and ushers began to 
 issue forth in array, preceded and flanked by the band of 
 gentlemen pensioners. After this, amid a crowd of lords 
 and ladies, yet so disposed around her that she could see 
 and be seen on all sides, came Elizabeth, herself, then in 
 the prime of womanhood, and in the full glow of what in 
 
^ 311 8«- 
 
 a sovereign was called beauty, and who would in the low- 
 est rank of life have been truly judged a noble figure, 
 joined to a striking "and commanding face. She leaned 
 on the arm of Lord Hounsdon, whose relation to her by 
 her mother's side often procured him such distinguished 
 marks of Elizabeth's friendliness. 
 
 The young Walter Raleigh had probably never yet 
 approached so near his queen, and he pressed forward as 
 far as the line of warders permitted, in order to avail him- 
 seK of the present opportunity. His companion, on the 
 contrary, kept pulling him backwards, till Walter shook 
 him off impatiently, letting his rich cloak drop carelessly 
 from one shoulder. Unbonneting at the same time, he 
 fixed his eager gaze on the queen's approach, with a mix- 
 ture of respectful curiosity and modest yet ardent admira- 
 tion, which suited so well with his fine features, that the 
 warders, struck with his rich attire and noble countenance, 
 suffered him to approach the ground over which the queen 
 was to pass, somewhat closer than was permitted to ordi- 
 nary spectators. Thus the adventurous youth stood full 
 in Elizabeth's eye — an eye never indifferent to the admi- 
 ration which she deservedly excited among her subjects. 
 Accordingly, she fixed her keen glance on the youth, as 
 she approached the place where he stood, with a look in 
 which surprise at his boldness seemed to be unmingled 
 with resentment, when a trifling accident happened which 
 attracted her attention toward him yet more strongly. 
 
■^ 312 9«- 
 
 The night had been rainy, and just where the young 
 gentleman stood, a small quantity of mud interrupted the 
 queen's passage. As she hesitated to pass on, the gallant 
 Raleigh, throwing his cloak from his shoulders, laid it on 
 the miry spot, so as to insure her stepping over it dry- 
 shod. Elizabeth looked at the young man, who accom- 
 panied this act of devoted courtesy with a profound 
 reverence, and a blush that overspread his whole coun- 
 tenance. The queen was confused, and blushed in her 
 turn, nodded her head, hastily passed on, and embarked 
 in her barge without saying a word. 
 
 " Come along, Raleigh," said Blount, " your gay cloak 
 will need the brush to-day, I wot." 
 
 " This cloak," said the youth, picking it up and fold- 
 ing it, "shall never be brushed while in my possession." 
 
 " And that will not be long, if you learn not a little 
 more economy." 
 
 This discourse was interrupted by one of the band 
 of pensioners. " I was sent," said he, after looking at 
 them attentively, " to a gentleman who hath no cloak, or 
 a muddy one. You, sir, I think," addressing the young 
 cavalier, " are the man ; you will please to follow me." 
 
 " He is in attendance on me," said Blount, " on me, 
 the noble Earl of Sussex's master of horse." 
 
 "I have nothing to say to that," answered the mes- 
 senger ; " my orders are directly from her Majesty, and 
 concern this gentleman only." 
 
-^ 313 8«- 
 
 So saying, he walked away, followed by Walter, leav- 
 ing the other behind, Blount's eyes almost starting from 
 his head with the excess of his astonishment. At length 
 he gave vent to it in an exclamation — "Who would 
 have thought this 1 " And shaking his head with a 
 mysterious air, he walked to his own boat, embarked, 
 and returned to Deptford. 
 
 The young cavalier was, in the meanwhile, guided to 
 the waterside by the pensioner, who showed him con- 
 siderable respect ; a circumstance which, to persons in his 
 situation, may be considered as an event of no small con- 
 sequence. He ushered him into one of the wherries 
 which lay ready to attend the queen's barge, which was 
 already proceeding up the river. 
 
 The two rowers used their oars with such expedition 
 at the signal of the gentleman pensioner, that they very 
 soon brought their little skiff under the stern of the 
 queen's boat, where she sat beneath an awning, attended 
 by two or three ladies, and the nobles of her household. 
 She looked more than once at the wherry in which the 
 young gallant was seated, spoke to those around her, and 
 seemed to laugh. At length one of the attendants, by 
 the queen's order apparently, made a sign for the wherry 
 to come alongside, and the young man was desired to 
 step from his own skiff into the queen's barge, which he 
 performed with graceful agility, and was brought to the 
 queen's presence, the wherry at the same time dropping 
 
^ 314 9«- 
 
 into the rear. The muddied cloak still hung upon his 
 arm, and formed the natural topic with which the queen 
 introduced the conversation. 
 
 " You have this day spoiled a gay mantle in our ser- 
 vice, young man. We thank you for your service, though 
 the manner of offering it was unusual, and somewhat 
 bold." 
 
 " In a sovereign's need," answered the youth, " it is 
 each liegeman's duty to be bold." 
 
 " That was well said, my lord," said the queen, turn- 
 ing to a grave person who sat by her, who answered 
 with something of a mumbled assent. " Well, young 
 man, your gallantry shall not go unrewarded. Go to the 
 wardrobe keeper, and he shall have orders to supply the 
 suit which you have cast away in our service. Thou shalt 
 have a suit, and that of the newest cut, I promise thee, 
 on the word of a princess." 
 
 " May it please your Grace," said Walter, " it is not 
 for so humble a servant of your Majesty to measure out 
 your bounties ; but if it became me to choose — " 
 
 " Thou wouldst have gold, I warrant," said the queen, 
 interrupting him; "fie, young man! I take shame to 
 say, that, in our capital, such and so various are the 
 means of thriftless folly, that to give gold to youth is 
 giving fuel to fire. Yet thou mayest be poor," she added, 
 " or thy parents may be ; — it shall be gold, if thou wilt, 
 but thou shalt answer to me for the use of it." 
 
^ 315 9^ 
 
 Walter waited patiently until the queen had done, and 
 then modestly assured her, that gold was still less in his 
 wish than the raiment her Majesty had before offered. 
 
 "How, boy!" said the queen, "neither gold nor rai- 
 ment ! What is it that thou wouldst have of me ? " 
 
 " Only permission, madame — if it is not asking too 
 high an honor — permission to wear the cloak which did 
 you this trifling service." 
 
 " Permission to wear thine own cloak, thou silly 
 boy?" said the queen. 
 
 " It is no longer mine," said Walter ; " when your 
 Majesty's foot touched it, it became a fit mantle for a 
 prince, but far too rich a one for its former owner." 
 
 The queen again blushed; and endeavored to cover, 
 by laughing, a slight degree of not unpleasing surprise 
 and confusion. 
 
 " Heard you ever the like, my lords ? The youth's 
 head is turned with reading romances — I must know 
 something of him, that I may send him safe to his 
 friends, — what art thou ? " 
 
 " A gentleman of the household of the Earl of Sussex, 
 so please your grace, sent hither with his master of horse, 
 upon a message to your majesty. 
 
 In a moment the gracious expression which Eliza- 
 beth's face had hitherto maintained, gave way to an 
 expression of haughtiness and severity. 
 
 " My Lord of Sussex," she said, " has taught us how 
 
^ 316 8«- 
 
 to regard his messages, by the value he places upon ours. 
 We sent but this morning our own physician, understand- 
 ing his lordship's illness to be more dangerous than we 
 had before apprehended. There is at no court in Europe 
 a man more skilled in this most useful science than Doc- 
 tor Masters, and he went at our orders to my Lord of 
 Sussex. Nevertheless, he found the gate of Say's Court 
 defended by men with culverins, as if it had been on the 
 borders of Scotland, not in the vicinity of our court ; and 
 when he demanded admittance in our name, it was stub- 
 bornly refused. For this slight of kindness, which had 
 but too much of condescension in it, we will receive, 
 at present at least, no excuse ; and some such we sup- 
 pose to have been the purport of my Lord of Sussex's 
 message." 
 
 This was uttered in a tone, and with a gesture, which 
 made Lord Sussex's friends, who were within hearing, 
 tremble. He to whom the speech was addressed, how- 
 ever, trembled not ; but with great deference and humility, 
 as soon as the queen's passion gave him an opportunity, 
 he replied, '^ So please your Most Gracious Majesty, I 
 was charged with no apology from the Earl of Sussex." 
 
 " With what were you then charged, sir ? " said the 
 queen, with the impetuosity which, amid nobler qualities, 
 strongly marked her character ; " was it with a justifica- 
 tion, or with a defence ? " 
 
 " Madame," said the young man, '' my Lord of Sussex 
 
-^ 317 6<- 
 
 knew the offence approached toward treason, and could 
 think of nothing save of securing the offender, and plac- 
 ing him in your Majesty's hands, and at your mercy. 
 The noble earl was fast asleep when your Majesty's most 
 gracious message reached him, a potion having been 
 administered to that purpose by his physician; and his 
 Lordship knew not of the ungracious repulse your Majesty's 
 royal and most comfortable message had received, until 
 after he awoke this morning." 
 
 " And which of his domestics, then, presumed to 
 reject my message, without even admitting my own 
 physician to the presence of him whom I sent him to 
 attend ? " said the queen, much surprised. 
 
 " The offender, madame, is before you," replied Walter, 
 bowing very low ; " the full and sole blame is mine ; and 
 my lord has most justly sent me to abide the consequences 
 of my fault, of which he is as innocent as a sleeping 
 man's dreams can be of a waking man's actions." 
 
 " What ! was it thou, — thou thyself, that repelled my 
 messenger and my physician from Say's Court?" said 
 the queen. "What could occasion such boldness in one 
 who seems devoted — that is, whose exterior bearing 
 shows devotion — to his sovereign ? " 
 
 " Madame," said the youth, " we say in our country, 
 that the physician is for the time the sovereign of his 
 patient. Now, my noble master was then under domin- 
 ion of a physician, who had issued his commands that 
 
-*6 318 8«- 
 
 his patient should not that night be disturbed, on the 
 very peril of his life." 
 
 ^ " Thy master hath trusted some false physician/' said 
 the queen. 
 
 " I know not, madame, but by the fact that he is now 
 awakened much refreshed and strengthened, from the 
 only sleep he hath had for many hours." 
 
 The nobles looked at each other, but more with the 
 purpose to see what each thought of this news, than to 
 exchange any remarks on what had happened. The 
 queen answered hastily, and without affecting to disguise 
 her satisfaction : " By my word, 1 am glad he is better. 
 But thou wert over bold to deny the access of my Doctor 
 Masters. Know'st thou not that in the multitude of 
 counsel there is safety ? '* 
 
 " Ay, madame," said Walter, "but I have heard learned 
 men say, that the safety spoken of is for the physicians, 
 not for the patient." 
 
 " By my faith, child, thou hast pushed me home," 
 said the queen, laughing ; " for my Hebrew learning 
 does not come quite at a call. But for thee, young man, 
 what is thy name and birth?" 
 
 "Raleigh is my name, most gracious queen, the 
 youngest son of a large but honorable family of Devon- 
 shire." 
 
 " Raleigh ? " said Elizabeth, after a moment's recollec- 
 tion, "have we not heard of your service in Ireland?" 
 
-« 319 B^ 
 
 " I have been so fortunate as to do some service there, 
 madame," replied Raleigh, " scarce however of consequence 
 sufficient to reach your Grace's ears." 
 
 " They hear farther than you think of," said the queen, 
 graciously, " and have heard of a youth who defended a 
 ford in Shannon against a whole band of rebels, until 
 the stream ran purple with their blood and his own." 
 
 ^^ Some blood I may^^have lost," said the youth, look- 
 ing down, " but it was where my best is due ; and that 
 is in your Majesty's service." 
 
 The queen paused, and then said hastily, " You are very 
 young to have fought so well, and to speak so well. But 
 you must not escape your penance for turning back Mas- 
 ters — the poor man hath caught cold on the river ; for 
 our order reached him when he was just returning from 
 certain visits in London, and he held it matter of loyalty 
 and conscience instantly to set forth again. So hark ye, 
 Master Raleigh, see thou fail not to wear thy muddy 
 cloak, in token of penitence, till our pleasure be farther 
 known. And here," she added, giving him a jewel of 
 gold, in the form of a chessman, " I give thee this to 
 wear at the collar." 
 
 Raleigh, to whom nature had taught intuitively, as it 
 were, those courtly arts which many scarce acquire from 
 long experience, knelt, and, as he took from her hand the 
 jewel, kissed the fingers which gave it. 
 
 — Sir Walter Scott. 
 
-« 320 B«- 
 THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN 
 
 Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, 
 
 By famous Hanover city ; 
 The river Weser, deep and wide, 
 Washes its wall on the southern side ; 
 A pleasanter spot you never spied ; 
 
 But, when begins my ditty. 
 Almost five hundred years ago, 
 To see the townsfolk suffer so 
 
 From vermin, was a pity. 
 
 Rats! 
 They fought the dogs and killed the cats. 
 
 And bit the babies in the cradles, 
 And ate the cheeses out of the vats, 
 
 And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles. 
 Split open the kegs of salted sprats. 
 Made nests inside men's Sunday hats. 
 And even spoiled the women's chats. 
 By drowning their speaking 
 With shrieking and squeaking 
 In fifty different sharps and flats. 
 
 At last the people in a body 
 
 To the Town Hall came flocking : 
 " 'Tis clear," cried they, "our Mayor's a noddy; 
 And as for our Corporation — shocking 
 
^ 321 8«- 
 
 To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 
 For dolts that can't or wont determine 
 What's best to rid us of our vermin ! 
 You hope, because you're old and obese, 
 To find in the furry civic robe ease. 
 Rouse up, Sirs ! Give your brains a racking 
 To find the remedy we're lacking, 
 Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing ! " 
 At this the Mayor and Corporation 
 Quaked with a mighty consternation. 
 
 An hour they sat in council, 
 
 At length the Mayor broke silence : 
 " For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell ; 
 
 I wish I were a mile hence ! 
 It's easy to bid one rack one's brain — 
 I'm sure my poor head aches again, 
 I've scratched it so, and all in vain, 
 Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap ! " 
 Just as he said this, what should hap 
 At the chamber door but a gentle tap ? 
 "Bless us," cried the Mayor, " what's that? 
 Anything like the sound of a rat 
 Makes my heart go pit-a-pat !" 
 
 " Come in ! " the Mayor cried, looking bigger 
 And in did come the strangest figure ! 
 
^ 322 B«- 
 
 His queer long coat from heel to head 
 
 Was half of yellow, and half of red ; 
 
 And he himself was tall and thin, 
 
 With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, 
 
 And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, 
 
 No tuft on cheek, nor beard on chin, 
 
 But lips where smiles went out and in ; 
 
 There was no guessing his kith and kin : 
 
 And nobody could enough admire 
 
 The tall man and his quaint attire. 
 
 Quoth one, " It's as if my great-grandsire, 
 
 Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, 
 
 Had walked this way from his painted tombstone ! " 
 
 He advanced to the council-table : 
 
 And, " Please your honors," said he, " I'm able. 
 
 By means of a secret charm, to draw 
 
 All creatures living beneath the sun, 
 
 That creep, or swim, or fly, or run. 
 After me so as you never saw ! 
 And I chiefly use my charm 
 On creatures that do people harm, 
 The mole, the toad, the newt, the viper ; 
 And people call me the Pied Piper. 
 Yet," said he, " poor piper as I am. 
 In Tartary I freed the Cham, 
 
 Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats ; 
 
^ 323 B^ 
 
 I eased in Asia the Nizam 
 
 Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats : 
 And as for what your brain bewilders, 
 
 If I can rid your town of rats 
 Will you give me a thousand guilders ? " 
 " One ? Fifty thousand ! " was the exclamation 
 Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. 
 
 Into the street the Piper stept, 
 
 Smiling first a little smile, 
 As if he knew what magic slept 
 
 In his quiet pipe the while ; 
 Then, like a musical adept, 
 To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, 
 And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled, 
 Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled ; 
 And ere three shrill notes the pipe had uttered, 
 You heard as if an army muttered ; 
 And the muttering grew^ to a grumbling ; 
 And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling ; 
 And out of the houses the rats came tumbling — 
 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats. 
 Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats. 
 Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, 
 
 Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins. 
 Cocking tails, and pricking whiskers. 
 
 Families by tens and dozens. 
 
^ 324 8*- 
 
 Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives — 
 Followed the Piper for their lives. 
 From street to street he piped, advancing. 
 And step for step they followed dancing. 
 Until they came to the river Weser, 
 
 Wherein all plunged and perished ! — 
 Save one, who, stout as Julius Caesar, 
 Swam across, and lived to carry 
 
 (As he, the manuscript he cherished) 
 To Rat-land home his commentary : 
 Which was, " At the first shrill notes of the pipe, 
 I heard a sound as of scraping tripe. 
 And putting apples, wondrous ripe. 
 Into a cider-press's gripe ; 
 And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards. 
 And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards. 
 And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, 
 And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks ; 
 And it seemed as if a voice 
 
 (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery 
 Is breathed) called out, ' Oh rats, rejoice ! 
 
 The world has grown to one vast drysaltery ! 
 So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon. 
 Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon ! * 
 And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, 
 All ready staved, like a great sun shone 
 Glorious, scarce an inch before me, 
 
^ 325 ad- 
 just as methought it said, ' Come, bore me ! ' 
 — I found the Weser rolling o'er me." 
 
 You should have heard the Hamelin people 
 
 Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. 
 
 " Go," cried the Mayor, " and get long poles, 
 
 Poke out the nests, and block up the holes ! 
 
 Consult with carpenters and builders, 
 
 And leave in our town not even a trace 
 
 Of the rats ! " When suddenly, up the face 
 
 Of the Piper perked in the market-place. 
 
 With a, " First, if you please, my thousand guilders ! 
 
 A thousand guilders ! The Mayor looked blue. 
 
 So did the Corporation too. 
 
 For council dinners made rare havoc 
 
 With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock ; 
 
 And half the money would replenish 
 
 Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish. 
 
 To pay this sum to a wandering fellow 
 
 With a gypsy coat of red and yellow ! 
 
 "Besides," quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, 
 
 " Our business was done at the river's brink ; 
 
 We saw with our eyes the vermin sink. 
 
 And what's dead can't come to life, I think. 
 
 So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink 
 
 From the duty of giving you something to drink. 
 
^ 326 9<- 
 
 And a matter of money to put in your poke ; 
 But, as for the guilders, what we spoke 
 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. 
 Beside, our losses have made us thrifty : 
 A thousand guilders ! Come, take fifty ! " 
 
 The Piper's face fell, and he cried, 
 
 '' No trifling ! I can't wait, beside 
 
 I've promised to visit by dinner-time 
 
 Bagdat, and accept the prime 
 
 Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in. 
 
 For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen. 
 
 Of a nest of scorpions no survivor. 
 
 With him I proved no bargain-driver. 
 
 With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver ! 
 
 And folks who put me in a passion 
 
 May find me pipe to another fashion." 
 
 " How," cried the Mayor, " d'ye think I'll brook 
 
 Being worse treated than a cook ? 
 
 Insulted by a lazy ribald 
 
 With idle pipe and vesture piebald ? 
 
 You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst. 
 
 Blow your pipe there till you burst ! " 
 
 Once more he stept into the street, 
 And to his lips again 
 
^ 327 B«- 
 
 Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane ; 
 And ere he blew three notes (such sweet 
 Soft notes as yet musician's cunning 
 
 Never gave the enraptured air) 
 There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling 
 Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, 
 Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 
 Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, 
 And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering. 
 Out came the children running : 
 All the little boys and girls. 
 With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls. 
 And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls. 
 Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after 
 The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. 
 
 The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood 
 
 As if they were changed into blocks of wood. 
 
 Unable to move a step, or cry 
 
 To the children merrily skipping by, — 
 
 And could only follow with the eye 
 
 That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 
 
 But how the Mayor was on the rack, 
 
 And the wretched Council's bosoms beat. 
 
 As the Piper turned from the High Street 
 
 To where the Weser rolled its waters 
 
 Right in the way of their sons and daughters ! 
 
^ 328 9«- 
 
 However he turned from South to West, 
 
 And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, 
 
 And after him the children pressed ; 
 
 Great was the joy in every breast. 
 
 " He never can cross that mighty top ! 
 
 He's forced to let the piping drop, 
 
 And we shall see our children stop ! " 
 
 When, lo, as they reached the mountain's side, 
 
 A wondrous portal opened wide. 
 
 As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ; 
 
 And the Piper advanced and the children followed. 
 
 And when all were in to the very last, 
 
 The door in the mountain side shut fast. 
 
 Did I say, all ? No ! One was lame. 
 
 And could not dance the whole of the way ; 
 And in after years, if you would blame 
 
 His sadness, he was used to say, — 
 " It's dull in our town since my playmates left ! 
 I can't forget that I'm bereft 
 Of all the pleasant sights they see, 
 Which the Piper also promised me. 
 For he led us, he said, to a joyous land. 
 Joining the town and just at hand. 
 Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew. 
 And flowers put forth a fairer hue. 
 And everything was strange and new ; 
 The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here. 
 
-« 329 »- 
 
 And their dogs outran our fallow-deer, 
 
 And honey-bees had lost their stings, 
 
 And horses were born with eagles' wings ; 
 
 And just as I became assured 
 
 My lame foot would be speedily cured, 
 
 The music stopped and I stood still, 
 
 And found myself outside the hill, 
 
 Left alone against my will, 
 
 To go now limping as before. 
 
 And never hear of that country more ! " 
 
 The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, 
 To offer the Piper by word of mouth. 
 
 Wherever it was men's lot to find him, 
 Silver and gold to his heart's content, 
 If he'd only return the way he went. 
 
 And bring the children behind him. 
 But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor. 
 And Piper and dancers were gone forever. 
 They made a decree that lawyers never 
 
 Should think their records dated duly, 
 If, after the day of the month and year. 
 These words did not as well appear, 
 " And so long after what happened here 
 
 On the twenty-second of July, 
 Thirteen hundred and seventy-six : " 
 And the better in memory to fix 
 
-^ 330 8«- 
 
 The place of the children's last retreat, 
 They called it, the Pied Piper's Street — 
 Where any one playing on pipe or tabor, 
 Was sure for the future to lose his labor. 
 Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 
 
 To shock with mirth a street so solemn ; 
 But opposite the place of the cavern 
 
 They wrote the story on a column, 
 And on the great church-window painted 
 The same, to make the world acquainted 
 How their children were stolen away ; 
 And there it stands to this very day. 
 And I must not omit to say 
 That in Transylvania there's a tribe 
 Of alien people who ascribe 
 The outlandish ways and dress 
 On which their neighbors lay such stress. 
 To their fathers and mothers having risen 
 Out of some subterraneous prison 
 Into which they were trepanned 
 Long ago in a mighty band, 
 Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land. 
 But how, or why, they don't understand. 
 
 Robert Brownino. 
 
^ 331 8«- 
 
 RIP VAN WINKLE 
 
 Part I 
 
 daunted Kaatskill termagant popularity 
 
 adherent barometers precipice incessantly 
 
 aversion pestilent impending amphitheatre 
 
 equipped Stuyvesant unconquerable Appalachian 
 
 Whoever has made a voyage up the Hudson River 
 must remember the Kaatskill Mountains. They are a 
 branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen 
 away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble 
 height, and lording it over the surrounding country. 
 Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, 
 every hour of the day produces some change in the hues 
 and shapes of these mountains ; and they are regarded by 
 all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. 
 
 When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed 
 in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the 
 clear evening sky ; but sometimes, when the rest of the 
 landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray 
 vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of the 
 setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory. 
 
 At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may 
 have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, 
 whose shingle roofs gleam among the trees, just where 
 the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh 
 
^ 332 8«- 
 
 green of the nearer landscape. It is a little village of 
 great antiquity, having been founded by some of the 
 Dutch colonists in the early times of the province, just 
 about the beginning of the government of the good Peter 
 Stuyvesant, and there were some of the houses of the 
 original settlers standing within a few years, built of 
 small yellow bricks, brought from Holland, having lat- 
 ticed windows, and gable fronts, surmounted with 
 weathercocks. 
 
 In that same village, and in one of these very houses 
 (which to tell the truth, was sadly time-worn and weather- 
 beaten), there lived, many years since, while the country 
 was still a province of Great Britain, a simple, good- 
 natured fellow, of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He 
 was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so 
 gallantly in the days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accom- 
 panied him to the siege of Fort Christina. He inherited, 
 however, but little of the character of these ancestors. 
 
 I have observed that he was a simple, good-natured 
 man; he was, moreover, a kind neighbor, and an obedi- 
 ent, henpecked husband. Indeed, to the latter circum- 
 stance might be owing that meekness of spirit which 
 gained him such universal popularity ; for those men are 
 apt to be conciliating abroad who are under the discipline 
 of shrews at home. Their tempers, doubtless, are ren- 
 dered malleable in the fiery furnace of domestic tribulation, 
 and a curtain-lecture is worth all the sermons in the world 
 
-^ 333 8«- 
 
 for teaching the virtues of patience and long-suffering. 
 A termagant wife may, therefore, in some respects be 
 considered a blessing ; and if so, Rip Van Winkle was 
 thrice blessed. 
 
 Certain it is that he was a great favorite among all 
 the good wives of the village, who, as usual with the 
 amiable sex, took his part in all family squabbles, and 
 never failed, whenever they talked those matters over in 
 their evening gossipings, to lay all the blame on Dame 
 Van Winkle. The children of the village, too, would 
 shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at 
 their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly 
 kites and shoot marbles, and told them stories of ghosts, 
 witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging 
 about the village he was surrounded by a troop of 
 them hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and 
 playing a thousand tricks on him ; and not a dog would 
 bark at him throughout the neighborhood. 
 
 The great error in Rip's composition was an uncon- 
 querable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It 
 could not be from the w^ant of perseverance ; for he 
 would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy 
 as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, 
 even though he should not be encouraged by a single 
 nibble. He would carry a fowling-piece on his shoulder 
 for hours together, trudging through the woods and 
 swamps, and up hill and down dale, to shoot a few 
 
-^ 334'8«- 
 
 squirrels or wild pigeons. He would never refuse to 
 assist a neighbor even in the roughest toil, and was a 
 foremost man in all country frolics for husking Indian 
 corn or building stone fences ; the women of the village, 
 too, used to employ him to run their errands and to do 
 such little odd jobs as their less obliging husbands would 
 not do for them. In a word, Rip was ready to attend to 
 anybody's business but his own ; but as to doing family 
 duty and keeping his farm in order, he found it im- 
 possible. 
 
 In fact, he declared it was of no use to work on his 
 farm ; it was the most pestilent little piece of ground in 
 the whole country; everything about it went wrong, and 
 would go wrong in spite of him. His fences were con- 
 tinually falling to pieces ; his cow would either go astray, 
 or get among the cabbages ; weeds were sure to grow 
 quicker in his fields than anywhere else ; the rain always 
 made a point of setting in just as he had some outdoor 
 work to do ; so that though his estate had dwindled away 
 under his management, acre by acre, until there was little 
 more left than a little patch of Indian corn and potatoes, 
 yet it was the worst-conditioned farm in the neighborhood. 
 
 His children, too, were as ragged and wild as if they 
 belonged to nobody. His son Rip, an urchin begotten in 
 his own likeness, promised to inherit the habits, with the 
 old clothes, of his father. He was generally seen troop- 
 ing like a colt at his mother's heels, equipped in a pair of 
 
-^ 335 8«- 
 
 his father's cast-off galligaskins, which he had much ado 
 to hold up with one hand, as a fine lady does her train in 
 bad weather. 
 
 Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy 
 mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the 
 world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be 
 got with least thought or trouble, and had rather starve 
 on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, 
 he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment ; 
 but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his 
 idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on 
 his family. Morning, noon, and night, her tongue was 
 incessantly going, and everything he said or did was sure 
 to produce a torrent of eloquence. Rip had but one way 
 of replying to all lectures of the kind, and that, by fre- 
 quent use, had grown into a habit. He shrugged his 
 shoulders, shook his head, cast up his eyes, but said noth- 
 ing. This, however, always provoked a fresh volley from 
 his wife, so that he was fain to draw off his forces, and 
 take to the outside of the house. 
 
 Rip's sole domestic adherent was his dog Wolf, who was 
 as much henpecked as his master ; for Dame Van Winkle 
 regarded them as companions in idleness, and even looked 
 upon Wolf with an evil eye, as the cause of his master's 
 going so often astray. The moment Wolf entered the 
 house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground or 
 curled between his legs, he sneaked about casting many a 
 
■^ 336 8«- 
 
 sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least 
 flourish of a broomstick or ladle, he would fly to the door. 
 
 Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as 
 years rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age, and 
 a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener 
 with constant use. For a long while he used to console 
 himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind 
 of club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle person- 
 ages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench 
 before a small inn. Here they used to sit in the shade 
 through a long, lazy, summer day, talking listlessly over 
 village gossip, or telling endless, sleepy stories about 
 nothing. But it would have been worth any statesman's 
 money to have heard the profound discussions which 
 sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper 
 fell into their hands from some passing traveller. How 
 solemnly they would listen to the contents as drawled 
 out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper, 
 learned, little man, who was not to be daunted by the most 
 gigantic word in the dictionary; and how sagely they 
 would deliberate upon public events some months after 
 they had taken place ! 
 
 From even this stronghold the unlucky Rip was 
 at length routed by his wife, who would suddenly break 
 in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage, and call the 
 members all to naught. 
 
 Poor Rip was at last reduced almost to despair ; and 
 
-»6 337 B^ 
 
 his only alternative, to escape from the labor of the 
 farm and the clamor of his wife, was to take gun in 
 hand, and stroll away into the woods. Here he would 
 sometimes seat himself at the foot of a tree, and share 
 the contents of his wallet with Wolf. ^'Poor Wolf," 
 he would say, " thy mistress leads thee a dog's life of it ; 
 but never mind, my lad, whilst I live thou shalt never 
 want a friend to stand by thee ! " Wolf would wag his 
 tail, looking wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs 
 can feel pity, 1 verily believe he felt the keenest sympa- 
 thy for his master. 
 
 In a long ramble of the kind, on a fine autumnal 
 day, Rip had scrambled to one of the highest parts of 
 the Kaatskill Mountains. He was after his favorite 
 sport of squirrel-shooting, and the still solitudes had 
 echoed and reechoed with the reports of his gun. Pan1> 
 ing and fatigued, he threw himself, late in the afternoon, 
 on a green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that 
 crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening 
 between the trees he could overlook all the lower coun- 
 try for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a 
 distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving 
 on in its silent but majestic course, with the reflection 
 of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark here and 
 there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing 
 itself in the blue highlands. 
 
 On the other side he looked down into a deep moun- 
 
-^ 338 S«- 
 
 tain glen, wild, lonely, and rugged, the bottom filled 
 with fragments from the overhanging cliffs, and scarcely- 
 lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For 
 some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was 
 gradually advancing; the mountains began to throw 
 their long blue shadows over the valleys ; he saw that it 
 would be dark long before he could reach the village, 
 and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encoun- 
 tering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. 
 
 As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a 
 distance hallooing, — '' Rip Van Winkle ! Rip Van Win- 
 kle ! " He looked around, but could see nothing but a 
 crow winging its solitary flight across the mountain. 
 He thought his fancy must have deceived him, and 
 turned again to descend, when he heard the same cry 
 ring through the still evening air, " Rip Van Winkle ! 
 Rip Van Winkle ! " ^- at the same time Wolf bristled 
 up his back, and giving a low growl skulked to his 
 master's side, looking fearfully down into the glen. 
 Rip now felt a vague fear stealing over him ; he looked 
 anxiously in the same direction, and perceived a strange 
 figure slowly toiling up the rocks, and bending under 
 the weight of something he carried on his back. He 
 was surprised to see any human being in this lonely and 
 unfrequented place, but supposing it to be some one of 
 the neighborhood in need of his assistance, he hastened 
 down to yield it. 
 
^ 339 6^ 
 
 On nearer approach, he was still more surprised at 
 the singular appearance of the stranger. He was a 
 short, square-built old fellow, with thick bushy hair, and 
 a grizzled beard. His dress was of the antique Dutch 
 fashion — a cloth jerkin strapped round the waist — 
 several pairs of breeches, the outer one of ample volume, 
 decorated with rows of buttons down the sides, and 
 bunches at the knees. He bore on his shoulders a stout 
 keg, that seemed full of liquor, and made signs for Rip 
 to approach and assist him with the load. Though 
 rather shy and distrustful of this new acquaintance. Rip 
 complied with his usual alacrity ; and they clambered up 
 a narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain 
 torrent. As they ascended. Rip every now and then 
 heard long rolling peals like distant thunder that 
 seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather 
 cleft between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged 
 path conducted. He paused for an instant, but suppos- 
 ing it to be the mutterings of one of those transient 
 thunder-showers which often take place in the mountain 
 heights, he proceeded. 
 
 Passing through the ravine, they came to a hollow, 
 like a small amphitheatre, surrounded by precipices, 
 over the brink of which impending trees shot their 
 branches, so that one only caught glimpses of the azure 
 sky, and the bright evening cloud. During the whole 
 time Rip and his companion had labored on in silence ; 
 
^ 340 8«- 
 
 for though the former marvelled greatly what could be 
 the object of carrying a keg of liquor up this wild 
 mountain, yet there was something strange about the 
 unknown, that inspired awe, and checked familiarity. 
 
 On entering the amphitheatre, new objects of wonder 
 presented themselves. On a level spot in the centre was 
 a company of odd-looking personages playing at ninepins. 
 They were dressed in quaint fashion ; some wore short 
 doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, 
 and most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style 
 with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were pe- 
 culiar : one had a large head, broad face, and small pig- 
 gish eyes ; the face of another seemed to consist entirely 
 of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugar-loaf hat, 
 set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards, 
 of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed 
 to be the commander. He was a stout old gentleman, 
 with a weatherbeaten countenance ; he wore a laced 
 doublet, broad belt, high-crowned hat and feather, red 
 stockings, and high-heeled shoes, with roses in them. 
 
 What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though 
 these men were evidently amusing themselves, yet they 
 kept the most mysterious silence, and were the most 
 melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. 
 Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise 
 of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed 
 along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. 
 
-^ 341 8^ 
 
 As Rip and his companion approached them they sud- 
 denly ceased their play, and stared at him with such fixed 
 statue-like gaze, and such strange countenances, that his 
 heart turned within him and his knees smote together. 
 His companion now emptied the contents of the keg 
 into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon 
 the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling ; they 
 drank the liquor in profound silence, and then returned 
 to their game. 
 
 By degrees. Rip's awe subsided. He even ventured, 
 when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage, 
 which he found had much of the flavor of excellent 
 Hollands. He was very thirsty, and was soon tempted to 
 repeat the draught. One taste provoked another ; and 
 he repeated his visits to the flagon so often, that at 
 length his senses were overpowered, his head gradually 
 declined, and he fell into a deep sleep. 
 
 Part TI 
 
 flagon repetition 
 
 populous occurrences 
 
 comely perplexity 
 
 partridge assemblage 
 
 hereditary 
 chronicler 
 counterpart 
 significantly 
 
 invariably 
 incomprehensible 
 rheumatism 
 corroborated 
 
 On waking, he found himself on the green knoll 
 whence he had first seen the old men of the glen. He 
 rubbed his eyes — it was a bright sunny morning. The 
 
-« 342 8«- 
 
 birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and 
 the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure, 
 mountain breeze. " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not 
 slept here all night ! " He recalled the occurrences before 
 he fell asleep. The strange man with the keg of liquor 
 — the mountain ravine — the wild retreat among the 
 rocks — the woe-begone party at ninepins — the flagon — 
 " Oh ! that flagon ! that wicked flagon ! " thought Rip ; 
 " what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ? " 
 
 He looked around for his gun, but in place of the 
 clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock 
 lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock 
 falling off, and the stock worm-eaten. He now suspected 
 that the grave men of the mountain had played a trick 
 upon him, and having dosed him with liquor, had robbed 
 him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he 
 might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. 
 He whistled for him and shouted his name, but all in vain ; 
 the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was 
 to be seen. 
 
 He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's 
 gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand 
 his dog and gun. As he rose to walk, he found himself 
 stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. 
 '' These mountain beds do not agree with me," thought 
 Rip, " and if this frolic should lay me up with a fit of the 
 rheumatism, I shall have a blessed time with Dame Van 
 
^ 343 8«- 
 
 Winkle." With some difficulty he got down into the 
 glen ; he found the gully up which he and his companion 
 had ascended the preceding evening ; but to his astonish- 
 ment a mountain stream was now foaming down it, leap- 
 ing from rock to rock and filling the glen with babbling 
 murmurs. He, however, made shift to scramble up its 
 sides, working his toilsome way through thickets of birch, 
 sassafras, and witch-hazel; and sometimes tripped up or 
 entangled by the wild grapevines that twisted their coils 
 of tendrils from tree to tree, and spread a kind of network 
 in his path. 
 
 At length he reached the place where the ravine had 
 opened through the cliffs to the amphitheatre ; but no 
 traces of such an opening remained. The rocks presented 
 a high wall, over which the torrent came tumbling in a 
 sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin, 
 black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, 
 then, poor Rip w^as brought to a stand. He again called 
 and w^histled for his dog, but w^as only answered by the 
 cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in the air 
 about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice ; and 
 who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and 
 scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be 
 done ? The morning was passing away, and Rip felt 
 famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give 
 up his dog and gun ; he dreaded to meet his wife ; but it 
 would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook 
 
-^ 344 »- 
 
 his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and with a heart 
 full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward. 
 
 As he approached the village, he met a number of 
 people, but none whom he knew, which somewhat sur- 
 prised him, for he had thought himself- acquainted with 
 every one in the country round. Their dress, too, was 
 of a different fashion from that to which he was accus- 
 tomed. They all stared at him with equal marks of 
 surprise, and whenever they cast their eyes upon him, 
 invariably stroked their chins. The constant repetition 
 of this gesture led Rip to do the same, when, to his 
 astonishment, he found his beard had grown a foot 
 long! 
 
 He had now entered the skirts of the village. A 
 troop of strange children ran at his heels, hooting after 
 him, and pouiting at his gray beard. The dogs, too, not 
 one of which he recognized for an old acquaintance, 
 barked at him as he passed. The very village was 
 altered; it was larger and more populous. There were 
 rows of houses which he had never seen before, and 
 those which had been his familiar haunts had disap- 
 peared. Strange names were over the doors — strange 
 faces at the windows — everything was strange. His 
 mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether 
 both he and the world around him were not bewitched. 
 Surely this was his native village, which he had left 
 but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill Moun- 
 
^ 345 S<- 
 
 tains — there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — 
 there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always 
 been — Rip was sorely perplexed — " That flagon last 
 night," thought he, " has addled my poor head sadly ! " 
 
 It was with some difficulty that he found the way to 
 his own house, which he approached with silent awe, 
 expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame 
 Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the 
 roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors 
 off the hinges. A half-starved dog that looked like 
 Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, 
 but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. 
 This was an unkind cut indeed. " My very dog," sighed 
 poor Rip, " has forgotten me ! " 
 
 He entered the house, which, to tell the truth, Dame 
 Van Winkle had always kept in neat order. It was 
 empty, forlorn, and abandoned. This desolateness over- 
 came all . his fears — he called loudly for his wife and 
 children — the lonely chambers rang for a moment with 
 his voice, and then all again was silence. 
 
 He now hurried forth, and hastened to his old resort, 
 the village inn — but it, too, was gone. A large rickety 
 wooden building stood in its place, with great gaping 
 windows, some of them broken, and mended with old 
 hats and petticoats, and over the door was painted, 
 " The Union Hotel, by Jonathan Doolittle." Instead of 
 the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch 
 
-^ 346 ^ 
 
 Inn of yore, there was reared a tall naked pole, and from 
 it was fluttering a flag, on which were a number of stars 
 and stripes — all this was strange and incomprehensible. 
 He recognized on the sign, however, the ruby face of 
 King George, under which he had smoked so many a 
 peaceful pipe, but even this was singularly changed. 
 The red coat was changed for one of blue and buff, a 
 sword was held in the hand instead of a sceptre, the head 
 was decorated with a cocked hat, and underneath was 
 painted in large characters, '^ GENERAL WASHING- 
 TON." 
 
 There was, as usual, a crowd of folks about the door, 
 but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the 
 people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling tone 
 about it, instead of the accustomed drowsy tranquillity. 
 He looked in vain for the sage Nicholas Yedder, with his 
 broad face, double chin, and fair long pipe, uttering 
 clouds of tobacco smoke, instead of idle speeches ; or 
 Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, doling forth the contents 
 of an ancient newspaper. In place of these a lean fellow, 
 with his pockets full of handbills, was shouting about 
 rights of citizens — elections — members of Congress — 
 liberty — Bunker's Hill — heroes of seventy-six — and other 
 words, which were a perfect jargon to the bewildered 
 Van Winkle. 
 
 The appearance of Rip, with his long, grizzled beard, 
 his rusty fowling-piece, his strange dress, and an army of 
 
-« 347 8«- 
 
 women and children at his heels, soon attracted the atten- 
 tion of the tavern politicians. They crowded round him, 
 eyeing him from head to foot with great curiosity. The 
 orator bustled up to him, and, drawing him partly aside, 
 inquired, ''on which side he voted?" Rip stared in 
 vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow 
 pulled him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired 
 in his ear, " whether he was Federal or Democrat." 
 
 Rip was equally at a loss to understand this question ; 
 when a knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a 
 sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, 
 putting them to the right and left with his elbows as 
 he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with 
 one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen 
 eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very 
 soul, demanded in a harsh tone, " What brought him to 
 the election with a gun on his shoulder, and a mob at 
 his heels ; and whether he meant to breed a riot in the 
 village ? " 
 
 " Alas ! gentlemen," cried Rip, somewhat dismayed, 
 " I am a poor, quiet man, a native of the place, and a 
 loyal subject of the King, God bless him ! " 
 
 Here a general shout burst from the bystanders — "a 
 tory ! a tory ! a spy ! a refugee ! hustle him ! away with 
 him ! " It was with great difficulty that the self-impor- 
 tant man in the cocked hat restored order ; and having 
 assumed a tenfold harshness of manner, demanded again 
 
-« 348 B^ 
 
 of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and 
 whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured 
 him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in 
 search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about 
 the tavern. 
 
 " Well — who are they ? — name them." 
 
 Rip bethought himself a moment, and inquired, 
 "Where's Nicholas Vedder?" 
 
 There was a silence for a little while, when an old 
 man replied, in a thin, piping voice, " Nicholas Vedder ? 
 Why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years ! There 
 was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard, that used to 
 tell all about him, but that's gone too." 
 
 " Where's Brom Butcher ? " 
 
 " Oh, he went off to the army in the beginning of the 
 war; some say he was killed at the storming of Stony 
 Point — others say he was drowned in a squall at the foot 
 of Anthony's Nose. I don't know — he never came back 
 again." 
 
 " Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster ? " 
 
 " He went off to the wars, too ; was a great militia 
 general, and is now in Congress." 
 
 Rip's heart died away, at hearing of these sad changes 
 in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in 
 the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of 
 such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he 
 could not understand : wars — Congress — Stony Point ; 
 
^ 349 8*- 
 
 he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but 
 cried out in despair, " Does nobody here know Rip Van 
 Winkle?" 
 
 " Oh, Rip Van Winkle ! " exclaimed two or three. 
 '' Oh, to be sure ! that's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning 
 against the tree." 
 
 Rip looked, and beheld a precise counterpart of him- 
 self as he went up the mountain ; apparently as lazy, and 
 certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely 
 confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether 
 he was himself or another man. In the midst of his 
 bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who 
 he was, and what was his name ? 
 
 " God knows ! " exclaimed he, at his wit's end ; " I'm 
 not myself — I'm somebody else — that's me yonder — no 
 — that's somebody else, got into my shoes — I was my- 
 self last night, but I fell asleep on the mountain, and 
 they've changed my gun, and everything's changed, and 
 I'm changed, and I can't tell what's my name, or who I 
 am ! " 
 
 The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, 
 wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their fore- 
 heads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, 
 and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief ; at every 
 suggestion of which, the self-important man with the 
 cocked hat retired with some haste. At this critical 
 moment a fresh, comely woman pressed through the 
 
-^ 350 B^ 
 
 throng to get a peep at the gray-bearded man. She had 
 a chubby child in her arms, which, frightened at his 
 looks, began to cry. " Hush, Rip," cried she, ^' hush, you 
 little goose ; the old man won't hurt you." The name of 
 the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all 
 awakened a train of recollections in his mind. 
 
 " What is your name, my good woman ? " asked he. 
 
 " Judith Gardenier." 
 
 " And your father's name ? " 
 
 " Ah, poor man. Rip Van Winkle was his name, but 
 it's twenty years since he went away from home with his 
 gun, and never has been heard of since, — his dog came 
 home without him ; but whether he shot himself, or was 
 carried away by the Indians, nobody can tell. I was then 
 but a little girl." 
 
 Rip had but one more question to ask ; but he put it 
 with a faltering voice : — 
 
 " Where's your mother ? " 
 
 Oh, she, too, had died but a short time since ; she 
 broke a blood-vessel in a fit of passion at a New England 
 pedler. 
 
 , .There was a drop of comfort, at least, in this intelli- 
 gence. The honest man could contain himself no longer. 
 He caught his daughter and her child in his arms. " I 
 am your father !" cried he — "young Rip Van Winkle 
 once — old Rip Van Winkle now. Does nobody know 
 poor Rip Van Winkle ? " 
 
-« 351 Q^ 
 
 All stood amazed, until an old woman, tottering out 
 from among the crowd, put her hand to her brow, and 
 peering under it in his face for a moment, exclaimed : 
 " Sure enough ! it is Rip Van Winkle — it is himself. 
 Welcome home again, old neighbor. Why,- where have 
 you been all these twenty years ? " 
 
 Rip's story was soon told, for the whole twenty years 
 had been to him but as one night. The neighbors stared 
 when they heard it ; some were seen to wink at each 
 other, and put their tongues in their cheeks ; and the self- 
 important man in the cocked hat, who, when the alarm 
 was over, had returned to the field, screwed down the 
 corners of his mouth, and shook his head — upon which 
 there was a general shaking of the head throughout the 
 assemblage. 
 
 It was determined, however, to take the opinion of old 
 Peter Vanderdonk, who was seen slowly advancing up the 
 road. He was a descendant of the historian of that name, 
 who wrote one of the earliest accounts of the province. 
 Peter was the most ancient inhabitant of the village, and 
 well versed in all the wonderful events and traditions of 
 the neighborhood. He recollected Rip at once, and cor- 
 roborated his story in the most satisfactory manner. 
 
 He assured the company that it was a fact, handed 
 down from his ancestor, the historian, that the Kaatskill 
 Mountains had always been haunted by strange beings. 
 It was also affirmed that the great Hendrick Hudson, the 
 
^ 352 8«- 
 
 first discoverer of the river and country, kept a kind of 
 vigil there every twenty years, with his crew of the Half- 
 moon ; being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes 
 of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river 
 and the great city called by his name. His father, he 
 said, had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses play- 
 ing at ninepins . in a hollow of the mountain ; and he 
 himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of 
 their balls, like distant peals of thunder. 
 
 To make a long story short, the company broke up 
 and returned to the more important concerns of the elec- 
 tion. Rip's daughter took him home to live with her ; 
 she had a snug, well-furnished house, and a stout cheery 
 farmer for a husband, whom Rip recollected for one of 
 the urchins that used to climb upon his back. As to 
 Rip's son and heir, who was the ditto of himself, seen 
 leaning against the tree, he was employed to work on the 
 farm ; but showed an hereditary disposition to attend to 
 anything else but his business. 
 
 Rip now resumed his old walks and habits ; he soon 
 found many of his former cronies, though all rather the 
 worse for the wear and tear of time ; and preferred mak- 
 ing friends among the rising generation, with whom he 
 soon grew into great favor. 
 
 Having nothing to do at home, he took his place once 
 more on the bench at the inn door, and was reverenced 
 as one of the patriarchs of the village, and a chronicler 
 
^ 353 8«- 
 
 of the old times " before the war." It was some time 
 before he could get into the regular track of gossip, or 
 could be made to understand the strange events that had 
 taken place during his twenty years' sleep : — how that 
 there had been a revolutionary war — that the country 
 had thrown off the yoke of old England — and that, 
 instead of being a subject of his Majesty George the 
 Third, he was now a free citizen of the United 
 States. 
 
 He used to tell his story to every stranger that arrived 
 at Mr. Doolittle's hotel. He was observed, at first, to 
 vary on some points every time he told it, which was, 
 doubtless, owing to his having so recently awaked. It 
 at last settled down precisely to the tale I have related, 
 and not a man, woman, or child in the neighborhood, but 
 knew it by heart. Some always pretended to doubt the 
 reality of it, and insisted that Rip had been out of his 
 head, and this was one point on which he always remained 
 flighty. 
 
 The old Dutch inhabitants, however, gave it full 
 credit. Even to this day, they never hear a thunder- 
 storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill Moun- 
 tains, but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at 
 their game of ninepins. 
 
 — Washington Irving. 
 
^ 354 BA- 
 
 KING ARTHUR WINS EXCALIBUR 
 
 razed 
 
 jeopard 
 
 Merlin 
 
 joust 
 
 samite 
 
 Caerleon 
 
 churls 
 
 pavilion 
 
 Excalibur 
 
 One morning as King Arthur rode forth alone through 
 the forest he was ware of three churls chasing Merlin to 
 slay him. So he rode swiftly on to them, crying, " Flee, 
 churls ! " and drawing his sword against them. 
 
 When they saw so brave a knight riding upon them, 
 the cowardly churls fled away, and Merlin came to meet 
 his king. 
 
 " Merlin," said King Arthur, " here hadst thou been 
 slain for all thy craft, had I. not been near thee." 
 
 " Nay," said Merlin, " not so, for I could save rnyself 
 if I would, and thou art more near thy death than I am 
 
 mine." 
 
 So as they went thus talking, they came to a fountain, 
 and near by sat a knight all armed, in a rich pavilion. 
 " Sir Knight," said King Arthur, " for what cause abidest 
 thou here ? " 
 
 '' That no knight may ride this way unless he joust 
 with me," said the knight. 
 
 " That no knight may ride this way unless he joust 
 with thee ! " said the king. " I advise thee to amend 
 that custom." 
 
-^ 355 d^ 
 
 " Nay," said the knight, " but I shall defend it." 
 
 Then he took his horse and dressed his shield, and 
 took his spear and they ran together and met so hard 
 that their spears were shivered. But the knight hit King 
 Arthur so hard in the middle of the shield that horse and 
 man fell to the earth, and therewith Arthur was eager 
 and pulled out his sword. When the knight saw this he 
 alighted from his horse and drew his sword, and there 
 began a strong battle, with many great strokes. 
 
 At length the sword of the knight smote King 
 Arthur's sword in two pieces. Then said the knight 
 unto Arthur, " Thou art in my power, so that I may save 
 thee or slay thee, and unless thou acknowledge thyself 
 as overcome, thou shalt die." 
 
 "As for death," said King Arthur, "welcome be it 
 when it cometh, but as for acknowledging myself as over- 
 come by thee, I will not." Then he leaped upon the 
 knight and threw him to the ground ; but the knight was 
 a strong man of might, and anon he brought Arthur 
 under him, and would have razed off his helm to slay 
 him. 
 
 Therewithal came Merlin, and said, "Knight, hold 
 thy hand, for if thou slay that knight, thou puttest this 
 realm in great danger, for this knight is a man of more 
 worship than thou knowest." 
 
 " Why, who is he ? " said the knight. 
 
 " It is King Arthur." 
 
^ 356 8«- 
 
 Then would the knight have slain the king for very 
 dread of his wrath, and lifted up his sword to slay him, 
 but Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he 
 fell to the earth in a deep sleep. 
 
 Then Merlin took up King Arthur and set him on his 
 horse. ^^Alas!" said King Arthur, "what hast thou 
 done. Merlin ? Hast thou slain this good knight by thy 
 crafts?" 
 
 "Care ye not," said Merlin, "for he is but asleep, and 
 will awake within three hours." 
 
 So the king and Merlin departed, and went unto a 
 hermit that was a good man, and a great leech. So the 
 hermit bound up all the king's wounds and gave him 
 good salves; and he was there three days. Then were 
 his wounds so well a-mended that he might ride and go 
 forth, and Merlin and the king departed. As they rode 
 Arthur said, " I have no sword." 
 
 " Have no fear," said Merlin; " hereby is a sword that 
 shall be yours." So they rode till they came to a lake, 
 which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst of the 
 lake King Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white 
 samite, that held a fair sword in the hand. 
 
 " Lo," said Merlin, " yonder is the sword of which T 
 spoke to thee." With that they beheld a damsel going 
 upon the lake. 
 
 " What damsel is that ? " said Arthur. 
 
 " That is the Lady of the Lake," said Merlin ; " and 
 
-^ 357 B^ 
 
 she will come to you anon. Then speak ye fair to her 
 that she may give you the sword." 
 
 Anon came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, 
 and he said to her, " Damsel, what sword is that, that 
 yonder the arm holdeth above the water? I would it 
 were mine, for I have no sword." 
 
 '^ Sir King," said the damsel, " that sword is mine, 
 and if ye will give me a gift when I ask it of you, ye 
 shall have the sword." 
 
 '^ By my faith," said Arthur, " I will give you what- 
 ever gift ye shall ask." 
 
 " Well said," answered the damsel. " Now go ye into 
 yonder barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it 
 and the scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when 
 I see my time." 
 
 So King Arthur and Merlin alighted, and tied their 
 horses to two trees, and went into the barge. When they 
 had come to the sword that the hand was holding out of 
 the water. King Arthur took it by the handle and drew it 
 gently away. The arm and the hand disappeared in the 
 water; Merlin and the king returned to the shore, 
 mounted their horses, and rode forth into the forest. 
 
 Then King Arthur looked upon the sword and liked 
 it passing well. 
 
 " Whether likest thou better," said Merlin, " the sword 
 or the scabbard ?" 
 
 ^'Me liketh better the sword," replied Arthur, "and 
 
^ 358 Q^ 
 
 it shall be my good and trusted sword and I will call it 
 ' Excalibur.' " 
 
 " Ye are most unwise," said Merlin, " for the scabbard 
 is worth ten of the sword, for while ye have the scabbard 
 upon you, ye shall lose no blood be ye ever so sorely 
 wounded. Therefore keep well the scabbard always with 
 you." 
 
 So they rode on Caerleon, and when his knights of the 
 Table Round heard of his adventures they marvelled that 
 he would so jeopard his person, but all men said it was 
 merry to be under such a chieftain who feared naught and 
 met his adventures with a glad heart. 
 
 — Sm Thomas Malory (Adapted). 
 
 But when he spake, and cheered his Table Round 
 With large, divine and comfortable words 
 Beyond my tongue to tell thee — I beheld 
 From eye to eye thro' all their Order flash 
 A momentary likeness of the King : 
 And ere it left their faces, 
 Down from the casement over Arthur, smote 
 Flame-color, vert and azure, in three rays. 
 One falling upon each of three fair queens, 
 Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends 
 Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright 
 Sweet faces, who will help him at his need. 
 
 — Alfred Tknnyson. 
 
-« 359 8«- 
 
 THE DEATH OF KING ARTHUR 
 
 Lucan 
 
 Gawain 
 
 Launcelot 
 
 Bedivere 
 
 carrack 
 
 Salisbury 
 
 Mordred 
 
 avenged 
 
 Canterbury 
 
 While King Arthur was absent to do battle with Sir 
 Launcelot, Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, and he 
 caused letters to be made as though they came from 
 beyond the sea. The letters specified that King Arthur 
 was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot ; wherefore Sir 
 Mordred called the lords together, and there he made 
 them choose him king. And so he was crowned at 
 Canterbury, and held a feast there fifteen days. 
 
 Then came word to Sir Mordred that King Arthur 
 had raised the siege from Sir Launcelot, and that he was 
 coming homeward with a great host to be avenged upon 
 Sir Mordred. And so Sir Mordred drew toward Dover 
 with a great host, for there he heard say that King 
 Arthur would arrive. 
 
 And so, as Sir Mordred was at Dover with his army, 
 there came King Arthur with a great navy of ships, gal- 
 leys, and carracks. There was Sir Mordred ready to 
 hinder his own uncle from landing upon the land over 
 which he was rightful king. 
 
 Then there was a launching of great boats and small, 
 and full of noble men of arms. But Kino; Arthur was so 
 
-« 360 8«- 
 
 courageous that there might no manner of knight hinder 
 him from landing, and his knights fiercely followed him. 
 And so they landed in spite of Sir Mordred and all his 
 power, and drove Sir Mordred back so that he fled with 
 all his army. 
 
 Then King Arthur drew him with his army down by 
 the seaside, westward unto Salisbury, and there was a 
 day assigned between the king and Sir Mordred that they 
 should meet between their hosts upon a down beside 
 Salisbury; whereof King Arthur was passing glad, that 
 he might be avenged upon Sir Mordred. 
 
 Then went King Arthur into the fields and warned all 
 his army that if they saw any sword drawn, they should 
 come on fiercely and slay Sir Mordred. " For," said he, 
 " I in no wise trust him, and fear that he may prove a 
 traitor in this treaty." 
 
 In like wise Sir Mordred did w:arn his army, " If 
 ye see any manner of sword drawn, look that ye come 
 on fiercely and so slay all that standeth before you, 
 for in no wise will I trust this treaty, for I know that 
 Arthur will be avenged upon me." 
 
 So they met as their appointment was, and were 
 agreed and accorded thoroughly. Right so came an 
 adder out of a little bush, and it stung a knight on the 
 foot ; and when the knight felt himself stung he looked 
 down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword 
 to slay the adder, and thought of no other harm. 
 
-^ 361 8<- 
 
 But when the hosts saw the drawn sword they blew 
 trumpets and horns and shouted grimly. So both 
 hosts dressed their shields and King Arthur mounted 
 his horse. Sir Mordred did in like wise, and never was 
 there a more doleful battle in Christian lands, for they 
 fought till it was nigh night, and by that time was there 
 a hundred thousand dead upon the down. 
 
 Then the king looked about him and was ware that 
 of all his host, and of all his good knights no more were 
 left but two knights, Sir Lucan, and Sir Bedivere, his 
 brother, and they were sorely wounded. 
 
 " Alas ! that ever I should see this doleful day,'' 
 said King Arthur, *^ for now I am come unto mine end, 
 nor am I yet avenged on that traitor, Sir Mordred, 
 which hath caused all this mischief." 
 
 Then was the king ware of Sir Mordred where he 
 leaned upon his sword. " Now give me my spear," 
 said King Arthur to Sir Lucan, "for yonder I have 
 espied the traitor which hath wrought all this woe." 
 
 " Sir, let him be," said Sir Lucan, " for if ye pass this 
 unhappy day ye shall be right well avenged upon him. 
 Remember well your dream and what the spirit of Sir 
 Gawain told you, and leave off now. Ye have won the 
 field, for we be three alive, and with Sir Mordred is none ; 
 and if ye leave off now this evil day of destiny is passed." 
 
 "Betide me death, betide me life," said the king, 
 "he shall not now escape my hand." Then the king 
 
-^ 362 8<- 
 
 took his spear in both his hands, and ran toward Sir 
 Mordred, crying, " Traitor, now is thy death-day come." 
 
 And when Sir Mordred heard King Arthur, he ran 
 unto him with his sword drawn. Then King Arthur 
 smote Sir Mordred under the shield with a thrust of his 
 spear through the body. When Sir Mordred felt that he 
 had his death-wound, with the might .that he had, he 
 smote King Arthur on the head with his sword. There- 
 withal Sir Mordred fell dead to the earth, and the noble 
 Arthur fell in a swoon. 
 
 And Sir Lucan and Sir Bedivere raised him up gently, 
 and weakly they bore him to a little chapel not far from 
 the sea. But Sir Lucan died from his many wounds 
 and Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother. 
 
 Then said King Arthur unto his beloved knight, 
 " The time cometh soon when I must follow thy brother, 
 therefore, take thou Excalibur, my good sword, and go 
 with it to yonder water side, and when thou comest 
 there, I charge thee throw my sword in that water, and 
 return to me, and tell me what thou hast seen." 
 
 " My lord," replied Sir Bedivere, " thy commands 
 shall be done, and swiftly will I bring you word of it." 
 And so Sir Bedivere departed ; and by the way he 
 gazed upon that noble sword, with the haft all set with 
 precious stones, and then he said to himself, " If I throw 
 this rich sword in the water, thereof shall never come 
 good, but harm and loss." 
 
-^ 363 B^ 
 
 Then he hid Excalibur under a tree, and as soon as 
 he might he returned to King Arthur, and said he had 
 been to the seaside and had thrown the sword into the 
 water. 
 
 " What sawest thou there ? " said the king. 
 
 " Sir," replied the knight, " I saw nothing but waves 
 and wind." 
 
 " That is untruly said," replied King Arthur ; '' there- 
 fore go thou swiftly and do my command, as thou art to 
 me dear and beloved ; spare not, but throw it in." 
 
 Then Sir Bedivere went again and took Excalibur in 
 his hand ; but he thought again it was a sin and a shame 
 to throw away that noble sword. So he hid the sword 
 and returned again and told the king that he had been to 
 the water and done his command. 
 
 " What saw ye there ? " asked the king. 
 
 " Sir," said he, '' I saw nothing but the water lap, and 
 the waves ebb." 
 
 '' Oh, traitor untrue ! " said King Arthur, " now hast 
 thou betrayed me twice. Who would have guessed that 
 thou, who hast been unto me so beloved, wouldst betray 
 me for a rich sword. Go again swiftly and do as I 
 command." 
 
 Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the water's 
 side, and there he threw Excalibur into the water, with 
 all his might ; and then came an arm and a hand above 
 the water, and met the sword and caught it, and so shook 
 
-« 364 B«- 
 
 it thrice and brandished it. Then the hand vanished 
 away into the water, bearing the sword. 
 
 So Sir Bedivere came again to the king and told him 
 what he had seen. " Bear me hence," said King Arthur, 
 " to the water's side, for my life ebbs fast." 
 
 Then Sir Bedivere took King Arthur upon his back, 
 and so went with him to the water's side. And there, by 
 the bank, was a little barge with many fair ladies in it, 
 and among them were three queens, and they wept when 
 they beheld the king. 
 
 " Now place me in the barge," said King Arthur, and 
 Sir Bedivere did so. And there received him the three 
 queens with great mourning, one of them murmuring, 
 " Alas, dear brother, why have ye tarried so long ! " 
 
 Then they rowed away from the land, the queens and 
 the ladies weeping evermore as they bore King Arthur 
 gently in their midst. 
 
 — Sir Thomas Malory (Adapted). 
 
 " But now farewell. I am going a long way 
 
 With these thou seest — if indeed I go 
 
 (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — 
 
 To the island- valley of Avilion ; 
 
 Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow. 
 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
 
 Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns 
 
 And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea, 
 
 Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." 
 
^ 365 Q^ 
 
 So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
 
 Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan 
 
 That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
 
 Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
 
 With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
 
 Revolving many memories, till the hull 
 
 Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
 
 And on the mere the wailing died away. 
 
 Whereat he slowly turned and slowly clomb 
 
 The last hard footstep of that iron crag ; 
 
 Thence marked the black hull moving yet, and cried, 
 
 " He passes to be King among the dead, 
 
 And after healing of his grievous wound 
 
 He comes again ; but — if he come no more — 
 
 me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat. 
 
 Who shrieked and wailed, the three whereat we gazed 
 
 On that high day, when, clothed with living light, 
 
 They stood before his throne in silence, friends 
 
 Of Arthur, who should help him at his need ? " 
 
 Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb 
 Ev'n to the highest he could climb, and saw. 
 Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand, 
 Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the King, 
 Down that long water opening on the deep 
 Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go 
 From less to less and vanish into light. 
 And the new sun rose bringing the new year. 
 
 — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
-« 366 8«- 
 
 THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL 
 
 " My golden spurs now bring to me, 
 
 And bring to me my richest mail, 
 For to-morrow I go over land and sea 
 
 In search of the Holy Grail ; 
 Shall never a bed for me be spread, 
 Nor shall a pillow be under my head. 
 Till I begin my vow to keep ; 
 Here on the rushes will I sleep. 
 And perchance there may come a vision true 
 Ere day create the world anew." 
 
 Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim, 
 
 Slumber fell like a cloud on him, 
 And into his soul the vision flew. 
 
 The crows flapped over by twos and threes. 
 
 In the pool drowsed the cattle up to their knees. 
 The little birds sang as if it were 
 The one day of summer in all the year, 
 
 And the very leaves seemed to sing on the trees ; 
 
 The castle alone in the landscape lay 
 
 Like an outpost of winter, dull and gray ; 
 
 'Twas the proudest hall in the North Countree, 
 
 And never its gates might open be. 
 
 Save to lord or lady of high degree ; 
 
 Summer besieged it on every side, 
 
^ 367 B^ 
 
 Bi\t the churlish stone her assaults defied ; 
 
 She could not scale the chilly wall, 
 
 Though around it for leagues her pavilions tall 
 
 Stretched left and right, 
 
 Over the hills and out of sight ; 
 
 Green and broad was every tent, 
 
 And out of each a murmur went 
 Till the breeze fell off at night. 
 
 The drawbridge dropped with a surly clang, 
 And through the dark a charger sprang. 
 Bearing Sir Launfal, the maiden knight, 
 In his gilded mail, that flamed so bright 
 It seemed the dark castle had gathered all 
 Those shafts the fierce sun had shot over its wall 
 
 In his siege of three hundred summers long, 
 And, binding them all in one blazing sheaf. 
 
 Had cast them forth : so, young and strong. 
 And lightsome as a locust-leaf. 
 Sir Launfal flashed forth in his unscarred mail, 
 To seek in all climes for the Holy Grail. 
 
 It was morning on hill and stream and tree. 
 And morning in the young knight's heart ; 
 
 Only the castle moodily 
 
 Rebuffed the gifts of the sunshine free. 
 And gloomed by itself apart; 
 
■^ 368 8«- 
 
 The season brimmed all other things up 
 Full as the rain fills the pitcher-plant's cup. 
 
 As Sir Launfal made morn through the darksome gate, 
 
 He was 'ware of a leper, crouched by the same, 
 Who begged with his hand and moaned as he sate ; 
 
 And a loathing over Sir Launfal came ; 
 The sunshine went out of his soul with a thrill, 
 
 The flesh 'neath his armor 'gan shrink and crawl. 
 And midway its leap his heart stood still 
 
 Like a frozen waterfall ; 
 For this man, so foul and bent of stature. 
 Rasped harshly against his dainty nature. 
 And seemed the one blot on the summer morn, — 
 So he tossed him a piece of gold in scorn. 
 
 The leper raised not the gold from the dust : 
 " Better to me the poor man's crust, 
 Better the blessing of the poor. 
 Though I turn me empty from his door ; 
 That is no true alms which the hand can hold ; 
 He gives nothing but worthless gold 
 
 Who gives from a sense of duty ; 
 But he who gives but a slender mite, 
 And gives to that which is out of sight. 
 
 That thread of the all-sustaining beauty 
 Which runs through all and doth all unite, — 
 
-^ 369 8«- 
 
 The hand cannot clasp the whole of' his alms, 
 
 The heart outstretches its eager palms. 
 
 For a god goes with it and makes it store 
 
 To the soul that was starving in darkness before." 
 
 There was never a leaf on a bush or tree, 
 The bare boughs rattled shudderingly ; 
 The river was dumb and could not speak, 
 
 For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun ; 
 A single crow on the tree-top bleak 
 
 From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; 
 Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold, 
 As if her veins were sapless and old^, 
 And she rose up decrepitly 
 For a last dim look at earth and sea. 
 
 Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, 
 
 For another heir in the earldom sate ; 
 
 An old, bent man, worn out and frail. 
 
 He came back from seeking the Holy Grail ; 
 
 Little he recked of his earldom's loss. 
 
 No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, 
 
 But deep in his soul the sign he wore. 
 
 The badge of the suffering and the poor. 
 
 Sir LaunfaFs raiment thin and spare 
 Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air. 
 
-^ 370 8«- 
 
 For it was just at the Christmas time ; 
 
 So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime. 
 
 And sought for a shelter from cold and snow 
 
 In the light and warmth of long ago : 
 
 He sees the snakelike caravan crawl 
 
 O'er the edge of the desert, black and small. 
 
 Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one. 
 
 He can count the camels in the sun. 
 
 As over the red-hot sands they pass 
 
 To where, in its slender necklace of grass, 
 
 The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, 
 
 And with its own self like an infant played. 
 
 And waved its signal of palms. 
 
 " For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms ; " — 
 The happy camels may reach the spring, 
 But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing, 
 The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone. 
 That cowers beside him, a thing as lonp 
 And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas 
 In the desolate horror of his disease. 
 
 And Sir Launfal said, — "I behold in thee 
 An image of Him who died on the tree ; 
 Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, — 
 Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns. 
 
■^ 371 8<- 
 
 And to thy life were not denied 
 The wounds in the hands and feet and side : 
 Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me ; 
 Behold, through him, I give to Thee ! " 
 
 Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes 
 
 And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he 
 Remembered in what a haughtier guise 
 
 He •had flung an alms to leprosie. 
 When he girt his young life in gilded mail 
 And set forth in search of the Holy Grail. 
 The heart within him was ashes and dust ; 
 He parted in twain his single crust, 
 He brake the ice on the streamlet's brink. 
 And gave the leper to eat and drink, 
 'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 
 
 'Twas water out of a wooden bowl, — 
 Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed. 
 
 And 'twas red wine he drank with his thirsty soul. 
 
 As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, 
 
 A light shone round about the place ; 
 
 The leper no longer crouched at his side, 
 
 But stood before him glorified. 
 
 Shining and tall and fair and straight 
 
 As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, — 
 
-^ 372 B^ 
 
 Himself the Gate whereby men can 
 Enter the temple of God in Man. 
 
 His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine. 
 
 And they fell on Sir Launfal as snow on the brine 
 
 That mingle their softness and quiet in one 
 
 With the shaggy unrest they float down upon ; 
 
 And the voice that was calmer than silence said, 
 
 " Lo it is I, be not afraid ! 
 
 In many climes, without avail. 
 
 Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail ; 
 
 Behold, it is here, — this cap which thou 
 
 Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now ; 
 
 This crust is my body broken for thee. 
 
 This water His blood that died on the tree. 
 
 The Holy Supper is kept indeed, 
 
 In whatso we share with another's need : 
 
 Not that we give, but that we share, — 
 
 For the gift without the giver is bare ; 
 
 Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, — 
 
 Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me." 
 
 Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound : — 
 " The Grail in my castle here is found ! 
 Hang my idle armor up on the wall, 
 Let it be the spider's banquet-hall ; 
 He must be fenced with stronger mail 
 
-« 373 8^ 
 
 Who would seek and find the Holy Grail." 
 The castle gate stands open now. 
 
 And the wanderer is welcome to the hall 
 As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough ; 
 
 No longer scowl the turrets tall, 
 The Summer's long siege at last is o'er ; 
 When the first poor outcast went in at the door, 
 She entered with him in disguise. 
 And mastered the fortress by surprise ; 
 There is no spot she loves so well on ground. 
 She lingers and smiles there the whole year round ; 
 The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land 
 Has hall and bower at his command ; 
 And there's no poor man in the North Countree 
 But is lord of the earldom as much as he. 
 
 — James Russell Lowell. 
 
THE BLAISDELL SPELLER 
 
 BY 
 
 ETTA AUSTIN BLAISDELL 
 
 AND 
 
 MARY FRANCES BLAISDELL 
 
 BOOK I. (Parts i and 2) = - = = = Price, 16 Cents 
 
 P^or the fourth and fifth school-years. 
 BOOK II. (Parts 3, 4, and 5) = = = = = Price, 20 Cents 
 
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 Also, all parts, complete in one volume - = Price, 25 Cents 
 
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 PUBLISHED by 
 
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 BOSTON CHICAGO SAN FRANCISCO ATLANTA 
 
THE CHILD LIFE READERS 
 
 By ETTA AUSTIN BLAISDELL 
 
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 CHILD LIFE — A Primer. Price, 25 Cents 
 
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