UC-NRLF CLASSIC OLD AND NEW A FOURTH READER AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY - UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DEI No. ^•«^*'S ftU<9 ^ first drafts or not I cannot say. Toward the last he no longer sent his poems to the magazines in his own hand, but they were always signed in autograph. WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS {Abridged). son'nets, poems of fourteen lines each. lyr'ics, poems that have a song- like quality. hex-am'e-ter, a verse of six feet. buoy'ant, cheerful. se-ren'i-ty, clearness and calm- ness. au'to-graph, a person's own signa- ture or hand-writing. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH Under a spreading chestnut tree The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. 161 His hair is crisp and black and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man. Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the naming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing-floor. He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys ; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise ! 162 He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes. Toiling, — re j oicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose. Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, Eor the lesson thou hast taught ! Thus at the naming forge of life Our fortunes must be wrought; Thus on its sounding anvil shaped Each burning deed and thought ! HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. sin'ew-y, hard and muscular. brawn'y, large and strong. sledge, a large hammer. sex'ton, one who takes care of church. bel'lows, a machine for blowing a fire. forge, a place where a black- smith's fire is built. Par'a-dise, heaven. Write about some kind of work thai you have watched, done by a Blacksmith Shoemaker Carpenter Saddler Mason Glass-worker Farmer Machinist Miller Tinner. 163 RESCUE OF THE CREW OF THE "MERRIMAC" A great rush of water came up the gangway, settling and gurgling out of the deck. The mass was whirling from right to left " against the sun; " it seized us and threw us against the bulwarks, then over the rail. Two were swept forward as THE "MERRIMAC UNDER FIRE if by a momentary recession, and one was carried down into a coal-bunker. In a moment, however, with increased force, the water shot him up out of the same hole and swept him among us. The bulwarks disappeared. We charged about with casks, cans, and spars. The life-preservers stood us in good stead, preventing chests from being crushed, as well as buoying us up on the surface. When we looked for the life-boat we found 164 that it had been carried away. The catamaran was the largest piece of floating debris ; we assembled about it. The firing had ceased. It was evident that the enemy had not seen us in the general mass of moving objects; but soon the tide began to drift these away, and we were being left alone with the catamaran. The men were directed to cling close in, bodies below and only heads out, close under the edges. We mustered; all were present, and direction was given to remain as we were till further orders, for I was sure that in due time after daylight a responsible officer would come out to reconnoiter. It was evident that we could not swim against the tide to reach the entrance. Moreover, the shores were lined with troops, and'the small boats were looking for victims that might escape from the vessel. The only chance lay in remaining undiscovered until the coming of the reconnoitering boat, to which, perhaps, we might surrender without being fired on. The moon was now low. The sunken Merrimac was bubbling up her last lingering breath. The boat's crew looking for refugees pulled closer, peering with lanterns. Again the discipline of the men was put to severe test, for time and again it seemed that the boats would come up, and the impulse to swim away was strong. The air was chilly and the water positively cold. In less than five minutes our teeth were chattering; so loud, indeed, did they chatter, that it seemed the destroyer or the boats would hear. In spite of their efforts, two of the men soon began to cough, and it seemed that we should surely be discovered. I worked my legs and body under the raft for exercise, but in spite of all, the shivers would come and the teeth would chatter. We remained there probably an hour. Frogs croaked up the bight, and as dawn broke, the birds began to twitter and 165 chirp in the bushes and trees near at hand along the wooded slopes. Day came bright and beautiful. It seemed that nature disregarded man and went on the same, serene, peaceful, and unmoved. Man's strife appeared a discord, and his tragedy received no sympathy. About daybreak a beautiful strain went up from a bugle at Punta Gorda battery. It was pitched at a high key, and rose and lingered, long drawn out, gentle and tremulous; it seemed as though an angel might be playing while looking down in tender pity. Could this be a Spanish bugle? Broad daylight came. The destroyer got up anchor, and drew back again up the bight. We were still undiscovered. Then some one announced : " A steam-launch is heading for us, sir." I looked around, and found that a launch of large size, with the curtains aft drawn down, was coming from the bight around Smith Cay and heading straight for us. That must be the reconnoitering party. It swerved a little to the left as if to pass around us, giving no signs of having seen us. No one was visible on board, everybody apparently being below the rail. When it was about thirty yards off I hailed. The launch stopped as if frightened, and backed furiously. A squad of riflemen filed out, and formed in a semicircle on the forecastle, and came to " load," " ready," " aim." A murmur passed about among my men : " They are going to shoot us." A bitter thought flashed through my mind: " The miserable cowards! A brave nation will learn of this and call for an account." But the volley did not follow. The aim must have been merely for caution, and it was apparent that there must be an officer on board in control. I called out in a strong voice to know if there was not an 166 officer in the boat; if so, an American officer wished to speak with him with a view to surrendering himself and seamen as prisoners of war. The curtain was raised; an officer leaned out and waved his hand, and the rifles came down. I struck out for the launch, and climbed on board aft with the assistance of the officer, who, hours afterward, we learned was Admiral Cervera himself. With him were two other officers, his juniors. To him I surrendered myself and the men, taking off my revolver-belt, glasses, canteen, and life- preserver. The officers looked astonished at first, perhaps at the singu- lar uniforms and the begrimed condition of us all, due to the fine coal and oil that came to the surface. Then a current of kindness seemed to pass over them, and they exclaimed: " Yaliente ! " The launch then steamed up to the catamaran, and the men climbed on board, the two that had been coughing being in the last stages of exhaustion and requiring to be lifted. We were prisoners in Spanish hands. RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON. buTwarks, the sides of a ship above the upper deck. cat"a-ma-ran', a raft or float made of two or more pieces. rec"on-noi'ter, to make observa- tions as before an army. ex-haus'tion, extreme weariness. Mer'ri-mac, the name of a ship: be-grimed', black and dirty. trag'e-dy, a fatal event. debris', rubbish from ruins. ap-par'ent-ly, seeming to be. fore'cas"tle, the upper, forward deck of a war ship. can-teen', a water bottle used by soldiers. variente, bravely done. dis'ci-pline, special training. RICHMOND PEARSON HOBSON was born in Alabama, and became famous during our war with Spain in 1898. He sank the collier Merrimac in Santiago Harbor so as to block the channel and pen the Spanish ships 167 inside the Harbor. He was taken prisoner by the Spaniards and kept in a Cuban fortress for about six weeks, but was released after the Americans had defeated the Spanish. He has written the full story of the sinking of the collier, and it is from this book that "The Rescue of the Crew of the Merrimac " is taken. He has also written several books on subjects connected with his profession. The sketch here given is printed by courtesy of the Century Company. "MUS' RATTIN' " One November afternoon I found Uncle Jethro back of the woodshed, drawing a chalk-mark along the barrel of his old musket, from the hammer to the sight. " What are yon doing that for, Uncle Jeth ? " I asked. " What fo' ? Fo' mus'rats, boy." " Muskrats ! Do yon think that they'll walk up and toe that mark, while you knock them over with a stick 1 " " G'way f um yhere ! What I take yo' possumin' des dozen winters fo' en yo' dunno how to sight a gun in de moon yit? I's gwine mus'rattin' by de moon to-night, en I won't take yo' nohow." Of course he took me. We went out about nine o'clock. Entering the zigzag lane behind the barn, we followed the cow- paths down to the pasture, then cut across Lupton's Pond, the little wood-walled lake that falls over a dam into the wide meadows along Cohansey Creek. The big moon was riding over the meadows as we tucked ourselves snugly out of sight in a clump of small cedars on the bank. The domed houses of the muskrats — the village num- bered six houses — showed plainly as the moon came up. When the full flood of light fell on the still surface of the pond, we 168 could see the " roads " of the muskrats leading down through the pads to the open space about the dam. These houses are so placed along a water-hole that the dweller can dive out and escape under water when danger approaches. THE MUSKRATS AT HOME The muskrat first chooses for his bedstead a large tussock of sedge that stands w T ell out of the water. Now, from a founda- tion below the water, thick walls of mud and grass are erected inclosing the tussock; a thick thatch is piled on; the channels leading away from the doors are dug out; a bunch of soaking grass is brought in and made into a bed on the tussock, and the muskrat takes possession. Here, in the single room of their houses, one after another will come, until the walls can hold no more; and curling up 169 after their night of foraging, they will spend the frigid days blissfully rolled up into one warm ball of dreamful sleep. Unless roused by the sharp thrust of a spear, the muskrat will sleep until nightfall. You may skate around the lodge, and even sit down upon it, without waking the sleepers; but plunge a stick through the top, and you will hear a smothered plunk, plunk, plunk, as one after another dives out of bed into the water below. While Uncle Jethro and I waited that night, there was a faint plash among the muskrat houses. The village was waking up, and soon we saw swimming silently and evenly towards us, the round, black head of a muskrat. A plank had drifted against the bank, and upon this the little creature scrambled out, as dry as the cat at home under the roaring kitchen stove. Down another road came a second musk- rat, and joined the first comer on the plank. They rubbed noses softly, and a moment afterward began to play together. They were out for a frolic, and the night was splendid. Keeping one eye open for owls, they swam and dived and chased each other through the water, with all the fun of boys in swimming. On the bottom of this pond were mussels, which the musk- rats reckon sweetmeats. They are hard to get, hard to crack, but worth all the cost. I was not surprised, then, when one of the muskrats sleekly disappeared beneath the surface, and came up directly with a mussel. There was a squabble on the plank, which ended in the other muskrat' s diving for a mussel for himself. Having finished this course of big-neck clams, they were joined by a third musk- rat. Together then they filed over the bank and down into the meadow. Shortly two of them returned with calamus-blades. 170 The washing followed. They dropped their loads upon the plank, took up the stalks, pulled the blades apart, and soused them up and down in the water, rubbing them with their paws until they were as clean and white as the whitest celery one ever ate. What a dainty picture ! Two little brown creatures, humped on the edge of a plank, washing calamus in moonlit water ! One might have taken them for half-grown coons as they sat there scrubbing and munching. Had the big owl from the gum- swamp come along then, he could easily have bobbed down upon them, and might almost have carried one away without the others knowing it. Muskrats, like coons, will wash what they eat, whether wash- ing is needed or not. It is safe to say, I think, that had these found clean bread and butter upon the plank instead of muddy calamus, they would have scoured it just the same. Before the two on the plank had finished their meal, the third muskrat returned, dragging his load of mud and roots to the scrubbing. He was just dipping into the water when there was a terrible explosion in my ears. As the smoke lifted there were no washers upon the plank ; but over in the quiet water floated three long, slender tails. " No man gwine stan' dat shot, boy, jis t ? see a mus'rat wash his supper," and Uncle Jethro limbered his stiffened knees and went chuckling down the bank. DALLAS LORE SHARP (Abridged). musk'rat, a fur-bearing animal living near water. tussock, a tuft of grass. sedge, a coarse kind of grass. thatch, a roof made of straw, grass, or leaves. squab'ble, a disorderly contest. cara-mus, the sweet flag (a plant). soused, splashed into water, munch' ing, chewing with a grind- ing sound. for'ag-ing, search for food. 1Y1 DALLAS L. SHARP is a clergyman who was born in New Jersey in 1870. He has been on the editorial staff of the Youth's Companion since 1901. He has given much attention to nature study and has written many articles about animals and birds. " Wild Life Near Home " is the title of a book of his that nature lovers enjoy. This selection is here given by permission of the Century Company. JACK IN THE PULPIT Jack in the pulpit Preaches to-day, Under the green trees Just over the way. Squirrel and song-sparrow, High on their perch, Hear the sweet lily-bells Ringing to church. Come hear what his reverence Rises to say In his low, painted pulpit This calm Sabbath day. Meek-faced anemones, Drooping and sad ; Great yellow violets, Smiling out glad; Buttercups' faces, Beaming and bright; Clovers with bonnets, Some red and some white; 172 Daisies, their white fingers Half-clasped in prayer; Dandelions, proud of The gold of their hair; Innocents, children Guileless and frail. Meek little faces Upturned and pale; Wildwood geraniums, All in their best, Languidly leaning, In purple gauze dressed — All are assembled This sweet Sabbath day To hear what the priest In his pulpit will say. So much for the preacher: The sermon comes next, — Shall we tell how he preached it And where was his text ? Alas ! like too many Grown-up folks who play At worship in churches Man-builded to-day, — We heard not the preacher Expound or discuss; But we looked at the people, And they looked at us. We saw all their dresses — Their colors and shapes; 173 The trim of their bonnets, The cut of their capes; We heard the wind-organ, The bee, and the bird, But of Jack in the pulpit We heard not a word ! CLARA SMITH. rev'er-ence, a title of respect. I guileless, innocent. a-nem'o-nes, early spring flowers. | ex-pound', to explain. Copy: 1. Squirrel and song-sparrow hear the sweet lily-bells. 2. Jack rises in his low, painted pulpit. 3. We heard the wind-organ, the bee, and the bird. What word is omitted before painted? Before the bee? What mark is used to show the omission ? When more than two words are used in the same way, and have the same value in a sentence, they form a series; as, wind-organ, bee, and bird. In such a series of words, when all the conjunctions are omitted except the last, a comma should be placed after each word in the series except the last. Copy: 4. Anemones, violets, buttercups, and daisies are wild flowers. 5. Blue, yellow, and white violets grow in the woods. 6. We charged about with casks, cans, and spars. 7. The kitten starts, crouches, stretches, paws, and darts. 8. The officers, cavaliers, and priests carried De Soto to his grave. If all the conjunctions are omitted in the series, a comma should be placed after the series. Copy: 9. Pepper's roar of astonishment, indignation, pain, still rings in my ears. 10. "Evangeline," "Hiawatha," "The Courtship of Miles Standish," were old stories. 11. The sea-flag, the dulse, the fan coral, grow in the deep ocean. 12. Writers, preachers, lawyers, doctors, had been Bulldog's pupils. 13. Ivanhoe, Rebecca, Rob Roy, are characters in Scott's novels. Find or make ten sentences of each of the two classes given above. 174 A DEPARTURE FROM CAIRO " The camels are ready " " Yes, commander, and so are the Howadji." The sun was nearing the pyramids, and doubly beautiful in the afternoon, " the delight of the imagination " lay silent before, compelling our admiration. I lingered and lingered upon the little balcony. Ha-ha, said the donkey-boys beneath, and I leaned over and saw a company trotting along. The camels lay under the trees, and a turbaned group, like the wise men at the manger, in old pictures, awaited our depar- ture with languid curiosity. The Pasha descended the stairs, and I followed him, just as the commander announced for the twelfth time — " The camels are ready." The camels lay patiently under the trees before the door, quietly ruminating. Our caravan consisted of seven, four of which had been loaded and sent forward with their drivers, and were to halt at a village beyond the city; the other three awaited the pleasure of the Howadji and the com- mander. It was time to mount, and the farewells must be spoken. Addio ! With the word trembling upon my tongue, and half looking back and muttering last words, I laid my left hand carelessly upon the back of the recumbent camel to throw myself leisurely into the seat. I had seen camels constantly for two months, and had con- demned them as the slowest and most conceited of brutes. I had supposed an elephantine languor in every motion, and had anticipated a luxurious cradling over the desert in their rocking 175 gait, for to the outward eye their movement is imaged by the lazy swell of summer waves. The saddle is a wooden frame, with a small upright stake, both in front and behind. Between these stakes, and upon the frame, are laid the blankets, carpets, and other woolen con- A CARAVAN NEAR THE PYRAMIDS veniences for riding. rug. Over all is thrown the brilliant Persian The true method of mounting is to grasp the stakes in each hand, and to swing yourself rapidly and suddenly into the seat, while the camel driver — if you are luxurious and timid — holds his foot upon the bent fore-knee of the camel. Once in the seat you must cling closely, through the three convulsive 176 spasms of rising and righting, two of which jerk you violently forward and one backward. This is a very simple mystery. But I was ignorant, and did not observe that no camel driver was at the head of my beast. In fact, I observed only that the great blue cotton umbrella, covered with white cloth, and the two water jugs dangling from the rear stake of my saddle, were an amusing combination of luxury and necessity. Ready to mount, I laid my hand as carelessly and leisurely upon the front stake as if my camel had been a cow. But scarcely had my right foot left the earth on its meditative way to the other side of the saddle, when the camel snorted, threw back his head, and sprang up nimbly as a colt. I, meanwhile, was left dangling with the blue cotton um- brella, and the water jugs at the side, several feet from the ground. I made a grasp at the rear stake, but I clutched only the luxuries, and down we fell, Howadji, pocket-pistols, umbrella, and water jugs in a confused heap. The good .com- mander arrived at the scene, and swore fiercely at the Arabs. Then very blandly, he instructed me in the mystery of camel- climbing, and in a few minutes we were on the way to Jeru- salem. With the first swing of the camel, Egypt and the Nile began to recede. With this shuttle the desert was to be woven into the web of my life. We passed through the outskirts of the city. The streets were narrow and dirty as we approached the gate, although they wound under beautiful lattices, and palms drooped over the roofs. Superior to the scene, we rode upon our lofty camels. They swayed gently along, and occasionally swung their heads and long necks awkwardly aside to peer through the lattices. The 177 odd silence and sadness, whose spell I had constantly felt in Cairo, brooded over " the snperb town, the holy city " to the last. As we passed out of the gate into the desert, no hope called after us. As we advanced, we saw more plainly the blank sand that overspread the earth, from us to the eastern horizon. Out of its illimitable reaches paced strings of camels, with swarthy Arabs. Single horsemen, and parties upon donkeys ambled quietly by. Our path lay northward along the line where the greenness of the Nile-valley blends with the desert. There was a little scant shrubbery upon the sides of the way — groves of mimosa, through which stretched the light sand, almost like a road. As the sun set, I turned upon my camel, and saw Grand Cairo for the last time. The evening darkened, and we paced along in perfect silence. The stars shone with the crisp bril- liancy of our January nights, but the air was balmy, veined occasionally with a streak of strange warmth, which I knew was the breath of the desert. The Arabs that had gone forward with the pack camels were to encamp just beyond a little town which we entered after dark. It was a collection of mud hovels, and we reflected with satisfaction upon the accommodation of our new tent, and the refreshing repose it promised. A few steps beyond the town brought us to the white-domed tomb of a sheik, just on the edge of the desert, and there the camping-ground was chosen. In a few minutes our desert palace was built. The riding camels were then led up, and made to kneel while the carpets, blankets, and matting were removed from the saddle. We laid the matting on the sand, spread over it a coarse, thick carpet- 178 ing, and covered the whole with two Persian rugs, one upon each side of the pole. The traveling-bags were then thrown in, and we commenced Arabian housekeeping. GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS. pyr'a-mids, great stone monuments near Cairo. tur'baned, wearing turbans. lan'guid, weak; without anima- tion. ru'mi-na"ting, chewing the cud. con-vul'sive, nervous; without con- trol of the muscles. med'i-ta-tive, thoughtful. bland'ly, in a soft or mild manner. il-lim'i-ta-ble, without limit. mi-mo'sa, a sensitive plant. GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS (1824-92) was born in Providence, Rhode Island. He was at one time an editorial writer on the staff of the New York Tribune and later became editor of Harper's Magazine. His writings on his travels in foreign lands are as enjoyable as they are instructive. This story is taken from his book, " Howadji in Syria." He wrote also " Nile Notes of a Howadji." (This is a word used by Ara- bians to mean a European tourist.) His book "Prue and I" is well known and greatly liked. Read again the story, "Dog-sleighing in Siberia." Who had the more difficult task, Mr. Kennan in trying to drive a team of dogs, or Mr. Curtis in attempting to mount a camel? Write a description of one of the following animals: Camel, elephant, otter, bear, wolf, whale, shark, seal, salmon, beaver, alligator, tiger. 1. Where is this animal found ? 2. What is its height, length, weight, shape, color ? 3. What are its habits? What kind of home does it have? What does it eat? How does it obtain its food? What animals does it fear? 4. Of what use is this animal? Can it be trained to work? How is it captured? 5. Tell a short story about the animal described. Write a description of a familiar animal, as a horse, cow, sheep, squir- rel, goat, pig, rabbit, cat, dog. 179 A POET AT HOME One day Julia had an adventure — not " a wildly exciting one," as some of the girls liked to describe what had happened to them, but one that she was always to remember with pleas- ure. It was a windy day in early January, and there was a fine glaze on the ground from a storm of the day before. As she was slipping along down Beacon street, on her way home from school, it was all that she could do to hold her footing. Luckily she had no books to carry, and so when suddenly she saw some sheets of letter paper whirling past her, she was able to rush on and pick them up as they were dashed against a lamp-post. Then she naturally looked around to see to whom they belonged. The owner was not far away, for just a few steps behind her was an old gentleman not very tall, dressed all in black with a high silk hat. Under his arm the gentleman carried a book, and as he held out his hand toward her, Julia had no doubt that he was the owner of the wandering manuscript. " Thank you, my child," he said, as she held the sheets towards him. " Another gust, and I should have had to compose a new poem to take the place of this one." " Why, sir," Julia began to say; then looking up in his face, she suddenly gave a start. Surely she had seen that face be- fore. But where? In an instant she recognized the owner of the papers. He was certainly no other than Dr. Oliver "Wen- dell Holmes, the famous Autocrat of the Breakfast Table, sev- eral of whose poems she knew almost by heart. " Were — were they some of your own poems? " she managed to stammer, " it would have been dreadful if they had been lost." 180 " Not half so dreadful," he replied smiling, " as if they had been written by some one else. As a matter of fact they were sent to me by an unfledged poet, who wished me to tell him whether he would stand a chance of getting them into a pub- lisher's hands. He told me to take great care of them as he had no copy. I read his note at my publisher's just now, and I felt bound to carry the manuscript home. But I'm not sure that it would not have been a good thing to lose a sheet or two to teach him a lesson. He should not send a thing to a stranger without making a copy." When Julia repeated this later at the table, her aunt was much interested. " What else did he say ? " she in- quired. " Oh, he thanked me again for picking up the papers, and when he heard that I had not been long in Boston, he asked me to call some af- ternoon to see him. I walked along until he reached his door. Do you know that he lives near here ? " Her aunt knew, and approved of her making the call. A few afternoons later Julia and her friend Edith walked up the short flight of stone steps to the poet's front door. Their hearts sank a little. To make a call on a poet was really a rather for- midable thing, and they pressed each other's hands as they heard the maid opening the door to admit them. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES 181 " Just wait here for a moment," said the maid, after they had inquired for the master of the house. In a moment she returned and asked them to follow her. At the head of the broad stairs they saw the poet himself standing with outstretched hand to meet them. When Julia mentioned Edith's name, he made them sit down beside him, one on each side, while he occupied a large leather armchair drawn up before his open fire, and asked them one or two questions about their studies and their taste in literature. As Dr. Holmes talked, Julia's eyes wandered to the little revolving bookcase on which she could not help noticing a number of volumes of his own works. The old gentleman, fol- lowing her glance, said: "They make a pretty fair showing for one man, but my publishers are getting ready to bring out a complete edition of my works, and that, well that makes me realize my age." After a moment, he asked quickly, " Does either of you write poetry? " " Oh, no, sir," answered Edith quickly, " we couldn't." " Why, it isn't so very hard," he said, " at least I should judge not by the numbers of copies of verses that are sent to me to examine. Poetry deals with common human emotion, and almost any one with a fair vocabulary thinks that he can express himself in verse. Words and expression seem very felicitous to the writer, but he cannot expect other persons to see his work as he sees it." " It depends, I suppose," said Edith shyly, " on whose work it is." " Do you really have a great deal of poetry sent you to read? " Julia asked. " Every mail," he answered, " brings me letters from stran- gers, — from every corner of the globe. Some are accompanied 182 by long manuscripts on which my opinion is asked. I am chary now about expressing any opinion, for some publishers have a way of quoting very unfairly in their advertisements. If I write, ' your book would be very charming, were it not so carelessly written/ the publisher quotes merely ' very charm- ing/ and prints this in large type." Both girls smiled at the expression of droll sorrow that came over the poet's face as he spoke. " And I am so very unfortunate myself," he added, " when I try to get an autograph of any consequence. Now I sent Gladstone a copy of a work on trees in which I thought that he would be interested. He returned the compliment with a copy of one of his own books. But — " here he paused, " he wrote his thanks on a post-card ! " Again the girls laughed. " Dear me ! " he concluded, " this cannot interest young creatures like you; do you care for poetry? " " Oh, yes indeed we do," cried Julia, " and we just love your poetry." " Well, well," said the poet, with a twinkle in his eyes, " per- haps you would like to hear me read something? " The beaming faces that met his glance were a sufficient an- swer, and taking a volume from the table, Dr. Holmes began: "This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the Siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea maids rise to sun their streaming hair." When he had finished the stanza, he looked up inquiringly. 183 " The Chambered Nautilus," murmured Julia. " Ah, you know it then? " said the poet. " Oh, yes, I love it," she answered. Then with a smile of appreciation, adjusting his glasses, Dr. Holmes read to the end of the poem in his wonderfully musical voice. When it was finished, the girls would have liked to ask for more, but the poet rose to replace the volume. " Come," he said, " you have listened to the poem which of all I have written I like the best, now I wish to show you my favorite view." Following him to the deep bay window, they looked out across the river. It was much the same view to which Julia was accus- tomed in her uncle's house, and yet it was looking at the river with new eyes to have the poet pointing out all the towns, seven or eight in number, which he could see from that win- dow. " In winter," he said, " there is not much to see besides the tug-boats and the gulls. But in the early spring it is a delight to me to watch the crews rowing by, and an occasional pleasure- boat. Ah! I remember — " but what it was he did not say, for as Edith turned her eyes toward an oil painting on the wall near by, he said, " Of course you know who that is; of course you recognize the famous Dorothy Q. " Now look at the portrait closely, and tell me what you think of that cheek. Could you imagine any one so cruel as to have struck a sword into it? Yet there, if your eyes are sharp enough, you will see where a British soldier of the Eevo- lution thrust his rapier." When both of the girls admitted that they could not see the scar, " That only shows," he said, " how clever the man was who made the repairs." 184 Before they turned from the window he made them notice the tall factory chimneys on the other side of the river, which he called his thermometers, because according to the direction in which the smoke curled upwards he was able to tell how the wind blew, and decide in what direction he should walk. " Remember," he said, " when you reach my age always to walk with your back to the wind," and at this the girls smiled, feeling that it would be many years before they should need to follow this advice. Yet during their call how many things they had to see and to remember! He let each of them hold for a moment the gold pen with which he had written Elsie Venner and the Autocrat papers, and Julia turned over the leaves of the large Bible and the concordance on the top of his writing table. As she looked about, she thought that she had seldom seen a prettier room than this with its cheerful rugs, massive furniture, and fine pictures, all so simple and yet so dignified. Then before the girls could realize it Dr. Holmes placed in the hand of each of them a small volume in a white cover, and bidding them open their books, said, " Well, I must put some- thing on that bare fly-leaf." So seating himself at his table with a quill pen in his hand, he wrote slowly and evidently with some effort, the name of each of them, followed by the words, " With the regards of Oliver Wendell Holmes," and then the year, and the day of the month. As he handed them the books the girls turned toward the door. With a word or two more of half bantering thanks to Julia for her assistance on that windy day, Dr. Holmes opened the door, and bowed them down the stairs. HELEN LEAH REED. 185 man'u-script, a written paper. un-fledged', inexperienced. for'mi-da-ble, exciting fear; dan- gerous. vo-cab'u-lar-y, a stock of words. fe-lic'i-tous, fortunate. char'y, careful. con'se-quence, importance. ther-mom'e-ter, an instrument to measure heat. con-cord'ance, contents of a book arranged in alphabetical order. HELEN LEAH REED was born in St. John, N. B., but was reared in Boston, and is a graduate of Radcliffe College. She is the author of "Brenda, Her School and Her Club," "Brenda's Summer at Rockley," and "Brenda's Cousin at Radcliffe/' The above selection is taken by permission of Little, Brown and Company, from the first-named book. THE LAST LEAF I saw him once before As he passed by the door, And again The pavement stones resound, As he totters o'er the ground With his cane. They say that in his prime, Ere the pruning-knife of Time Cut him down, Not a better man was found By the Crier on his round Through the town. But now he walks the streets And he looks at all he meets Sad and wan; 186 And he shakes his feeble head, That it seems as if he said, " They are gone." The mossy marbles rest On the lips that he has prest In their bloom, And the names he loved to hear Have been carved for many a yea: L On the tomb. My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago — That he had a Koman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow; But now his nose is thin, And it rests upon his chin Like a staff, And a crook is in his back, And a melancholy crack In his laugh. I know it is a sin For me to sit and grin At him here; But the old three-cornered hat, And the breeches, and all that, Are so queer! re-sound', to echo. wan, pale. 187 And if I should live to be The last leaf upon the tree In the spring, Let them smile, as I do now, At the old forsaken bough Where I cling. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. crook, a bend. meran-chol-y, sad. THE SCULLION WHO BECAME A SCULPTOR In a little Italian village there once lived a jolly stone-cutter named Pisano. He was poor, of course, or he would not have been a stone-cutter; but he was full of good humor and every- body liked him. There was one little boy, especially, who loved Pisano, and whom Pisano loved more than anybody else in the world. This was Antonio Canova, Pisano' s grandson, who had come to live with him because his father was dead, and his mother had married a harsh man, who was unkind to little Antonio. While Pisano worked at stone-cutting, little Canova played at it and other things, such as modeling in clay and drawing. The boy knew nothing of art or its laws, but he fashioned his lumps of clay into forms of real beauty. His wise grandfather was much too poor, as he knew, ever to give the boy an art- education and make an artist of him, but he thought that An- tonio might at least learn to be a better stone-cutter than was common. 188 As the boy grew older he began to help in the shop during the day, while in the evening his grandmother told him stories or sang or recited poetry to him. All these things were educa- ting him, for they were awakening his taste and stimulating his imagination, which found expression in the clay models that he loved to make in his leisure hours. It so happened that Signor Faliero, the head of a noble Venetian family and a man of rare understanding in art, had a place near Pisano's house, and at certain seasons the noble- man entertained many distinguished guests. When the palace was very full of visitors, old Pisano was sometimes hired to help the servants with their tasks, and the boy Canova, when he was twelve years old, sometimes did scullion's work there, also, for a day, when some great feast was given. On one of these occasions, when the Signor Faliero was to entertain a very large company at dinner, young Canova was at work over the pots and pans in the kitchen. The head-servant made his appearance, just before the dinner hour, in great distress. The man that had been engaged to furnish the great central ornament for the table had, at the last moment, sent word that he had spoiled the piece. It was now too late to secure another, and there was nothing to take its place. The great vacant space in the center of the table spoiled the effect of all that had been done to make the feast artistic in appearance, and it was certain that Signor Faliero would be sorely displeased. While every one stood dismayed and wondering, the begrimed scullion boy timidly approached the distressed head-servant, and said, " If you will let me try, I think that I can make some- thing that will do." " You ! " exclaimed the servant ; " and who are you ? " 189 " I am Antonio Canova, Pisano's grandson/' answered the pale-faced little fellow. " And what can you do, pray ? " asked the man, astonished at the conceit of the lad. " I can make you something that will do for the middle of the table/' said the boy, " if you will let me try." At last he consented that Canova should try. Calling for a large quantity of butter, little Antonio quickly modeled a great crouching lion, which everybody in the kitchen pronounced beautiful, and which the now rejoicing head-servant placed carefully upon the table. The company that day consisted of the most cultivated men of Venice, merchants, princes, noblemen, artists, and lovers of art — and among them were many who, like Faliero himself, were skilled critics of art-work. When these people were ushered in to dinner, their eyes fell upon the butter lion, and they forgot for what purpose they had entered the dining-room. They saw something of higher worth in their eyes than any dinner could be, namely, a work of genius. They scanned the butter lion critically, and then broke forth in a torrent of praises, insisting that Faliero should tell them at once what great sculptor he had persuaded to waste his skill upon a work in butter, that must quickly melt away. But Signor Faliero was as ignorant as they, and he had, in his turn, to make inquiry of the chief servant. When the company learned that the lion was the work of a scullion, Faliero summoned the boy, and the banquet became a sort of celebration in his honor. But it was not enough to praise a lad so gifted. These were men who knew that such genius as his belonged to the world, not to a village, and it was their pleasure to bring it to perfec- 190 tion by educating the boy in art. Signor Faliero himself claimed the right to provide for young Antonio, and at once declared his purpose to defray the lad's expenses, and to place him under the tuition of the best masters. The boy whose highest ambition had been to be- come a village stone-cutter, and whose home had been in his poor old grandfather's cottage, became a member of Signor Faliero's family, liv- ing in his palace, having at his command everything that money could buy, and daily receiving instruction from the best sculptors of Venice. But he was not in the least spoiled by this change in his fortunes. He remained simple, earnest, and unaffected. He worked as hard to acquire knowledge and skill in art as he had meant to work to become a dexterous stone-cutter. Antonio Canova's career, from the day on which he moulded the butter into a lion, was steadily upward ; and when he died, in 1822, he was not only one of the most celebrated sculptors of his time, but one of the greatest, indeed, of all time. GEORGE *CARY EGGLESTON. ANTONIO CANOVA ar-tis'tic, showing taste. dis-mayed', disheartened from fear, scullion, a kitchen servant. scanned, looked at closely. ig'no-rant, without knowledge. gen'ius, natural ability. dex'ter-ous, very skillful. cel'e-bra"ted, well known. 191 A TRADITION OF WEATHERFORD Just below the junction of the Alabama and Tombigbee rivers, on the east side of the stream, you will find the little town of Tensaw. Near this Fort Mims once stood. Not. far away were Fort Sinquefield and Fort White, and farther south was Fort Glass. On the 30th of August [1813], the Indians attacked Fort Mims, and after a desperate battle, destroyed it, killing all but seventeen of the five hundred and fifty people who were living in it. The news of this terrible slaughter quickly spread over the country, and everybody knew now that a general war had begun, in which the Indians meant to destroy the whites utterly, not sparing even the youngest children. The fiercest and most con- spicuous leader of the Indians in this war was Weatherford, or The Red Eagle. He planned and led the assault upon Fort Mims, and was everywhere foremost in all the fighting. As rapidly as possible people gathered into the forts for safety, but by one accident and another many were cut off. Among the latter was Sam Hardwicke, a boy of sixteen. Mounted on a good horse Sam tried to make his way to safety. With a party of about twenty-five Indians, Weatherford bivouacked one night in the edge of the woods, and when Sam mounted his horse the next morning the Indians were lying asleep immediately in his path. The first intimation that he had of their 'presence was a grunt from a big savage lying almost under his horse's feet. Coming to himself, Sam took in the whole situation at a glance. He saw before him the savages, rising from the ground at sight of him. He saw their horses browsing at some little distance 192 from them. He saw a rifle, on which hung a powder-horn and a bullet-pouch, standing against a bush. He saw that he had already aroused the foe, and that he must stand a chase. His first impulse was to turn around and ride back, in the direction whence he had come. But in that direction lay the thicket through which he could not ride rapidly. Just beyond the group of Indians he saw the open fields. He made up his mind at once that he would push his horse into a run, dash right through the camp of the savages, pick up the convenient rifle if possible, and reaching the open country, make all the speed he could. Without pausing or turning, he pushed his horse at a full run through the group of savages, receiving a glancing blow from a war club and dodging several others as he went. He suc- ceeded in getting possession of the rifle, and reached the field before a gun could be aimed at him. Infuriated by his bold- ness, the Indians immediately mounted their horses and gave chase. The question had now resolved itself, Sam thought, into one of endurance. How long the Indians would continue a pursuit in which he had the advantage of half a mile the start, he had no way of determining, but he had every reason to hope. Just as he had comforted himself with this thought, a new danger assailed him. One of the Indians, with a minute knowl- edge of the country, had saved a considerable distance by riding through a strip of woods and cutting off an angle. When Sam first caught sight of him, coming out of the woods, the savage was within a dozen yards of him, and evidently gaining upon him at every step. Sam's horse was a fleet one, but that of the Indian was ap- parently a thoroughbred, whose speed remained nearly as great 103 after a mile's run as at the start. Finding at last that he must shortly he overtaken, Sam resolved upon a bold maneuvre, by which to kill his foremost pursuer. Seizing his hatchet, he suddenly stopped his horse, and, as the Indian came alongside, Sam aimed a savage blow at his head. " Don't you know me, Sam ? " said the Indian in good Eng- lish, dodging the blow. " I'm Weatherford. If I had wanted to kill you, I might have done so a dozen times in the last five minutes. You know that I don't want to kill you, though you're the only white man on earth I'd let go. But the others will make an end of you if they catch you. " Ride on, and I'll chase you. Turn to the left there, and ride to the bluff. I'll follow you. There's a gully through the top. Ride down it as far as you can and jump your horse over the cliff. It is nearly fifty feet high, and may kill you, but it is the only way. The other warriors are coming up, and they will kill you if you don't jump. Jump, and I'll tell them I chased you." Sam knew Weatherford well, and he knew why the chief wished to spare him if he could. Sam had rescued Weatherford once from an imminent peril at great risk to himself. So the two rode on, Sam going down the gully furiously, that his horse might not be able to refuse the frightful leap. Coming to the edge of the precipice with headlong speed, the animal could not draw back, but plunged over with Sam sitting bolt upright on his back. He had no saddle or stirrups in which to become entangled, and as the horse struck the water fairly, the blow was not so severe a shock to the boy as he had expected. Both went under the water, but rising again in a moment Sam slid off the animal's back, to give the poor horse a better 194 chance to escape by swimming. Striking out boldly the boy reached the bank, and, crawling up, looked for his horse. For a time he drifted while Sam ran along the bank, calling and encouraging him. He struck the shore at last, and Sam, ex- amining him, found that while he was stunned and bruised no serious damage had been done. GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON. junction, a joining. con-spic'u-ous, attracting attention. in"ti-ma'tion, hint; notice of. brows'ing, feeding on grass. as-sailed', attacked. thorough-bred, a horse of high quality. ma-neu'vre, a trick or device. gul'ly, a channel worn by water. im'mi-nent, overhanging; threaten- ing. se-vere', sharp, violent. in-fu'ri-a"ted, made furious. ON A HIGHER LEVEL Jack Dunn stood in the door of his home on a crag of Per- simmon Ridge and loaded his old rifle. Suddenly there came from the valley the baying of a pack of hounds in full cry. The boy looked wistful as he heard it, and then frowned. " Those Saunders men have gone off and left me/' he said reproachfully ; " here I've been kept chopping wood and pull- ing fodder until they have had time to get up a deer." Then taking his rifle as the shadows grew long, he set out for the profit and the pleasure of still-hunting. Following the course of the mountain stream, which was swollen by heavy rains, and was now rushing and foaming far out of its banks, he came to an old and ruined mill. No human being could live there, but in the doorway ap- 195 peared a boy dressed like Jack in an old brown jeans suit and a shapeless white hat. This was Andy Bailey. " Have you been hunting ? " asked Jack. Andy nodded as- sent. Jack walked down into the rickety mill and stood leaning against the rotten old hopper. " What did you get ? " he said, looking about for the game. " Well," drawled Andy, with much hesitation, " I haven't been started out long." He turned from the door and faced his companion rather sheepishly. " I hope you haven't been popping off that rifle of yours along the deer-path down in the hollow, and scaring off all the game," said Jack. " If I were as poor a shot as you are, Pd go a-hunting with a bean-pole instead of a gun, and leave the game to them that can shoot it." For a mountain-boy, Andy was a poor shot and, therefore, the scoff of Persimmon Ridge. " I've seen many a girl who could shoot as well as you, — better," continued Jack jeeringly. " But la ! I needn't go down there into the hollow expecting to get a deer to-day. They are all off in the woods a-smelling the powder that you have been wasting." Andy was pleased to change the subject. " It seems to me that the water is scuttling along tolerably fast," he said, turning to the little window through which the stream could be seen. It was running fast, and with a tremendous force. Logs and branches shot by, half hidden in foam. The old mill, whose wooden supports were now completely under water, trembled and throbbed with the rushing stream. As Jack looked toward the window, his cheek paled, and he sprang to the door with a frightened exclamation. Too late! the immense bole of a fallen tree, shooting down 196 the channel with force and velocity, struck the tottering sup- ports of the crazy, rotting building. It careened, and quivered in every fibre. There was a crash of falling timbers, then a mighty wrench, and the two boys, clinging to the window-frame, were driving with the wreck down the river. The old mill thundered against the submerged rocks, and at every concussion the timbers fell. It whirled around and around in eddying pools. Where the water was clear, and smooth, and deep, it shot along with great rapidity. The clinging boys looked down upon the black current, with its sharp, treacherous, half-seen rocks and ponderous driftwood. The wild idea of plunging into the tumult and trying to swim to the bank faded as they looked. Here in the crazy build- ing there might be a chance. In that frightful swirl there lurked only a grim certainty. The boys were caged, as it were. The door-way was filled with the heavy debris, and the only possibility of escape was through that little window. It was so small that only one could pass through at a time, — only one could be saved. Jack had seen the chance from far up the stream. There was a stretch of smooth water close to the bank, on which was a low-hanging beech-tree, — he might catch the branches. They were approaching the spot with great rapidity. Only one could go. He himself had discovered the opportunity,^it was his own. Life was sweet, — so sweet ! He could not give it up ; he could not now take thought for his friend. He could only hope with a frenzied eagerness that Andy had not seen the possibility of deliverance. In another moment Andy lifted himself into the window. 197 A whirlpool caught the wreck, and there it eddied in dizzying circles. It was not yet too late. Jack could tear the smaller, weaker boy away with one strong hand, and take the only chance for escape. The shattered mill was dashing through the smoother waters now ; the great beech-tree was hanging over their heads ; an in- explicable, overpowering impulse mastered in an instant Jack's temptation. " Catch the branches, Andy ! " he cried wildly. His friend was gone, and he was whirling off alone on those cruel, frantic waters. In the midst of the torrent he was going down, and down, and down the mountain. Now and then he had a fleeting glimpse of the distant ranges. The familiar sight, the recollection of his home, brought sud- den tears to his eyes. On, on, in this mad rush he went down to the bitterness of death. Even with this terrible fact before him, he did not reproach himself with his costly generosity. It was strange to him that he did not. regret it; perhaps, like that mountain in its sunset glory, he had suddenly taken up life on a higher level. The sunset splendor was fading. The whole landscape seemed full of reeling black shadows, — and yet it was not night. The roar of the torrent was growing faint upon his ear, and yet its speed was not checked. Soon all was dark and all was still, and the world slipped from his grasp. " They tell me that Jack Dunn was nearly drowned when the men fished him out of the pond at the sawmill down in the valley," said Andy Bailey, recounting the incident to the fire- side circle at his own home. " They saw the rotten old timbers come floating into the pond, and then they saw something like a person hanging to them. 198 " The water was smooth, there, so they had no trouble in swimming out to him. They couldn't bring him to, though, at first. They said in a little more he would have been gone. Now " — pridefully — " if he had had the grit to catch a tree and pull out, as I did, he wouldn't have been in such a danger." Andy never knew the sacrifice that his friend had made. Jack never told him. Applause is at best a slight thing. A great action is nobler than the monument that commemorates it ; and when a man gives himself into the control of a generous impulse, thenceforward he takes up life on a higher level. MARY N. MURFREE. bay'ing, barking. rick'et-y, about to fall to pieces. sheep'ish-ly, ashamed. scoff, a laughing-stock. jeer'ing-ly, in a mocking manner. scut'tling, running. sub-merged', under water. con-cus'sion, a shock. ed'dy-ing, whirling. fren'zied, crazed; anxious. in-ex'pli-ca-ble; not to be explained. sac'ri-flce, self-denial. com-mem'o-rates, keeps in mind. MARY N. MURFREE, a native of Tennessee, was born about 1850. She has written very entertaining stories about the people of the Tennessee mountains. Her pen-name is Charles Egbert Craddock. Some of her best known books are "In the Stranger People's Country," "The Prophet of the Great Smoky Mountain/' "In the Tennessee Mountains," and "The Story of Keedon Bluffs." The selection is published with the consent of Houghton, Mifflin and Company. Compare the hero of this story with Little Giffen, Elizabeth Zane, and the boys of Muirtown Seminary. Who was the bravest? Write your Write a story of a brave deed. What led up to the deed? How was it per- formed? What were the results? 199 LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER A Chieftain, to the Highlands bound, Cries, " Boatman, do not tarry ! And I'll give thee a silver pound, To row us e'er the ferry." " Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water ? " " Oh, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, And this Lord Ullin's daughter. " And fast before her father's men Three days we've fled together, [For should he find us in the glen, My blood would stain the heather. " His horsemen hard behind us ride ; Should they our steps discover, Then who will cheer my bonny bride .When they have slain her lover ? " Outspoke the hardy Highland wight, " I'll go, my chief — I'm ready ; It is not for your silver bright, But for your winsome lady ; " And by my word ! the bonny bird In danger shall not tarry; So though the waves are raging white, I'll row you o'er the ferry." 200 By this the storm grew loud apace, The water-wraith was shrieking; And in the scowl of heaven each face Grew dark as they were speaking. But still as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men, Their trampling sounded nearer. " Oh, haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, " Though tempests round us gather ; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father." The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, When oh ! too strong for human hand, The tempest gathered o'er her. And still they row'd amidst the roar Of waters fast prevailing : Lord Ullin reach' d that fatal shore, His wrath was changed to wailing; For sore dismay'd, through storm and shade, His child he did discover: One lovely hand she stretch' d for aid, And one was round her lover. " Come back ! come back ! " he cried in grief, " Across this stormy water : And I'll forgive your Highland chief, My daughter ! — oh my daughter ! " 201 'Twas vain: the loud waves lashed the shore, Return or aid preventing; The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. THOMAS CAMPBELL. loch, a lake. heath'er, a small flowering shrub common in Scotland. bon'ny, pleasing. win'some, winning. a-pace', quickly. wa'ter-wraith, water spirit. la-ment'ing, mourning. THOMAS CAMPBELL (1777-1844), a British poet and critic, was born in Glasgow. His works include "Pleasures of Hope/' "LochiePs Warning," "Ye Mariners of England," "Battle of the Baltic," "Exile of Erin," and "Hohenlinden." (He saw the battle of Hohenlinden.) " Pleasures of Hope " is the most popular. THE CORONATION OF THE CZAR CZARINA AND THE The coronation was much more beautiful than any one could possibly have imagined that it was going to be. The tribune to the right of the thrones was the one most closely crowded. It held the grand-duchesses and the ladies of the court, who were in the native costume of the country, and who wore the dia- monds for which Russia is celebrated. On the tribune immediately behind the throne stood the Russian senators in magnificent coats of gold, with boots to the hip and white leather breeches, and with ostrich feathers in their peaked hats. With them were the correspondents, the Germans and Russians in military uniforms, the Englishmen 202 in their own court dress, and the Frenchmen and Americans in evening dress. The diplomats and their wives, and the visiting commanders- in-chief and generals of armies from all over the world, occu- pied the third tribune to the left of the throne, and formed the most splendid and gorgeous group of all. Around the platform itself were the princes and grand-dukes glittering with the chains and crosses of the imperial orders. Between the screen and the platform the priests moved to and fro in jeweled mitres as large as a diver's helmet, and in robes stiff with gold and precious stones, their vestments flashing like the scales of gold- fish. But nothing in the whole drama of the morning presented so impressive a picture as did the young Empress when she first entered the chapel and stood before her throne. Of all the women there, she was the most simply robed, and of all the women there, she was by far the most beautiful. A single string of pearls was her only ornament, and her hair, which was worn like that of a Russian peasant girl, fell in two long plaits over her bare shoulders. Her robe of white and silver was as simple as that of a child going to her first communion. The most interesting part of the ceremony, perhaps, was when the Czar changed from a bareheaded young officer in a colonel's uniform, to an emperor in the most magnificent robes an emperor could assume, and when the Czarina followed him, and from the peasant girl became a queen, with the majesty of a queen. When the moment had arrived for this transformation to take place, the Czar's uncle, the Grand-Duke Vladimir, and his younger brother Alexander lifted the collars of the different orders from the Czar's shoulders. They then fastened upon fk im tk* Lmmdam ** Grmjkie." THE CZAK CBOWXTSG THE CZJLRTSA 204 him the imperial of gold cloth, which is some fifteen feet in length, with a cape of ermine, and covered with the double eagle of Russia in black enamel and precious stones. Over this they placed the broad diamond Collar of St. An- drew, which sank into the bed of snowy white fur, and lay glim- mering and flashing as the Emperor moved forward to take the imperial diadem from the hands of the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg. The crown was a marvelous thing, fashioned in two halves to typify the eastern and western kingdoms. It was formed entirely of white diamonds, and surrounded by a great glowing ruby, above which was a diamond cross. The Czar lifted this globe of flame and light high above him, then lowered it to his head, and took the scepter in his right hand and the globe in his left. When he had seated himself upon the throne, the Czarina stood up and walked to a place in front of him. There she sank upon her knees at his feet, with her bare hands clasped before her. He rested his crown for an instant upon her brow, and then replacing it upon his head, lowered a smaller crown of diamonds upon hers. Three ladies-in-waiting fastened it to her hair with long gold hair-pins, the Czar watching them with deepest interest as they did so. Then, as they retired, two of the grand-dukes placed a mantle similar to the Czar's upon her shoulders, and hung another diamond collar upon the ermine of her cape. When this was done, the Czarina stepped back to her throne of ivory > and the Czar to his throne of turquoise. The supreme moment had come and gone, and Nicholas the II and Alexandra Feodorovna sat crowned before the nations of the world. 205 Some one made a signal through the open door, and the diplo- mats on the tribune outside rose to their feet, and the crush of moujiks below them sank on their knees, and the regiments of young peasant soldiers flung their guns at salute, and the bells of the churches carried the news over the heads of the kneeling thousands across the walls of the Kremlin to where one hundred and one cannon hurled it on across the river and up to the highest hill of Moscow, where the modern messengers of good and evil began to tick it out to Odessa, to Constanti- nople, to Berlin, to. Paris, to the rocky coast of Penzance, where it slipped into the sea and hurried on under the ocean to the illuminated face in the Cable Company's tall building on Broadway [New York City], until the world had been circled, and the answering congratulations came pouring into Moscow while the young Emperor still stood under the dome of the little chapel. After the congratulations the ceremony was continued by the priests alone, who chanted and prayed for nearly two hours, during which time the Czar and Czarina took little part in the services beyond crossing themselves at certain intervals. At last the priests ceased, and the most solemn ceremony of the coronation was reached. The Czar passed from sight through the jeweled door of the screen, while his young wife, who could not enter with him, waited, praying for him. When he came forth again, the tears were streaming down his cheeks. One could see in his face, white and drawn with hours of prayer and fasting, how strongly he was moved. And one could imagine what he felt when he looked forward into the many years to come and again saw himself as he was at that moment, a young man of twenty-eight, taking in his hands the insignia of absolute sovereignty over the bodies of one hundred 206 million people and on his lips the most sacred of oaths to protect the welfare of one hundred million souls. RICHARD HARDING DAVIS. cor"o-na'tion, crowning. trib'une, a raised place. dip'lo-mats, representatives of for- eign countries. mi'ter, a headpiece worn by a bishop. com-mun'ion, a sacrament of the church. as-sume', to put on. trans"for-ma'tion, a striking change. en-am'el, a hard coating. typ'i-fy, to be a sign of. mou'jiks, Russian peasants. in-sig'ni-a, the signs of rank. PATRIOTISM Breathes there a man with soul so dead Who never to himself hath said, " This is my own, my native land ! " Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go, mark him well! For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim — Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch, concentered all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung. SIR WAITER SCOTT. 207 PRESIDENT McKINLEY'S INAUGURATION When the new Senators had taken the oath, the procession formed to march out to the stand erected in front of the Senate wing of the Capitol. There the chief ceremony of the day, the swearing in of the new President by the Chief Justice, was to take place. Any scene with the Capitol building for a background must of necessity be impressive. Its situation is more imposing than that of the legislative buildings of any other country; the Houses of Parliament, on the Thames, and at Budapest, on the Danube, appear heavy and somber in comparison; the Cham- ber of Deputies, on the Seine, is not to be compared with it in any way. No American can look upon it, and see its great swelling dome, balanced on the shoulders of the two marble wings, and the myriads of steps leading to it, without feeling a thrill of pride and pleasure that so magnificent a monument should belong to his country and to him. To the foreigners in the crowd the absence of any guard or escort of soldiers near the President, or of soldiers of any sort, was probably the most peculiar feature of the scene. In no other country would the head of the nation, whether he rules by inheritance or is elected to power, stand on such an occasion so close to the people without a military escort. Indeed, when the President takes the oath of office before the people, and delivers his inaugural address, there is not a single man in uniform to stand between him and his fellow-countrymen, crowded so closely to him that by bending forward he could touch them with his hand. Down below the crowd cheered mightily when it saw the THE INAUGURATION OF PRESIDENT MCKINLEY 209 President and President-elect. Major McKinley walked out to the dais, and bowed bare-headed many times, while Mr. Cleveland, who throughout the day had left the center of the stage entirely to his friend, gazed about him at the swaying crowd, and perhaps remembered two other inaugural addresses which he had delivered to much the same crowd of people from the same platform. The people were not kept waiting long, for the ceremony that makes a President lasts less than six minutes, while six hours are required to fasten the crown upon the Czar of Russia and to place the scepter in his hand. One stone in that scepter is worth one million of dollars, the crown three millions, and all the rulers of Europe or their representatives, and great generals and statesmen, surround the Emperor when he takes the oath of office in the chapel of the gilded walls and jeweled pillars. And outside seventy thousand soldiers guard his safety. The Chief Justice in his vast silken robe took the Bible, which the clerk of the Senate handed to him, and held it open before the President-elect. The President, who was in a mo- ment to be the ex-President, stood up beside them, with his hat in his hand and his head bared to the spring breeze. The people saw three men dressed plainly in black, one of them grave and judicial, another pale and earnest, and the third looking out across the people unmoved and content. The noise and movement among the people were stilled for a moment as the voice of the Chief Justice recited the oath of office. As he spoke, it was as though he had pronounced an incanta- tion, for although the three figures remained as they were, so far as the people could see, a great transformation that the people could not see passed over the whole of the land, and its influence penetrated to the furthermost corners of the earth. 210 There came a new face at the door and a new step on the floor, and men that had thoughts above office, men that held office, and men that hoped to hold office recognized the change that had come. A government had changed hands with the quietness and dig- nity of the Chief Justice himself, and as Major McKinley bent to kiss the open Bible he became the executive head of the government of the United States, and Mr. Cleveland one of the many millions of American citizens that he had sworn to protect. A few foolish people attended the inauguration exercises and went away disappointed. This was not because the exercises were not of interest, but for the reason that the visitors saw them from the wrong point of view. They apparently expected to find in the inauguration of the president of a republic the same glitter and display that they had witnessed in state cere- monies in Europe. And by looking for pomp and rigid eti- quette and officialism, they missed the whole significance of the inauguration, which is not intended to glorify any one man, but which is a national celebration. In this celebration every citi- zen has a share — a sort of family gathering, where all the mem- bers of the clan, from the residents of the thirteen original States to those of that State which has put the latest star in the flag, are brought together to rejoice over a victory and to make the best of a defeat. There is no such celebration in any other country, and it is surely much better to enjoy it as something unique in its way and distinctly our own, than to compare some of its features with like features of coronations and royal weddings abroad, in which certain ruling families glorify themselves and the people pay the bills. 211 In Europe the people have little part in the state functions except as spectators. They pay taxes to support a royal family and a standing army, and when a part of the royal family or a part of the army goes out on parade, the people line the side- walks and look on. In the inaugural procession the people themselves are the per- formers; the rulers for the time being are of their own choos- ing; and the people not only march in the parade, but they accomplish the somewhat difficult feat of standing on the side- walks and watching themselves as they do it. RICHARD HARDING DAVIS. leg'is-la-tive, law-making. for'eign-ers, persons born in an- other country. in-her'it-ance, property received through the death of a relative. in-au'gu-ral, the first address of an official. scep'ter, a staff borne as a sign of royalty. in'^an-ta'tion, magic words. pen'e-tra^ted, passed through. ex-ec'u-tive, relating to the carrying out of laws. sig-nif'i-cance, meaning. u-nique\ peculiar. function, a formal ceremony. RICHARD HARDING DAVIS was born in Philadelphia in 1864. He has made a name for himself both as a newspaper correspondent and as a story-writer. One collection of Mr. Davis's short stories has been published under the title "Stories for Boys." Boys like also some of his war-time writings and stories of adventure in foreign lands, such as "Soldiers of Fortune," "Three Gringos in Venezuela," "Cuba in War Time," "With Both Armies in South Africa," and "A Year from a Re- porter's Note Book." "The Coronation of the Czar" and "The In- auguration of President McKinley " are from the last-named book, and are used here by the permission of the author and by the consent of the publishers, Harper and Brothers. 212 SPRING Spring, with that nameless pathos in the air Which dwells with all things fair — Spring, with her golden suns and silver rain, Is with us once again. In the deep heart of every forest tree The blood is all aglee, And there's a look about the leafless bowers As if they dreamed of flowers. Yet still on every side we trace the hand Of winter in the land, Save where the maple reddens on the lawn, Flushed by the season's dawn. But many gleams and shadows needs must pass Along the budding grass, And weeks go by before the enamored South Shall kiss the rose's mouth. Still there's a sense of blossoms yet unborn In the sweet airs of morn; One almost looks to see the very street Grow purple at his feet. At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by, And brings, you know not why, A feeling as when eager crowds await Before a palace gate, 213 Some wondrous pageant; and you scarce would start, If from some beech's heart A blue-eyed dryad, stepping forth, should say, " Behold me ! I am May ! " HENRY TIMROD. pa'thos, sadness. a-glee', joyful. en-am' ored, filled with love. sense, hint. pag'eant, a show. dry'ad, a fairy living in a tree. HENRY TIMROD (1829-67), an American poet, was a native of South Carolina. He is one of a number of talented southern writers who made the Civil War the theme of much of their writing. Many of his poems were about the War. Some of them are very musical. TO THE DANDELION Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride, uphold, High hearted buccaneers, o'erjoyed that they An El Dorado in the grass have found, Which not the rich earth's ample round May match in wealth, thou art more dear to me * Than all the prouder summer blooms may be. How like a prodigal doth nature seem, When thou, for all thy gold, so common art! Thou teachest me to deem More sacredly of every human heart, 214 Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam Of heaven, and could some wondrous secret show, Did we but pay the love we owe. And with a child's undoubting wisdom look, On all these pages of God's book. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. blithe'some, joyous. buc"ca-neers / , pirates. pri-me'val, relating to early times. cui-rassed', wearing a breastplate. procTi-gal, a spendthrift. re-fleets', sends back. El Do-ra'do, any region of fabulous wealth. HUNTING THE COUGAR IN MISSISSIPPI The morning after my arrival at the squatter's cabin, I joined him while he threw a few ears of corn to his pigs. As he counted the animals, he told me that for some weeks their number had been greatly diminished by the ravages committed upon them by a large panther. By. this name the cougar is designated in America. The ravenous animal now and then carried off one of his calves, and on several occasions had robbed him of a deer. Delighted by his description of the " painter," as he sometimes called it, I offered to assist him in destroying the enemy. He was highly pleased, but assured me that unless some of his neighbors would join us with their dogs, the attempt would prove fruitless. Soon afterward, mounting a horse, he went off to his neighbors, several of whom lived at a distance of some miles, and appointed a day of meeting. The hunters, accordingly, one fine morning made their ap- 215 pearance at the door of the cabin. They were five in number, and fully equipped for the chase. Few words were uttered by the party until we had reached the edge of the swamp. There it was agreed that all should scatter and seek for the fresh track of the " painter/' it being previously settled that the dis- coverer should blow his horn, and remain on the spot until the rest should join him. In less than an hour, the sound of the horn was clearly heard, and, sticking close to the squatter, off we went through thick woods, guided only by the now and then repeated call of the distant huntsmen. We soon reached the spot, and in a short time the rest of the party came up. The best dog was sent forward to track the cougar, and in a few moments the whole pack were observed diligently trail- ing, and bearing in their course for the interior of the swamp. The rifles were immediately put in trim, and the party followed the dogs, at separate distances, but in sight of each other, deter- mined to shoot at no game but the panther. The dogs soon began to mouth, and suddenly quickened their pace. Putting our horses to a gentle gallop, we followed them, guided by their voices. All of a sudden, the mode of barking became altered, and the squatter urging me to push on, told me that the beast was treed. By this he meant that it had got upon some low branch of a large tree to rest a few moments. Should we not succeed in shooting him when thus situated, we might expect a long chase of it. As we approached the spot, we all united in a body, but on seeing the dogs at the foot of a large tree, separated again, and galloped off to surround it. Each hunter now moved with caution, holding his gun ready, and allowing the bridle to dangle on the neck of his horse, as 216 it advanced slowly towards the dogs. A shot from one of the party was heard, on which the panther was seen to leap to the ground, and bound off. The dogs set off in pursuit with great eagerness and a deafening cry. The hunter that had fired came up and said that his ball had hit the monster, and had probably broken one of his fore-legs THE COUGAR " TREED " near the shoulder, the only place at which he could aim. The dogs proceeded at such a rate that we now put spurs to our horses and galloped towards the center of the swamp. These determined hunters knew that the cougar being wounded, would shortly ascend another tree, where in all probability he would remain for a considerable time, and that it would be easy to follow the track of the dogs. We dis- 217 mounted, took off the saddles and bridles, set the bells attached to the horses' necks at liberty to jingle, hoppled the animals, and left them to shift for themselves. After marching for a couple of hours, we again heard the dogs. Each of us pressed forward, elated at the thought of terminating the career of the cougar. Some of the dogs were heard whining, although the greater number barked ve- hemently. We felt assured that the cougar was treed, and that he would rest for some time to recover from his fatigue. As we came up to the dogs, we discovered the ferocious ani- mal lying across a large branch, close to the trunk of a cotton- wood tree. His broad breast lay toward us; his eyes were at one time bent on us and again on the dogs beneath and around him. One of his fore-legs hung loosely by his side, and he lay crouched, with his ears lowered close to his head, as if he thought that he might remain undiscovered. Three balls were fired at him, at a given signal, on which he sprang a few feet from the branch, and tumbled headlong to the ground. Attacked on all sides by the enraged dogs, the infuriated cougar fought with desperate valor; but the squat- ter, advancing in front of the party, and almost in the midst of the dogs, shot him immediately behind and beneath the left shoulder. In another moment the cougar lay dead. The sun was now sinking in the west. Two of the hunters separated from the rest to procure venison, whilst the squat- ter's sons went home to be ready to feed the pigs in the morn- ing. The rest of the party agreed to camp on the spot. The cougar was despoiled of its skin, and its body left ^o the hungry dogs. Whilst engaged in preparing our camp, we heard the report of a gun, and soon after one of our hunters returned with a 218 small deer. A fire was lighted, and each hunter brought out his pone of bread. The deer was skinned in a trice, and slices placed on sticks before the fire. These materials afforded us an excellent meal, and as the night grew dark, stories and songs went round, until fatigued, we lay down, close under the smoke of the fire, and soon fell asleep. At daybreak we left our camp, the squatter bearing on his shoulder the skin of the late destroyer of his stock, and retraced our steps until we found our horses, which had not strayed far from the place where we had left them. These we saddled, and jogging along in a direct course, we soon arrived at my host's cabin. JOHN JAMES AUDUBON. squat'ter, settler in a new country. e-quipped', fitted out. in-te'ri-or, the inside. al'tered, changed, dan'gle, to hang loosely. ter'mi-na"ting, coming to an end. pro-cure', to obtain. fa-tigued\ tired. ve'he-ment-ly, with fury; loudly. e-la'ted, delighted; overjoyed. JOHN JAMES AUDUBON (1780-1851), a famous American bird-lover, was born in New Orleans, La. He was educated in France, where he studied under the great painter, David. After his return to America he lived in different parts of the United States. He liked to devote most of his time to long tramps in the woods and the fields, studying the habits of birds; By and by he became celebrated for his drawings of birds and his writings about birds. He not only had rare skill in drawing his feathered friends, but an admirable talent for describing them in entertaining lan- guage. His chief work, "Birds of America," was published by subscrip- tion, the price of each copy being $1,000. The above selection is printed here with the permission of Charles Scribner's Sons. Write a description of some bird with which you are familiar. What is its size? Color? What are its habits? Describe its nest and eggs. Write a story that you have heard or read of pioneer days in America, 219 A NEW ENGLAND BOYHOOD I. The Swimming School Joy, joy, joy! Of a hot summer day in June, when I was nine years old, I was asked how I would like to learn to swim. Little doubt in the mind of any boy who reads this what my answer was. I and my elder brother, who was twelve, were to be permitted to go to the swimming school. This was joy enough to have that year marked with red in our history. The swimming school was in water that flowed where Brim- mer Street [Boston] and the houses behind it are now built. It was just such a building as the floating baths are now, which the city maintains, but it inclosed a much larger space. Of this space a part had a floor so that the water flowed through; the depth was about iive feet. To little boys like me it made little difference that there was this floor, for we could be as easily drowned in five feet of water as we could in fifteen. As soon as you were dressed and ready — and this meant in about one minute — you took your turn to be taught. A belt was put around you under the arms; to this belt a rope was attached, and you were told to jump in. You jumped in and went down as far as gravity chose to take you, and were then pulled up by the rope. The rope was then attached to the end of a long belt, and you were swung out upon the surface of the water. Then began the instruction. " O-n-e ! — two, three ! " the last two words were spoken with great rapidity — " one " spoken very slowly. This meant that the knees and feet were to be drawn up very slowly, but were 220 to be dashed out very quickly, and then the heels brought together as quickly. Boys who were well built for it and who were quick, learned to swim in two or three lessons. Slender boys and little boys who had not much muscular force — and such was I — were a whole summer before they could be trusted without the rope. But the training was excellent, and from the end of that year till now I have been entirely at home in the water. I think now that scientific and systematic training in swim- ming is a very important part of public instruction, and I wish we could see it introduced everywhere where there is responsible oversight of boys at school. II. Out of Doors For the half-holidays that were not otherwise provided for, my brother and I took care by using " the means which God and nature put into our hands." That is to say, we walked out of town to such woodland generally as we had not explored be- fore, until we were personally acquainted with the whole, coun- try for a circle of fully five miles' radius around the State House. We always kept for such expeditions what were known as phosphorus-boxes, which were the first steps in the progress that has put the tinder-boxes of that day entirely out of sight. Most of the young people of the present day have not so much as seen a tinder-box, and I do not know where I could go to buy one. But, in the working of the household, the tinder-box was the one resource for getting a light. We boys, however, with the lavishness of boys, used to buy 221 at the apothecary's phosphorus-boxes, which were then coming in. We had to pay twenty-five cents for one such box. These boxes were made in Germany; they were of red paper, little cylinders about four inches high and an inch in diameter. You could carry one, and were meant to carry it, in your breast pocket. In the bottom of the box was a little bottle, which contained asbestos soaked with sulphuric acid, and in the top were about a hundred matches, made, I think, from chlorate of potash. One of these you put into the bottle and pulled it out aflame. We never should have thought of taking one of these walks without a phosphorus-box. When we arrived at the woodland sought, we invariably made a little fire. We never cooked anything that I remember, but this love of fire is one of the early barbarisms of the human race which dies out latest. I suppose if it had been, the middle of the hottest day in August we should have made a fire. So soon as the morning session of school was over, in the summer or autumn months, if it were a half-holiday, we would start on one of these rambles. Sometimes, if the walk was not to a great distance, we invited, or permitted, the two sisters to come with us. We had a tin box for plants, and always brought home what seemed new or pretty. When, in 1833, the Worcester Railroad was opened, this walking gave way, for a family as largely interested in that railroad as we were, to excursions out of town to the point where the walk was to begin. The line to West Newton was opened to the public on the 7th of April, 1833, but from the day when the Meteor, which was the first locomotive engine in New England, ran on her trial trip, we two boys were 222 generally present at the railroad, on every half-holiday, to take our chances for a ride out upon one of the experimental trips. We knew the engine-drivers and the men who were not yet called conductors, and they knew us. My father was the presi- dent of the road, and we thought we did pretty much as we chose. The engine-drivers would let us ride with them on the engine, and I, for one, got my first lessons in the business of driving an engine on these excursions. But as soon as the road was open to passengers, these rides on the engine dropped off, perhaps were prohibited. Still we went to Newton in the train as often as we could, and afterwards to Needham. There were varied cars in those days, some of them open, like our open horse-cars of to-day, and all of them entered from the side, as in England up to the present time. After this date our • long walks out of town naturally ceased. Nothing was more common in our household than for the whole family to go out to Brighton or to Newton, and, with babies and all, to establish ourselves in some grove, where we spent the afternoon very much as God meant we should spend it, I suppose ; return- ing late in the evening with such spoils of wild flowers as the season permitted. EDWARD EVERETT HALE. grav'i-ty, the attraction of the earth. gci"en-tif'ic, according to rule or method. sys"te-mat'ic, following a fixed plan. ra'di-us, the distance from the center of a circle to its circum- ference. phos'pho-rus, a substance burning easily. tin'der, something used for kindling at a spark. re-source', means. lav'ish-ness, wastefulness. as-bes'tos, a fibrous mineral which fire does not burn. sul-phur'ic, made from sulphur. 223 EDWARD EVERETT HALE, an American author, editor, and clergy- man, was born in Boston in 1822. His father was a nephew of Nathan Hale, the American patriot who was executed as a spy by the British in 1776. Among Dr. Hale's works are "The Man Without a Country," " Ninety Days' Worth of Europe," " Philip Nolan's Friends, "and a number of boys' books, one of which is "New England Boyhood," from which these selections are taken, by courtesy of Little, Brown and Company. Write an account of some important invention. 1. Who was the inventor t Where did he live? How did he happen to think of making it? How did he improve his first plans? 2. What was used in place of this invention before it was made? What were the advantages of the invention? How has it been improved? 3. How important is its present use? What would be some of the dis- advantages if we had to do without it now? Select a subject from this list: Locomotive Stove Pump Parlor Match Sewing-machine Mowing-machine Thresher Street-car Railway-car Cotton Gin Steamboat Street Light Gun Typewriter Telephone Telegraph Printing-press Window Pane 'Flour Mill Watch Find and write out the most important facts in the life of one of these men: Sir Isaac Newton Eli Whitney James Watt Samuel F. B. Morse George Stephenson Cyrus W. Field Thomas A. Edison George Westinghouse William Marconi Johann Gutenberg Benjamin Franklin Robert Fulton Study the first paragraph on page 205. Break this paragraph into simple sentences. Combine some of the simple sentences into complex and compound sentences. 224 TO AN ORIOLE How falls it, Oriole, thou hast come to fly In southern splendor through our northern sky? In some hlithe moment was it nature's choice To dower a scrap of sunset with a voice? Or did some orange lily, flecked with black, In a forgotten garden, ages back, Yearning to heaven until its wish was heard, Desire unspeakably to be a bird ? EDGAR FAWCETT. EDGAR FAWCETT (1847-1904), an American author, was born in New York City. He has written novels, poems and plays. Some of his writings in verse have been published under the titles, "Song and Story," " Romance and Revery," " Songs of Doubt and Dream." His best known novels are "An Ambitious Woman" and "The House at High Bridge." O flower-de-luce, bloom on, and let the river Linger to kiss thy feet ! O flower of song, bloom on, and make forever The world more fair and sweet. HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (Flower-de-Luce). The glory has passed from the goldenrod's plume, The purple-hued asters still linger in bloom: The birch is bright yellow, the sumachs are red, The maples like torches aflame overhead. OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. 225 COACHING IN BRITAIN Monday was another thoroug Thames, which glistened in the stately swans. Windsor its majesty, vivified by the tered in the breeze. The crowded with nice-looking passed. Many of us walked hill and far into the vance of the coach, and that a fine day in the land was perfection hly English day. The silver sun, was enlivened by many Castle towered in all bright flag that flut- grounds of Eton were English boys as we down the steep country in ad- felt once more south of Eng- indeed. THE CHURCHYARD AT STOKE POGIS, THE SCENE OF GRAY S ELEGY 226 The sun here reminds one of the cup that cheers, but does not inebriate : its rays cheer, but never scorch. You could not tell whether, if there had to be any change, you would prefer it to be a shade cooler or a shade warmer. Stoke Pogis is a few miles out of our direct road, but who would miss that, even were the detour double what the ord- nance survey makes it? Besides, had not a dear friend, a stay- at-home, told us that one of the happiest days of her life was that spent in making a pilgrimage to the shrine of the poet from this very Windsor? Gray's was the first shrine at which we stopped to worship, and the beauty, the stillness, the peace, of that low, quaint, ivy-covered church, and its old-fashioned graveyard, sank into our hearts. Surely no one could revive memories more sweetly English then he who gave us the " Elegy." Some lines, and even stanzas of that gem, will endure, it may safely be predicted, as long as anything English does, and that is saying much. Just such a churchyard we found, too, as seemed suited to the ode. Gray is fortunate in his resting-place. Earth has no prettier, calmer spot to give her child than this. It is the very ideal God's acre. The little church! How fine is Gray's in- scription upon his mother's tomb! "Dorothy Gray. The careful, tender mother of many children, one of whom alone had the misfortune to survive her." The touch in the last words, " misfortune to survive her! " Upon Gray's own tomb there is inscribed: "One noon I missed him on the accustomed hill, Along the heath, and near his favorite tree; Another came, nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he." 227 One perfect gem outweighs a thousand mediocre perform- ances, and makes its creator immortal. The world has not a second Gray's " Elegy " among all its treasures. Nor is it likely to have. The manor house of Stoke Pogis, which took its name from a marriage away back in the thirteenth century, between a member of the Pogis family and an heiress, Amicia de Stoke, furnished the subject of Gray's " Long Story," a poem known now only to the curious student of English Literature. How fortunate for the world that the poet did not let his reputation rest upon it! s The old house, built in the time of good Queen Bess on an older foundation, is still more noted as the home of Sir Edward Coke, the famous Lord Justice and the rival of Bacon. In 1601 Coke entertained the Virgin Queen at Stoke Pogis in a manner befitting the royal dignity and the length of his own purse. Among the presents which her majesty graciously deigned to accept at the hands of her subject on the occasion was jewelry valued at a thousand pounds, a large sum in those days. Several years after the death of Coke, Stoke Pogis was for a short time the place of confinement of Charles I, who could see from its windows the towers of Windsor Castle, which he was never again to enter alive. When Charles II came to his own again, the possessor of the mansion was knighted. He became so devoted in his affec- tion for the Stuarts, that when in after time King William desired to visit Stoke Pogis to see a place so rich in historical associations, the old knight would not listen to it. In vain did his wife intercede: he declared that the usurper should not cross his threshold, and he kept his word. So it 228 came to be said that Stoke Pogis had entertained one sovereign, been the prison of another, and refused admission to a third. In still later times the old place came into possession of the Penn family, the heirs of our William Penn of Pennsylvania. It was by one of them, John Penn, that the cenotaph to Gray was erected, for the poet, it will be remembered, was laid in his mother's tomb. The same Penn pulled down much of the old house and rebuilt it as it is to-day. Our luncheon was to be upon the banks of the Thames to- day, the Old Swan Inn, where the stone bridge crosses the stream, being our base of supplies. The rugs were laid under a chestnut tree, and our first picnic luncheon spread on the buttercups and daisies. Swallows skimmed the water, bees hummed above us — but stop! what's that, and where? Our first skylark singing at heaven's gate! All who heard this never-to-be-forgotten song for the first time were up and on their feet in an instant. But the tiny songster, which was then filling the azure vault with music, was nowhere to be seen. It's worth an Atlantic voyage to hear a skylark for the first time. The flood of song poured forth as we stood wrapt await- ing the descent of the messenger from heaven. At last a small black speck came into sight. He is so little to see — so great to hear! ANDREW CARNEGIE (Abridged). devour', a round-about way. ode, a short poem. viv'i-fied, enlivened. in-e'bri-ate, to intoxicate. me'di-o"cre, of ordinary quality. deigned, condescended ; stooped to. in-ter-cede', to speak for. cen'o-taph, a monument erected to a person buried elsewhere. 229 ANDREW CARNEGIE came to America from Scotland in 1848, when he was eleven years of age. His first position was in a cotton factory in Allegheny, Pa. Then he became a telegraph messenger, studied teleg- raphy, and went into the employ of the Pennsylvania Railroad. He attended to business, and his advancement was steady. After the war he established a great iron industry at Pittsburg. He is the author of "An American Four-in-Hand in Britain," "Round the World/' and "Democracy Triumphant." Through his gifts to libraries, universities, colleges and pension funds in the United States and Great Britain, he has justly earned the title of the greatest benefactor of the age. " Coaching in Britain" is published with the permission of Charles Scrib- ner's Sons. ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds. Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. 230 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: "No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile, The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour. The paths of glory lead but to the grave. THOMAS GRAY (Selected). 231 cur'f ew, a bell rung at evening. soremn, grave; serious. ham'let, a small village. clar'i-on, a call like the sound of a trumpet. joc'und, gayly; merrily. dis-dain'ful, scornful. glebe, the sod. her'ald-ry, the signs that denote rank. se-ques'ter-ed, quiet and apart from the busy world, an'nals, history. in-ev'i-ta-ble, not to be avoided. THOMAS GRAY (1716-71) was an English poet. He was educated at Cambridge and afterward was made a member of the Cambridge faculty. The "Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard" is his best and most popular poem. Gray ranks high among English authors as poet, prose writer, and scholar. THE GREAT PYRAMID The first glimpse that most travelers now get of the Pyramids is from the window of the railway carriage as they come from Alexandria; and it is not. impressive. (It does not take one's breath away.) The well-known triangular forms look small and shadowy, and are too familiar to be in any way startling. It is only in approaching them, and observing how they grow with every foot of the road, that one begins to feel that they are not so familiar after all. When at last the edge of the desert is reached, and the long sand-slope climbed, and the rocky platform gained, and the Great Pyramid in all its unexpected bulk and majesty towers close above one's head, the effect is as sudden as it is overwhelm- ing. It shuts out the sky and the horizon. It shuts out all the other pyramids. It shuts out everything but the sense of awe and wonder. 232 &a wm THE GREAT PYRAMID Now, too, one discovers that it was with the forms of the Pyramids, and only their forms, that one had been acquainted all these years past. Of their surface, their color, their rel- ative position, their number, one had hitherto no definite idea. Even the Great Pyramid puzzles us with an unexpected sense of unlikeness. We all know that it was stripped of its outer blocks some five hundred years ago to build Arab mosques and palaces. Nevertheless, the rugged, rock-like aspect of that giant stair-case takes us by surprise. Nor does it look like a partial ruin. It looks as though it had been left unfinished, and the workmen might be coming back to-morrow. The color again is a surprise. Few persons can be aware be- forehand of the rich tawny hue that Egyptian limestone as- sumes after ages of exposure to the blaze of an Egyptian sky. Seen in certain lights, the Pyramids look like piles of massy gold. It is no easy task to realize, however imperfectly, the dura- tion of six or seven thousand years. The Great Pyramid, which is supposed to have been some four thousand two hundred and odd years old at the time of the birth of Christ, is now in its seventh millennium. Suddenly the writer became aware, that these remote' dates had never presented them- 233 selves to her mind until this moment as anything but abstract numerals. Now, for the first time, they were no longer figures, but years with their changes of season, their high and low Niles, their seed-times and harvests. More impressive by far than any ar- ray of figures or comparisons, was the shadow cast by the Great Pyramid as the sun went down. The mighty shadow, sharp and distinct, stretched across the stony platform of the desert and over full three-quarters of a mile of the green plain below. It divided the sunlight in the upper air; and it darkened the space that it covered like an eclipse. It was not without a thrill of something approaching to awe, that one remembered how this self-same Shadow had gone on registering, not only the height of the most stupendous gnomon ever set up by human hands, but the slow passage, day by day, of more than sixty centuries of the world's history. It was still lengthening over the landscape as we went down the long sand-slope and gained the carriage. Some six or eight Arabs in fluttering white garments ran on ahead to bid us a last good-by. " You come again ! " said they. " Good Arab show you everything. You see nothing this time." AMELIA B. EDWARDS. tri-an'gu-lar, having three angles. mil-len'ni-um, a thousand years. e-clipse', a covering up, as an eclipse of the moon. reg'is-ter-ing, making a record of. stu-pen'dous, very large. gno-mon, a structure for showing the time of day. AMELIA B. EDWARDS (1831-92) was an English author and traveler. She has written many novels, some histories and some popular books for children. Her book, "A Thousand Miles Up the Nile," from which our selection is taken, is considered a remarkably good book on Egypt. 234 THE CAPTURE OF QUEBEC The sun rose, and from the ramparts of Quebec, the aston- ished people saw the plains of Abraham glittering with arms, and the dark-red lines of the English forming in array of battle. Breathless messen- gers had borne the evil tid- ings to Montcalm, and far and near his wide extended camp resounded with the rolling of alarm drums and the din of startled prepara- tion. In spite of all difficulties he had trusted to hold out till the winter frosts should drive the invaders from be- fore the town; when, on that disastrous morning, the news of their successful temerity fell like a cannon shot upon his ear. Still he assumed a tone of con- fidence. " They have got to the weak side of us at last," he is reported to have said, " and we must crush them with our numbers." With headlong haste, his troops were pouring over the bridge of St. Charles, and gathering in heavy masses under the western ramparts of the town. Could numbers give assurance of suc- cess, their triumph would have been secure; for five French WOLFE S COVE, THE LANDING-PLACE OF THE BRITISH ARMY 235 battalions and the armed colonial peasantry amounted in ail to more than seven thousand five hundred men. Full in sight before them stretched the long thin lines of the British forces, — the half -wild Highlanders, the steady soldiery of England, and the hardy levies of the provinces, — less than five thousand in number, but all inured to battle, and strong in the full assurance of success. Yet, could the chiefs of that gallant army have pierced the secrets of the future, could they have foreseen that the victory which they burned to achieve would have robbed England of her proudest boast, and that the conquest of Canada would pave the way for the independence of America, their swords would have dropped from their hands, and the heroic fire have gone Out within their hearts. At a little before ten o'clock, the British could see that Mont- calm was preparing to advance, and in a few moments, all his troops appeared in rapid motion. They came on in three divis- ions, shouting after the manner of their nation, and firing heavily as soon as they came within range. In the British ranks, not a trigger was pulled, not a soldier stirred ; and their ominous composure seemed to damp the spirit of the assailants. It was not until the Erench were within forty yards that the fatal word was given, and the British muskets blazed forth at once in one crashing explosion. Like a ship at full career, arrested with sudden ruin on a sunken rock, the ranks of Mont- calm staggered, shivered, and broke before that wasting storm of lead. The smoke, rolling along the field, for a moment shut out the view. When the white wreaths were scattered on the wind, a wretched spectacle was disclosed ; men and officers tumbled in heaps, battalions resolved into a mob, order and obedience gone ; 236 and when the British muskets were leveled for a second volley, the masses of the militia were seen to cower and shrink with an uncontrollable panic. For a few minutes, the French regu- lars stood their ground, returning a sharp and not ineffectual fire. But now, echoing cheer on cheer, redoubling volley on volley, the British troops advanced and swept the field before them. In the short action and pursuit, the French lost fifteen hundred men, killed, wounded, and taken. Of the remainder, some escaped within the city, and others fled across the St. Charles to rejoin their comrades who had been left to guard •the camp. The pursuers were recalled by sound of trumpet; the broken ranks were formed afresh, and the English troops withdrawn beyond reach of the cannon of Quebec. Yet the triumph of the victors was mingled with sadness, as the tidings went from rank to rank that Wolfe had fallen. In the heat of the action, as he advanced at the head of the grena- diers of Louisburg, a bullet shattered his wrist ; but he wrapped his handkerchief about the wound, and showed no sign of pain. A moment more, and a ball pierced his side. Still he pressed forward, waving his sword and cheering his soldiers to the attack, when a third shot lodged deep within his breast. He paused, reeled, and staggering to one side, fell to the earth. He was borne to the rear and laid softly on the grass. They asked if he would have a surgeon ; but he shook his head and answered that all was over with him. His eyes closed with the torpor of approaching death, and those around him sustained his faint- ing form. Yet they could not withhold their gaze from the wild turmoil before them, and the charging ranks of their companions rush- ing through fire and smoke. " See how they run," one of the 238 officers exclaimed, as the Trench fled in confusion before the leveled bayonets. " Who run ? " demanded Wolfe, opening his eyes like a man aroused from sleep. " The enemy, sir ! " was the reply ; " they give way everywhere." " Then," said the dying general, " tell Colonel Burton to march Webb's regiment down to St. Charles River, to cut off their retreat from the bridge. Now, God be praised, I will die in peace," he muttered; and turning on his side, he calmly breathed his last. Almost at the same moment fell his great adversary, Mont- calm, as he strove, with vain bravery, to rally his shattered ranks. Struck down with a mortal wound, he was placed upon a litter and borne to the General Hospital on the banks of the St. Charles. The surgeons told him that he could not recover. " I am glad of it," was his calm reply. He then asked how long he might survive, and was told that he had not many hours remaining. " So much the better," he said ; " I am happy that I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec." Officers from the garrison came to his bedside to ask his orders and instructions. " I will give no more orders," replied the defeated soldier ; " I have much business that must be attended to, of greater moment than your ruined garrison and this wretched country. My time is very short; therefore, pray leave me." The officers withdrew, and none remained in the chamber but his confessor and the Bishop of Quebec. To the last he expressed his contempt for his own mutinous and half-famished troops, and his admiration for the disciplined valor of his opponents. He died before midnight, and was buried at his own desire in a cavity of the earth formed by the bursting of a bombshell. FRANCIS PARKMAN (Slightly Abridged}. 239 in-va'ders, those who forcibly enter. bat-tal'ions, bodies of troops. in-ured', used to. a-chieve', to accomplish, as-sail'ants, those who attack. in"ef-fec'tu-al, without result. om'i-nous, foreboding evil. gren"a-diers', a company of soldiers serving in a battalion. tor'por, sleepiness. bay'o-net, a blade attached to the end of a musket. mu'ti-nous, disobedient to superior officers. FRANCIS PARKMAN (1823-93), an American historian, was born in Boston. His historical works include "The Conspiracy of Pontiac," — from which this story is taken, — "Pioneers of France in the New Wor d," "Discovery of the Great West/' and "Montcalm and Wolfe." He is an entertaining writer, and holds a high place in American literature. SNOW-BOUND Unwarmed by any sunset light The gray day darkened into night, A night made hoary with the swarm And whirl-dance of the blinding storm, As zigzag, wavering to and fro, Crossed and recrossed the winged snow: And ere the early bedtime came The white drift piled the window-frame, And through the glass the clothes-line posts Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts. So all night long the storm roared on : The morning broke without a sun; In tiny spherule traced with lines Of Nature's geometric signs, 240 In starry flake, and pellicle, All day the hoary meteor fell; And, when the second morning shone, We looked upon a world unknown, On nothing we could call our own. Around the glistening wonder bent The blue walls of the firmament, No cloud above, no earth below — A universe of sky and snow ! The old familiar sights of ours Took marvelous shapes ; strange domes and towers Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood, Or garden-wall, or belt of wood; A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed, A fenceless drift what once was road; The bridle-post an old man sat With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat; The well-curb had a Chinese roof ; And even the long sweep, high aloof, In its slant splendor, seemed to tell Of Pisa's leaning miracle. JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER (Selected) spher'ule, a little sphere. ge^o-met'ric, relating to the lines and forms of geometry. pel'li-cle, a filmy substance. fir'ma-ment, the sky. un'i-verse, the entire creation. Write the story of a storm that you have watched. Where was it? What kind of storm was it? How did the storm begin? Describe the nature of the storm. How long did it last? What damage did it do? 241 THE BELL RINGER OF NOTRE DAME Quasimodo was born blind of one eye, humpbacked, lame. Bell ringer of Notre Dame at the age of fourteen, a new in- firmity soon put the finishing touch to his misfortunes; the bells had broken the drums of his ears: he became deaf. The only avenue that Nature had left open to him to the world was suddenly closed forever. After all, he never turned his face to the world of men save with regret; his cathedral was enough for him. It was peopled with marble figures, kings, saints, and bishops, who at least did not laugh at him, and never looked upon him otherwise than with peace and good will. The other statues, those of monsters and demons, did not hate Quasimodo. They rather mocked other men. The saints were his friends and blessed him. The monsters were his friends and protected him. Thus he had long conversations with them. He would sometimes pass whole hours before one of these statues, in solitary chat with it. And the cathedral was not merely company for him, it was the universe; nay, more, it was Nature itself. He never dreamed that there were other hedgerows than the stained-glass win- dows in perpetual bloom; other shade than that of the stone foliage always budding, loaded with birds in the thickets of Saxon capitals; other mountains than the colossal towers of the church; or other ocean than Paris roaring at their feet. But that which he loved more than all else in the motherly building, that which awakened his soul and bade it spread its poor stunted wings folded in such misery, that which some- times actually made him happy, was the bells. He loved them, 242 he caressed them, he talked to them, he understood them. From the chime of the steeple over the transept to the big bell above the door, he had a tender feeling for them all. The belfry of the transept and the two towers were to him like three great cages, in which the birds, trained by him, sang for him alone; and yet it was these very bells that had made him deaf. To be sure, their voice was the only one he could now hear. For this rea- son the big bell was his best beloved. She was his favorite of the family, and had been christened Ma- rie. She hung alone in the south tower with her sister Jac- queline, a bell of less size inclosed in a smaller cage close beside her own. This Jacqueline was named for the wife of Jehan Montague, who gave the bell to the church. In the second tower there were six other bells; and lastly, the six smallest dwelt in the belfry over the transept with the wooden bell, which was rung only from the afternoon of Maundy Thursday till the morning of Holy Saturday or Easter NOTRE DAME, PARIS 243 Eve. So there were fifteen bells, but Marie was Quasimodo's favorite. It is impossible to give any idea of his joy on those days when full peals were rung. When the archdeacon dismissed him with the word " Go," he ran up the winding staircase more rapidly than any one else could have gone down. He reached the aerial chamber of the big bell, breathless; he gazed at it an instant with love and devotion, then spoke to it gently, and patted it, as you would a good horse about to take a long jour- ney. He condoled with it on the hard work before it. After these initiatory caresses he called to his assistants, stationed on a lower story of the tower, to begin. They then hung upon the ropes, the windlass creaked, and the enormous mass of metal moved slowly. Quasimodo, panting with excite- ment, followed it with his eye. The first stroke of the clapper upon its brazen wall made the beam on which he stood quiver. Quasimodo vibrated with the bell. " Here we go ! There we go ! " he shouted with a mad burst of laughter. But the mo- tion of the great bell grew faster and faster, and as it traveled an ever-increasing space, his eye grew bigger and bigger, more and more glittering. At last the full peal began; the whole tower shook: beams, leads, broad stones, all rumbled together, from the piles of the foundation to the trefoils at the top. Then Quasimodo's rap- ture knew no bounds: he came and went; he trembled from head to foot with the tower. The bell, let loose, and frantic with liberty, turned its jaws of bronze to either wall of the tower in turn, — jaws from which issued that whirlwind whose roar men heard for four leagues around. Quasimodo placed himself before those gaping jaws; he rose and fell with the swaying of the bell, inhaled its tremendous 244 breath, gazed now at the abyss, swarming with people like ants, two hundred feet below him, and now at the huge copper clap- per which from second to second bellowed in his ear. That was the only speech which he could hear, the only sound that broke the universal silence reigning around him. He basked in it as a bird in the sunshine. All at once the frenzy of the bell seized him ; his look became strange ; he waited for the passing of the bell as the spider lies in wait for a fly, and flung himself headlong upon it. Then, suspended above the gulf, launched upon the tremendous vibra- tion of the bell, he grasped the brazen monster by its ears, clasped it with his knees, spurred it with his heels, doubling the fury of the peal with the whole force and weight of his body. The monstrous steed neighed and panted under him; and then the big bell of Notre Dame and Quasimodo ceased to exist : they became a dream, a whirlwind, a tempest; vertigo astride of uproar; a spirit clinging to a winged crupper; a strange centaur, half man, half bell. VICTOR HUGO. ca-the'dral, a large church. per-pet'u-al, lasting forever. co-los'sal, of enormous size. tran'gept, the part of a church at right angles to its greatest length. forth. arch"dea'con, the chief deacon. I ver'ti-go, dizziness. con-dole', sympathize. in-i'ti-a-to-ry, beginning. tre'foil, an ornament shaped like a clover leaf. vi-bra'tion, a movement back and VICTOR HUGO (1802-1885) was a celebrated French poet and novelist. His childhood was spent in various places in Paris, in Corsica, in Elba, in Italy, and in Spain, wherever his father, an army officer, happened to be stationed. He received his early education from his mother and from an old priest. Later he went to school in Paris, While he was still at school 245 he began to write poetry, and one of his poems won him a prize before he was eighteen years old. Some of his novels are masterpieces. They have been translated into English and are widely read on this side of the Atlan- tic. The most famous is "Les Miserables." He took a great interest in politics and was elected a life member of the French Senate in 1876. The latter part of his life he devoted to writing. MY STAR All that I know Of a certain star Is, it can throw (Like the angled spar) Now a dart of red, NTow a dart of blue ; Till my friends have said They would fain see, too, My star that dartles the red and the blue! Then it stops like a bird ; like a flower, hangs furled : They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it. What matter to me if their star is a world ? Mine has opened its soul to me ; therefore I love it. ROBERT BROWNING. an'gled, having corners. I furled, rolled up. spar, a mineral of many colors. I sol'ace, content. ROBERT BROWNING (1812-89) was a famous English poet, and was born in London. He was fond of the country, and when a boy, he used to roam through the Dulwich Woods. "Home Thoughts, from the Sea," "Home Thoughts, from Abroad," "How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix," "An Incident of the French Camp," "The Pied Piper of Hamlin," and "The Boy and the Angel" are among his shorter poems. 246 A JOURNEY IN BRAZIL December 29th, [1865]. Pedreira. I have said little about the insects and reptiles which play- so large a part in most Brazilian travels, and, indeed, I have had much less annoyance from this source than I had expected. But I must confess that the creature which greeted my waking sight this morning was not a pleasant object to contem- plate. It was an enormous centipede close by my side. He was nearly a foot in length. His innumerable legs looked just ready for a start, and his two horns or feelers were protruded with a most venomous expression. These animals are very hideous to look upon, and their bite is painful, though it is not dangerous. I crept softly away from my sofa without disturbing my ugly neighbor, who presently fell a victim to science ; being very adroitly caught under a large tumbler, and consigned to a glass jar filled with alcohol. Captain Faria says that centipedes are often brought on board with wood, among which they usually lie concealed, sel- dom making their appearance, unless disturbed and driven out of their hiding places. To less noxious visitors of this kind, one soon gets accustomed. LOUIS AGASSIZ 247 As I shake out my dress, I hear a cold flop on the floor, and a pretty little house-lizard, which has found a warm retreat in its folds, makes his escape with all celerity. Cockroaches swarm everywhere, and it would be a vigilant housekeeper that could keep her closets free from them. Ants are the greatest nuisance of all, and the bite of the fire-ant is really terrible. I remember once having hung some towels to dry on the cord of my hammock; I was about to remove them when suddenly my hand and arm seemed plunged into fire. I dropped the towels as though they had been hot coals, and then I saw that my arm was covered with little brown ants. Brushing them off in all haste, I called the servant, who found an army of them passing over the hammock, and out of the window uear which it hung. He said that they were on their way somewhere, and if left undisturbed, would be gone in an hour or two. And so it proved to be. We saw no more of them. Yesterday we arrived at Pedreira, a little village consisting of some fifteen or twenty houses hemmed in by forest. The place certainly deserves its name of the " place of stones," for the shore is fringed with rocks and boulders. We landed at once, and Mr. Coutinho and Mr. Agassiz spent the morning in geologizing and botanizing. In the course of our ramble we came upon an exceedingly picturesque Indian camp. The river is now so high, that the water runs far up into the forest. In such an overflowed wood, a number of Indian boats were moored ; while, on a tract of land near by, the Indians had cleared a little grove, cutting down the inner trees, and leaving only the outer ones standing, so 248 as to make a circular arbor. Within this arbor the hammocks were slung; while outside were the kettles and water-jugs, and utensils of one sort and another. In this little camp were several Indian families, who had left their mandioca plantations in the forest, to pass the Christ- mas festa in the village. We asked the women what they did, they and their babies, when it rained. They laughed, and pointing to their canoes, said that they LAND JOURNEYS ARE OFTEN MADE BY WATER crept under the arched roof of palm-thatch, which always en- closes the stern of an Indian boat, and were safe. Even this, in the open river, would not be a protection; but, moored as the boats are in the midst of a thick wood, they do not receive the full force of the showers. After we returned to the village and rested at the priest's house half an hour, he proposed to send us to his little man- dioca plantation at a short distance in the forest, where a par- 249 ticular kind of palm, which Mr. Agassiz greatly coveted, was to be obtained. In this country of inundated surfaces, land journeys are often made by water. So we started in a boat, and after keeping along the water for some time, we turned into the woods and began to navigate the forest. The water was still and clear as glass: the trunks of trees stood up from it, their branches dipped into it. As we wound in and out among them, putting aside a bough here and there, or stooping to float under a green arbor, the reflection of every leaf was so perfect that wood and water seemed to melt into each other, and it was difficult to say where one began and the other ended. Silence and shade so profound brooded over the whole scene, that the mere ripple of our paddles seemed a disturbance. After half an hour's row we came to dry land, where we went on shore, taking our boatmen with us. The wood soon resounded with their hatchets as the palms fell under their blows. We returned with a boatload of palms, besides a num- ber of plants of various kinds that we had not seen elsewhere. We reached the boat just in time; for scarcely were we well on board and in snug quarters again when the heavens opened and the floods came down. THE JOURNAL OF PROFESSOR AND M IS. LOUIS AGASSIZ (On the Rio Negro). cen'ti-pede, a worm-like animal with a great number of feet. a-droit'ly, skillfully. con-signed 7 , placed in. ce-ler'i-ty, quickness of motion. ge-oro-giz"ing, studying rocks. pic // tur-esque, pleasing to the eye ; like a picture. man^di-o'ca, the manioc plant. re-flec'tion, careful thought. in-un'da"ted, overflowed. fes'ta, holidays. LOUIS AGASSIZ (1807-73) was a celebrated naturalist who was born in Switzerland, and educated in Germany. He was especially noted 250 for his studies into the nature and history of glaciers and rocks. When he was about forty years old he made a visit to the United States, and was persuaded to become a member of the faculty of Harvard University. From that time forward he made America his home, and did a great deal to make science interesting to the people of his adopted country. In 1865 he went to Brazil and explored the Lower Amazon. It is said that he found more than eighteen hundred new kinds of fishes in that region. He and Mrs. Agassiz afterwards published a book about Brazil. This selection is published with the consent of Houghton, Mifflin and Company. IF I WERE A BOY AGAIN If I were a boy again, I would practice perseverance oftener, and never give a thing up because it was hard or inconvenient to do it. If we want light, we must conquer darkness. There is no trait more valuable than a determination to persevere when the right thing is to be accomplished. If I were a boy again, I would school myself into a habit of attention ; I would let nothing come between me and the sub- ject in hand. I would remember that an expert on the ice never tries to skate in two directions at once. One of our great mistakes, when we are young, is that we do not attend strictly to what we are about just then; we do not bend our energies close enough to what we are doing or learn- ing; we wander into only a half-interest and so never acquire fully what is needful for us to become master of. If I were to live my life again, I would pay more attention to the cultivation of memory. I would strengthen that faculty by every possible means and on every possible occasion. It takes a little hard work at first to remember things accurately ; but memory soon helps itself, and gives very little trouble. It 251 needs only early cultivation to become a power. Everybody can acquire it. If I were a boy again, I would know more about the history of my own country than is usual, I am sorry to say, with young Americans. If the history of any country is worth an earnest study, it is surely the history of our own land ; and we cannot begin too early in our lives to master it fully and completely. If I were a boy again, I would look on the cheerful side of everything; for almost everything has a cheerful side. Life is very much like a mirror ; if you smile upon it, it smiles back again upon you; but if you frown and look doubtful upon it, you will be sure to get a similar look in return. If I were a boy again, I would school myself to say " No " of tener ; I might write pages on the importance of learning early in life to gain that point when a young man can stand erect, and decline doing an unworthy thing because it is unworthy. If I were a boy again, I would demand of myself more cour- tesy toward my companions and friends. Indeed, I would rigorously exact it of myself toward strangers as well. The smallest courtesies interspersed along the rough roads of life are like the little English sparrows, which now sing to us all winter long, and make that season of ice and snow more endur- able to everybody. Instead of trying so hard as some of us do to be happy, as if that were the sole purpose of life, I would, if I were a boy again, try still harder to deserve happiness. JAMES T. FIELDS. JAMES T. FIELDS (1817-81) was an American author and also a publisher and an editor. He was from time to time a partner in several book firms in Boston ; and for eight years he edited the Atlantic Monthly. "Yesterdays with Authors " is the title of one of his books. 252 ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw, within the moonlight of 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 all of sweet accord, Answer'd, " 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 who loves his fellowmen." The angel wrote and vanish'd. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And show'd the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. LEIGH HUNT. JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT (1784-1859) was born near London, and was educated at Christ Hospital School in London. Lamb, Coleridge, Dickens, and Carlyle were among his friends. He edited magazines and papers, and wrote both prose and poetry. CHOICE LITERATURE By SHERMAN WILLIAMS, Ph.D., New York State Institute Conductor Book One, for Primary Grades $0.22 Book Two, for Primary Grades .25 Book One, for Intermediate Grades 28 Book Two, for Intermediate Grades 35 Book One, for Grammar Grades 40 Book Two, for Grammar Grades 50 ALTHOUGH these books can be used to excellent L advantage in teaching children how to read, the main purpose of the series is to teach them what to read ; to create and foster a taste for good literature. The selections are carefully made and graded. ^f The books for the primary grades include selections from the Mother Goose Melodies, nursery classics, fairy stories from Hans Christian Andersen, and the Grimm brothers, ^Esop's Fables, memory gems, children's poems by such w iters as Stevenson, Alice Cary, Tennyson, Lydia Maria Child, Cecilia Thaxter, and a few prose selections among which Ruskin's King of the Golden River is given complete. ^[ In the books for intermediate grades the reading matter is more advanced. Here are given such delightful selections as Aladdin, Pandora, The Sunken Treasure, Wonder Book, Tanglewood Tales, Rip Van Winkle, The Barefoot Boy, A Visit from St. Nicholas, Children in the Wood, The Last of the Mohicans, Tom Brown's School Days, etc. ^[ The volumes for the grammar grades are made up of the best English and American literature. Among the emi- nent writers represented are Scott, Dickens, George Eliot, Irving, Addison, Patrick Henry, Lamb, Lincoln, Webster, Bryant, Burns, Goldsmith, Tennyson, Newman, Poe, Shake- speare, Coleridge, Gray, Macaulay, Holmes, Longfellow, Lowell, Milton, Whittier, and Byron. AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY NEW SERIES OF THE NATURAL GEOGRAPHIES REDWAY AND HINMAN TWO BOOK OR FOUR BOOK. EDITION Introductory Geography . $0.60 School Geography . . . $1.25 In two parts, each . . .40 In two parts, each . . .75 IN the new series of these sterling geographies emphasis is laid on industrial, commercial, and political geography, with just enough physiography to bring out the causal relations. ^[ The text is clear, simple, interesting, and explicit. The pictures are distinguished for their aptness and perfect illus- trative character. Two sets of maps are provided, one for reference, and the other for study, the latter having corre- sponding maps drawn to the same scale. % The INTRODUCTORY GEOGRAPHY develops the subject in accordance with the child's comprehension, each lesson paving the way for the next. In the treatment of the United States the physiographic, historical, political, industrial, and commercial conditions are taken up in their respective order, the chief industries and the loc lities devoted largely to each receiving more than usual consideration. The country is regarded as being divided into five industrial sections. % In the SCHOOL GEOGRAPHY a special feature is the presentation of the basal principles of physical and general geography in simple, untechnical language, arranged in num- bered paragraphs. In subsequent pages constant reference is made to these principles, but in each case accompanied by the paragraph number. This greatly simplifies the work, and makes it possible to take up the formal study of these introductory lessons after the remainder of the book has been completed. With a view to enriching the course, numerous specific references are given to selected geographical reading. AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY no . WEBSTER'S SCHOOL DICTIONARIES Revised Editions T HESE Dictionaries have been thoroughly revised, entirely reset, and made to conform to that great stand- ard authority — Webster's International Dictionary. WEBSTER'S PRIMARY SCHOOL DICTION- ARY $0.48 Containing over 20,000 words and meanings, with over 400 illustrations. WEBSTER'S COMMON SCHOOL DICTION- ARY £0.72 Containing over 25,000 words and meanings, with over 500 illustrations. WEBSTER'S HIGH SCHOOL DICTIONARY, #0.98 Containing about 37,000 words and definitions, and an appendix giving a pronouncing vocabulary of Biblical, Classical, Mythological, Historical, and Geographical proper names, with over 800 illustrations. WEBSTER'S ACADEMIC DICTIONARY Cloth, $1.50; Indexed '#1.80 Half Calf, #2.75; Indexed 3.00 Abridged directly from the International Dictionary, and giving the orthography, pronunciations, definitions, and synonyms of about 60,000 words in common use, with an appendix containing various useful tables, with over 800 illustrations. SPECIAL EDITIONS Webster's Countinghouse Dictionary. Sheep, Indexed $ 2 -4° Webster's Handy Dictionary 15 Webster's Pocket Dictionary 57 The same. Roan, Flexible 69 The same. Roan, Tucks 78 The same. Morocco, Indexed ... .90 AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY (104) CARPENTER'S GEOGRAPHICAL READERS By FRANK G. CARPENTER North America South America Europe . . . Asia . . . . . $0.60 . .60 • -7° . .60 Africa #0.60 Australia, Our Colonies, and Other Islands of the Sea 60 THE purpose of Carpenter's Geographical Readers is to supplement the regular text-books on the subject, giving life and interest to the study. In this way they accom- plish two separate purposes — they afford valuable instruction in geography, and provide drill in reading. •[[ The books are intensely absorbing — they were written by Mr. Carpenter on the spots described, and present an accurate pen-picture of places and people. The style is simple and easy, and throughout each volume there runs a strong personal note which makes the reader feel that he is actually seeing everything with his own eyes. ^[ As advocated by leading educators, attention is directed principally to the various peoples, their strange customs and ways of living, and to some extent to their economic condi- tion. At the same time, there is included a graphic description of the curious animals, rare birds, wonderful physical features, natural resources, and great industries of each country. ^J The numerous illustrations and maps deserve special men- tion. The illustrations for the most part are reproductions of photographs taken by the author, and are in perfect harmony with the text. The maps showing the route taken over each continent are one of the best features of the series. ^[ The publication of this series has been a distinct relief to teachers. No longer is the study of geography dry and mean- ingless, no longer is it a waste of time. Since the appear- ance of the first volume, Carpenter's Readers have met with an extraordinary success throughout the country. 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