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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10811 ***
+
+_DE LA SALLE SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+FIFTH READER
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901]
+
+
+
+(REVISED EDITION, 1922)
+
+BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE,
+POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y. LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+_2_ PREFACE
+
+_3_ INTRODUCTION
+
+_4_ SUGGESTIONS
+
+_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+_6_ DEFINITIONS
+
+_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE. _Mercedes_
+
+_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. _J.T. Trowbridge_
+
+_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. _Mara L. Pratt_
+
+_10_ HELPING MOTHER.
+
+_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+_12_ TWO LABORERS. _Thomas Carlyle_
+
+_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+_14_ THE BROOK SONG. _James Whitcomb Riley_
+
+_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN. _Rydingsvard_
+
+_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. _Mary Howitt_
+
+_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+_18_ SEPTEMBER. _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." _Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+_21_ MY BEADS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. _Thomas Moore_
+
+_23_ A LITTLE LADY. _Louisa M. Alcott_
+
+_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE. _Anon._
+
+_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. _Denis A. McCarthy_
+
+_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. _Cardinal Newman_
+
+_28_ LITTLE BELL. _Thomas Westwood_
+
+_29_ A MODEST WIT. _Selleck Osborne_
+
+_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. _George P. Morris_
+
+_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. _Samuel Woodworth_
+
+_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. _Pierre J. Hetzel_
+
+_34_ OUR HEROES. _Phoebe Cary_
+
+_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_36_ THE BROOK. _Tennyson_
+
+_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+_38_ ONE BY ONE. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE. _Longfellow_
+
+_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. _J.G. Holland_
+
+_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS. _Longfellow_
+
+_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. _Eugene Field_
+
+_46_ THE HOLY CITY.
+
+_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES. _Aesop_
+
+_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM. _William Cowper_
+
+_49_ JACK FROST. _Hannah F. Gould_
+
+_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. _Eliza Cook_
+
+_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! _Tennyson_
+
+_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. _Robert Southey_
+
+_57_ KIND WORDS. _Father Faber_
+
+_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_59_ DAFFODILS. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. _Eleanor C. Donnelly_
+
+_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+
+_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS _Whittier_
+
+_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+_65_ WILL AND I _Paul H. Hayne_
+
+_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'. _Charles Dickens_
+
+_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? _Anon_
+
+_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.
+
+_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. _George MacDonald_
+
+_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+_73_ THE WATER LILY. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. _Margaret E. Sangster_
+
+_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. _William R. Wallace_
+
+_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. _John Ruskin_
+
+_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. _Clement C. Moore_
+
+_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. _Jean Blewett_
+
+_84_ BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. _Leigh Hunt_"
+and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. _James Whitcomb Riley_" were originally shown in the
+list above, neither work appears in the text.)
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_2_
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series of Readers
+is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of our Catholic
+schools a set of books embodying the matter and methods best suited to
+their needs. The matter has been written or chosen with a view to
+interest and instruct, to cultivate a taste for the best literature, to
+build up a strong moral character and to imbue our children with an
+intelligent love of Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by
+the most experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.
+
+These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit thought and
+facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of this idea, class
+talks, word study, the structure of sentences, drills on certain correct
+forms of expression, the proper arrangement of ideas, explanation of
+phrases and literary expressions, oral and written reproductions of
+narrations and descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all
+receive the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years, acquire
+that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and that fluency in
+expressing their own, which are so essential to a good English
+education.
+
+In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition, the
+principle of order should in a great measure determine the value of the
+methods to be employed. In the acquisition of knowledge, the child
+instinctively follows the order of nature. This order is first,
+_observation_; second, _thought_; third, _expression_. It becomes the
+duty of the teacher, consequently, to lead the child to observe
+_accurately_, to think _clearly_, and to express his thoughts
+_correctly_. And text-books are useful only in so far as they supply the
+teacher with the material and the system best calculated to accomplish
+such results.
+
+It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers, having
+been planned in accordance with the principle just enunciated, will
+prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic schools.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_3_
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the preceding
+numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered the mechanical
+difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired a fairly good working
+vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read intelligently and with some
+degree of fluency and pleasure. Now is the time to lead him to acquire a
+taste for good reading. The selections have been drawn mainly from
+authors whose writings are distinguished for their moral and literary
+value, and whose style is sure to excite a lasting interest.
+
+In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and forming a basis
+for oral and written composition work, these selections will raise his
+ideas of right living, will quicken his imagination, will give him his
+first knowledge of many things, stimulate his powers of observation,
+enlarge his vocabulary, and correct and refine his mode of expression. A
+wholesome reading habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily,
+pleasantly and unconsciously formed.
+
+The following are some of the features of the book:
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.--This Guide is to be referred to again and
+again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught. Instruction in the
+vowel sounds is an excellent drill in articulation, while a knowledge of
+the diacritical marks enables the pupil to master these sounds for
+himself when consulting the dictionary.
+
+VARIETY OF MATTER.--In the volume will be found the best sentiments of
+the best writers. The pupil will find fables, nature studies, tales of
+travel and adventure, brave deeds from history and fiction, stories of
+loyalty and heroism, examples of sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and
+selections that teach industry, contentment, respect for authority,
+reverence for all things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to
+faith and Country.
+
+LANGUAGE STUDY.--If reading is to hold its proper place in the class
+room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere reading of the
+text. In its truest sense, reading is far more comprehensive. The
+teacher will question the pupil on what he has read, point out to him
+the beauties of thought and language, find out what hold the reading has
+taken upon his memory, how it has aroused his imagination, assisted his
+judgment, directed his will, and contributed to his fund of general
+information. To assist in this most important work is the object aimed
+at in the matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give
+fuller powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.
+
+RECITATIONS.--There are some selections marked for recitation. The
+public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness of manner,
+beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for subsequent
+elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a single poem or
+address based upon some heroic or historic event, recited before a class
+or a school, will often do more to build up a noble character and foster
+a love of history, than a full term of instruction by question and
+answer.
+
+POETRY.--The numerous poetic selections, some of which are partly
+analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the highest and
+purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of knowledge, and
+emphasize the teachings of some of the prose selections. Many of them
+have been written by American authors. Every American boy and girl
+should be acquainted with the works of poets who have done so much for
+the development of American literature and nationality.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and poetry
+enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their memory, suggests
+delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in possession of sentences of
+the best construction. The recitation of these expressive texts
+accustoms the children to speak with ease, grace and elegance."
+("Elements of Practical Pedagogy.")
+
+BIOGRAPHIES.--Young children enjoy literature for its own sake, and take
+little interest in the personality of the writer; but as they grow
+older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an interest in the
+writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are given at the close of
+the volume as helps in the study of the authors from whom selections are
+drawn, and to induce the pupils to read further.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_4_
+
+
+
+SUGGESTIONS
+
+
+WORD STUDY.--The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce correctly
+all the words of the selection he is preparing to read. He should know
+their ordinary meanings and the special meanings they may have in the
+text. He should be able to write them correctly from dictation and to
+use them in sentences of his own. He should examine if they are
+primitive, derivative, or compound; he should be able to name the
+prefixes and suffixes and show how the meanings of the original words
+are modified by their use. He should cultivate the habit of word
+mastery. What is read will not otherwise be understood. Without it there
+can be no good reading, speaking or writing.
+
+EXPRESSIVE READING.--There should be constant drill to secure correct
+pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis, and an agreeable
+tone of voice, without which there can be no expressive reading. This is
+a difficult task, and will take much time, trouble and practice; but it
+has far-reaching results. It enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays
+the foundation for a genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the
+reading lesson drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion comes
+largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be taught not only
+to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning clear to others. It is
+important that children be taught to acquire thought through the ear.
+
+CONCERT READING.--Reading in concert is generally of little value, and
+the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the children in getting
+thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an exercise in teaching
+reading it is ineffective and often positively harmful. A concert
+recitation to which special training has been given partakes of the
+nature of a hymn or a song, and then becomes an element of value. If
+occasionally there must be concert reading in the class room, it should
+always be preceded by individual mastery of the selection.
+
+POEMS.--In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be presented
+as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should first read it
+through, not stopping for note or comment. He should then read it again,
+part by part, stopping, for question, explanation and discussion.
+Lastly, the whole poem, should be read with suitable emotion, so that
+the final impression may be made by the author's own words. It is
+important that the pupil get the message which the author intended to
+give. In teaching a descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as
+possible, and thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative
+poem, the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by bringing
+out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All this will take
+time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied, is worth more than a
+volume carelessly read over. In reading poetry, be careful that the
+pupils, while giving the rhythm of the lines, do not fall into the
+singsong tone so common and so disagreeable.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.--Explanations should accompany every reading lesson,
+without which there can be no serious teaching of the vernacular. By
+their means the teacher enters into communication with his pupils; he
+gets them to speak, he corrects their errors, trains their reason, and
+forms their taste. It has been said that a teacher able to explain
+selections in prose and poetry "holds his class in the hollow of his
+hand." The teacher should insist that the pupil express himself clearly
+and correctly, not only during the reading lesson, but on every subject
+he has occasion to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout
+the day's recitations.
+
+REVIEWS.--As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak, frequent
+reviews should be held. They are necessary for the backward pupils and
+advantageous for the others. Have an informal talk with the children on
+what they have read, what they have learned, what they have liked, and
+what has interested them. Some important parts of the prose and poetry
+previously studied might, during this exercise, be re-read with profit.
+
+COMPOSITION.--Continue oral and written composition. The correct use of
+written language is best taught by selecting for compositions
+subject-matter that deeply interests the children. If persevered in,
+this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use of English. If the words
+of a selection that has been studied appear now and then in the
+children's conversation or writing, it should be a matter for praise;
+for this means that new words have been added to their vocabulary, and
+that the children have a new conception of beauty of thought and speech.
+
+See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly or
+careless habits should never be allowed in any written work.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize the
+pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future good
+resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of thought
+will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of the children
+who learn them by heart.
+
+THE DICTIONARY.--The use of the dictionary is a necessary part of
+education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use will double
+the value of study in connection with reading and language. Every
+Grammar School, High School and College should be supplied with several
+copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and every pupil taught how to
+consult it, and encouraged to do so. The dictionary should be the book
+of first and last and constant resort.
+
+USE OF THE LIBRARY.--The teacher should endeavor to create an interest
+in those books from which the selections in the Reader are taken, and in
+others of equal grade and quality. Encourage the children to take books
+from the library. Direct them in their choice. Encourage home reading.
+The reading of good books should be a part of regular school work;
+otherwise little or no true progress can be made in speaking and
+writing. The best way to learn to speak and write good English is to
+read good English.
+
+For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching Reading and
+Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and IV, Part IV, of
+"Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the Christian Brothers, and
+published by the La Salle Bureau of Supplies, 50 Second Street, New
+York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:
+
+"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle O'Reilly, Miss
+Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Mr.
+Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T.
+Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W. Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The
+Ladies' Home Journal; Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.; The Educational
+Publishing Co.; Little, Brown & Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy
+& Sons; The Hinds & Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne, Fields,
+Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers
+of the works of these authors, and to these gentlemen are tendered
+expressions of sincere thanks.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_5_
+
+
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+
+NOTE.--This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication, Webster's
+International Dictionary has been taken as authority.
+
+
+
+
+VOWELS
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)
+
+
+
+[=a]            as in gate--g[=a]te
+
+[^a]            as in care--c[^a]re
+
+[)a]            as in cat--c[)a]t
+
+[.a]            as in ask--[.a]sk
+
+[a.]  ([)o])    as in what--wh[a.]t
+
+[:a]            as in car--c[:a]r
+
+[a:]            as in all--[a:]ll
+
+ai  ([^a])      as in air--[^a]ir
+
+ai  ([=a])      as in aim--[=a]im
+
+au  ([:a])      as in aunt--[:a]unt
+
+[=e]            as in eve--[=e]ve
+
+[)e]            as in end--[)e]nd
+
+[~e]            as in her--h[~e]r
+
+[^e]            as in there--th[^e]re
+
+[e=]  ([=a])    as in they--th[e=]y
+
+ea  ([=e])      as in ear--[=e]ar
+
+ei  ([=e])      as in receive--rec[=e]ive
+
+[=i]            as in ice--[=i]ce
+
+[)i]            as in pin--p[)i]n
+
+[~i]  ([~e])    as in bird--b[~i]rd
+
+[:i]  ([=e])    as in police--pol[:i]ce
+
+i[e=]  ([=e])   as in chief--chi[=e]f
+
+[=o]            as in old--[=o]ld
+
+[^o]            as in lord--l[^o]rd
+
+[)o]            as in not--n[)o]t
+
+[.o]  ([)u])    as in son--s[.o]n
+
+[o.]  ([u.])    as in wolf--w[o.]lf
+
+[o:]  ([=oo])   as in do--d[o:]
+
+oa  ([=o])      as in boat--b[=o]at
+
+[=oo]  ([o:])   as in moon--m[=oo]n
+
+[)oo]  ([o.])   as in foot--f[)oo]t
+
+[=u]            as in pure--p[=u]re
+
+[)u]            as in cup--c[)u]p
+
+[^u]            as in burn--b[^u]rn
+
+[u.]  ([o.])    as in full--f[u.]ll
+
+[u:]            as in rude--r[u:]de
+
+ew  ([=u])      as in new
+
+[=y]  ([=i]     as in fly--fl[=y]
+
+[)y]  ([)i])    as in hymn--h[)y]mn
+
+[~y]  ([~e])    as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh
+
+
+
+CONSONANTS
+
+
+c   (s)        as in cent
+
+c   (k)        as in cat
+
+ce  (sh)       as in ocean
+
+ch  (k)        as in school
+
+ch  (sh)       as in machine
+
+ci  (sh)       as in gracious
+
+dg  (j)        as in edge
+
+ed  (d)        as in burned
+
+ed  (t)        as in baked
+
+f   (v)        as in of
+
+g   (hard)     as in get
+
+g   (j)        as in gem
+
+gh  (f)        as in laugh
+
+n   (ng)       as in ink
+
+ph  (f)        as in sulphur
+
+qu  (kw)       as in queen
+
+s   (z)        as in has
+
+s   (sh)       as in sure
+
+s   (zh)       as in pleasure
+
+ssi (sh)       as in passion
+
+si  (zh)       as in occasion
+
+ti  (sh)       as in nation
+
+wh  (hw)       as in when
+
+x   (z)        as in Xavier
+
+x   (ks)       as in tax
+
+x   (gz)       as in exist
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_6_
+
+
+
+DEFINITIONS
+
+
+LANGUAGE is the expression of thought by means of words.
+
+WORDS, with respect to their _origin_, are divided into _primitive_
+and _derivative_; and with respect to their _composition_, into _simple_
+and _compound_.
+
+A PRIMITIVE word is one that is not derived from another word.
+
+A DERIVATIVE word is one that is formed from another word by means
+of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other change.
+
+A SIMPLE word is one that consists of a single significant term.
+
+A COMPOUND word is one made up of two or more simple words.
+
+A SENTENCE is a combination of words which make complete sense.
+
+A SYLLABLE is a word or a part of a word pronounced by one effort
+of the voice.
+
+
+The DIAERESIS is the mark [..] placed over the second of two
+adjacent vowels, to denote that they are to be pronounced as distinct
+letters; as _REËCHO_.
+
+
+
+RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS
+
+
+The first word of every SENTENCE should begin with a capital.
+
+PROPER NAMES, and words derived from them, should begin with
+capitals.
+
+The first word of every LINE OF POETRY should begin with a capital.
+
+All names of God and all titles of the DEITY, as well as all
+pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with capitals.
+
+The words I and O should always be capitals.
+
+The first word of a DIRECT QUOTATION should begin with a capital.
+
+The names of the DAYS and of the MONTHS should begin with
+capitals; but not the names of the seasons.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_7_
+
+
+
+HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+
+
+       Glorious Patron! low before thee
+         Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!
+       And our voices blend in music,
+         Singing praises to thy name.
+           Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!
+           Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.
+
+       Lover of our Queen and Mother,
+         At her feet didst vow thy heart,
+       Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,
+         Thou didst choose the better part.
+           Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,
+           Pierce our souls with love's own dart.
+
+       Model of the Christian Teacher!
+         Patron of the Christian youth!
+       Lead us all to heights of glory,
+         As we strive in earnest ruth.
+           Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide us,
+           As we spread afar the Truth!
+
+       In this life of sin and sorrow,
+         Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,
+       In the hour of dark temptation,
+         Father! be our spirit's stay!
+           Take our hand and lead us homeward,
+           Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright Day!
+
+
+_Mercedes._
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE.]
+Founder of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, pointing out the way
+of salvation to the children of all nations.
+
+"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels, moulding and
+shaping the souls of youth for heaven." _Most Reverend Archbishop
+Keane, of Dubuque._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_8_
+
+
+due
+mien
+fri'ar
+pri'or
+Pa'los
+por'ter
+con'vent
+pre'cious
+grat'i tude
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.
+
+
+       Dreary and brown the night comes down,
+         Gloomy, without a star.
+       On Palos town the night comes down;
+       The day departs with stormy frown;
+         The sad sea moans afar.
+
+       A convent gate is near; 'tis late;
+         Tin-gling! the bell they ring.
+       They ring the bell, they ask for bread--
+       "Just for my child," the father said.
+         Kind hands the bread will bring.
+
+       White was his hair, his mien was fair,
+         His look was calm and great.
+       The porter ran and called a friar;
+       The friar made haste and told the prior;
+         The prior came to the gate.
+
+       He took them in, he gave them food;
+         The traveler's dreams he heard;
+       And fast the midnight moments flew.
+       And fast the good man's wonder grew,
+         And all his heart was stirred.
+
+       The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,
+         Forgetful of all sorrow,
+       Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.
+       The good man kissed him there, and said:
+         "You leave us not to-morrow!
+
+       "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;
+         This child shall be our own--
+       A precious care, while you prepare
+       Your business with the court, and bear
+         Your message to the throne."
+
+       And so his guest he comforted.
+         O wise, good prior! to you,
+       Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,
+       And helped him on his way, what praise
+         And gratitude are due!
+
+
+_J.T. Trowbridge._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Where is Palos? What is it noted for?
+
+Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?
+
+In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the traveler?
+Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called dreams? Did the
+dreams become facts? In what way?
+
+How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
+
+How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
+
+Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many
+Catholic names?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Press on! There's no such word as fail!
+       Push nobly on! The goal is near!
+       Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!
+       Look upward, onward,--never fear!
+
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_9_
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FERN.
+
+
+A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
+it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
+leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
+graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
+breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
+out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
+curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
+
+So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
+fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
+time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
+were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
+
+Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
+the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
+lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
+
+But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,
+when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments,
+a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the
+delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect
+and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its
+own beautiful valley.
+
+And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf
+home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it;
+and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think
+out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away
+with the fern in the bit of rock.
+
+Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth
+which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that
+none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is
+sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and
+lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years,
+and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his
+other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though
+silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men
+and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely
+traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid
+others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed,
+lend a hand to each and every one around us.
+
+_Mara L. Pratt._
+
+From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent
+mark where it belongs in each:
+
+outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds,
+centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the
+words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
+
+Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to
+be truly successful in life.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The child is father of the man;
+       And I could wish my days to be
+       Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+Truth alone makes life rich and great.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+       There is a tongue in every leaf--
+         A voice in every rill--
+       A voice that speaketh everywhere--
+       In flood and fire, through earth and air,
+         A tongue that's never still.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_10_
+
+
+blithe
+whistler
+mellow
+replied
+cheery
+skylark
+
+
+
+HELPING MOTHER.
+
+
+       As I went down the street to-day,
+         I saw a little lad
+       Whose face was just the kind of face
+         To make a person glad.
+       It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
+         So cheerful and so bright,
+       It made me think of apple-time.
+         And filled me with delight.
+
+       I saw him busy at his work,
+         While blithe as skylark's song
+       His merry, mellow whistle rang
+         The pleasant street along.
+       "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
+         I thought as I passed by;
+       "These busy, cheery, whistling boys
+         Make grand men by and by."
+
+       Just then a playmate came along,
+         And leaned across the gate--
+       A plan that promised lots of fun
+         And frolic to relate.
+       "The boys are waiting for us now,
+         So hurry up!" he cried;
+       My little whistler shook his head,
+         And "Can't come," he replied.
+
+       "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
+         What hinders?" asked the other.
+       "Why, don't you see," came the reply,
+         "I'm busy helping mother?
+       She's lots to do, and so I like
+         To help her all I can;
+       So I've no time for fun just now,"
+         Said this dear little man.
+
+       "I like to hear you talk like that,"
+         I told the little lad;
+       "Help mother all you can, and make
+         Her kind heart light and glad."
+       It does me good to think of him,
+         And know that there are others
+       Who, like this manly little boy,
+         Take hold and help their mothers.
+
+
+
+LANGUAGE WORK:
+
+
+Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like
+him?
+
+Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
+
+When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What
+kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_11_
+
+
+rid' dle
+brand'-new
+mys' ter y
+un rav' el
+like' ness es
+
+
+
+A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+
+Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took
+a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily
+singing his song.
+
+"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which
+you are working so hard belong to you?"
+
+"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am
+not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
+
+"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
+
+"Two dollars," said the laborer.
+
+"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
+
+"Yes; and have something left."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are
+for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and
+fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
+
+"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
+
+"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old
+parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now,
+that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards
+which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I
+spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This
+will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I
+maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
+
+The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man.
+Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me
+before?"
+
+"Never," said the laborer.
+
+"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in
+your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
+
+"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
+
+"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into
+his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand,
+stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who
+knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our
+Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The working men, whatever their task,
+         Who carve the stone, or bear the hod,
+       They wear upon their honest brows
+         The royal stamp and seal of God;
+       And worthier are their drops of sweat
+         Than diamonds in a coronet.
+
+       Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
+         Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
+       Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
+         Or plants a tree, is more than all.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+[Illustration: LABOR _Millet_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_12_
+
+
+con' script
+in dis pen' sa ble
+im' ple ment
+in de fea' si bly
+
+
+
+TWO LABORERS.
+
+
+Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
+earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
+man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
+notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
+scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
+tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
+man living manlike.
+
+Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
+pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
+so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
+wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
+so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
+indispensable,--for daily bread.
+
+A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
+the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
+Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
+revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
+they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
+endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
+only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
+heaven for us!
+
+If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
+glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
+freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
+else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
+
+Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
+and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
+toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
+than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
+thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
+depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
+break through.
+
+_Bacon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_13_
+
+
+gust
+thief
+mop' ing
+awk' ward
+pet' tish ly
+in dig' nant
+un bear' a ble
+med' dle some
+en light' ened
+in quis' i tive
+
+
+
+THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
+the top of the garden wall.
+
+"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
+is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
+hang _her_."
+
+"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.
+
+"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
+death of me?"
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
+I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
+
+"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
+and I might be managed much more easily."
+
+"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a
+pain in my side!"
+
+"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
+
+"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:--oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks
+she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is
+quite unbearable!"
+
+Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the
+first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular
+cause this morning?"
+
+"She chose to be very angry because I--I offended her," said the cat.
+
+"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
+
+"Oh, nothing worth telling,--a mere mistake of mine."
+
+Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was
+compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
+
+"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
+
+"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
+knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it,
+and it was rather nice, and--"
+
+"You finished it," hinted Growler.
+
+"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't
+come in. As it was, I left the head."
+
+"The head of what?" said Growler.
+
+"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
+
+"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
+
+"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
+
+"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the
+whole story, I only wonder she did _not_ hang you."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
+
+Mary -- here, and Susan and Agnes -- coming. They -- delayed on the road.
+Mother -- to come with them, but she and father -- obliged to wait till
+to-morrow.
+
+Puss said to Growler, "I -- not -- a drop of milk to-day, and -- not -- any
+yesterday."
+
+I -- my work well now. Yesterday I -- it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
+-- it perfectly.
+
+The boys -- their best, though they -- the game.
+
+John--now the boys he -- last week. He -- not -- them before.
+
+
+NOTE.--Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this
+selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils
+simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly
+natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or
+act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_14_
+
+
+scared
+swerve
+gur' gle
+rip' ples
+cur' rent
+mum' bling ly
+
+
+
+THE BROOK SONG.
+
+
+       Little brook! Little brook!
+       You have such a happy look--
+       Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook--
+       And your ripples, one and one,
+       Reach each other's hands and run
+       Like laughing little children in the sun!
+
+       Little brook, sing to me;
+       Sing about the bumblebee
+       That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
+       Because he wet the film
+       Of his wings, and had to swim,
+       While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
+
+       Little brook--sing a song
+       Of a leaf that sailed along
+       Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
+       And a dragon fly that lit
+       On the tilting rim of it,
+       And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
+
+       And sing--how oft in glee
+       Came a truant boy like me,
+       Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
+       Till the gurgle and refrain
+       Of your music in his brain
+       Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
+
+       Little brook--laugh and leap!
+       Do not let the dreamer weep:
+       Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
+       And then sing soft and low
+       Through his dreams of long ago--
+       Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
+
+
+_James Whitcomb Riley_.
+
+From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: BY THE BROOK]
+
+
+RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight
+covering.
+
+CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to _air,
+electricity_, etc.
+
+What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody,
+softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
+
+What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
+
+Insert _may_ or _can_ properly where you see a dash in the
+following: The boy said, "--I leave the room?" "Mother, I--climb the
+ladder;--I?"--a dog climb a tree?--I ask a favor?
+
+Copy the following words--they are often misspelled: loving, using,
+till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success,
+barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four,
+enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
+
+By means of the suffixes, _er, est, ness_, form three new words
+from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy,
+steady, lovely, gloomy.
+
+Example: From happy,--happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of
+_y_ to _i_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_15_
+
+
+rag'ged
+crin'kly
+rub'bish
+fil'tered
+protect'ed
+disor'derly
+disturbed'
+imme'diately
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+
+High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on
+the autumn wind's strong arms.
+
+"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down
+on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away
+immediately, because he had much to look after.
+
+That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was
+placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
+
+Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near
+being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
+
+It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the
+downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell,
+and filled the little pit it had made.
+
+The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay
+quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came,
+and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
+
+There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant
+could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near
+it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep
+into the cottage either.
+
+"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
+
+"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the
+smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
+
+And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it
+was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and
+told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
+tongue.
+
+Now there came a pair of ragged children, running--the smith's boy and
+girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after
+they were gone.
+
+"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall
+pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
+
+"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see
+what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know,
+when it grows bigger."
+
+And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up
+the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
+the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to
+make the place look better.
+
+"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you
+cannot think how in the way folks are!"
+
+"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very
+orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place
+she was so disturbed.
+
+But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned
+earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was
+several inches high.
+
+"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is
+getting!"
+
+"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant!
+Come and see it!" begged the girl.
+
+The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough
+bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
+
+The smith nodded to the children.
+
+"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an
+instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the
+little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+
+pet' als
+in' mates
+scrubbed
+fra' grant
+
+
+
+The children ran into the house.
+
+"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
+window!"
+
+The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
+that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
+
+"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
+the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
+
+"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
+dirty it is out in the yard!"
+
+Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
+cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
+the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
+
+"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
+so untidy here."
+
+She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
+she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
+smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
+every spot was white.
+
+It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
+the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
+strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
+ever before, he thought.
+
+"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
+greeting had been heard in here.
+
+"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
+for many years.
+
+The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
+children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
+mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
+
+A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
+stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
+
+In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
+see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
+yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
+
+She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
+through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
+they both smiled.
+
+"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
+
+Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
+was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
+there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
+the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
+
+The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
+flowers.
+
+"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
+
+The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
+carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
+fingers.
+
+Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
+over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
+sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
+head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
+sounded.
+
+In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
+more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
+much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
+
+But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
+but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
+flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
+blossom.
+
+"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
+husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
+at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
+children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
+for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
+
+When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
+flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
+waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
+lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
+
+
+From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvärd.
+
+Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
+Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
+plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
+would grow.
+
+_Abraham Lincoln._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_16_
+
+
+lux'u ry
+med'i cine
+a bun'dant
+wil'der ness
+
+
+
+THE USE OF FLOWERS.
+
+
+       God might have bade the earth bring forth
+         Enough for great and small,
+       The oak tree, and the cedar tree,
+         Without a flower at all.
+
+       He might have made enough, enough,
+         For every want of ours;
+       For luxury, medicine, and toil,
+         And yet have made no flowers.
+
+       The ore within the mountain mine
+         Requireth none to grow,
+       Nor doth it need the lotus flower
+         To make the river flow.
+
+       The clouds might give abundant rain,
+         The nightly dews might fall,
+       And the herb that keepeth life in man
+         Might yet have drunk them all.
+
+       Then wherefore, wherefore were they made
+         All dyed with rainbow light,
+       All fashioned with supremest grace,
+         Upspringing day and night--
+
+       Springing in valleys green and low,
+         And on the mountains high,
+       And in the silent wilderness,
+         Where no man passeth by?
+
+       Our outward life requires them not,
+         Then wherefore had they birth?
+       To minister delight to man,
+         To beautify the earth;
+
+       To whisper hope--to comfort man
+         Whene'er his faith is dim;
+       For whoso careth for the flowers
+         Will care much more for Him!
+
+
+_Mary Howitt._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf, copy,
+foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.
+
+Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following stanza:
+
+
+       In the country on every side
+         Where far and wide
+       Like a leopard's tawny hide
+         Stretches the plain
+       To the dry grass and drier grain
+       How welcome is the rain.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+         The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
+       Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+         And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+
+_Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_17_
+
+
+deigned
+in' va lid
+lone' li ness
+smoothed
+med'i cine
+be wil'dered
+gen' ius
+riv' et ed
+soul-sub du' ing
+
+
+
+PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+
+In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London, little Pierre,
+a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother.
+There was no bread in the house; and he had not tasted food all day. Yet
+he sat humming to keep up his spirits.
+
+Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could
+scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be
+so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good sweet orange; and yet he
+had not a penny in the world.
+
+The little song he was singing was his own,--one he had composed, both
+air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and,
+looking out, saw a man putting up a great poster with yellow letters,
+announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public.
+
+"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a
+moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a new hope. Running
+to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from a
+little box an old, stained paper, he gave one eager glance at his
+mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I
+am already worn out with company."
+
+"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says that if he
+can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep
+you a moment."
+
+"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I
+can never refuse children."
+
+Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand a little
+roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he walked straight
+up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come to see you, because my
+mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I
+thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little song at one of
+your grand concerts, some publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and
+so I could get food and medicine for my mother."
+
+The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately she
+was;--she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the
+air.
+
+"Did you compose it?" she asked,--"you, a child! And the words?--Would
+you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of
+thought.
+
+"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but I
+couldn't leave my mother."
+
+"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and
+here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here
+is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a
+seat near me."
+
+Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a
+little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid,
+telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt
+that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the
+glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling
+of silks, completely bewildered him. At last _she_ came; and the
+child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand
+lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship,
+would really sing his little song?
+
+Breathless he waited:--the band, the whole band, struck up a little
+plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how
+she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a
+bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the
+touching words of that little song.
+
+Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for
+money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and
+thousands had wept at his grief.
+
+The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid
+her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said:
+"Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this
+morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little
+song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."
+
+The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for
+Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the
+tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple
+prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice
+their affliction.
+
+The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and
+she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by
+her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his
+affection, was the little Pierre of former days,--now rich,
+accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.
+
+All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
+bounty to the widow and the fatherless!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIERRE (pe [^a]r'), Peter.
+
+MALIBRAN, a French singer and actress. She died in 1836, when only 28
+years old.
+
+What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?
+
+BREATHLESS = _breath_+_less_, without breath, out of breath;
+holding the breath on account of great interest.
+
+BREATHLESSLY, in a breathless manner. Use _breath, breathless,
+breathlessly,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming together in
+the following words and phrases:
+
+humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows; eyes
+sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.
+
+_St. Francis of Assisi._
+
+
+
+       Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
+         'Tis only noble to be good.
+       Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_18_
+
+
+
+SEPTEMBER.
+
+
+       The golden-rod is yellow;
+         The corn is turning brown;
+       The trees in apple orchards
+         With fruit are bending down.
+
+       The gentian's bluest fringes
+         Are curling in the sun;
+       In dusty pods the milkweed
+         Its hidden silk has spun.
+
+       The sedges flaunt their harvest
+         In every meadow nook;
+       And asters by the brookside
+         Make asters in the brook.
+
+       From dewy lanes at morning
+         The grapes' sweet odors rise;
+       At noon the roads all flutter
+         With yellow butterflies.
+
+       By all these lovely tokens
+         September days are here,
+       With summer's best of weather,
+         And autumn's best of cheer.
+
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+
+[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.]
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
+
+Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of cheer;
+sedges flaunt their harvest.
+
+How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?
+
+Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in the poem.
+Can you name any others?
+
+Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?
+
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_19_
+
+
+tat'ter
+wreathed
+Ken tuck' y
+de scend'ed
+re cess'
+home' stead
+en rap' tured
+Penn syl va' ni a
+
+
+
+"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."
+
+
+"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster, a resident
+of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a visit to his
+relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of Bardstown, Ky. One
+beautiful morning while the slaves were at work in the cornfield and the
+sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, first giving
+it a light red, then changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon
+a bench in front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and
+a sister.
+
+High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its sweet
+notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the thrush's mellow
+song could be heard. A number of small negro children were playing not
+far away. When Foster had finished the first verse of the song his
+sister took it from his hand and sang in a sweet, mellow voice:
+
+
+
+       The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;
+         'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
+       The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,
+         While the birds make music all the day.
+
+       The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
+         All merry, all happy, all bright;
+       By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+
+On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to a lower
+branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side and appeared to
+be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice of the young singer.
+When the last note died away upon the air, her fond brother sang in deep
+bass voice:
+
+
+       Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         Well sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+       A few more days for to tote the weary load,
+         No matter, 'twill never be light;
+       A few more days till we totter on the road--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little tots had
+placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees, while the old
+black women were peeping around the corner of the house. The faithful
+old house dog never took his eyes off the young singers. Everything was
+still; not even the stirring of the leaves seemed to break the wonderful
+silence.
+
+Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes, and sang
+in sweet accents:
+
+
+       They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon
+         On the meadow, the hill and the shore;
+       They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
+         On the bench by the old cabin door.
+
+       The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
+         With sorrow where all was delight:
+       The time has come when the darkies have to part--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+       The head must bow and the back will have to bend
+         Wherever the darkies may go;
+       A few more days and the trouble all will end
+         In the fields where the sugar cane grow.
+
+       Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+
+As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's cheeks; the
+children crept from their hiding place behind the trees, their faces
+wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their home in
+the thicket, while the old house dog still lay basking in the sun.
+
+
+_Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+
+Louisville _Courier-Journal._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_20_
+
+
+stew' ard
+se'quel
+Gal'i lee
+ab lu' tions
+in ter ces' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+
+In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us in his
+gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the Mother of
+Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the marriage." Mary was
+invited to be one of the honored guests because she was, no doubt, an
+intimate friend of the family. She preceded her Son to the wedding in
+order to lend her aid in the necessary preparations.
+
+Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He went as
+freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went pityingly to so
+many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary with his long fast and
+struggle in the desert, He was pleased to attend this merry wedding
+feast, and by this loving and kindly act to sanctify the bond of
+Marriage, which was to become in His Church one of the seven Sacraments.
+
+The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that greatly
+disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not calculated
+rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many guests.
+
+Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the confusion of
+the servants when they discovered that the wine vessels had become
+empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered, "They have no wine." "My
+hour is not yet come," He answered her, meaning that His time for
+working miracles had not yet arrived. He knew on the instant what the
+gentle heart of His Mother desired. His words sounded like a refusal of
+the request which Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue;
+but the sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.
+
+She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do
+ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close at hand six
+great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the custom in the
+East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh. These vessels
+"containing two or three measures apiece," were kept in readiness for
+the guests, who were required not only to wash their feet before
+touching the linen and drapery of the couches, but even during the meal
+frequently to purify their hands. Already there had been many of these
+ablutions performed, and the urns were being rapidly emptied.
+
+"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the servants.
+
+They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.
+
+"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the feast."
+
+And they carried it.
+
+When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not
+whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him: "Every man at
+first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that
+which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
+
+The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to give an
+agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table; but the
+latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a wondrous deed
+had been accomplished--that water had been changed into wine!
+
+Jesus had performed His first Miracle.
+
+From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we learn that
+Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God, whose
+intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a loving and
+motherly care over the smallest of our life's concerns.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FEAST _Veronese_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PRECEDED, went before in order of time. The prefix _pre_- means
+_before_. Tell what the following words mean:
+
+prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine, precaution,
+precursor, prefigure, prearrange.
+
+Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
+
+_Richard Crashaw._
+
+But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the
+Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His Name.
+
+
+_Gospel of St. John._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_21_
+
+
+dec' ades (dek' ads)
+di' a dem
+
+
+
+MY BEADS.
+
+
+       Sweet blessèd beads! I would not part
+           With one of you for richest gem
+           That gleams in kingly diadem:
+       Ye know the history of my heart.
+
+       For I have told you every grief
+           In all the days of twenty years,
+           And I have moistened you with tears,
+       And in your decades found relief.
+
+       Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,
+         And joys have died; but in my needs
+         Ye were my friends, my blessed beads!
+       And ye consoled me when I wailed.
+
+       For many and many a time, in grief,
+         My weary fingers wandered round
+         Thy circled chain, and always found
+       In some Hail Mary sweet relief.
+
+       How many a story you might tell
+         Of inner life, to all unknown;
+         I trusted you and you alone,
+       But ah! ye keep my secrets well.
+
+       Ye are the only chain I wear--
+         A sign that I am but the slave,
+         In life, in death, beyond the grave,
+       Of Jesus and His Mother fair.
+
+
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+From the following words make new words by means of the suffix -_ous_:
+joy, grace, grief, glory, desire, virtue, beauty, courage, disaster,
+harmony.
+
+(Consult the dictionary.)
+
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+
+       Mary,--our comfort and our hope,--
+         O, may that name be given
+       To be the last we sigh on earth,--
+         The first we breathe in heaven.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_22_
+
+
+
+THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+
+
+       The harp that once through Tara's halls
+         The soul of music shed,
+       Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
+         As if that soul were fled.
+       So sleeps the pride of former days,
+         So glory's thrill is o'er,
+       And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
+         Now feel that pulse no more.
+
+       No more to chiefs and ladies bright
+         The harp of Tara swells;
+       The chord alone that breaks at night
+         Its tale of ruin tells.
+       Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
+         The only throb she gives
+       Is when some heart indignant breaks,
+         To show that still She lives.
+
+
+_Thomas Moore._
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM MOORE]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_23_
+
+
+ma'am
+dis suade'
+re spect'a ble
+shuf' fled
+dan' ger ous
+grate' ful
+wist' ful ly
+mit' tens
+outstretched'
+res' cue
+un daunt' ed
+an' ti qua ted
+
+
+
+A LITTLE LADY.[001]
+
+
+Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice,
+I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She
+was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black,
+wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.
+
+Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are
+better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the
+faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old
+ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently
+waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and
+forgotten them.
+
+Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet
+in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry,
+that I might offer my help.
+
+At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to
+another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our
+coasting, unless we hurry."
+
+"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so
+bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a
+sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.
+
+"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking
+with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but
+had not the courage to try it.
+
+"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to
+do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her
+overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over
+the dangerous sheet of ice before her.
+
+"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little
+voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.
+
+"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get
+home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was
+worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.
+
+"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you
+might fall," said the child, offering her arm.
+
+"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've been having
+a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and I slip at every
+step."
+
+"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and can't tumble."
+
+So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the other girls
+to look after them and wish that we had done the little act of kindness,
+which now looked so lovely in another.
+
+"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child to the
+other.
+
+"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do lose some
+coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade her playmate from
+going to the rescue.
+
+Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day in real
+politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully supporting the
+old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big bag, the old socks, and
+the queer bonnet, both their faces lighted up with new respect and
+affection for their playmate.
+
+_Louisa M. Alcott._
+
+From "Little Women." Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DISSUADE, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by reasons
+given.
+
+ANTIQUATED, grown old; old-fashioned.
+
+Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands for.
+
+
+Use _their_ or _there_ properly in place of the blanks in
+the following sentences: The girls were on -- way
+to the Park. -- was an old lady at the crossing.
+Our home is --. Katy and Mary said --
+mother lived --.
+
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Count that day lost
+         Whose low descending sun,
+       Views from thy hands
+         No worthy action done.
+
+
+_Author unknown._
+
+
+
+What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+[Footnote 001: Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_24_
+
+
+
+WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Some love the glow of outward show,
+         Some love mere wealth and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+       What's all the gold that glitters cold,
+         When linked to hard or haughty feeling?
+       Whate'er we're told, the noble gold
+         Is truth of heart and manly dealing.
+
+       A lowly roof may give us proof
+         That lowly flowers are often fairest;
+       And trees whose bark is hard and dark
+         May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest.
+
+       There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor
+         As e'er adorned a loftier station;
+       And minds as just as those, we trust,
+         Whose claim is but of wealth's creation.
+
+       Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,
+         Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+What is meant by "haughty feeling"?
+
+What does the author say "the noble gold" is?
+
+Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word? Why?
+
+Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.
+
+Use _to, too, two,_ properly before each of the following words:
+
+hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.
+
+What virtues does the poem recommend?
+
+What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?
+
+What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?
+
+
+       The bird that sings on highest wing,
+         Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
+       And she that doth most sweetly sing,
+         Sings in the shade when all things rest.
+
+
+_Montgomery_.
+
+
+Name the two birds referred to.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_25_
+
+
+sears
+flecked
+de signed'
+strait'ened
+il lu'mined
+
+
+
+A SONG OF DUTY.
+
+
+       Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;
+         Life is flecked with shine and shower;
+       Now the tear of grieving flows,
+         Now we smile in happy hour;
+       Death awaits us, every one--
+         Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer--
+       Let us then, ere life be done,
+         Make the world a little brighter!
+
+       Burdens that our neighbors bear,
+         Easier let us try to make them;
+       Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,
+         Let us do our best to break them.
+       From the straitened hand and mind,
+         Let us loose the binding fetter,
+       Let us, as the Lord designed,
+         Make the world a little better!
+
+       Selfish brooding sears the soul,
+         Fills the mind with clouds of sorrow,
+       Darkens all the shining goal
+         Of the sun-illumined morrow;
+       Wherefore should our lives be spent
+         Daily growing blind and blinder--
+       Let us, as the Master meant,
+         Make the world a little kinder!
+
+
+_Denis A. McCarthy._
+
+From "Voices from Erin."
+
+Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_26_
+
+
+Sod' om
+spright' ly
+the o lo' gi an
+his' to ry
+To bi' as
+cre at' ed
+pro ceed' ed
+sep' a ra ted
+min' is ter
+Au gus' tine
+crit' i cise
+cat' e ehism
+de ter' mined
+As cen' sion
+Res ur rec' tion
+
+
+
+AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+
+"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to tell Maggie
+all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at school."
+
+"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at all to make
+Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."
+
+"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could find out
+_when_ the angels were created. Neither could our teacher tell me. And
+I'm told St. Augustine could only make a guess when they were created.
+
+"He thought the angels were created when God separated the light from
+the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure there are angels;
+that's the chief point."
+
+"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.
+
+"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I would
+know he must have a father and a mother, although I had never heard when
+he was born."
+
+"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.
+
+"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and they must
+have been created some time. Let me tell you some of the places where it
+is said in the Bible that angels have been seen, and where they spoke,
+too."
+
+"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if _she_ can find out
+some of those places herself. Here is the Bible."
+
+With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the history of Adam
+and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with a flaming sword was
+placed at the gate of Paradise.
+
+"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very sad."
+
+"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and beheld his
+young theologians with the holy Book before them. "They felt very sorry,
+indeed, but they were consoled when told that a Savior would come to
+redeem them."
+
+"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke about the
+angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the highest."
+
+"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was tempted,"
+proceeded the father.
+
+"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed James.
+
+"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip up her big
+brother, "but he is a bad one."
+
+"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His forty days'
+fast," insisted James.
+
+"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one _bad angel_
+tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister unto Him."
+
+"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry over some
+other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James, and give only
+the place and person in each case."
+
+"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who went to
+Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to steal money from
+the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a long journey."
+
+"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an _Archangel?_" inquired Maggie,
+still determined to surpass her brother.
+
+"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be Maggie's
+turn soon."
+
+"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels at the
+Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His Ascension."
+
+Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have till next
+Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all mine."
+
+"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "_your _angel is always with
+you, and James has his, too."
+
+"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the church,"
+said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse my coming in
+without knocking. They're in a great hurry."
+
+"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next Sunday. May
+your angels watch over you in the meantime."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ARCHANGEL ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.
+
+ARCHBISHOP ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.
+
+ARCH, as a prefix, means _chief_, and in nearly every case
+the _ch_ is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel, architect, and in
+one or two other words, the _ch = k._
+
+ARCH, as a suffix, is pronounced _[:a]rk_, and means _ruler;
+_ as monarch, a _sole ruler;_ one who _rules alone._
+
+Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are contractions. Write
+after each what it is a contraction of.
+
+EARTHWARD = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). _ward_ is here a suffix
+meaning _course, direction to, motion towards._ Add this SUFFIX
+to the end of each of the following words, and tell the meaning of
+each new word formed:
+
+up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.
+
+WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+                            The generous heart
+       Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_27_
+
+
+ebb' ing
+spon' sor
+judg' ments
+el' e ments
+tu' te lage
+
+
+
+MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+       My oldest friend, mine from the hour
+         When first I drew my breath;
+       My faithful friend, that shall be mine,
+         Unfailing, till my death.
+
+       Thou hast been ever at my side;
+         My Maker to thy trust
+       Consign'd my soul, what time He framed
+         The infant child of dust.
+
+       No beating heart in holy prayer,
+         No faith, inform'd aright,
+       Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,
+         Or Michael's conquering might.
+
+       Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,--
+         The dearest and the best,--
+       Has known my being as thou hast known,
+         And blest as thou hast blest.
+
+       Thou wast my sponsor at the font;
+         And thou, each budding year,
+       Didst whisper elements of truth
+         Into my childish ear.
+
+       And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,
+         My rebel spirit fell,
+       Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,
+         Yet bear each deed of Hell.
+
+       And then in turn, when judgments came.
+         And scared me back again,
+       Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe
+         And hallow every pain.
+
+       Oh! who of all thy toils and cares
+         Can tell the tale complete,
+       To place me under Mary's smile,
+         And Peter's royal feet!
+
+       And thou wilt hang above my bed,
+         When life is ebbing low;
+       Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,
+         The jealous, sleepless foe.
+
+       Mine, when I stand before my Judge;
+         And mine, if spared to stay
+       Within the golden furnace till
+         My sin is burn'd away.
+
+       And mine, O Brother of my soul,
+         When my release shall come;
+       Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,
+         Thy wings shall waft me home.
+
+
+_Cardinal Newman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: THE GUARDIAN ANGEL]
+
+
+Explain the following expressions:
+
+Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font;
+each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe
+the picture.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_28_
+
+
+quoth
+crooned
+frisked
+beech'-wood
+twain
+se'rene
+frol'icked
+wan'dering
+
+
+
+LITTLE BELL.
+
+
+       Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:
+       "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,
+           What's your name?" quoth he,--
+       "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,
+       Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"
+           "Little Bell," said she.
+
+       Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,
+       Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.
+           "Bonny bird," quoth she,
+       "Sing me your best song before I go,"
+       "Here's the very finest song I know,
+           Little Bell," said he.
+
+       And the blackbird piped: you never heard
+       Half so gay a song from any bird,--
+           Full of quips and wiles,
+       Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,
+       All for love of that sweet face below,
+           Dimpled o'er with smiles.
+
+       And the while the bonny bird did pour
+       His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine forth in happy overflow
+           From the blue, bright eyes.
+
+       Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade
+       Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,
+           And from out the tree
+       Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,
+       While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:
+           "Little Bell!" piped he.
+
+       Little Bell sat down amid the fern:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;
+           Bring me nuts," quoth she.
+       Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,--
+       Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,--
+           And adown the tree
+       Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
+       In the little lap dropped, one by one.
+       Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!
+           "Happy Bell!" pipes he.
+
+       Little Bell looked up and down the glade:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,
+           Come and share with me!"
+       Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,
+       Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!
+       Little Bell gave each his honest share;
+           Ah! the merry three!
+
+       And the while these woodland playmates twain
+       Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine out in happy overflow
+           From her blue, bright eyes.
+
+       By her snow-white cot at close of day
+       Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:
+           Very calm and clear
+       Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,
+       In blue heaven, an angel shape serene
+           Paused awhile to hear.
+
+       "What good child is this," the angel said,
+       "That, with happy heart, beside her bed
+           Prays so lovingly?"
+       Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,
+       Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,
+           "Bell, _dear_ Bell!" crooned he.
+
+       "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair
+       Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;
+           Child, thy bed shall be
+       Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,
+       Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,
+           Little Bell, for thee."
+
+
+_Thomas Westwood_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL
+
+croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.
+
+croon, to sing in a low tone.
+
+quips, quick, smart turns.
+
+piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or flute.
+
+In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose _Little
+Bell?_ Why are these marks used here?
+
+Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used. Tell what it
+denotes in each case.
+
+Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?
+
+In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid, slowly
+wandering" his way? Who is she?
+
+Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the blackbird to do?
+
+Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the bird sing
+so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the little childish
+heart below?"
+
+Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to do? Read
+the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What invitation did the
+squirrel receive from Little Bell?
+
+Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what you see
+there.
+
+Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.
+
+Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last stanza. What
+is their meaning?
+
+What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did he make
+such beautiful promises?
+
+Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem mean: quoth
+he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls of gold; bonny
+bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden woodlights; adown the tree;
+playmates twain; with folded palms; an angel shape; with angels' care;
+the bird did pour his full heart out freely; the sweetness did shine
+forth in happy overflow.
+
+Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the thought
+it contains.
+
+Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.
+
+What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this poem?
+
+Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,--
+
+       "He prayeth best who loveth best,
+       All things both great and small,"--
+
+is illustrated in the story of Little Bell.
+
+
+
+Write a composition on the story from the following hints: Where did
+Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what time of day? How old
+was she? How did she look? What companions did she meet? What did the
+three friends do? How did the little girl close the day?
+
+In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem as you
+can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       Prayer is the dew of faith,
+         Its raindrop, night and day,
+       That guards its vital power from death
+         When cherished hopes decay,
+       And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
+       A bright, perennial evergreen.
+
+       Good works, of faith the fruit,
+         Should ripen year by year,
+       Of health and soundness at the root
+         And evidence sincere.
+       Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
+       And make our faith no barren tree.
+
+
+_Lydia H. Sigourney._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_29_
+
+
+na'bob
+ap plaud'ed
+un as sum'ing
+sad' dler
+dif' fi dence
+sec' re ta ry
+ob scured'
+live' li hood
+su per cil' i ous
+
+
+
+A MODEST WIT.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       A supercilious nabob of the East--
+         Haughty,  being great--purse-proud,  being rich--
+       A governor, or general, at the least,
+         I have forgotten which--
+       Had in his family a humble youth,
+         Who went from England in his patron's suit,
+       An unassuming boy, in truth
+         A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
+
+       This youth had sense and spirit;
+         But yet with all his sense,
+         Excessive diffidence
+       Obscured his merit.
+
+       One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,
+         His honor, proudly free, severely merry,
+       Conceived it would be vastly fine
+         To crack a joke upon his secretary.
+
+       "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,
+         Did your good father gain a livelihood?"--
+       "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,
+         "And in his line was reckoned good."
+
+       "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,
+         Instead of teaching you to sew!
+       Pray, why did not your father make
+         A saddler, sir, of you?"
+
+       Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,
+       The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
+         At length, Modestus, bowing low,
+       Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),
+         "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
+       _Your_ father's trade!"
+
+       "_My_ father's _trade?_ Heavens! that's too bad!
+       My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?
+       My father, sir, did never stoop so low.
+       He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."
+
+       "Excuse the liberty I take,"
+         Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
+       "Pray, why did not your father make
+         A gentleman of you?"
+
+
+_Selleck Osborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+fain, gladly.
+
+archness, sly humor free from malice.
+
+suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of distinction;
+often written _suite_ (_sw[=e]t_).
+
+Write the plural forms of _boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary._
+
+Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
+
+He was an _unassuming_ boy, of decent _parts_ and good
+_repute_. His _diffidence obscured_ his merit.
+_Excuse_ the _liberty_ I take.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The rank is but the guinea's stamp,--
+       The man's the gold for a' that!
+
+
+_Burns._
+
+
+One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.
+
+_Goethe_ (_g[^u]' t[=e]_).
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_30_
+
+
+
+WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.[002]
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Woodman, spare that tree!
+         Touch not a single bough!
+       In youth it sheltered me,
+         And I'll protect it now.
+       'Twas my forefather's hand
+         That placed it near his cot;
+       There, woodman, let it stand,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not!
+
+       That old familiar tree,
+         Whose glory and renown
+       Are spread o'er land and sea--
+         And wouldst thou hew it down?
+       Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
+         Cut not its earth-bound ties;
+       Oh! spare that aged oak,
+         Now towering to the skies.
+
+       When but an idle boy,
+         I sought its grateful shade;
+       In all their gushing joy
+         Here, too, my sisters played.
+       My mother kissed me here;
+         My father pressed my hand;--
+       Forgive this foolish tear,
+         But let that old oak stand.
+
+       My heartstrings round thee cling,
+         Close as thy bark, old friend!
+       Here shall the wild bird sing,
+         And still thy branches bend.
+       Old tree! the storm still brave!
+         And, Woodman, leave the spot!
+       While I've a hand to save,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not.
+
+
+_George P. Morris,_
+
+
+[Footnote 002: NOTE.--Many trees in our country are landmarks, and are
+valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant trees and
+dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at Cambridge, Mass.,
+and it was under the shade of this venerable Elm that George Washington
+took command of the Continental army, July 3rd, 1775.
+
+There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs whole
+families of children passed much of their childhood. When one of these
+falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some honored citizen.
+
+Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of the
+truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited without
+being deeply moved.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_31_
+
+
+car' goes
+em bar' go
+im mor' tal ized
+prin' ci ple
+col' o nists
+rep re sen ta' tion
+de ri' sion
+pa' tri ot ism
+Phil a del' phi a
+
+
+
+THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+
+Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George III, King of
+England, claimed the right to tax the people of this country, though he
+did not permit them to take any part in framing the laws under which
+they lived.
+
+He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that they could
+not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were fighting for a
+principle,--that of no taxation without representation, and would not
+buy the tea. In New York and Philadelphia the people would not allow the
+vessels to land their cargoes.
+
+The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared they
+would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The ladies had a
+hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea, but they stood out
+nobly.
+
+Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of December 16,
+1773, a party of young Americans, painted and dressed like Indians,
+boarded the three vessels lying in the harbor, opened the chests, and
+emptied all the tea into the water. They then slipped away to their
+homes, and were never found out by the British. One of the leaders of
+these daring young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has
+been immortalized by Longfellow.
+
+When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the ocean, the
+anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong force of soldiers to
+Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This act only increased the spirit
+of patriotism that burned in the breasts of all Americans.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the origin of
+the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses, which our American
+boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and sing:
+
+
+
+       Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,
+       And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;
+       That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;
+       "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters."
+       Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee,
+       And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle"--these are facts--"Yankee doodle dandy;"
+       My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"
+
+       John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated;
+       But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.
+       Then Jonathan to pout began--he laid a strong embargo--
+       "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the cargo.
+       Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,
+       Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle--keep it up--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."
+
+       A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated,
+       And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops retreated.
+       Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his laughter;
+       "That tune," said he, "suits to a T--I'll sing it ever after!"
+       Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and brandy,
+       E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle dandy.
+       Yankee doodle,--ho-ha-he--Yankee doodle dandy,
+       We kept the tune, but not the tea--Yankee doodle dandy.
+
+       I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
+       Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"--what a pity!
+       With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty--
+       On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea party,
+       No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
+       And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle dandy?
+       Yankee doodle, firm and true--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a principle, "No
+taxation without representation." What did they mean by this? Name the
+thirteen original colonies.
+
+Are the last syllables of the words _principle_ and
+_principal_ pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences of your own.
+
+What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?
+
+Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words _colonists,
+insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts, tempts._
+
+Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo, negro, cargo,
+piano, calico, potato, embargo.
+
+How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room for all of
+it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of examples found in your
+Reader.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_32_
+
+
+scenes
+source
+seized
+re ceive'
+poised
+nec' tar
+re verts'
+Ju' pi ter
+cat' a ract
+ex' qui site
+in tru' sive ly
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.
+
+
+       How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
+         When fond recollection presents them to view!
+       The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
+         And every loved spot that my infancy knew;--
+       The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;
+         The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
+
+       The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
+         And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
+
+       That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;
+         For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
+       I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
+         The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
+       How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,
+         And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
+       Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
+         And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
+
+       How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
+         As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!
+       Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
+         Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.
+
+       And now, far removed from that loved habitation,
+         The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
+       As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,
+         And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well!
+
+
+_Samuel Woodworth._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what each
+describes. Use each to describe something else.
+
+Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and tell what
+word you would have used in the place of each had you tried to express
+its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the author's? Why?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_33_
+
+
+blouse
+receipt'ed
+coun' te nance
+ab sorbed'
+con trast' ed
+for' tu nate ly
+mir' a cle
+stock'-still
+good-hu' mored ly
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to
+the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman
+climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from
+the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it
+into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder, "What _are_ you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers'
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face lighted up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box with
+holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to the
+child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+_From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.
+
+In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and five that
+express commands or requests.
+
+What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The second?
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,
+         And I dream in the firelight's glow,
+       And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs
+         That I listened to long ago.
+       Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp
+         Like an echoing, answering cry,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+       For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
+         That this earth is a silly, strange place,
+       And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
+         And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
+       But I know he has found it far better to sing
+         Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_34_
+
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+OUR HEROES.
+
+
+       Here's a hand to the boy who has courage
+         To do what he knows to be right;
+       When he falls in the way of temptation
+         He has a hard battle to fight.
+       Who strives against self and his comrades
+         Will find a most powerful foe:
+       All honor to him if he conquers;
+         A cheer for the boy who says "No!"
+
+       There's many a battle fought daily
+         The world knows nothing about;
+       There's many a brave little soldier
+         Whose strength puts a legion to rout.
+       And he who fights sin single-handed
+         Is more of a hero, I say,
+       Than he who leads soldiers to battle,
+         And conquers by arms in the fray.
+
+       Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,
+         And do what you know to be right;
+       Stand firm by the colors of manhood,
+         And you will o'ercome in the fight.
+       "The right!" be your battle cry ever
+         In waging the warfare of life;
+       And God, who knows who are the heroes,
+         Will give you the strength for the strife.
+
+
+_Phoebe Cary._
+
+From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write sentences each containing one of the following words:
+
+I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for bringing back
+vanished smiles, for making one brave and courageous, light-hearted and
+happy, there is nothing like a good Confession.
+
+_Father Bearne, S.J._
+
+
+
+       Heroes must be more than driftwood
+       Floating on a waveless tide.
+
+       For right is right, since God is God;
+         And right the day must win;
+       To doubt would be disloyalty,
+         To falter would be sin.
+
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
+Faith.
+
+_St. Paul._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_35_
+
+
+troll
+cel' er y
+new' fan gled
+thatch
+chink' ing
+as par' a gus
+im mense'
+sauce' pan
+de mol' ish ing
+sa' vor y
+pat' terns
+ag' gra va ting
+
+
+
+THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.
+
+
+There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When it struck
+one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a saucepan off the
+fire, from which came a very savory smell.
+
+"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple dumplings will
+be too much done."
+
+"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by the wood;
+and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make haste, and have some
+apple dumpling."
+
+"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"
+
+"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench, in the
+shadow of the thatch.
+
+"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is this,
+mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he clapped his
+hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice, which frightened the
+children--"a miserable slave!"
+
+"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he meant.
+
+"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have been."
+
+"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought thou used to
+say, at the election time, that thou wast a free-born Briton."
+
+"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up rather
+sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell of the dinner,
+that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but it is certain that he
+walked into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens, and then took a
+tolerable share in demolishing the apple dumpling.
+
+When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife said to him,
+"I hope thou and thy master haven't had words to-day."
+
+"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of being at
+another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and 'Tom do that,'
+and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday morning till Saturday
+night. I was thinking as I walked over to Squire Morton's to ask for the
+turnip seed for master,--I was thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a
+poor workingman after all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't
+stand it."
+
+So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his wife
+thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was mistaken. He
+walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the border of a little
+tinkling stream, he sat down and began to brood over his grievances.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much pleasanter
+sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery trenches, and
+thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall
+before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see
+my family starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman."
+
+"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his great
+surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby, sitting
+composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,--green hat, green
+coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled
+very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.
+
+"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.
+
+"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost to the
+noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere
+stranger as thy master?'
+
+"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a slave?"
+
+"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak roughly.
+Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is bound to bear them."
+
+"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom, shortly.
+
+"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your difficulty.
+Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce, mind you--has a
+silver tail."
+
+"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide; "fishing
+for minnows and being one's own master would be much pleasanter than the
+sort of life I've been leading this many a day."
+
+"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do
+you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy in your freedom."
+So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream, full
+of joy and pride.
+
+He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity for
+bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer.
+
+The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows. But
+of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with
+silver tails. They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles
+as a hare; what a life they led him!
+
+They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought
+his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite
+out of the water, and dart down the stream again like little silver
+arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry. He came home
+late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in
+his pocket, each with a silver tail.
+
+"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed,
+"though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever,
+yet I certainly am free; no man can now order me about."
+
+This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to Saturday
+afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.
+
+After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities; and when he
+had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in all lights,
+praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to conceal his
+impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived to sell them all,
+and get exactly fourteen shillings for them, and no more.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself, "I've found
+out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing it,--that every one of
+those customers of yours was your master. Why! you were at the beck of
+every man, woman, and child that came near you;--obliged to be in a good
+temper, too, which was very aggravating."
+
+"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path. "I knew you
+were a man of sense; look you, you are all workingmen; and you must all
+please your customers. Your master was your customer; what he bought of
+you was your work. Well, you must let the work be such as will please
+the customer."
+
+"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking the
+fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman; and has he a
+master of his own? Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books, and
+manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he nearly
+ruined last year?"
+
+"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of patterns
+at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom. "Well, in a way
+of speaking, then, he works to please his masters, poor fellow! He is,
+as one may say, a fellow-servant, and plagued with very awkward masters.
+So I should not mind his being my master, and I think I'll go and tell
+him so."
+
+"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not been able
+to better yourself, and you have no objection now to dig up the
+asparagus bed."
+
+So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had earned, got
+his old master to take him back, and kept a profound secret his
+adventures with the man in green.
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you) has a
+silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis. Read the
+sentence aloud several times, _omitting_ the group in parenthesis. Now
+read the _whole_ sentence, keeping in mind the fact that the words in
+parenthesis are not at all important,--that they are merely thrown in by
+way of explanation. You notice that you have read the words in
+parenthesis in a _lower tone_ and _faster time._ Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but that
+makes no difference in the reading of them.
+
+The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page 243.
+Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the method.
+
+I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not wrong to
+say so) as the compositions read by my companions.
+
+Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against me.
+
+I felt that I was strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to the ground.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       "Work! and the clouds of care will fly;
+         Pale want will pass away.
+       Work! and the leprosy of crime
+         And tyrants must decay.
+       Leave the dead ages in their urns:
+         The present time be ours,
+       To grapple bravely with our lot,
+         And strew our path with flowers."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_36_
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+       I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+         I make a sudden sally,
+       And sparkle out among the fern,
+         To bicker down a valley.
+       By thirty hills I hurry down,
+         Or slip between the ridges,
+       By twenty thorps, a little town,
+         And half a hundred bridges.
+       Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I chatter over stony ways
+         In little sharps and trebles;
+       I bubble into eddying bays;
+         I babble on the pebbles.
+       With many a curve my banks I fret
+         By many a field and fallow.
+       And many a fairy foreland set
+         With willow-weed and mallow.
+       I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+         I slide by hazel covers,
+       I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+         That grow for happy lovers.
+       I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+         Among my skimming swallows;
+       I make the netted sunbeams dance
+         Against my sandy shallows.
+
+       I murmur under moon and stars
+         In brambly wildernesses;
+       I linger by my shingly bars;
+         I loiter round my cresses.
+       And out again I curve and flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HAUNTS, places of frequent resort.
+
+COOT and hern, water fowls that frequent lakes and other still
+waters.
+
+BICKER, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or water.
+
+THORP, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.
+
+SHARPS and trebles, terms in music. They are here used to
+describe the sound of the brook.
+
+EDDYING, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays" dangerous to the
+swimmer?
+
+FRETTED BANKS, banks worn away by the action of the water.
+
+FALLOW, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running into the sea
+or other water.
+
+MALLOW, a kind of plant.
+
+GLOOM, to shine obscurely.
+
+SHINGLY, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.
+
+BARS, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal in a river or
+harbor.
+
+CRESSES, certain plants which grow near the water. They are
+sometimes used as a salad.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_37_
+
+
+wits
+hale
+borne
+suit' ed
+prop' er ly
+sit u a' tion
+
+
+
+LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+
+Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as one of the
+wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat feeble, and the few
+locks that are left him are gray, he is still more hale and hearty than
+many a younger man.
+
+Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is fond of
+children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his pleasant talk, as
+they gather round his fireside or sit upon his knee.
+
+Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to find out
+what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead them to think.
+
+"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if I have a
+cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to proceed?"
+
+"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be sure," said
+Norman.
+
+"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose the cake has
+to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut off a very thin
+slice for you, and divide what is left between your brother and sister,
+will that be fair?"
+
+"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."
+
+"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice? Did I not
+cut it into three parts?"
+
+"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have been exactly
+the same size."
+
+"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three equal parts,
+it would have been quite fair?"
+
+"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to complain."
+
+"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send to a
+distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each a basket to
+carry?"
+
+"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might not be
+fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger than the
+others."
+
+"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think. But we will
+take care that the baskets are all of the same size."
+
+"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a basket."
+
+"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled with
+feathers?"
+
+"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the same weight,
+and all will be right."
+
+"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons is a
+strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little child?"
+
+"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things there are
+to think about."
+
+"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be equally borne,
+they must be suited to the strength of those who have to bear them."
+
+"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me, Grandpa, and
+I will try to answer it properly this time."
+
+"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig for me,
+and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be fair if I set
+them to work to try them, and choose the one who does his task in the
+quickest time?"
+
+"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"
+
+"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start together."
+
+"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"
+
+"Exactly the same."
+
+"And will each man have a good spade?"
+
+"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."
+
+"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other hard and
+stony."
+
+"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The ground
+shall be everywhere alike."
+
+"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if done as
+well as that of either of the other two, is the best man."
+
+"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it will be
+greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being thoughtful in
+little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely in important ones."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+In the words _suit_ (s[=u]t) and _soon_ (s[=oo]n), have the marked
+vowels the same sound?
+
+
+In the two statements,--
+
+
+       I give it to you because it's good;
+       Virtue brings its own reward;
+
+
+why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in the second?
+
+
+       Let your hands be honest and clean--
+       Let your conscience be honest and clean--
+
+
+Combine these two sentences by the word _and_; rewrite them, omitting
+all needless words.
+
+Compose two sentences, one having the action-word _learned_; the other
+the word _taught_.
+
+Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form of the
+action-word _bear_:
+
+
+As Christ -- His cross, so must we -- ours.
+Our cross must be --. "And -- His own
+cross, He went forth to Calvary."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_38_
+
+
+elate'
+despond'
+lu' mi nous
+pil' grim age
+
+
+
+ONE BY ONE.
+
+
+       One by one the sands are flowing,
+         One by one the moments fall;
+       Some are coming, some are going;
+         Do not strive to grasp them all.
+
+       One by one thy duties wait thee;
+         Let thy whole strength go to each;
+       Let no future dreams elate thee,
+         Learn thou first what these can teach.
+
+       One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)
+         Joys are sent thee here below;
+       Take them readily when given,
+         Ready, too, to let them go.
+
+       One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
+         Do not fear an armed band;
+       One will fade as others greet thee--
+         Shadows passing through the land.
+
+       Do not look at life's long sorrow;
+         See how small each moment's pain;
+       God will help thee for to-morrow,
+         So each day begin again.
+
+       Every hour that fleets so slowly
+         Has its task to do or bear;
+       Luminous the crown, and holy,
+         When each gem is set with care.
+
+       Do not linger with regretting,
+         Or for passing hours despond;
+       Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
+         Look too eagerly beyond.
+
+       Hours are golden links, God's token,
+         Reaching heaven; but one by one
+       Take them, lest the chain be broken
+         Ere the pilgrimage be done.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each line
+teaches.
+
+Name some great works that were done little by little.
+
+What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?
+
+Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall fall by
+little and little."
+
+What is the real or literal meaning of the word _gem_?
+
+Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has there.
+
+Explain the line--
+
+
+       "Let no future dreams elate thee."
+
+
+What is meant by "building castles in the air?"
+
+Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself what each
+line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an important moral
+lesson. Find out what that lesson is.
+
+Tell what you know of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_39_
+
+
+ca noe'
+sup' ple
+fi' brous
+res' in
+sin' ews
+tam' a rack
+ooz' ing
+bal' sam
+sol' i ta ry
+pli' ant
+fis' sure
+re sist' ance
+som' ber
+crev' ice
+re splen' dent
+
+
+
+THE BIRCH CANOE.
+
+
+           "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Growing by the rushing river,
+       Tall and stately in the valley!
+       I a light canoe will build me,
+       That shall float upon the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily!
+           Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!
+       Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,
+       For the summer time is coming,
+       And the sun is warm in heaven,
+       And you need no white-skin wrapper!"
+           Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
+       In the solitary forest,
+       When the birds were singing gayly,
+       In the Moon of Leaves were singing.
+           And the tree with all its branches
+       Rustled in the breeze of morning,
+       Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+       "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+           With his knife the tree he girdled;
+       Just beneath its lowest branches,
+       Just above the roots, he cut it,
+       Till the sap came oozing outward;
+       Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+       Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+       With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+       Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
+           "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+       Of your strong and pliant branches,
+       My canoe to make more steady,
+       Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+           Through the summit of the Cedar
+       Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+       Went a murmur of resistance;
+       But it whispered, bending downward,
+       "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+           Down he hewed the boughs of cedar
+       Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+       Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+       Like two bended bows together.
+           "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+       Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+       My canoe to bind together,
+       So to bind the ends together,
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Larch with all its fibers
+       Shivered in the air of morning,
+       Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+       Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
+       "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the earth he tore the fibers,
+       Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.
+       Closely sewed the bark together,
+       Bound it closely to the framework.
+           "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+       Of your balsam and your resin,
+       So to close the seams together
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+       Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+       Rattled like a shore with pebbles,
+       Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+       "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+           And he took the tears of balsam,
+       Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+       Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,
+       Made each crevice safe from water.
+           "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+       I will make a necklace of them,
+       Make a girdle for my beauty,
+       And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+           From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,
+       With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+       Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+       Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
+       Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+       "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the ground the quills he gathered,
+       All the little shining arrows,
+       Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+       With the juice of roots and berries;
+       Into his canoe he wrought them,
+       Round its waist a shining girdle.
+       Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+       On its breast two stars resplendent.
+           Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
+       In the valley, by the river,
+       In the bosom of the forest;
+       And the forest's life was in it,
+       All its mystery and its magic,
+       All the lightness of the birch tree,
+       All the toughness of the cedar,
+       All the larch's supple sinews;
+       And it floated on the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MOON OF LEAVES, month of May.
+
+SHEER, straight up and down.
+
+TAMARACK, the American larch tree.
+
+FISSURE, a narrow opening; a cleft.
+
+What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?
+
+Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put these to?
+
+What are the drops of balsam called? Why?
+
+NOTE.--"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest and most
+beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It is generally
+made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and so skillfully shaped
+and sewed together with the roots of the tamarack, that it is
+water-tight, and rides upon the water as light as a cork."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_40_
+
+
+pic' tures
+pal' ace
+four' teen
+fa' mous ly
+scul' lion
+re past'
+in hal' ing
+en chant' ed
+mat' tress
+char' coal
+land' scapes
+ar' chi tect
+
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+
+A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the care of the
+sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence, where he knew no
+one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as himself, who had lived
+in the same village, but who had gone to Florence to be scullion in the
+house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was for a good motive that little Peter
+desired to come to Florence: he wanted to be an artist, and he knew
+there was a school for artists there. When he had seen the town well,
+Peter stationed himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor
+of the cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a long time;
+but at length Thomas appeared.
+
+"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"
+
+"I am come to learn painting."
+
+"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is then sure
+not to die of hunger."
+
+"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied Peter.
+
+"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself ill every
+day, if I chose to do it."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have too much
+and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will bring the food;
+and we shall get on famously."
+
+"Very well," said Thomas.
+
+"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten nothing
+to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."
+
+Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept, and bade
+him wait there till he brought him some fragments that he was freely
+permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for Thomas was in high
+spirits, and little Peter had a famous appetite.
+
+"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the question is,
+how are you going to study?"
+
+"I shall study like all artists--with pencil and paper."
+
+"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and pencils?"
+
+"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is scullion at
+his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you are rich, it is just
+the same as if I was."
+
+Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken victuals, he
+had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait three years before he
+should receive wages. Peter did not mind. The garret walls were white.
+Thomas could give him charcoal, and so he set to draw on the walls with
+that; and after a little while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.
+
+With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were bought.
+Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures in the
+galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in the
+neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but enchanted with
+what he had seen, he crept back into the garret, where he was always
+sure to find his dinner hidden under the mattress, _to keep it warm,_ as
+Thomas said. Very soon the first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and
+Peter drew his best designs to ornament his friend's room.
+
+One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came with the
+architect to the very top of the house, and happened to enter the
+scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both Cardinal and architect
+were struck with the genius of the drawings. They thought they were
+executed by Thomas, and his Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas
+heard that the Cardinal had been in the garret, and had seen what he
+called Peter's daubs, he thought all was lost.
+
+"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him; and
+Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on his knees,
+and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"
+
+The Cardinal made him tell his story.
+
+"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he, smiling.
+
+But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at length a
+fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came the news that
+the monks of a distant convent had received and kept with them a boy of
+fourteen, who had come to ask permission to copy a painting of Raphael
+in the chapel of the convent. This boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal
+sent him as a pupil to one of the first artists in Rome.
+
+Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as brothers in
+one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One said of the other, "He
+is the greatest painter of our age." The other said of the first, "He is
+a model for evermore of a faithful friend."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA, a great Italian painter and architect. He was
+born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in Rome, in 1669.
+
+EMINENCE, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.
+
+GALLERIES, rooms or buildings where works of art are exhibited.
+
+VICTUALS (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human beings.
+
+FORTNIGHT (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is contracted from
+_fourteen nights._
+
+Locate the cities of _Rome_ and _Florence_.
+
+Give words that mean the opposite of the following:
+
+ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked, merry, bought,
+friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant, appeared, disgrace, famous,
+faithful, morning, enchanted.
+
+Recite the words--"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"--as
+Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a great _cardinal_ in
+favor of a poor destitute _boy_ whom he loved as a brother. He _felt_
+what he said.
+
+Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them, and tell
+wherein the humor lies.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.
+
+_Spanish Proverb._
+
+
+
+Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."_
+
+
+
+       A gift in need, though small indeed,
+       Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_41_
+
+
+vas' sal
+roy' al ly
+beg' gar y
+hom' age
+sen' ti nel
+dif' fer ence
+
+
+
+TO MY DOG BLANCO.[003]
+
+
+       My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,
+         A willing vassal at my feet,
+       Glad partner of my home and fare,
+         My shadow in the street.
+
+       I look into your great brown eyes,
+         Where love and loyal homage shine,
+       And wonder where the difference lies
+         Between your soul and mine!
+
+       For all the good that I have found
+         Within myself or human kind,
+       Hath royally informed and crowned
+         Your gentle heart and mind.
+
+       I scan the whole broad earth around
+         For that one heart which, leal and true,
+       Bears friendship without end or bound,
+         And find the prize in you.
+
+       I trust you as I trust the stars;
+         Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,
+       Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,
+         Can move you from my side!
+
+       As patient under injury
+         As any Christian saint of old,
+       As gentle as a lamb with me,
+         But with your brothers bold;
+
+       More playful than a frolic boy,
+         More watchful than a sentinel,
+       By day and night your constant joy
+         To guard and please me well.
+
+       I clasp your head upon my breast--
+         The while you whine and lick my hand--
+       And thus our friendship is confessed,
+         And thus we understand!
+
+       Ah, Blanco! did I worship God
+         As truly as you worship me,
+       Or follow where my Master trod
+         With your humility,--
+
+       Did I sit fondly at His feet,
+         As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,
+       And watch Him with a love as sweet,
+         My life would grow divine!
+
+
+_J.G. Holland_
+
+From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Footnote 003: Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's Sons.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEAL (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.
+
+DUNGEON (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison, commonly
+underground.
+
+Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal; glad
+partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.
+
+What duty does Blanco teach his master?
+
+Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.
+
+The three great divisions of time are _past, present, future._ Tell what
+time each of the following action-words expresses:
+
+found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has borne,
+crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_42_
+
+
+ab'bot
+clois'ter
+min'ster
+li'brary
+chron' i cle
+
+
+
+A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+
+Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk named Urban,
+who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent piety. He was a studious
+reader of the learned and sacred volumes in the convent library. One day
+he read in the Epistles of St. Peter the words, "One day is with the
+Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day;" and this
+saying seemed impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.
+
+Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the library
+into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird perched on the
+bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a nightingale. The bird did not
+move as the monk approached her, till he came quite close, and then she
+flew to another bough, and again another, as the monk pursued her. Still
+singing the same sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk,
+entranced by the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.
+
+At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every thing
+seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more beautiful,
+and older,--the buildings, the garden; and in the place of the low,
+humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three towers reared its
+head to the sky. This seemed very strange to the monk, indeed marvelous;
+but he walked on to the cloister gate and timidly rang the bell. A
+porter entirely unknown to him answered his summons, and drew back in
+amazement when he saw the monk.
+
+The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing with
+astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to have seen
+before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered the church; but
+all retreated when they saw the strange figure of the monk. The abbot
+only (but not his abbot) stopped, and stretching a crucifix before him,
+exclaimed, "In the name of Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And
+what dost thou seek here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"
+
+The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his eyes to the
+ground, and for the first time became aware that a long silvery beard
+descended from his chin over his girdle, to which was still suspended
+the key of the library. To the monks around, the stranger seemed some
+marvelous appearance; and, with a mixture of awe and admiration, they
+led him to the chair of the abbot. There he gave the key to a young
+monk, who opened the library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was
+written that three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and
+no one knew whither he had gone.
+
+"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk Urban,
+with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes, listening to thy
+notes, and yet three hundred years have passed away! Thou hast sung to
+me the song of eternity which I could never before learn. Now I know it;
+and, dust myself, I pray to God kneeling in the dust." With these words
+he sank to the ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of punctuation.
+
+Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare your work
+with the printed page.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness shorten
+life.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"_
+
+
+The older I grow--and I now stand upon the brink of eternity--the more
+comes back to me the sentence in the catechism which I learned when a
+child, and the fuller and deeper becomes its meaning: "What is the chief
+end of man? To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever."
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_43_
+
+
+dole
+man' na
+em' blem
+re leased'
+plumes
+breathe
+crim' son
+feath' ered
+soared
+dou' bly
+hom' i ly
+ser'a phim
+
+
+
+THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+
+
+       Up soared the lark into the air,
+       A shaft of song, a wingèd prayer,
+       As if a soul, released from pain,
+       Were flying back to heaven again.
+
+       St. Francis heard; it was to him
+       An emblem of the Seraphim;
+       The upward motion of the fire,
+       The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
+
+       Around Assisi's convent gate
+       The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
+       From moor and mere and darksome wood
+       Came flocking for their dole of food.
+
+       "O brother birds," St. Francis said,
+       "Ye come to me and ask for bread,
+       But not with bread alone to-day
+       Shall ye be fed and sent away.
+
+       "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds
+       With manna of celestial words;
+       Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
+       Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
+
+       "O, doubly are ye bound to praise
+       The great Creator in your lays;
+       He giveth you your plumes of down,
+       Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
+
+       "He giveth you your wings to fly
+       And breathe a purer air on high,
+       And careth for you everywhere,
+       Who for yourselves so little care!"
+
+       With flutter of swift wings and songs
+       Together rose the feathered throngs,
+       And singing scattered far apart;
+       Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
+
+       He knew not if the brotherhood
+       His homily had understood;
+       He only knew that to one ear
+       The meaning of his words was clear.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. FRANCIS PREACHING]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LAYS, songs.
+
+ASSISI ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St. Francis was
+born in 1182.
+
+What does "manna of celestial words" mean?
+
+What is the singular form of seraphim?
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Every word has its own spirit,
+         True or false, that never dies;
+       Every word man's lips have uttered
+         Echoes in God's skies.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_44_
+
+
+GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.
+
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sound the thrilling song;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Roll the hymn along.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let the heavens ring;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Welcome, new-born King.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Over the sea and land,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Chant the anthem grand.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let us all rejoice;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Lift each heart and voice.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Swell the hymn on high;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Sound it to the sky.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sing it, sinful earth,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         For the Savior's birth.
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+[Illustration: Artist _Hofmann_.--Caption: "Glory to God in the
+highest; and on earth peace to men of good will."]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_45_
+
+
+plied
+won' drous
+ex cite' ment
+com mo' tion
+vig' or
+fo' li age
+mar' vel ous
+com pas' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.[004]
+
+
+Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in the
+evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told of strange
+things that were to happen. They had lived in the Forest many, many
+years; but never had they seen such marvelous sights as were to be seen
+now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.
+
+"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who are not so
+tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things."
+
+"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars, "and the
+Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from
+heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon the hills."
+
+The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a tiny tree,
+so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a very beautiful
+little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses loved it very dearly.
+
+"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree; "and how
+I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very
+beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder whence it comes."
+
+"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels could make
+such sweet music."
+
+"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes, and the
+shepherds on the hills join in the song."
+
+The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about a Child
+that had been born. But further than this they did not understand. The
+strange and glorious song continued all the night.
+
+In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the same song
+about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with them, until every
+part of the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. They were clad
+all in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
+harps in their hands. Love, hope, joy and compassion beamed from their
+beautiful faces. The Angels came through the Forest to where the little
+Tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands,
+kissed its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had been
+born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon
+the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang the song of the
+Child.
+
+When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the little Tree.
+Night and day he watched so that no harm should come to it. Day by day
+it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it his choicest rays,
+heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds sang to it their
+prettiest songs.
+
+So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became the pride
+and glory of the Forest.
+
+One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest. "Have no
+fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the Master."
+
+And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its smooth
+trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and then turned and
+went away.
+
+[Illustration: _A. Bida._]
+
+Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested beneath the
+Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times He slept there and
+the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came with the Master to the
+Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the Tree, and talked with Him of
+things which the Tree never could understand. It heard them tell how the
+Master healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed blessings
+wherever He walked.
+
+But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face was pale
+and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed. The Tree heard
+Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning there was a sound of
+rude voices and a clashing of swords.
+
+[Illustration: _Hofmann._]
+
+Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree was hewn to
+the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and its soft, thick
+foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the Forest wept.
+
+The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw it no more.
+
+But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great King
+stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had seen that day
+a Cross raised on Calvary,--the Tree on which was nailed the Body of the
+dying Master.
+
+_Eugene Field._
+
+From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+[Footnote 004: Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_46_
+
+
+
+THE HOLY CITY.
+
+
+       Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;--
+       I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
+       I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang;--
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And then methought my dream was changed;--
+       The streets no longer rang
+       Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
+       The sun grew dark with mystery,
+       The morn was cold and chill,
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;--
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And once again the scene was changed--
+       New earth there seemed to be;
+       I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
+       The light of God was on its streets,
+       The gates were open wide,
+       And all who would might enter,
+       And no one was denied.
+       No need of moon or stars by night,
+       Nor sun to shine by day;
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,--
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_47_
+
+
+trea' son
+eu' lo gies
+de bat' ed
+phi los' o phy
+in ge nu' i ty
+ap pro' pri ate
+con' sum ma ted
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+
+
+Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was ordered to
+furnish the choicest dainties that money could procure. The first course
+consisted of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with
+appropriate sauces. This gave rise to much mirth and many witty remarks
+by the guests. The second course was also nothing but tongues, and so
+with the third and fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus
+demanded in an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and philosophy.
+By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried on,
+contracts executed, and marriages consummated. Nothing is equal to the
+tongue." The company applauded Aesop's wit, and good feeling was
+restored.
+
+"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of dining with
+me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow," said
+he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with the worst meat you can find." The
+next day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment and
+the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said
+Xanthus, "should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue? What
+wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in? Treasons,
+violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved upon, and
+communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of
+private friendships." The company were more than ever struck by Aesop's
+ingenuity, and they interceded for him with his master.
+
+_From "Aesop's Fables."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+XANTHUS, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the sixth century
+before Christ.
+
+Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they are formed
+in each case:
+
+dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily, copy, loaf,
+roof, half, valley, donkey.
+
+What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following sentence: "How
+should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst another?"
+
+Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he said in
+dispraise of it.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The tongue is
+a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the Father; and by
+it we curse men who are made after the likeness of God."
+
+_From "Epistle of St. James."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_48_
+
+
+ap' pe tite
+ha rangued'
+sus pend' ed
+min' strel sy
+
+
+
+THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+
+
+       A nightingale, that all day long
+       Had cheered the village with his song,
+       Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
+       Nor yet when eventide was ended,
+       Began to feel, as well he might,
+       The keen demands of appetite;
+       When, looking eagerly around,
+       He spied far off, upon the ground,
+       A something shining in the dark,
+       And knew the glowworm by his spark;
+       So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
+       He thought to put him in his crop.
+
+       The worm, aware of his intent,
+       Harangued him thus, right eloquent:
+       "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
+       "As much as I your minstrelsy,
+       You would abhor to do me wrong
+       As much as I to spoil your song:
+       For 'twas the self-same Power Divine
+       Taught you to sing and me to shine;
+       That you with music, I with light,
+       Might beautify and cheer the night."
+       The songster heard this short oration,
+       And, warbling out his approbation,
+       Released him, as my story tells,
+       And found a supper somewhere else.
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of appetite?"
+
+Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the bird? Study
+it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy with the printed
+page as to spelling, capitals and punctuation.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       I would not enter on my list of friends
+       (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
+       Yet wanting sensibility) the man
+       Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
+       An inadvertent step may crush the snail
+       That crawls at evening in the public path;
+       But he that has humanity, forewarned,
+       Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
+
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+
+       Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
+         Nor crush that helpless worm!
+       The frame thy wayward looks deride
+         Required a God to form.
+
+       The common Lord of all that move.
+         From whom thy being flowed,
+       A portion of His boundless love
+         On that poor worm bestowed.
+
+       Let them enjoy their little day,
+         Their humble bliss receive;
+       Oh! do not lightly take away
+         The life thou canst not give!
+
+
+_Thomas Gisborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_49_
+
+
+mar' gin
+pitch' er
+cup' board
+breathed
+di' a mond
+quiv' er ing
+
+
+
+JACK FROST.
+
+
+       Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
+       And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
+       So, through the valley, and over the height,
+         In silence I'll take my way.
+       I will not go on like that blustering train,
+       The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+       Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;
+         But I'll be as busy as they!"
+
+       Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;
+       He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+       In diamond beads; and over the breast
+         Of the quivering lake he spread
+       A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+       The glittering point of many a spear,
+       Which he hung on its margin, far and near,
+         Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+       He went to the windows of those who slept,
+       And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:
+       Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
+         By the morning light were seen
+       Most beautiful things!--there were flowers and trees;
+       There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
+       There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+         All pictured in silvery sheen!
+
+       But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+       He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+       That all had forgotten for him to prepare.--
+         "Now, just to set them a-thinking,
+       I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;
+       "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
+       And the glass of water they've left for me,
+       Shall '_tchick_,' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+
+_Hannah F. Gould._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CREST, top or summit.
+
+COAT OF MAIL, a garment of iron or steel worn by warriors in olden
+times.
+
+BEVIES, flocks or companies.
+
+SHEEN, brightness.
+
+TCHICK a combination of letters whose pronunciation is supposed to
+resemble the sound of breaking glass.
+
+What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?
+
+How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread over the
+lake? Why?
+
+What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of those who
+slept?"
+
+What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?
+
+Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work? Why does
+he work generally at night?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_50_
+
+
+re' al ize
+pen' du lum
+dil' i gent ly
+sig nif' i cance
+auc tion eer'
+per sist' ent ly
+in ex haust' i ble
+un der stood'
+hope' less ly
+nev er the less
+
+
+
+"GOING! GOING! GONE!"
+
+
+The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one of our
+large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room so crowded
+with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's face and uplifted
+hammer above the heads of the crowd.
+
+"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a sharp rap.
+
+I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with a new
+force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times before, with
+only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded solemn.
+
+"Going! Going! Gone!"
+
+"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;--"with time." This
+world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that we are buyers: we
+are, in fact, more like beggars; we have brought no money to exchange
+for precious minutes, hours, days, or years; they are given to us. There
+is no calling out of terms, no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but
+nevertheless, the time is "going! going! gone!"
+
+The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound, and the
+more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of the value of
+time.
+
+When we are young we think old people are preaching and prosing when
+they say so much about it,--when they declare so often that days, weeks,
+even years, are short. I can remember when a holiday, a whole day long,
+appeared to me an almost inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon,
+even, seemed an endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come
+seemed longer than does a whole year now.
+
+One needs to live many years before one learns how little time there is
+in a year,--how little, indeed, there will be even in the longest
+possible life,--how many things one will still be obliged to leave
+undone.
+
+But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize if you will
+try--if you will stop and think about it a little; and that is, how fast
+and how steadily the present time is slipping away. However long life
+may seem to you as you look forward to the whole of it, the present hour
+has only sixty minutes, and minute by minute, second by second, it is
+"going! going! gone!" If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is
+"gone" forever. Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time."
+It makes me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have
+wasted; how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.
+
+All the men and women who have made the world better, happier or wiser
+for their having lived in it, have done so by working diligently and
+persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one of these, when
+"looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw not the specter of his
+mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am so foolish as to think that all
+the preaching in the world can make anything look to young eyes as it
+looks to old eyes; not a bit of it.
+
+But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the minute,
+hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at the clock now
+and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of every minute, as it
+flies,--"Going! going! gone!"
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PROSING, talking in a dull way.
+
+In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics, use others
+that have the same general meaning:
+
+I heard these words _ringing_ out from a _room_ so _crowded_ with
+_people_ that I could _but_ just _see_ the man's _face._ How _fast_ and
+_steadily_ the present time is _slipping_ away!
+
+
+Punctuate the following:
+
+Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_51_
+
+
+yearn
+car' ol
+mus' ing
+stee' ple
+mag' ic al
+
+
+
+SEVEN TIMES TWO.
+
+
+       You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,
+         How many soever they be,
+       And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,
+         Come over, come over to me!
+
+       Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,
+         No magical sense conveys;
+       And bells have forgotten their old art of telling
+         The fortune of future days.
+
+       "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,
+         While a boy listened alone;
+       Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
+         All by himself on a stone.
+
+       Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
+         And mine, they are yet to be;
+       No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:
+         You leave the story to me.
+
+       The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,
+         And hangeth her hoods of snow;
+       She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:
+         Oh, children take long to grow!
+
+       I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,
+         Nor long summer bide so late;
+       And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,
+         For some things are ill to wait.
+
+       I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,
+         While dear hands are laid on my head,
+       "The child is a woman--the book may close over,
+         For all the lessons are said."
+
+       I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,
+         Not one, as he sits on the tree;
+       The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!
+         Such as I wish it to be.
+
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"TURN AGAIN, TURN AGAIN!" Reference is here made to Dick
+Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London to earn a
+living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord Mayor of that city.
+
+
+NOTE.--This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics, entitled
+"The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a woman's life. For
+the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see page 44 of the Fourth
+Reader. Read it in connection with this. "Seven Times Two" shows the
+girl standing at the entrance to maidenhood, books closed and lessons
+said, longing for the years to go faster to bring to her the happiness
+she imagines is waiting.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_52_
+
+
+man' i fold
+do mes' tic
+pet' tish ly
+in grat' i tude
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+
+It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long
+absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath
+which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change
+had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my
+youthful character. The world was altered, too; and as I stood at my
+mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless,
+happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of
+tenderness.
+
+But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance
+of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday--as
+if the blessed sound of her well-remembered voice was in my ear. The gay
+dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my
+mind that, had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed
+would have been gentle and refreshing.
+
+The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of it now
+pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who have parents to
+love them may learn to value them as they ought.
+
+My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so accustomed to
+her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as
+children usually are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently; but
+when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I
+began to believe she would always be spared to me; but they told me she
+would die.
+
+One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home discouraged
+and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was paler than usual,
+but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my
+return. Alas! when I look back through the lapse of thirteen years, I
+think my heart must have been stone not to have been melted by it. She
+requested me to go downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I
+pettishly asked her why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a
+look of mild reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a
+hundred years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?"
+
+I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly. Instead of
+smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I set the glass down
+very quickly, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to
+bed without bidding my mother good night; but when alone in my room, in
+darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her
+voice trembled when she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her
+chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they
+told me I must not waken her.
+
+I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my bed,
+resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I was for
+my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and, hurrying on
+my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber. She was dead! She never
+spoke more--never smiled upon me again; and when I touched the hand that
+used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it made me
+start.
+
+I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I
+then wished that I might die, and be buried with her; and, old as I now
+am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but
+have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot
+call her back; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of
+her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me
+will bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       "But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+       And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_53_
+
+
+chide
+be dewed'
+em balmed'
+be tide'
+lin' gered
+wor' shiped
+
+
+
+THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.
+
+
+       I love it, I love it; and who shall dare
+       To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?
+       I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;
+       I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.
+       'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;
+       Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
+       Would ye learn the spell?--a mother sat there!
+       And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
+
+       In Childhood's hour I lingered near
+       The hallowed seat with listening ear;
+       And gentle words that mother would give,
+       To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
+       She told me that shame would never betide,
+       With truth for my creed and God for my guide;
+       She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,
+       As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.
+
+       I sat and watched her many a day,
+       When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
+       And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,
+       And turned from her Bible to bless her child.
+       Years rolled on; but the last one sped--
+       My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:
+       I learned how much the heart can bear,
+       When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.
+
+       'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now
+       With quivering breath and throbbing brow:
+       'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;
+       And Memory flows with lava tide.
+       Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
+       While the scalding drops start down my cheek;
+       But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear
+       My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.
+
+_Eliza Cook._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPELL, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have magical power; a
+charm.
+
+HALLOWED, made holy.
+
+HOLLOWED, made a hole out of; made hollow. Use these two words
+in sentences of your own.
+
+What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"
+
+Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your imagination
+will furnish you with all needed details.
+
+Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the accented
+syllable of each:
+
+absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety, again, virtue,
+ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother, genuine, earliest, fatigued,
+business.
+
+The dictionary will aid you.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_54_
+
+
+crags
+break
+tongue
+thoughts
+ha' ven
+sail' or
+state' ly
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+       And I would that my tongue could utter
+         The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+       O well for the fisherman's boy,
+         That he shouts with his sister at play!
+       O well for the sailor lad,
+         That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+       And the stately ships go on
+         To the haven under the hill;
+       But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+         And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
+       But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+         Will never come back to me.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tennyson]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_55_
+
+
+barns
+deaf en ing
+i dol' a trous
+pon' der
+ca lum' ni ate
+Be at' i tudes
+
+
+
+GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+
+The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended to inspire
+the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It was given amidst
+fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and whatever else could fill
+the minds of the Jews with fear and wonder. Compelled, as it were, by
+the idolatrous acts of His chosen people, by their repeated rebellions,
+and their endless murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty
+Sovereign, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with awe and
+dread.
+
+It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love, was given
+to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the Beatitudes from
+which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders were heard; no angry
+flashes of lightning were visible. There was nothing forbidding in the
+voice, words, or appearance of the Divine Lawgiver. In the whole
+exterior of our Savior there was a something so sweet, so humble, so
+meek and captivating, that the people were filled with admiration and
+love.
+
+One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that Christ
+preached is the fact that He constantly called God our Father. How
+beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the Law of love! Listen
+to Him attentively, and ponder upon His words:
+
+"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by them:
+otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO is in
+heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy
+right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy FATHER WHO
+seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your enemies; do good to them
+that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you; that
+you may be the children of your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His
+sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the
+unjust.
+
+"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap,
+nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER feedeth them. Are not
+you of much more value than they?... If you, then, being evil, know how
+to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will
+forgive men their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also
+your offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your FATHER
+forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you pray: OUR FATHER
+Who art in heaven."
+
+From these and many other similar expressions found in the very first
+sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that it is the
+expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as our loving Father;
+and that, however unworthy we may be, we should look upon ourselves as
+His beloved children. There cannot be a possible doubt of this, since it
+is taught so positively by His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the
+Truth, and the Life."
+
+[Illustration: _Henry le Jeune._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_56_
+
+
+
+HAPPY OLD AGE.
+
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried;
+         "The few locks that are left you are gray;
+       You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
+         "I remembered that youth would fly fast,
+       And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
+         That I never might need them at last."
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
+         "And life must be hastening away;
+       You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;
+         "Let the cause thy attention engage;
+       In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
+         And He hath not forgotten my age."
+
+
+_Robert Southey._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of the
+important lessons it teaches?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_57_
+
+
+smit' ing
+el' o quence
+mes' mer ize
+ges' ture
+vin' e gar
+un dy' ing ly
+
+
+
+KIND WORDS.
+
+
+Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to
+be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had
+lost its way and come on earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the
+hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and putting for the while an angel's
+nature into us.
+
+Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In truth,
+there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems as they could
+almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely, soften the hard and
+angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long, loyal, and
+self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a foundation than a kind
+word.
+
+Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been made
+happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we are unable to
+explain! And happiness is a great power of holiness. Thus, kind words,
+by their power of producing happiness, have also a power of producing
+holiness, and so of winning men to God.
+
+If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious subjects, it is
+by voice and words that men mesmerize each other. Hence it is that the
+world is converted by the voice of the preacher. Hence it is that an
+angry word rankles longer in the heart than an angry gesture, nay, very
+often even longer than a blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power
+of kindness in general applies with an additional and peculiar force to
+kind words.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+From "Spiritual Conferences."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Explain: Kind words are the music of the world--An angel's song that had
+lost its way and come on earth--Smiting the hearts of men with sweetest
+wounds--Putting an angel's nature into us--Hard and angry hearts of
+men--An angry word rankles longer in the heart than even a blow.
+
+Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made you very
+happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,--to have kind words
+said to him, or for him to say them to another?
+
+Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or
+learning.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred
+barrels of vinegar.
+
+_St. Francis de Sales._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_58_
+
+
+
+KINDNESS IS THE WORD.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "What is the real good?"
+       I asked in musing mood.
+
+       Order, said the law court;
+       Knowledge, said the school;
+       Truth, said the wise man;
+       Pleasure, said the fool;
+       Love, said the maiden;
+       Beauty, said the page;
+       Freedom, said the dreamer;
+       Home, said the sage;
+       Fame, said the soldier;
+       Equity, said the seer;--
+
+       Spake my heart full sadly:
+       "The answer is not here."
+
+       Then within my bosom
+       Softly this I heard:
+       "Each heart holds the secret:
+       Kindness is the word."
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAGE, a wise man.
+
+SEER, one who foresees events; a prophet.
+
+EQUITY ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_59_
+
+
+va' cant
+joc' und
+pen' sive
+spright' ly
+sol' i tude
+daf' fo dils
+con tin' u ous
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+       I wandered lonely as a cloud
+         That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+       When all at once I saw a crowd,
+         A host, of golden daffodils,
+       Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+         Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+       Continuous as the stars that shine
+         And twinkle on the Milky Way,
+       They stretched in never-ending line
+         Along the margin of the bay:
+       Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+         Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+       The waves beside them danced; but they
+         Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
+       A poet could not but be gay
+         In such a jocund company.
+       I gazed,--and gazed,--but little thought
+         What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+       For oft, when on my couch I lie
+         In vacant or in pensive mood,
+       They flash upon that inward eye
+         Which is the bliss of solitude;
+       And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+         And dances with the daffodils.
+
+
+_William Wordsworth._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MILKY WAY, the belt of light seen at night in the heavens, and is
+composed of millions of stars.
+
+1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the poet compare
+his loneliness?
+
+What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the daffodils
+doing?
+
+What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe the picture
+contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.
+
+2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of daffodils there
+were? How would you tell it?
+
+How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does _margin_ mean?
+
+How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he say they
+were doing?
+
+3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the daffodils surpass
+the waves?
+
+What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?
+
+4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive mood?" "Inward
+eye?"
+
+How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?
+
+What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the heart of the
+poet?
+
+What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the beginning of the
+poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?
+
+Commit the poem to memory.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_60_
+
+
+hos' tile
+en dowed'
+tu' mult
+ac' o lyte
+ep' i taph
+grav' i ty
+com' bat ants
+pref' er ence
+a maz' ed ly
+ath let' ic
+Vi at' i cum
+in her' it ance
+cem' e ter y
+re tal' i ate
+un flinch' ing ly
+ir re sist' i ble
+un vi' o la ted
+con temp' tu ous ly
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.
+
+
+At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
+going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
+condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
+these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
+souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
+of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
+many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
+discharge this duty.
+
+The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
+altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
+Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
+at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
+sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
+an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
+
+"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
+admiration of the picture before him.
+
+"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
+this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
+glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
+forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
+courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
+Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
+covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
+
+"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
+Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
+must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
+wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
+
+"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
+folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
+reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
+expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
+lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
+low, thoroughfares.
+
+As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
+lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
+and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
+"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
+"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
+
+"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
+I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
+
+"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
+had a child like thee!"
+
+"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
+sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
+
+"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
+
+"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
+made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
+him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
+Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
+pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
+
+In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
+than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
+where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
+
+"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
+their leader.
+
+"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
+seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
+Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
+take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
+
+"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."
+
+"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
+youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
+done. So come, join us at once."
+
+"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
+
+"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
+carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
+not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
+I will put it by safe while we play."
+
+"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
+
+"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
+wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
+of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
+was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
+with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
+bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
+pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
+purpose.
+
+"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
+chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
+once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
+asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
+contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
+Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
+
+This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
+Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
+demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
+was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
+while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
+till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
+breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
+just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
+themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
+round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
+retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
+overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
+and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
+tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
+him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
+
+"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
+"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
+
+The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
+bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
+relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
+eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
+soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
+of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
+hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
+met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
+at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
+that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
+
+"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
+Christian."
+
+The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
+eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
+faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
+
+The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
+child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
+and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
+slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
+himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
+amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
+for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
+belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:
+
+
+
+       "Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
+         The mob profanely bade him to display;
+       He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
+         Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
+
+
+_Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."
+
+
+
+ADDLE, to become rotten, as eggs.
+
+TUNIC, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and confined at the
+waist by a girdle.
+
+SUPERNATURAL, = prefix _super_, meaning _above_ or _beyond,_ +
+_natural_.
+
+-ION, a suffix denoting _act, state, condition of_. Define
+_emotion, objection, dejection, conversion, submission, construction,
+admiration, persecution, observation, revolution, deliberation._
+
+Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of "Fabiola." Tell
+him how much you like the book, what you have read in it, and thank him
+for sending it.
+
+Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and tell what
+you like or dislike in each.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,
+         Kept murmuring under breath:
+       "Before temptation--sacrifice!
+         Before dishonor--death!"
+
+
+_Margaret J. Preston._
+
+
+
+       Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
+       Other men's failures can never save you;
+       Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
+       Stand like a hero, and battle till death.
+
+
+_George L. Taylor._
+
+
+
+       Heroes of old! I humbly lay
+         The laurel on your graves again;
+       Whatever men have done, men may--
+         The deeds you wrought are not in vain.
+
+
+_Austin Dobson._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_61_
+
+
+a jar'
+chal' ice
+a thwart'
+rap' tur ous
+sward
+ter' race
+jew' eled
+ci bo' ri um
+por' tal
+vil' lain
+au da' cious
+sac ri le' gious
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.
+
+
+       A summer night in Remy--strokes of the midnight bell,
+       Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,
+       Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,
+       A little village slumber'd,--locked in quiet dreams.
+
+       A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,
+       With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,
+       But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star
+       Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!
+
+       And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran
+       From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,
+       Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,
+       The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!
+
+       To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward,
+       (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;
+       By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,
+       Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.
+
+       Behold! a grassy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair,
+       And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.
+       Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,
+       Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!
+
+       O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!
+       Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,
+       Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright--
+       Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,
+       Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.
+       All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things
+       Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.
+
+       Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,--
+       The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts,
+       What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive
+       With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!
+
+       Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees
+       Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;
+       For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,
+       Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...
+
+       O little ones, who listen unto this legend old
+       (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),
+       From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,
+       Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.
+
+       He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare
+       A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;
+       Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,
+       Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.
+
+       "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,
+       Around My Heart shall hover your wingèd ministries,
+       And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come
+       To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"
+
+
+
+_Eleanor C. Donnelly._
+
+From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MERE, a waste place; a marsh.
+
+TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.
+
+WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use
+_golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does
+_revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as
+you can. Consult your dictionary.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_62_
+
+
+stalked
+ep'au lets
+be hind' hand
+se date'
+trudg' ing
+com pos' ed ly
+fid' dler
+strut' ted
+ap pro ba' tion
+re sumed'
+af firmed'
+dis a gree' a ble
+whith er so ev' er
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
+
+
+Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
+had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
+seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
+
+The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
+overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful
+birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom
+Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole class who were
+behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to
+attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
+moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
+mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
+this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
+Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some
+bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay
+his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a
+man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.
+
+"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
+come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a
+moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school,
+on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to
+find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the
+old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
+stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
+with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
+never heard."
+
+They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
+were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
+sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the
+new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay
+in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly
+in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal
+schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
+Mr. Toil.
+
+But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
+the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
+and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
+see him among the haymakers?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people
+say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
+
+They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
+fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
+they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes
+to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of
+old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair
+of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his
+hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
+looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
+the schoolroom.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very
+severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't
+want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making
+merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
+were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
+
+"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.
+Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and
+where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again,
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch
+rod.
+
+"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was nobody
+but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
+fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
+best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
+
+"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
+the looks of this fiddler."
+
+Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering along the
+highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant villages; and,
+whithersoever they went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil.
+
+He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he
+sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He
+made himself at home in every cottage, and, under one disguise or
+another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the schoolhouse."
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger; for,
+though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
+had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go
+back to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not
+remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there again was
+the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had been in company with
+Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
+
+When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began
+to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old
+schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as
+the face of his own dear mother.
+
+_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
+
+
+"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
+the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
+hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
+for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
+perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
+tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
+smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
+hand.
+
+From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
+School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
+margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Evil is wrought by want of thought,
+       As well as want of heart.
+
+
+_Hood._
+
+
+It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
+happiness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_63_
+
+
+su' macs
+char' coal
+of fi' cial
+fres' coes
+in i' tial
+rest' less ly
+
+
+
+IN SCHOOL DAYS
+
+
+       Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
+         A ragged beggar sunning;
+       Around it still the sumacs grow
+         And blackberry vines are running.
+
+       Within, the master's desk is seen,
+         Deep scarred by raps official;
+       The warping floor, the battered seats,
+         The jackknife's carved initial;
+
+       The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
+         Its door's worn sill, betraying
+       The feet that, creeping slow to school,
+         Went storming out to playing!
+
+       Long years ago a winter sun
+         Shone over it at setting;
+       Lit up its western window-panes,
+         And low eaves' icy fretting.
+
+       It touched the tangled golden curls,
+         And brown eyes full of grieving,
+       Of one who still her steps delayed
+         When all the school were leaving.
+
+       For near her stood the little boy
+         Her childish favor singled;
+       His cap pulled low upon a face
+         Where pride and shame were mingled.
+
+       Pushing with restless feet the snow
+         To right and left, he lingered;
+       As restlessly her tiny hands
+         The blue-checked apron fingered.
+
+       He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
+         The soft hand's light caressing,
+       And heard the tremble of her voice,
+         As if a fault confessing:
+
+       "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;
+         I hate to go above you,
+       Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,--
+         "Because, you see, I love you!"
+
+       Still memory to a gray-haired man
+         That sweet child-face is showing.
+       Dear girl! the grasses on her grave
+         Have forty years been growing!
+
+       He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
+         How few who pass above him
+       Lament their triumph and his loss,
+         Like her,--because they love him.
+
+
+_Whittier._
+
+
+From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: _John G. Whittier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_64_
+
+
+Mars
+so' lar (ler)
+Ve' nus
+plan' ets
+Mer' cu ry
+di am' e ter
+com' pass es
+sat' el lite
+tel' e scope
+grad' u al ly
+in' ter est ing
+cir cum' fer ence
+
+
+
+THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+
+"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys sat in the
+shade of a large tree.
+
+"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to recall
+one," said Frank.
+
+"Let me see. Well--perhaps--I think that the most wonderful story I have
+ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's family."
+
+"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard enough to
+puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."
+
+"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll try to tell
+you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't you--the great
+shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"
+
+"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the morning when
+I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes, then over the trees
+and houses; by evening it has traveled across the sky, when it sinks
+below the houses and trees, out of sight on the other side of the town."
+
+"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the sun is
+traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really we--we on
+this big ball of earth--who are moving. We are whirling around on the
+outer surface, rushing on at the rate--let me think--at the rate of more
+than one thousand miles a minute!"
+
+"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.
+
+"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball moves
+when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"
+
+"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe that this
+big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with all the cities,
+towns, and people whirling round and round faster than a ball from the
+mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that it stirs one inch,--this is
+much harder to believe than all that the fairies have ever told us."
+
+"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.
+
+"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and viewed the
+stars one night through a telescope. As I looked through this
+instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger than ever before. The
+earth is a planet, and there are besides our earth seven large planets
+and many small ones, which also whirl around the sun. Some of these
+planets are larger than our world. Some of them also move much faster.
+
+"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him. The one
+nearest to the sun is Mercury."
+
+"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.
+
+"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched to ashes;
+but if creatures live on that planet, God has given them a different
+nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what would be dreadful to us.
+
+"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen shining so
+bright after sunset; then she is called the evening star. Some of the
+time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen in the east; she is then
+called the morning star.
+
+"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the same time
+of the year. If you are watching her this evening before or after
+sundown, there is no use getting up early to-morrow to look for her
+again. For several weeks Venus remains an evening star, then gradually
+disappears. Two months later you may see her in the east--a bright
+morning star.
+
+"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from the sun. Now
+let us make a drawing of what we have been talking about.
+
+"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and make a dot on
+its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this circle eighty-eight
+days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to travel around the sun.
+Make another circle three and one-half inches in diameter and make a dot
+on it. This represents Venus. It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five
+days to journey around the sun.
+
+"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to us. The
+compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The path made
+represents the journey we take in three hundred sixty-five days.
+
+"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan. This circle
+must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is much farther from the
+sun than our earth is. It takes him six hundred eighty-seven days to
+make the trip around the sun. The other planets are too far away to be
+put in this plan."
+
+"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all--the moon!" said Philip.
+
+"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little ball. It is
+less than seven thousand miles around her, while our earth is
+twenty-five thousand miles around."
+
+"Is that a little ball, Frank?"
+
+"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what is called
+a satellite--that is, a servant or an attendant. She is a satellite of
+our earth. She keeps circling round and round our earth, while we go
+circling round and round the sun.
+
+"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round a field,
+and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see that the movements
+of the bird would be much quicker than mine."
+
+"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always looks so
+quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like lightning, why is it that
+she scarcely seems to move more than an inch in ten minutes?"
+
+"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that what to us
+seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You know how very fast
+the steam cars seem to go when one is quite near them, yet I have seen a
+train of cars far off which seemed to go so slowly that I could fancy it
+was painted on the sky."
+
+"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out these curious
+things about the sun and the stars--to know how large they are and how
+fast they go?" asked Philip.
+
+"That is something we shall understand when we are older," said Frank.
+"We must gain a little knowledge every day."
+
+"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked Philip.
+
+"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter has four,
+but we can see them only when we look through a telescope." replied
+Frank.
+
+"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear night,
+planets?" inquired Philip.
+
+"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars," said Frank.
+"A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its own. It shines just
+as the moon shines, because the sun gives it light."
+
+"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.
+
+"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus and Mars
+as a shining planet."
+
+"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for almost
+every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a diamond. Do these
+fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked Philip.
+
+"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed stars to show
+that they do not move like planets? The word _planet_ means to _wander._
+These fixed stars are suns themselves, which may have planets of their
+own. They are so very far away that we cannot know much about them,
+except that they shine of themselves just as our sun does.
+
+"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and satellites
+with which he is surrounded. We know that without his warm rays there
+would not be any flowers or birds or any living thing on the earth. So
+we can easily imagine that all other suns are shining in the same way
+for the worlds that surround them."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as directed
+in the lesson.
+
+Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the correct form
+of the action-word _draw_:
+
+
+My boys like to --.
+
+Yesterday they -- the picture of an old mill.
+
+They are now -- a picture of the solar system.
+
+The lines on the blackboard were -- by John.
+He -- well.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_65_
+
+
+dew' y
+clos'es
+ca ress'
+twined
+wreaths
+weath'er
+brook' let
+togeth'er
+
+
+
+WILL AND I
+
+
+       We roam the hills together,
+       In the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       And the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         Through the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Where the tinkling brooklet passes
+       Through the heart of dewy grasses,
+                 Will and I
+       Have heard the mock-bird singing,
+       And the field lark seen upspringing,
+         In his happy flight afar,
+         Like a tiny winged star--
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Amid cool forest closes,
+       We have plucked the wild wood-roses,
+                 Will and I;
+       And have twined, with tender duty,
+       Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty
+         Of the purest brows that shine
+         With a mother-love divine,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Ah! thus we roam together,
+       Through the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       While the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         O'er the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+
+_Paul H. Hayne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CLOSES, small inclosed fields.
+
+Write about what you and Will _saw, heard,_ and _did,_ as you roamed
+together over the hills, through the woods, along the brooklet, on a
+certain bright, clear day in early summer. You are a country boy and
+Will is your city cousin. If you begin your composition by saying, "It
+was a beautiful afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of
+the day in mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what _made_ the day
+beautiful,--such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In other
+paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order in which you
+saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did in the "closes" of
+the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild flowers. Conclude by
+telling what a pleasant surprise you gave mother on your return home;
+and how she surprised you two hungry boys during supper.
+
+In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of the poem as
+you can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_66_
+
+
+themes
+her' e sy
+ramp' ant
+a chieved'
+es cort ed
+po ta'toes
+trem' u lous
+lux u' ri ous
+cre du' li ty
+in cred' i ble
+phe nom' e non
+pre ma ture' ly
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.]
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
+gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she laid the cloth,
+assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in
+ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of
+potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's
+private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day)
+into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now
+two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their
+own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions, they danced
+about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while
+he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire,
+until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to
+be let out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+"And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas
+Day by half an hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this
+morning, mother!"
+
+"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least three feet
+of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his
+threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny
+Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and
+had his limb supported by an iron frame.
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+to the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the
+church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to
+remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men
+see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob compounded some hot mixture
+in a jug, and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes
+with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha
+dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at
+the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed
+spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
+turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was
+said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking
+slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;
+but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
+forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny
+Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the
+handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
+
+Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its
+tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal
+admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a
+sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
+with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish),
+they hadn't eaten it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the
+youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the
+eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs.
+Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear witnesses--to take the
+pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and
+stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
+the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A
+smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating
+house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
+next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas
+holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her
+mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been
+flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass,--two
+tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"
+
+Which all the family re[:e]choed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+_Charles Dickens._
+
+[Illustration: Portrait of Dickens.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DECLENSION, a falling downward.
+
+COPPER, a boiler made of copper.
+
+RALLIED, indulged in pleasant humor.
+
+UBIQUITOUS (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be everywhere at
+the same time.
+
+EKED OUT, added to; increased.
+
+BEDIGHT, bedecked; adorned.
+
+RE[:E]CHOED (reëchoed): What is the mark placed over the second _ë_ called,
+and what does it denote?
+
+
+NOTE.--"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken, is
+considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of the best
+Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very poor as to the
+goods of this world, but very rich in love, kindness, and contentment.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_67_
+
+
+
+WHICH SHALL IT BE?
+
+
+       Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
+       I looked at John, John looked at me;
+       And when I found that I must speak,
+       My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
+       "Tell me again what Robert said,"
+       And then I, listening, bent my head--
+       This is his letter: "I will give
+       A house and land while you shall live,
+       If in return from out your seven
+       One child to me for aye is given."
+
+       I looked at John's old garments worn;
+       I thought of all that he had borne
+       Of poverty, and work, and care,
+       Which I, though willing, could not share;
+       I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
+       Of seven little children's need,
+             And then of this.
+
+             "Come, John," said I,
+       "We'll choose among them as they lie
+       Asleep."  So, walking hand in hand,
+       Dear John and I surveyed our band:
+       First to the cradle lightly stepped,
+       Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
+       Softly the father stooped to lay
+       His rough hand down in loving way,
+       When dream or whisper made her stir,
+       And huskily he said: "Not her!"
+
+       We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
+       And one long ray of lamplight shed
+       Athwart the boyish faces there,
+       In sleep so pitiful and fair;
+       I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek
+       A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
+       "He's but a baby too," said I,
+       And kissed him as we hurried by.
+       Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
+       Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace--
+       "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
+       He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
+
+       Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son--
+       Turbulent, restless, idle one--
+       Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave
+       Bade us befriend him to the grave;
+       Only a mother's heart could be
+       Patient enough for such as he;
+       "And so," said John, "I would not dare
+       To take him from her bedside prayer."
+
+       Then stole we softly up above,
+       And knelt by Mary, child of love;
+       "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
+       I said to John. Quite silently
+       He lifted up a curl that lay
+       Across her cheek in wilful way,
+       And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"
+       The while my heart beat audibly.
+
+       Only one more, our eldest lad,
+       Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
+       So like his father. "No, John, no!
+       I cannot, will not, let him go."
+       And so we wrote in courteous way,
+       We could not give one child away;
+       And afterwards toil lighter seemed,
+       Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
+       Happy in truth that not one face
+       Was missed from its accustomed place,
+       Thankful to work for all the seven,
+       Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!
+
+
+_Anonymous_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell of the
+great affection of parents for their children. Even in the poorest and
+most numerous families, what parent could think of parting with a child
+for any sum of money?
+
+Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich man without
+children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell about the offer
+the rich man made. What a great temptation this was!
+
+The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's faces and
+asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the two youngest
+boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple. Why? Not the sweet
+child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son. Why? Not, for worlds, the
+oldest boy. Why?
+
+Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_68_
+
+
+Dor'o thy
+in her'it ance
+Cap pa do' ci a
+ob' sti na cy
+The oph' i lus
+ex e cu' tion ers
+
+
+
+ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR
+
+
+The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St. Cecilia, are
+familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt, their histories are
+well known also. Young as they were, they despised alike the pleasures
+and the flatteries of the world. They chose God alone as their portion
+and inheritance; and He has highly exalted them, and placed their names
+amongst those glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.
+
+St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born in the city
+of Cæsarea, and was descended of a rich and noble family. While the last
+of the ten terrible persecutions, which for three hundred years steeped
+the Church in the blood of martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the
+faith of Christ, and, in consequence, was seized and carried before the
+Roman Prefect of the city.
+
+She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length, condemned to
+death. When the executioners were preparing to behead her, the Prefect
+said, "Now, at least, confess your folly, and pray to the immortal gods
+for pardon."
+
+"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and earth may
+pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when I reach the land
+whither I am going."
+
+"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most of the
+pagans, had very little notion of another world.
+
+"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells with his
+saints," replied St. Dorothy. "_There_ is neither night nor sorrow;
+_there_ is the river of life, and the brightness of eternal glory; and
+_there_ is a paradise of all delight, and flowers that shall never
+fade."
+
+"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who was
+listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if these things
+be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you shall have reached the
+land you speak of."
+
+Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered: "Theophilus, you
+shall have the sign you ask for." There was no time for more; the
+executioner placed her before the block, and, in another moment, with
+one blow, he struck off the head of the holy martyr.
+
+"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his friends, as
+they were about to leave the court; "but these Christians are not like
+other people." "Their obstinacy is altogether surprising," rejoined his
+friend; "death itself will never make them waver. But who is this,
+Theophilus?" he continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such
+singular beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden hair fell
+on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses, two white and two
+red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a fragrance that their like
+had never before been seen. He held them out to Theophilus. "These
+flowers are for you," said he; "will you not take them?" "And whence do
+you bring them, my boy?" asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied,
+"and they are the sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter
+time!" said Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as
+never blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made another; I,
+too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."
+
+Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the enraged
+Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded, he too poured
+forth his blood, and obtained the crown of martyrdom.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CÆSAREA (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient city of Palestine. It
+is celebrated as being the scene of many events recorded in the New
+Testament.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.
+
+
+_A line from Lowell's "0de."_
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_69_
+
+
+
+TO A BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+       I've watched you now a full half hour
+       Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
+       And, little butterfly, indeed
+       I know not if you sleep or feed.
+       How motionless!--not frozen seas
+         More motionless!--and then
+       What joy awaits you, when the breeze
+       Hath found you out among the trees,
+         And calls you forth again!
+
+       This plot of orchard ground is ours;
+       My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
+       Here rest your wings when they are weary;
+       Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
+       Come often to us, fear no wrong;
+         Sit near us on the bough!
+       We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
+       And summer days, when we were young;
+       Sweet childish days, that were as long
+         As twenty days are now!
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SELF-POISED, balanced.
+
+What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the Holy of
+Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so supremely holy?
+
+Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are now?"
+
+Tell what you know of the author's life.
+
+Memorize the poem.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_70_
+
+
+re tort' ed
+quizzed
+in cred' i ble
+man u fac' ture
+sat' ire
+vi o lin' ist
+com pre hend'
+me lo' di ous ly
+hu' mor
+ex hib' it
+a chieve' ments
+for' ests
+
+
+
+THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.
+
+
+In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the table, it was
+said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an inkstand. What will the
+next thing be? It is wonderful!"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's extraordinary--that's what I
+always say," he exclaimed to the pen and to the other articles on the
+table that were near enough to hear. "It is wonderful what a number of
+things can come out of me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't
+myself know what will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip
+into me. One drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?
+
+"From me all the works of the poet go forth--all these living men, whom
+people can imagine they have met--all the deep feeling, the humor, the
+vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't understand how it is, for I am
+not acquainted with nature, but it certainly is in me. From me all
+things have gone forth, and from me proceed the troops of charming
+maidens, and of brave knights on prancing steeds, and all the lame and
+the blind, and I don't know what more--I assure you I don't think of
+anything."
+
+"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all; for if you
+did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the fluid. You give the
+fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what dwells in me, and what I
+would bring to the day. It is the pen that writes. No man doubts that;
+and, indeed, most people have about as much insight into poetry as an
+old inkstand."
+
+"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand. "You've hardly
+been in service a week, and are already half worn out. Do you fancy you
+are the poet? You are only a servant; and before you came I had many of
+your sorts, some of the goose family, and others of English manufacture.
+I know the quill as well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service,
+and I shall have many more when _he_ comes--the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should like
+to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of me."
+
+"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.
+
+Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a concert, where
+he had heard a famous violinist, with whose admirable performances he
+was quite enchanted. The player had drawn a wonderful wealth of tone
+from the instrument; sometimes it had sounded like tinkling water-drops,
+like rolling pearls, sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then
+again it went swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.
+
+The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though not
+only the strings sounded, but every part of the instrument.
+
+It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece was, the bow
+seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings, and it looked as
+though every one might do it. The violin seemed to sound of itself, and
+the bow to move of itself--those two appeared to do everything; and the
+audience forgot the master who guided them and breathed soul and spirit
+into them. The master was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and
+named him, and wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:
+
+"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of their
+achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly--the poet, the
+artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the general--we all do it.
+We are only the instruments which the Almighty uses: to Him alone be the
+honor! We have nothing of which we should be proud."
+
+Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form of a
+parable, which he called "The Master and the Instrument."
+
+"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand, when the
+two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud what I have
+written down?"
+
+"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That was a cut
+at you, because of your conceit. That you should not even have
+understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a cut from within
+me--surely I must know my own satire!"
+
+"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.
+
+"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.
+
+And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well; and it is
+a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good answer--a
+conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they slept upon it.
+But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up from within him, like the
+tones from the violin, falling like pearls, rushing like the storm-wind
+through the forests. He understood his own heart in these thoughts, and
+caught a ray from the Eternal Master. To _Him_ be all the honor!
+
+_Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIPKIN, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked clay.
+
+Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words _vivid,
+exhibit, comprehend_. Consult the dictionary.
+
+What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of science?"
+
+Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word _parable_. Relate one
+of our Lord's parables.
+
+By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned, form as
+many words as you can from the following: man, do, late, loud, art,
+room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden, famous, service,
+furnished.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_71_
+
+
+
+THE WIND AND THE MOON.
+
+
+       Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+              You stare in the air
+              Like a ghost in a chair,
+       Always looking what I am about,
+       I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+              So, deep on a heap
+              Of clouds, to sleep
+       Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,
+       Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+       He turned in his bed; she was there again!
+              On high in the sky,
+              With her one ghost eye,
+       The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+       Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+              "With my sledge and my wedge
+              I have knocked off her edge.
+       If only I blow right fierce and grim,
+       The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+       He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:
+              "One puff more's enough
+              To blow her to snuff!
+       One good puff more where the last was bred,
+       And  glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."
+
+       He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,
+              In the air nowhere
+              Was a moonbeam bare;
+       Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+       Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+       The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+              On down, in town,
+              Like a merry-mad clown,
+       He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,--
+       "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+       He flew in a rage--he danced and he blew;
+              But in vain was the pain
+              Of his bursting brain;
+       For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,
+       The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.
+
+       Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,
+              And shone on her throne
+              In the sky alone,
+       A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+       Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+       Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!
+              With my breath, good faith!
+              I blew her to death--
+       First blew her away right out of the sky,
+       Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+       But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;
+              For, high in the sky,
+              With her one white eye,
+       Motionless, miles above the air,
+       She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+_George MacDonald._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DOWN (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near the sea.
+
+GLIMMER, fainter.
+
+GLUM, dark, gloomy.
+
+What is a suffix? What does the suffix _less_ mean? Define _cloudless,
+matchless, motionless._
+
+What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_72_
+
+
+mi' ter
+can'on
+car' di nal
+dis course'
+di' a logue
+cour'te ous ly
+
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+
+       St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,
+       Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,
+       And being ever courteously inclined
+       To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
+       He fell into discourse with him, and thus
+       The dialogue they held comes down to us.
+
+       _Saint_.--Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
+       _Youth_.--To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
+       _St_.--And when you are one, what do you intend?
+       _Y_.--To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
+       _St_.--Suppose it so; what have you next in view?
+       _Y_.--That I may get to be a canon too.
+       _St_.--Well; and what then?
+       _Y_.--                       Why then, for aught I know,
+       I may be made a bishop.
+       _St_.--            Be it so,--
+                   What next?
+       _Y_.--             Why, cardinal's a high degree;
+       And yet my lot it possibly may be.
+       _St_.--Suppose it was; what then?
+       _Y_.--                             Why, who can say
+       But I've a chance of being pope one day?
+       _St_.--Well, having worn the miter and red hat,
+       And triple crown, what follows after that?
+
+       _Y_.--Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
+       Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
+       When I've enjoyed a dignity so high
+       As long as God shall please, then I must die.
+
+       _St_.--What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,
+       But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!
+       Take my advice--whatever may betide,
+       For that which _must be_, first of all provide;
+       Then think  of that which _may be_; and indeed,
+       When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,
+       But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
+       Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went to Rome in
+1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory," and where he died
+in 1595.
+
+TRIPLE CROWN, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy Father, the
+Pope.
+
+Use correctly in sentences the words _canon, cannon, cañon._
+
+
+NOTE.--It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first six lines
+of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip and the Youth.
+
+The whole selection might be given from memory.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_73_
+
+
+mag' ic
+sta' mens
+de sert' ed
+pet' als
+pic' tures
+dis cour' aged
+liq' uid
+sat' is fied
+per se ver' ance
+
+
+
+THE WATER LILY.
+
+
+There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were
+not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great
+American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his
+father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a
+few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
+
+The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of
+work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He
+said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
+
+"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any fairies. I
+never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child,
+and never mind the fairies."
+
+"Very well, mother," said the boy.
+
+"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures," said his
+mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. "Why, child,
+pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't clothe a body, and a log of
+wood is far better to burn and warm a body."
+
+"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.
+
+"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy could only
+say, "I don't know, mother."
+
+"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things
+as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play."
+
+So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a
+little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was
+deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and
+the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and
+thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between
+the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue
+sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding
+over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at
+the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.
+
+And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, "I am sure
+there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these
+pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I
+know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could
+paint it, every one else would know it, too."
+
+But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with
+it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But
+he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing
+and said to the lily:
+
+"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a
+painter!"
+
+As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the
+cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown
+of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds
+before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a
+beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the
+lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest
+white.
+
+"Child, are you happy?" she asked.
+
+"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint and I
+cannot."
+
+"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.
+
+"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more."
+
+"But I will help you."
+
+"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."
+
+"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the fairy. "I
+know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I
+tell you. Do you promise to obey?"
+
+"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my heart."
+
+"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little key on the
+doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the
+trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the
+door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You
+must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day.
+On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will
+make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.
+
+"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you
+shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and
+that you shall become a truly great painter."
+
+"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy
+stood trembled for joy.
+
+"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the fairy.
+"But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even
+begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day
+will never fade till my promise is fulfilled."
+
+The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in
+his hand but the flower.
+
+He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the
+doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic
+palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break
+the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent
+nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed
+whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when
+the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of
+fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking
+on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.
+
+So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken
+the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with
+his magic palette.
+
+But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them.
+His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the
+real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her
+window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt
+whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his
+palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
+
+He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but
+in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full
+of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
+
+"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so
+much discouraged.
+
+"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the fairy.
+"My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the
+charm."
+
+He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a
+beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near
+it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word--"Hope."
+
+Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he went far,
+far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his
+pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
+
+One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city.
+He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted
+before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised
+them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a
+picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
+
+Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone
+with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the
+place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again
+standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of
+the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily
+was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered,
+and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked
+up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
+
+"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your magic gift?
+I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so
+that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it."
+
+"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did the artist
+desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is the scene of the
+picture placed? What time of the day and of the year does it show?
+
+Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about him?
+
+Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's outing.
+Write a composition on how the day was spent.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_74_
+
+
+
+A BUILDER'S LESSON.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "How shall I a habit break?"
+       As you did that habit make.
+       As you gathered, you must lose;
+       As you yielded, now refuse.
+       Thread by thread the strands we twist
+       Till they bind us, neck and wrist;
+       Thread by thread the patient hand
+       Must untwine, ere free we stand.
+       As we builded, stone by stone,
+       We must toil, unhelped, alone,
+       Till the wall is overthrown.
+
+       But remember, as we try,
+       Lighter every test goes by;
+       Wading in, the stream grows deep
+       Toward the center's downward sweep;
+       Backward turn, each step ashore
+       Shallower is than that before.
+
+       Ah, the precious years we waste
+       Leveling what we raised in haste:
+       Doing what must be undone
+       Ere content or love be won!
+       First, across the gulf we cast
+       Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
+       And habit builds the bridge at last!
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last it is so
+strong we cannot break it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_75_
+
+
+in ured'
+ru' di ments
+nine' ti eth
+ma tur' er
+ac' cu ra cy
+in ad vert' ence
+an' ec dotes
+e ner' vate
+in cor' po ra ted
+dig' ni fied
+in junc' tion
+pre var i ca' tion
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+
+Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of Washington
+were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who, by the death of
+her husband, while her children were young, became the sole conductress
+of their education. To the inquiry, what course she had pursued in
+rearing one so truly illustrious, she replied, "Only to require
+obedience, diligence, and truth."
+
+These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with the
+rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his future
+greatness.
+
+He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and to speak
+of his faults and omissions without prevarication or disguise. Hence
+arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt of deceit in others,
+which ever distinguished him. Once, by an inadvertence of his youth,
+considerable loss had been incurred, and of such a nature as to
+interfere with the plans of his mother. He came to her, frankly owning
+his error, and she replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes,
+"I had rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."
+
+She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak indulgence. He was
+inured to early rising, and never permitted to be idle. Sometimes he
+engaged in labors which the children of wealthy parents would now
+account severe, and thus acquired firmness of frame and a disregard of
+hardship.
+
+The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had been
+taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's concerns
+devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who surrounded him,
+that he was never known to be in a hurry, but found time for the
+transaction of the smallest affairs in the midst of the greatest and
+most conflicting duties.
+
+Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of his mother.
+His obedience to her commands, when a child, was cheerful and strict;
+and as he approached to maturer years, the expression of her slightest
+wish was law.
+
+At length, America having secured her independence, and the war being
+ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted the repose of
+home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his mother's blessing. The
+hero, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
+countrymen," came to lay his laurels at his mother's feet.
+
+This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year, to be
+respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief, Washington closed
+her eyes and laid her in the grave which she had selected for herself.
+
+We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious armies, the
+conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of the world, in the
+delightful attitude of an obedient and affectionate son. She, whom he
+honored with such filial reverence, said that "he had learned to command
+others by first learning to obey."
+
+Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of future
+eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and remember that
+they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they neglect the
+injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments, and forsake not the
+law of thy mother."
+
+
+[Illustration: _L.E. Fournier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CONDUCTRESS, a woman who leads or directs.
+
+The suffix _-ess_ is used to form feminine name-words.
+
+Tell what each of the following words means:
+
+
+
+ab' bess
+ac' tress
+duch' ess
+li' on ess
+count' ess
+po' et ess
+song' stress
+au' thor ess
+di rect' ress
+
+
+
+Use the following homonyms in sentences:
+
+
+air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore; vain, vein;
+vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here; fair, fare; sweet,
+suite; strait, straight.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_76_
+
+
+na' tal
+a main'
+toc' sin
+re count' ed
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.
+
+
+       'Tis splendid to have a record
+         So white and free from stain
+       That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
+         Though tested and tried amain;
+       That age to age forever
+         Repeats its story of love,
+       And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,
+         All other days above.
+
+       And this is Washington's glory,
+         A steadfast soul and true,
+       Who stood for his country's honor
+         When his country's days were few.
+       And now when its days are many,
+         And its flag of stars is flung
+       To the breeze in radiant glory,
+         His name is on every tongue.
+
+       Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
+         To be so great and strong,
+       That your memory is ever a tocsin
+         To rally the foes of wrong;
+       To live so proudly and purely,
+         That your people pause in their way,
+       And year by year, with banner and drum,
+         Keep the thought of your natal day.
+
+
+_Margaret E. Sangster._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_77_
+
+
+Brit' on (un)
+ant' lers
+wrin' kled
+vet' er an
+im mor' tal
+
+
+
+THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.
+
+
+       He lay upon his dying bed,
+         His eye was growing dim,
+       When, with a feeble voice, he called
+         His weeping son to him:
+       "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
+         "I bow to heaven's high will;
+       But quickly from yon antlers bring
+         The sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+       The sword was brought; the soldier's eye
+         Lit with a sudden flame;
+       And, as he grasped the ancient blade,
+         He murmured Warren's name;
+       Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,
+         But what is richer still,
+       I leave you, mark me, mark me well,
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,
+         I dared the Briton's band;
+       A captain raised his blade on me,
+         I tore it from his hand;
+       And while the glorious battle raged,
+         It lightened Freedom's will;
+       For, son, the God of Freedom blessed
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,--
+         A smile--and he was dead;
+       But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,
+         Upon that dying bed.
+       The son remains, the sword remains,
+         Its glory growing still,
+       And twenty millions bless the sire
+         And sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+
+_William R. Wallace._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_78_
+
+
+es' say
+buoy' ant
+in sip' id
+fe quent' ing
+scowl' ing ly
+sug ges' tion
+in tel' li gence
+sin' gu lar ly
+so lic' i tude
+com pet' i tor
+phi los' o pher
+ve' he ment ly
+tre men' dous ly
+ex pos tu la' tion
+ig no min' i ous ly
+
+
+
+THE MARTYR'S BOY.
+
+
+It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes
+forward with light and buoyant steps across the open court, towards the
+inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he
+reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with
+elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are
+well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and
+warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair
+naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual
+youth's garment, the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow
+spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind him, shows
+us that he is just returning home from school.
+
+While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother's
+embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for
+some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of
+his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets
+her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence,
+that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses
+him as follows:
+
+"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has
+happened to you on the way."
+
+"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all has been
+so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell you."
+
+A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a
+delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must. You know I am
+never happy if I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the
+day about myself. But, to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt
+whether I ought to tell you all."
+
+Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety,
+or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should
+seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied:
+
+"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may
+give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me
+to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?"
+
+"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that concerns you
+can be indifferent to me."
+
+"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting school appears
+to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I was crowned as the
+successful competitor in a declamation, which our good master Cassianus
+set us for our work during the morning hours; and this led, as you will
+hear, to some singular discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real
+philosopher should be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard
+anything so cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can they have
+to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming
+suggestions such a theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart
+glowed, and all my thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of
+the lessons you have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are
+before me. The son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my
+turn came to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the second, I
+saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending affectionately towards me, he
+said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my child, there are sharp ears listening.'"
+
+"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a Christian? I chose
+his school because it was in the highest repute for learning and
+morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these days of
+danger we are obliged to live as strangers in our own land. Certainly,
+had Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been
+deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"
+
+"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows vehemently
+applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes of Corvinus bent
+scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest anger."
+
+"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?"
+
+"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in the school.
+But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, he seems
+ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause of which I cannot
+understand."
+
+"Did he say aught to you, or do?"
+
+"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school
+into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence
+of our companions, and said, 'Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is
+the last time we meet _here_; but I have a long score to demand payment
+of from you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks
+at me as you spouted your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I
+caught expressions in it which you may live to rue, and that very soon.
+Before you leave us, I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your
+name let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of the style
+and tables. Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to
+humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"
+
+The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely
+breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my dear son?"
+
+"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my
+school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.
+'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have
+always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a
+cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for
+revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you
+avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which
+are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle
+round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had
+hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness
+attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not
+so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"
+
+The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body
+trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not
+tell the rest!"
+
+"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your father's
+memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal
+nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.
+What further said or did Corvinus?"
+
+The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and
+then proceeded:
+
+"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed
+your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token
+of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a
+furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a
+shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."
+
+He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:
+
+"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed
+bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name
+of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong
+enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant by the
+throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of
+applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against
+him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood
+so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."
+
+"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling
+matron.
+
+He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched
+forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive you, as I freely
+and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Cassianus came up at
+that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd
+quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now
+acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done;
+and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in
+soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call
+this a happy day?"
+
+_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.
+
+VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat,
+sheep or young calf, for writing on.
+
+THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.
+
+SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.
+
+SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.
+
+STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or
+tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the
+sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.
+
+CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands,
+and often loaded with lead or iron.
+
+"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by
+Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans,
+which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.
+
+CASSIANUS, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for
+Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice
+to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab
+him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.
+
+AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is pronounced
+_[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_,
+and used only in poetry, it is pronounced _[=a]_.
+
+Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly
+impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words
+a description of "The Martyr's Boy."
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_79_
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY.
+
+
+       Through the blue and frosty heavens
+         Christmas stars were shining bright;
+       Glistening lamps throughout the City
+         Almost matched their gleaming light;
+       While the winter snow was lying,
+       And the winter winds were sighing,
+         Long ago, one Christmas night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Rich and poor felt love and blessing
+         From the gracious season fall;
+       Joy and plenty in the cottage,
+         Peace and feasting in the hall;
+       And the voices of the children
+         Ringing clear above it all.
+
+       Yet one house was dim and darkened;
+         Gloom, and sickness, and despair,
+       Dwelling in the gilded chambers,
+         Creeping up the marble stair,
+       Even stilled the voice of mourning,--
+         For a child lay dying there.
+
+       Silken curtains fell around him,
+         Velvet carpets hushed the tread,
+       Many costly toys were lying
+         All unheeded by his bed;
+       And his tangled golden ringlets
+         Were on downy pillows spread.
+
+       The skill of all that mighty City
+         To save one little life was vain,--
+       One little thread from being broken,
+       One fatal word from being spoken;
+         Nay, his very mother's pain
+       And the mighty love within her
+         Could not give him health again.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Suddenly an unseen Presence
+         Checked those constant moaning cries,
+       Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,
+         Raised those blue and wondering eyes,
+       Fixed on some mysterious vision
+         With a startled, sweet surprise.
+
+       For a radiant angel hovered,
+         Smiling, o'er the little bed;
+       White his raiment; from his shoulders
+         Snowy dove-like pinions spread,
+       And a starlike light was shining
+         In a glory round his head.
+
+       While, with tender love, the angel,
+         Leaning o'er the little nest,
+       In his arms the sick child folding,
+         Laid him gently on his breast,
+       Sobs and wailings told the mother
+         That her darling was at rest.
+
+       So the angel, slowly rising,
+         Spread his wings, and through the air
+       Bore the child; and, while he held him
+         To his heart with loving care,
+       Placed a branch of crimson roses
+         Tenderly beside him there.
+
+       While the child, thus clinging, floated
+         Towards the mansions of the Blest,
+       Gazing from his shining guardian
+         To the flowers upon his breast,
+       Thus the angel spake, still smiling
+         On the little heavenly guest:
+
+       "Know, dear little one, that Heaven
+         Does no earthly thing disdain;
+       Man's poor joys find there an echo
+         Just as surely as his pain;
+       Love, on earth so feebly striving,
+         Lives divine in Heaven again.
+
+       "Once, in that great town below us,
+         In a poor and narrow street,
+       Dwelt a little sickly orphan;
+         Gentle aid, or pity sweet,
+       Never in life's rugged pathway
+         Guided his poor tottering feet.
+
+       "All the striving, anxious fore-thought
+         That should only come with age
+       Weighed upon his baby spirit,
+         Showed him soon life's sternest page;
+       Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow
+         Was his only heritage."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       "One bright day, with feeble footsteps
+         Slowly forth he tried to crawl
+       Through the crowded city's pathways,
+         Till he reached a garden-wall,
+       Where 'mid princely halls and mansions
+         Stood the lordliest of all.
+
+       "There were trees with giant branches,
+       Velvet glades where shadows hide;
+       There were sparkling fountains glancing,
+         Flowers, which in luxuriant pride
+       Even wafted breaths of perfume
+         To the child who stood outside.
+
+       "He against the gate of iron
+         Pressed his wan and wistful face,
+       Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure
+         At the glories of the place;
+       Never had his brightest day-dream
+         Shone with half such wondrous grace.
+
+       "You were playing in that garden,
+         Throwing blossoms in the air,
+       Laughing when the petals floated
+         Downwards on your golden hair;
+       And the fond eyes watching o'er you,
+       And the splendor spread before you,
+         Told a House's Hope was there.
+
+       "When your servants, tired of seeing
+         Such a face of want and woe,
+       Turning to the ragged orphan,
+         Gave him coin, and bade him go,
+       Down his cheeks so thin and wasted
+         Bitter tears began to flow.
+
+       "But that look of childish sorrow
+         On your tender child-heart fell,
+       And you plucked the reddest roses
+         From the tree you loved so well,
+       Passed them through the stern cold grating,
+         Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'
+
+       "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure
+         And the gentle voice he heard,
+       In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,
+         Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;
+       In his hand he took the flowers,
+         In his heart the loving word.
+
+       "So he crept to his poor garret;
+         Poor no more, but rich and bright;
+       For the holy dreams of childhood--
+         Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light--
+       Floated round the orphan's pillow
+         Through the starry summer night.
+
+       "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;
+         All too weak to rise he lay;
+       Did he dream that none spake harshly,--
+         All were strangely kind that day?
+       Surely then his treasured roses
+         Must have charmed all ills away.
+
+       "And he smiled, though they were fading;
+         One by one their leaves were shed;
+       'Such bright things could never perish,
+         They would bloom again,' he said.
+       When the next day's sun had risen
+         Child and flowers both were dead.
+
+       "Know, dear little one, our Father
+         Will no gentle deed disdain;
+       Love on the cold earth beginning
+         Lives divine in Heaven again;
+       While the angel hearts that beat there
+         Still all tender thoughts retain."
+
+       So the angel ceased, and gently
+         O'er his little burden leant;
+       While the child gazed from the shining,
+         Loving eyes that o'er him bent,
+       To the blooming roses by him.
+         Wondering what that mystery meant.
+
+       Thus the radiant angel answered,
+         And with tender meaning smiled:
+       "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,
+         Sin and the hard world defiled,
+       God has given me leave to seek you,--
+         I was once that little child!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       In the churchyard of that city
+         Rose a tomb of marble rare,
+       Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,
+         With her buds and blossoms fair,--
+       And a humble grave beside it,--
+         No one knew who rested there.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter_.
+
+
+[Illustration: _Kaulbach_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into a
+composition the length of which to be determined by your teacher. Use
+many of the words and forms of expression you find in the poem.
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY
+
+A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given a bunch
+of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers. Afterwards he came as
+a "radiant angel" to visit his dying friend, and in a spirit of
+gratitude bore him to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_80_
+
+
+al' ti tude
+as tound' ing
+ve loc' i ty
+vag' a bond
+mus tach' es
+hes i ta' ting ly
+par' a lyzed
+tre men' dous
+ex tra or' di na ry
+
+
+
+GLUCK'S VISITOR.
+
+
+It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day
+Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to
+little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody
+in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it
+was raining very hard. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and
+brown.
+
+"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask anybody to
+dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of mutton as this, it
+would do their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." Just
+as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy and
+dull, as though the knocker had been tied up. "It must be the wind,"
+said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock double knocks at our
+door."
+
+No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and what was
+particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to
+be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck put his head out the
+window to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen
+in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his
+cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes twinkled merrily through
+long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew
+on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed
+pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about
+four feet six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the
+same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. He
+wore an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very
+much too long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.
+
+Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his visitor that
+he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until the old gentleman
+turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught
+sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with its mouth
+and eyes very wide open indeed.
+
+"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_
+wet. His feather hung down between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail,
+dripping like an umbrella; and from the end of his mustaches the water
+was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill
+stream.
+
+"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I
+thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and there's
+your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the walls, with
+nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold. When he turned and saw
+the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing.
+
+"He does look _very_ wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for
+a quarter of an hour."
+
+As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind through the
+house that made the old chimney totter.
+
+"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that. How long may
+I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and sat himself
+down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the chimney, for it was much
+too high for the roof.
+
+"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the
+mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip,
+drip, dripping among the cinders, so that the fire fizzed and sputtered
+and began to look very black and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak;
+every fold in it ran like a gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor; "mayn't I
+take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but--really--sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't you give
+me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart.
+
+"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give you that,
+but no more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.
+
+Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came a
+tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck fitted the
+slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering
+an educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning
+fiercely to Gluck.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother, he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that instant,
+the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house."
+
+"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my
+gray hairs."
+
+"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you."
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen."
+
+"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no sooner
+touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after the
+rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner on
+the top of it.
+
+Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him
+out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he went after Hans
+and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled
+into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak was all
+wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one
+side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied, with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night, I'll call again."
+
+_John Ruskin._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NOTE.--"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection is
+taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in 1841, for the
+amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the finest story of its kind
+in the language.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_81_
+
+
+elf
+en cir' cled
+jerk
+hur' ri cane
+rein'deer
+min' i a ture
+tar' nished
+
+
+
+A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.
+
+
+       'Twas the  night  before  Christmas,  when  all through the house
+       Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:
+       The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+       In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
+       The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
+       While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+       And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+       Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+       When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
+       I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+       Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+       Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
+       The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
+       Gave the luster of midday to objects below;
+       When, what  to  my wondering eyes should appear
+       But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+       With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+       I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
+       More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
+       And he whistled, and shouted  and called them by name:
+       "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!
+       On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
+       To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
+       Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"
+       As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly
+       When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+       So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
+       With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;
+       And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
+       The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+       As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+       Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
+       He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+       And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+       A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+       And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
+       His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
+       His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+       His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
+       And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
+       The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+       And the smoke it  encircled his head like a wreath;
+       He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
+       That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
+       He was chubby and plump,--a right jolly old elf--
+       And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+       A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
+       Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+       He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+       And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+       And, laying his finger aside of his nose,
+       And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+       He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+       And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+       But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+       "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
+
+
+_Clement C. Moore._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_82_
+
+
+a chieved'
+es poused'
+thral' dom
+al li' ance
+ter rif' ic
+Del' a ware
+Com' mo dore
+re cip' i ents
+New' found land
+can non ad' ing
+par tic' i pa ted
+char ac ter is' tic
+
+
+
+COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+
+The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds. From the
+early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks of King George's
+proud ships with merciless fire, down to the glories achieved by
+Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with Spain, the story of our Navy
+is the pride and glory of our Republic. The glowing track of its
+victories extends around the world.
+
+Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds adorn the
+pages of our country's history, there is none more deserving of our
+gratitude and admiration than Commodore John Barry. His name and fame
+will live in the naval annals of our country as long as the history of
+America lasts.
+
+Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in County
+Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen he left home
+for a life on
+
+       "The sea, the sea, the open sea,
+       The blue, the fresh, the ever free."
+
+
+On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America. He spent
+his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way soon acquired a
+general and practical education. By fidelity to duty, he advanced so
+rapidly in his profession that at the age of twenty-five we find him in
+command of the _Black Prince,_ one of the finest merchant vessels then
+running between Philadelphia and London.
+
+When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and England, our
+gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship, and without delay or
+hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted country. Congress purchased
+a few vessels, had them fitted out for war, and placed the little fleet
+under the command of Captain Barry. His flagship was the _Lexington_,
+named after the first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at
+this time adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+_Lexington_ was the first to hoist this ensign of freedom.
+
+From the time of the fitting out of the _Lexington_ down to the time of
+the declaration of peace, which assured the liberation of the Colonies
+from the thraldom of Great Britain, Commodore Barry was constantly
+engaged on shore and afloat. Though he actually participated in upwards
+of twenty sea fights, always against a force superior to his own, he
+never once struck his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations
+ranged all the way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies,
+and as far east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories
+were hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men were
+publicly thanked by General Washington.
+
+During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was spending the
+winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our brave soldiers
+perishing for want of provisions, blankets, clothing and tents, an
+incident occurred which shows how supremely loyal and devoted Commodore
+Barry was to the American cause. The British troops were occupying
+Philadelphia. Lord Howe, their commander, offered our great sea fighter
+a bribe of fifty thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if
+he would abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I have
+engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither the value nor
+the command of the whole British fleet can seduce me from it."
+
+General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and daring and
+loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and safest man to be
+trusted with the important mission of carrying our commissioners to
+France to secure that alliance and assistance which we then so sorely
+needed.
+
+On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a British
+man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his ship, captain,
+and destination, he gave the following bold and characteristic reply:
+"This is the United States ship _Alliance_: Jack Barry, half Irishman
+and half Yankee, commander: who are you?" In the engagement that
+followed, Barry and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor
+that after a few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was
+forced to strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."
+
+This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of Commodore
+in the service of our Republic, continued at the head of our infant Navy
+till his death, which took place in Philadelphia, on the 13th of
+September, 1803. During life he was generous and charitable, and at his
+death made the children of the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia
+the chief recipients of his wealth. His remains repose in the little
+graveyard attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.
+
+Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St. Patrick," a
+society of which General Washington himself was a member, a magnificent
+monument was erected to the memory of Commodore Barry, in Independence
+Square, Philadelphia, under the shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle
+of American liberty. Miss Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece
+of the Commodore, had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the
+unveiling, which took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There are gallant hearts whose glory
+         Columbia loves to name,
+       Whose deeds shall live in story
+         And everlasting fame.
+       But never yet one braver
+         Our starry banner bore
+       Than saucy old Jack Barry,
+         The Irish Commodore.
+
+
+
+What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies compose it?
+What is the number of senators, and how are they chosen?
+
+Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul Jones?
+
+Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And Admiral
+Schley?
+
+What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?
+
+What does "never struck his flag" mean?
+
+Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.
+
+Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the selection.
+
+
+[Illustration: COMMODORE JOHN BARRY]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_83_
+
+
+sau' cy
+ig nored'
+rev' eled
+plain' tive
+dis traught'
+wea' ri some
+rol' lick ing
+mis' chie vous
+frec'kle-faced
+
+
+
+THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.
+
+
+       He was the boy of the house, you know,
+         A jolly and rollicking lad;
+       He was never tired, and never sick,
+         And nothing could make him sad.
+
+       Did some one urge that he make less noise,
+         He would say, with a saucy grin,
+       "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir--
+         I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       "There are two of twins--oh, it must be fun
+         To go double at everything:
+       To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,
+         To whistle by twos, and to sing!"
+
+       His laugh was something to make you glad,
+         So brimful was it of joy;
+       A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,
+         But it never troubled the boy.
+
+       You met him out in the garden path,
+         With the terrier at his heels;
+       You knew by the shout he hailed you with
+         How happy a youngster feels.
+
+       The maiden auntie was half distraught
+         At his tricks as the days went by;
+       "The most mischievous child in the world!"
+         She said, with a shrug and a sigh.
+
+       His father owned that her words were true,
+         And his mother declared each day
+       Was putting wrinkles into her face,
+         And was turning her brown hair gray.
+
+       But it never troubled the boy of the house;
+         He reveled in clatter and din,
+       And had only one regret in the world--
+         That he hadn't been born a twin.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There's nobody making a noise to-day,
+         There's nobody stamping the floor,
+       There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,
+         There's crape on the wide hall door.
+
+       The terrier's whining out in the sun--
+         "Where's my comrade?" he seems to say;
+       Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.
+         There's no frolic for you to-day.
+
+       The freckle-faced girl from the house next door
+         Is sobbing her young heart out;
+       Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget
+         To miss the laugh and the shout.
+
+       How strangely quiet the little form,
+         With the hands on the bosom crossed!
+       Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,
+         Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!
+
+       So solemn and still the big house seems--
+         No laughter, no racket, no din,
+       No starting shriek, no voice piping out,
+         "I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       There a man and a woman, pale with grief,
+         As the wearisome moments creep;
+       Oh! the loneliness touches everything--
+         The boy of the house is asleep.
+
+
+_Jean Blewett._
+
+From the Toronto _Globe_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_84_
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+COOK, ELIZA, was born in London, England, in the year 1817, and was
+  the most popular poetess of her day. When a young girl, she gave herself
+  so completely up to reading that her father threatened to burn her
+  books. She began to write at an early age, and contributed poems and
+  essays to various periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will
+  live. She died in 1889.
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM, is one of the most eminent and popular of all
+  English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother dying when he
+  was only six years old, the child was sent away from home to boarding
+  school, where he suffered so much from the cruelty of a bigger boy that
+  he was obliged to leave that school for another. At the completion of
+  his college course he expressed regrets that his education was not
+  received in a school where he could be taught his duty to God. "I have
+  been graduated," he writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the
+  gospel." His longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a
+  poet chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES, one of the greatest and most popular of the
+  novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard, persistent work he
+  raised himself from obscurity and poverty to fame and fortune. After
+  only two years of schooling he was obliged to go to work. His first job
+  was pasting labels on blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five
+  cents a day! He next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then
+  reporter for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from
+  a book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in 1867, he
+  lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is buried in
+  Westminster Abbey.
+
+DONNELLY, ELEANOR CECILIA, began to write verses when she was but
+  eight years old. Her early education was directed by her mother, a
+  gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been devoted to the cause
+  of Catholic truth and the elevation of Catholic literature. Besides
+  hundreds of charming stories and essays, she has published several
+  volumes of poems. Her writings on sacred subjects display a strong,
+  intelligent faith, and a tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos,
+  originality, grace of diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment,
+  and sublimity of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our
+  American poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city
+  of Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+  admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of every
+  Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor and glory of
+  Almighty God.
+
+GOULD, HANNAH F., an American poetess, has written many pleasant
+  poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King" have long been
+  favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year 1789, and died in 1865.
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL, was born in Salem, Mass., on July 4, 1804.
+  When still quite young he showed a great fondness for reading. At the
+  early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." At
+  college he was a classmate of Longfellow. Among his writings are a
+  number of stories for children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The
+  Snow-Image," "The Wonder Books," and some stories of American history.
+  His volumes of short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The
+  Scarlet Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+  Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of the
+  Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The Marble
+  Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in 1864, and is
+  buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a delicate and exquisite
+  humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use of language. His style may be
+  said to combine almost every excellence--elegance, simplicity, grace,
+  clearness and force.
+
+HAYNE, PAUL HAMILTON, an American poet, was born in South Carolina
+  in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of poems. His death
+  occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the American patriot, Isaac
+  Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in 1780, fell into the hands of
+  the British, and was hanged by them because he refused to join their
+  ranks and fight against his country.
+
+HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT, a popular American author who wrote under
+  the assumed name of _Timothy Titcomb,_ was born in Massachusetts in the
+  year 1819. He began life as a physician, but after a few years of
+  practice gave up his profession and went to Vicksburg, Miss., as
+  Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a number of novels and several
+  volumes of essays. In 1870 he became editor of _Scribner's Magazine._ He
+  died in 1881.
+
+HUNT, LEIGH, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an intimate
+  friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born near London,
+  England, in 1784, and died in 1859.
+
+JACKSON, HELEN HUNT, a noted American writer of prose and poetry,
+  and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the initials of her
+  name), was born in Massachusetts in the year 1831. She is the author of
+  many charming poems, short stories, and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk"
+  and "Bits of Travel." She lived some years in Colorado, where her life
+  brought to her notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she
+  wrote "A Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+  Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what "Uncle
+  Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in California in
+  1885.
+
+"MERCEDES" is the pen name of an able, zealous, and devoted Sister
+  of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has written several
+  excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools which have met the test of
+  successful production. Her "Wild Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a
+  volume of Poems and Dramas that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of
+  true poetry." A competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their
+  hues most delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+  enriched the columns of _The Missionary_ and other publications with
+  several true stories, in attractive prose, of edifying conversions
+  resulting from the missionary zeal of priest and teacher. Her graceful
+  pen is ever at the service of every cause tending to the glory of God
+  and the good of souls.
+
+MOORE, THOMAS, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland, in the year
+  1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His matchless "Melodies" are
+  the delight of all lovers of music, and are sung all over the world.
+  Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated them into the grand old Celtic
+  tongue. Moore is the greatest of Ireland's song-writers, and one of the
+  world's greatest. As a poet few have equaled him in the power to write
+  poetry which charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display
+  an exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts which
+  they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he spent the
+  later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In 1896, the Moore
+  Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his grave a monument
+  consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic cross.
+
+MOORE, CLEMENT C., poet and teacher, was born in New York in 1779.
+  In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary founded by his father,
+  who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of New
+  York. He died in 1863.
+
+MORRIS, GEORGE P., poet and journalist, wrote several popular
+  poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and ballads. He was born
+  in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died in New York in 1864.
+
+MCCARTHY, DENIS ALOYSIUS, poet, lecturer and journalist, was born
+  in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland, in the year 1871, and
+  made his elementary and intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers'
+  School of his native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+  published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round of
+  Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a distinguished critic
+  who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is soulful and sweet, and sings
+  itself into the heart of anyone who has a bit of sentiment in his
+  make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at present Associate Editor of the _Sacred
+  Heart Review_ of Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and
+  contributes poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various
+  papers and magazines.
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL JOHN HENRY, was born in London in 1801, and
+  studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a minister of the
+  Church of England, and rose rapidly in his profession. In 1845 he
+  abandoned the English ministry, renounced the errors of Protestantism,
+  and entered the Catholic Church, of which he remained till death a most
+  faithful, devoted, and zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was
+  made Rector of the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879
+  was raised to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+  writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will profit by
+  and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss and Gain" and
+  "Callista." The former is the story of a convert; the latter a tale of
+  the third century, in which the beautiful heroine and martyr, Callista,
+  is presented with a master's art. Newman is the greatest master of
+  English prose. In this field he holds the same rank that Shakespeare
+  does in English poetry. To his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English
+  essayist, pays the following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm
+  of Dr. Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+  analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the jumping of
+  one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters the room." This
+  great Prince of the Church died the death of the saints in the year
+  1890.
+
+O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE, patriot, author, poet and journalist, was
+  born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in County Meath, Ireland,
+  in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to England as agent of the Fenian
+  Brotherhood, an organization whose purpose was the freedom of Ireland
+  from English rule. In 1863 he joined the English army in order to sow
+  the seeds of revolution among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested,
+  tried for treason, and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted
+  to twenty years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to
+  Australia to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+  his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston _Pilot_ in 1874.
+  He is the author of "Songs from the Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and
+  Ballads," and of other works. He died in 1890. All through life the
+  voice and pen of Boyle O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his
+  native land, and his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his
+  character. In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+  monument.
+
+RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB, called the "Hoosier Poet," was born in
+  Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a strong sense
+  of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and goes to the heart. He
+  has written much in dialect. His home is in Indianapolis.
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN, one of the most famous of English authors, was born
+  in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He spent several years in
+  Italy in the study of art. He wrote many volumes of essays and lectures,
+  chiefly on matters connected with art and art criticism. In his writings
+  we find many beautiful pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and
+  such things. His "Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature,
+  established his reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He
+  died in 1900.
+
+SANGSTER, MRS. MARGARET E., editor and poet, was born in New
+  Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated in Vienna.
+  She has successfully edited such periodicals as _Hearth and Home,
+  Harpers' Young People, and Harpers' Bazaar,_ in which much of her prose
+  and poetry has appeared. She is at present (1909) the editor of _The
+  Woman's Home Companion._
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT, an eminent English poet and author, was born in
+  the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of ten. In 1792 he was
+  expelled from the Westminster School for writing an essay against
+  corporal punishment. He then entered one of the colleges of Oxford
+  University, where he became an intimate friend of Coleridge. While
+  residing at Lisbon he began a special study of Spanish and Portuguese
+  literature. In 1813 he was appointed poet-laureate of England, and in
+  1835 received a pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey,
+  Coleridge and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+  lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in their
+  writings described the scenery of that beautiful region.
+
+TENNYSON, ALFRED, is considered the greatest poet of his age, and
+  one of the great English poets of modern times. He was born in the year
+  1809, and educated at Cambridge University. In 1850 he gave to the world
+  "In Memoriam," his lament for the loss by death of his friend, Arthur H.
+  Hallam. In 1851 he succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His
+  poems, long and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King,"
+  "The Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+  These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of thought,
+  of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented by the entire
+  English-speaking world, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson
+  always loved the sea, the music of whose restless waves awakened an
+  answering echo in his heart.
+
+WALLACE, WILLIAM R., was born at Lexington, Ky., in the year 1819.
+  As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+WESTWOOD, THOMAS, an English poet, was born in the year 1814, and
+  died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one of which was
+  "Beads from a Rosary."
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN G., called the "Quaker Poet," was born in
+  Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and were poor.
+  When young he learned to make shoes, and with the money thus earned he
+  paid his way at school. He was a boy of nineteen when his first verses
+  were published. His poems were inspired by current events, and their
+  patriotic spirit gives them a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound"
+  is considered his greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he
+  never visited a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He
+  gave thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery struggle.
+  While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied in their
+  libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the slave. Of this he
+  wrote--
+         "Forego the dreams of lettered ease,
+         Put thou the scholar's promise by;
+         The rights of man are more than these."
+
+  Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.
+
+WISEMAN, CARDINAL NICHOLAS PATRICK, was born in the year 1802 in
+  Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there. His family returned to
+  Ireland, where he was educated. When he was sixteen he entered the
+  English College, Rome, and was ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was
+  appointed Coadjutor Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of
+  Westminster, and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a
+  profound scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is
+  the author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the _Dublin
+  Review._ He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church of the Catacombs,"
+  from which some selections have been taken for this Reader, is one of
+  the classics of our language. It was written in 1854.
+
+WOODWORTH, SAMUEL, editor and poet, was born in Massachusetts in
+  1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris, he founded the _New York
+  Mirror._ "The Old Oaken Bucket" is the best known of his poems.
+
+  For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken for this
+  book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the series.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 10811 ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: De La Salle Fifth Reader
+
+Author: Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10811]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+_DE LA SALLE SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+FIFTH READER
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901]
+
+
+
+(REVISED EDITION, 1922)
+
+BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE,
+POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y. LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+_2_ PREFACE
+
+_3_ INTRODUCTION
+
+_4_ SUGGESTIONS
+
+_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+_6_ DEFINITIONS
+
+_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE. _Mercedes_
+
+_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. _J.T. Trowbridge_
+
+_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. _Mara L. Pratt_
+
+_10_ HELPING MOTHER.
+
+_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+_12_ TWO LABORERS. _Thomas Carlyle_
+
+_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+_14_ THE BROOK SONG. _James Whitcomb Riley_
+
+_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN. _Rydingsvard_
+
+_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. _Mary Howitt_
+
+_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+_18_ SEPTEMBER. _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." _Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+_21_ MY BEADS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. _Thomas Moore_
+
+_23_ A LITTLE LADY. _Louisa M. Alcott_
+
+_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE. _Anon._
+
+_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. _Denis A. McCarthy_
+
+_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. _Cardinal Newman_
+
+_28_ LITTLE BELL. _Thomas Westwood_
+
+_29_ A MODEST WIT. _Selleck Osborne_
+
+_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. _George P. Morris_
+
+_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. _Samuel Woodworth_
+
+_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. _Pierre J. Hetzel_
+
+_34_ OUR HEROES. _Phoebe Cary_
+
+_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_36_ THE BROOK. _Tennyson_
+
+_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+_38_ ONE BY ONE. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE. _Longfellow_
+
+_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. _J.G. Holland_
+
+_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS. _Longfellow_
+
+_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. _Eugene Field_
+
+_46_ THE HOLY CITY.
+
+_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES. _Aesop_
+
+_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM. _William Cowper_
+
+_49_ JACK FROST. _Hannah F. Gould_
+
+_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. _Eliza Cook_
+
+_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! _Tennyson_
+
+_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. _Robert Southey_
+
+_57_ KIND WORDS. _Father Faber_
+
+_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_59_ DAFFODILS. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. _Eleanor C. Donnelly_
+
+_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+
+_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS _Whittier_
+
+_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+_65_ WILL AND I _Paul H. Hayne_
+
+_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'. _Charles Dickens_
+
+_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? _Anon_
+
+_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.
+
+_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. _George MacDonald_
+
+_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+_73_ THE WATER LILY. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. _Margaret E. Sangster_
+
+_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. _William R. Wallace_
+
+_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. _John Ruskin_
+
+_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. _Clement C. Moore_
+
+_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. _Jean Blewett_
+
+_84_ BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. _Leigh Hunt_"
+and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. _James Whitcomb Riley_" were originally shown in the
+list above, neither work appears in the text.)
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_2_
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series of Readers
+is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of our Catholic
+schools a set of books embodying the matter and methods best suited to
+their needs. The matter has been written or chosen with a view to
+interest and instruct, to cultivate a taste for the best literature, to
+build up a strong moral character and to imbue our children with an
+intelligent love of Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by
+the most experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.
+
+These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit thought and
+facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of this idea, class
+talks, word study, the structure of sentences, drills on certain correct
+forms of expression, the proper arrangement of ideas, explanation of
+phrases and literary expressions, oral and written reproductions of
+narrations and descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all
+receive the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years, acquire
+that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and that fluency in
+expressing their own, which are so essential to a good English
+education.
+
+In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition, the
+principle of order should in a great measure determine the value of the
+methods to be employed. In the acquisition of knowledge, the child
+instinctively follows the order of nature. This order is first,
+_observation_; second, _thought_; third, _expression_. It becomes the
+duty of the teacher, consequently, to lead the child to observe
+_accurately_, to think _clearly_, and to express his thoughts
+_correctly_. And text-books are useful only in so far as they supply the
+teacher with the material and the system best calculated to accomplish
+such results.
+
+It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers, having
+been planned in accordance with the principle just enunciated, will
+prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic schools.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_3_
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the preceding
+numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered the mechanical
+difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired a fairly good working
+vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read intelligently and with some
+degree of fluency and pleasure. Now is the time to lead him to acquire a
+taste for good reading. The selections have been drawn mainly from
+authors whose writings are distinguished for their moral and literary
+value, and whose style is sure to excite a lasting interest.
+
+In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and forming a basis
+for oral and written composition work, these selections will raise his
+ideas of right living, will quicken his imagination, will give him his
+first knowledge of many things, stimulate his powers of observation,
+enlarge his vocabulary, and correct and refine his mode of expression. A
+wholesome reading habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily,
+pleasantly and unconsciously formed.
+
+The following are some of the features of the book:
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.--This Guide is to be referred to again and
+again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught. Instruction in the
+vowel sounds is an excellent drill in articulation, while a knowledge of
+the diacritical marks enables the pupil to master these sounds for
+himself when consulting the dictionary.
+
+VARIETY OF MATTER.--In the volume will be found the best sentiments of
+the best writers. The pupil will find fables, nature studies, tales of
+travel and adventure, brave deeds from history and fiction, stories of
+loyalty and heroism, examples of sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and
+selections that teach industry, contentment, respect for authority,
+reverence for all things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to
+faith and Country.
+
+LANGUAGE STUDY.--If reading is to hold its proper place in the class
+room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere reading of the
+text. In its truest sense, reading is far more comprehensive. The
+teacher will question the pupil on what he has read, point out to him
+the beauties of thought and language, find out what hold the reading has
+taken upon his memory, how it has aroused his imagination, assisted his
+judgment, directed his will, and contributed to his fund of general
+information. To assist in this most important work is the object aimed
+at in the matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give
+fuller powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.
+
+RECITATIONS.--There are some selections marked for recitation. The
+public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness of manner,
+beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for subsequent
+elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a single poem or
+address based upon some heroic or historic event, recited before a class
+or a school, will often do more to build up a noble character and foster
+a love of history, than a full term of instruction by question and
+answer.
+
+POETRY.--The numerous poetic selections, some of which are partly
+analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the highest and
+purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of knowledge, and
+emphasize the teachings of some of the prose selections. Many of them
+have been written by American authors. Every American boy and girl
+should be acquainted with the works of poets who have done so much for
+the development of American literature and nationality.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and poetry
+enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their memory, suggests
+delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in possession of sentences of
+the best construction. The recitation of these expressive texts
+accustoms the children to speak with ease, grace and elegance."
+("Elements of Practical Pedagogy.")
+
+BIOGRAPHIES.--Young children enjoy literature for its own sake, and take
+little interest in the personality of the writer; but as they grow
+older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an interest in the
+writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are given at the close of
+the volume as helps in the study of the authors from whom selections are
+drawn, and to induce the pupils to read further.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_4_
+
+
+
+SUGGESTIONS
+
+
+WORD STUDY.--The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce correctly
+all the words of the selection he is preparing to read. He should know
+their ordinary meanings and the special meanings they may have in the
+text. He should be able to write them correctly from dictation and to
+use them in sentences of his own. He should examine if they are
+primitive, derivative, or compound; he should be able to name the
+prefixes and suffixes and show how the meanings of the original words
+are modified by their use. He should cultivate the habit of word
+mastery. What is read will not otherwise be understood. Without it there
+can be no good reading, speaking or writing.
+
+EXPRESSIVE READING.--There should be constant drill to secure correct
+pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis, and an agreeable
+tone of voice, without which there can be no expressive reading. This is
+a difficult task, and will take much time, trouble and practice; but it
+has far-reaching results. It enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays
+the foundation for a genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the
+reading lesson drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion comes
+largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be taught not only
+to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning clear to others. It is
+important that children be taught to acquire thought through the ear.
+
+CONCERT READING.--Reading in concert is generally of little value, and
+the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the children in getting
+thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an exercise in teaching
+reading it is ineffective and often positively harmful. A concert
+recitation to which special training has been given partakes of the
+nature of a hymn or a song, and then becomes an element of value. If
+occasionally there must be concert reading in the class room, it should
+always be preceded by individual mastery of the selection.
+
+POEMS.--In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be presented
+as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should first read it
+through, not stopping for note or comment. He should then read it again,
+part by part, stopping, for question, explanation and discussion.
+Lastly, the whole poem, should be read with suitable emotion, so that
+the final impression may be made by the author's own words. It is
+important that the pupil get the message which the author intended to
+give. In teaching a descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as
+possible, and thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative
+poem, the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by bringing
+out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All this will take
+time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied, is worth more than a
+volume carelessly read over. In reading poetry, be careful that the
+pupils, while giving the rhythm of the lines, do not fall into the
+singsong tone so common and so disagreeable.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.--Explanations should accompany every reading lesson,
+without which there can be no serious teaching of the vernacular. By
+their means the teacher enters into communication with his pupils; he
+gets them to speak, he corrects their errors, trains their reason, and
+forms their taste. It has been said that a teacher able to explain
+selections in prose and poetry "holds his class in the hollow of his
+hand." The teacher should insist that the pupil express himself clearly
+and correctly, not only during the reading lesson, but on every subject
+he has occasion to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout
+the day's recitations.
+
+REVIEWS.--As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak, frequent
+reviews should be held. They are necessary for the backward pupils and
+advantageous for the others. Have an informal talk with the children on
+what they have read, what they have learned, what they have liked, and
+what has interested them. Some important parts of the prose and poetry
+previously studied might, during this exercise, be re-read with profit.
+
+COMPOSITION.--Continue oral and written composition. The correct use of
+written language is best taught by selecting for compositions
+subject-matter that deeply interests the children. If persevered in,
+this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use of English. If the words
+of a selection that has been studied appear now and then in the
+children's conversation or writing, it should be a matter for praise;
+for this means that new words have been added to their vocabulary, and
+that the children have a new conception of beauty of thought and speech.
+
+See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly or
+careless habits should never be allowed in any written work.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize the
+pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future good
+resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of thought
+will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of the children
+who learn them by heart.
+
+THE DICTIONARY.--The use of the dictionary is a necessary part of
+education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use will double
+the value of study in connection with reading and language. Every
+Grammar School, High School and College should be supplied with several
+copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and every pupil taught how to
+consult it, and encouraged to do so. The dictionary should be the book
+of first and last and constant resort.
+
+USE OF THE LIBRARY.--The teacher should endeavor to create an interest
+in those books from which the selections in the Reader are taken, and in
+others of equal grade and quality. Encourage the children to take books
+from the library. Direct them in their choice. Encourage home reading.
+The reading of good books should be a part of regular school work;
+otherwise little or no true progress can be made in speaking and
+writing. The best way to learn to speak and write good English is to
+read good English.
+
+For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching Reading and
+Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and IV, Part IV, of
+"Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the Christian Brothers, and
+published by the La Salle Bureau of Supplies, 50 Second Street, New
+York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:
+
+"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle O'Reilly, Miss
+Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Mr.
+Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T.
+Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W. Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The
+Ladies' Home Journal; Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.; The Educational
+Publishing Co.; Little, Brown & Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy
+& Sons; The Hinds & Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne, Fields,
+Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers
+of the works of these authors, and to these gentlemen are tendered
+expressions of sincere thanks.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_5_
+
+
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+
+NOTE.--This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication, Webster's
+International Dictionary has been taken as authority.
+
+
+
+
+VOWELS
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)
+
+
+
+[=a]            as in gate--g[=a]te
+
+[^a]            as in care--c[^a]re
+
+[)a]            as in cat--c[)a]t
+
+[.a]            as in ask--[.a]sk
+
+[a.]  ([)o])    as in what--wh[a.]t
+
+[:a]            as in car--c[:a]r
+
+[a:]            as in all--[a:]ll
+
+ai  ([^a])      as in air--[^a]ir
+
+ai  ([=a])      as in aim--[=a]im
+
+au  ([:a])      as in aunt--[:a]unt
+
+[=e]            as in eve--[=e]ve
+
+[)e]            as in end--[)e]nd
+
+[~e]            as in her--h[~e]r
+
+[^e]            as in there--th[^e]re
+
+[e=]  ([=a])    as in they--th[e=]y
+
+ea  ([=e])      as in ear--[=e]ar
+
+ei  ([=e])      as in receive--rec[=e]ive
+
+[=i]            as in ice--[=i]ce
+
+[)i]            as in pin--p[)i]n
+
+[~i]  ([~e])    as in bird--b[~i]rd
+
+[:i]  ([=e])    as in police--pol[:i]ce
+
+i[e=]  ([=e])   as in chief--chi[=e]f
+
+[=o]            as in old--[=o]ld
+
+[^o]            as in lord--l[^o]rd
+
+[)o]            as in not--n[)o]t
+
+[.o]  ([)u])    as in son--s[.o]n
+
+[o.]  ([u.])    as in wolf--w[o.]lf
+
+[o:]  ([=oo])   as in do--d[o:]
+
+oa  ([=o])      as in boat--b[=o]at
+
+[=oo]  ([o:])   as in moon--m[=oo]n
+
+[)oo]  ([o.])   as in foot--f[)oo]t
+
+[=u]            as in pure--p[=u]re
+
+[)u]            as in cup--c[)u]p
+
+[^u]            as in burn--b[^u]rn
+
+[u.]  ([o.])    as in full--f[u.]ll
+
+[u:]            as in rude--r[u:]de
+
+ew  ([=u])      as in new
+
+[=y]  ([=i]     as in fly--fl[=y]
+
+[)y]  ([)i])    as in hymn--h[)y]mn
+
+[~y]  ([~e])    as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh
+
+
+
+CONSONANTS
+
+
+c   (s)        as in cent
+
+c   (k)        as in cat
+
+ce  (sh)       as in ocean
+
+ch  (k)        as in school
+
+ch  (sh)       as in machine
+
+ci  (sh)       as in gracious
+
+dg  (j)        as in edge
+
+ed  (d)        as in burned
+
+ed  (t)        as in baked
+
+f   (v)        as in of
+
+g   (hard)     as in get
+
+g   (j)        as in gem
+
+gh  (f)        as in laugh
+
+n   (ng)       as in ink
+
+ph  (f)        as in sulphur
+
+qu  (kw)       as in queen
+
+s   (z)        as in has
+
+s   (sh)       as in sure
+
+s   (zh)       as in pleasure
+
+ssi (sh)       as in passion
+
+si  (zh)       as in occasion
+
+ti  (sh)       as in nation
+
+wh  (hw)       as in when
+
+x   (z)        as in Xavier
+
+x   (ks)       as in tax
+
+x   (gz)       as in exist
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_6_
+
+
+
+DEFINITIONS
+
+
+LANGUAGE is the expression of thought by means of words.
+
+WORDS, with respect to their _origin_, are divided into _primitive_
+and _derivative_; and with respect to their _composition_, into _simple_
+and _compound_.
+
+A PRIMITIVE word is one that is not derived from another word.
+
+A DERIVATIVE word is one that is formed from another word by means
+of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other change.
+
+A SIMPLE word is one that consists of a single significant term.
+
+A COMPOUND word is one made up of two or more simple words.
+
+A SENTENCE is a combination of words which make complete sense.
+
+A SYLLABLE is a word or a part of a word pronounced by one effort
+of the voice.
+
+
+The DIAERESIS is the mark [..] placed over the second of two
+adjacent vowels, to denote that they are to be pronounced as distinct
+letters; as _REËCHO_.
+
+
+
+RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS
+
+
+The first word of every SENTENCE should begin with a capital.
+
+PROPER NAMES, and words derived from them, should begin with
+capitals.
+
+The first word of every LINE OF POETRY should begin with a capital.
+
+All names of God and all titles of the DEITY, as well as all
+pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with capitals.
+
+The words I and O should always be capitals.
+
+The first word of a DIRECT QUOTATION should begin with a capital.
+
+The names of the DAYS and of the MONTHS should begin with
+capitals; but not the names of the seasons.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_7_
+
+
+
+HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+
+
+       Glorious Patron! low before thee
+         Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!
+       And our voices blend in music,
+         Singing praises to thy name.
+           Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!
+           Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.
+
+       Lover of our Queen and Mother,
+         At her feet didst vow thy heart,
+       Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,
+         Thou didst choose the better part.
+           Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,
+           Pierce our souls with love's own dart.
+
+       Model of the Christian Teacher!
+         Patron of the Christian youth!
+       Lead us all to heights of glory,
+         As we strive in earnest ruth.
+           Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide us,
+           As we spread afar the Truth!
+
+       In this life of sin and sorrow,
+         Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,
+       In the hour of dark temptation,
+         Father! be our spirit's stay!
+           Take our hand and lead us homeward,
+           Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright Day!
+
+
+_Mercedes._
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE.]
+Founder of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, pointing out the way
+of salvation to the children of all nations.
+
+"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels, moulding and
+shaping the souls of youth for heaven." _Most Reverend Archbishop
+Keane, of Dubuque._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_8_
+
+
+due
+mien
+fri'ar
+pri'or
+Pa'los
+por'ter
+con'vent
+pre'cious
+grat'i tude
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.
+
+
+       Dreary and brown the night comes down,
+         Gloomy, without a star.
+       On Palos town the night comes down;
+       The day departs with stormy frown;
+         The sad sea moans afar.
+
+       A convent gate is near; 'tis late;
+         Tin-gling! the bell they ring.
+       They ring the bell, they ask for bread--
+       "Just for my child," the father said.
+         Kind hands the bread will bring.
+
+       White was his hair, his mien was fair,
+         His look was calm and great.
+       The porter ran and called a friar;
+       The friar made haste and told the prior;
+         The prior came to the gate.
+
+       He took them in, he gave them food;
+         The traveler's dreams he heard;
+       And fast the midnight moments flew.
+       And fast the good man's wonder grew,
+         And all his heart was stirred.
+
+       The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,
+         Forgetful of all sorrow,
+       Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.
+       The good man kissed him there, and said:
+         "You leave us not to-morrow!
+
+       "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;
+         This child shall be our own--
+       A precious care, while you prepare
+       Your business with the court, and bear
+         Your message to the throne."
+
+       And so his guest he comforted.
+         O wise, good prior! to you,
+       Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,
+       And helped him on his way, what praise
+         And gratitude are due!
+
+
+_J.T. Trowbridge._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Where is Palos? What is it noted for?
+
+Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?
+
+In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the traveler?
+Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called dreams? Did the
+dreams become facts? In what way?
+
+How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
+
+How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
+
+Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many
+Catholic names?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Press on! There's no such word as fail!
+       Push nobly on! The goal is near!
+       Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!
+       Look upward, onward,--never fear!
+
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_9_
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FERN.
+
+
+A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
+it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
+leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
+graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
+breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
+out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
+curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
+
+So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
+fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
+time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
+were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
+
+Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
+the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
+lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
+
+But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,
+when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments,
+a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the
+delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect
+and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its
+own beautiful valley.
+
+And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf
+home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it;
+and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think
+out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away
+with the fern in the bit of rock.
+
+Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth
+which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that
+none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is
+sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and
+lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years,
+and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his
+other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though
+silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men
+and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely
+traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid
+others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed,
+lend a hand to each and every one around us.
+
+_Mara L. Pratt._
+
+From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent
+mark where it belongs in each:
+
+outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds,
+centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the
+words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
+
+Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to
+be truly successful in life.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The child is father of the man;
+       And I could wish my days to be
+       Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+Truth alone makes life rich and great.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+       There is a tongue in every leaf--
+         A voice in every rill--
+       A voice that speaketh everywhere--
+       In flood and fire, through earth and air,
+         A tongue that's never still.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_10_
+
+
+blithe
+whistler
+mellow
+replied
+cheery
+skylark
+
+
+
+HELPING MOTHER.
+
+
+       As I went down the street to-day,
+         I saw a little lad
+       Whose face was just the kind of face
+         To make a person glad.
+       It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
+         So cheerful and so bright,
+       It made me think of apple-time.
+         And filled me with delight.
+
+       I saw him busy at his work,
+         While blithe as skylark's song
+       His merry, mellow whistle rang
+         The pleasant street along.
+       "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
+         I thought as I passed by;
+       "These busy, cheery, whistling boys
+         Make grand men by and by."
+
+       Just then a playmate came along,
+         And leaned across the gate--
+       A plan that promised lots of fun
+         And frolic to relate.
+       "The boys are waiting for us now,
+         So hurry up!" he cried;
+       My little whistler shook his head,
+         And "Can't come," he replied.
+
+       "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
+         What hinders?" asked the other.
+       "Why, don't you see," came the reply,
+         "I'm busy helping mother?
+       She's lots to do, and so I like
+         To help her all I can;
+       So I've no time for fun just now,"
+         Said this dear little man.
+
+       "I like to hear you talk like that,"
+         I told the little lad;
+       "Help mother all you can, and make
+         Her kind heart light and glad."
+       It does me good to think of him,
+         And know that there are others
+       Who, like this manly little boy,
+         Take hold and help their mothers.
+
+
+
+LANGUAGE WORK:
+
+
+Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like
+him?
+
+Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
+
+When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What
+kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_11_
+
+
+rid' dle
+brand'-new
+mys' ter y
+un rav' el
+like' ness es
+
+
+
+A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+
+Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took
+a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily
+singing his song.
+
+"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which
+you are working so hard belong to you?"
+
+"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am
+not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
+
+"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
+
+"Two dollars," said the laborer.
+
+"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
+
+"Yes; and have something left."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are
+for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and
+fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
+
+"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
+
+"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old
+parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now,
+that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards
+which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I
+spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This
+will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I
+maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
+
+The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man.
+Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me
+before?"
+
+"Never," said the laborer.
+
+"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in
+your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
+
+"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
+
+"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into
+his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand,
+stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who
+knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our
+Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The working men, whatever their task,
+         Who carve the stone, or bear the hod,
+       They wear upon their honest brows
+         The royal stamp and seal of God;
+       And worthier are their drops of sweat
+         Than diamonds in a coronet.
+
+       Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
+         Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
+       Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
+         Or plants a tree, is more than all.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+[Illustration: LABOR _Millet_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_12_
+
+
+con' script
+in dis pen' sa ble
+im' ple ment
+in de fea' si bly
+
+
+
+TWO LABORERS.
+
+
+Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
+earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
+man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
+notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
+scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
+tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
+man living manlike.
+
+Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
+pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
+so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
+wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
+so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
+indispensable,--for daily bread.
+
+A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
+the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
+Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
+revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
+they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
+endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
+only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
+heaven for us!
+
+If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
+glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
+freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
+else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
+
+Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
+and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
+toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
+than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
+thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
+depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
+break through.
+
+_Bacon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_13_
+
+
+gust
+thief
+mop' ing
+awk' ward
+pet' tish ly
+in dig' nant
+un bear' a ble
+med' dle some
+en light' ened
+in quis' i tive
+
+
+
+THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
+the top of the garden wall.
+
+"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
+is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
+hang _her_."
+
+"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.
+
+"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
+death of me?"
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
+I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
+
+"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
+and I might be managed much more easily."
+
+"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a
+pain in my side!"
+
+"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
+
+"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:--oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks
+she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is
+quite unbearable!"
+
+Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the
+first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular
+cause this morning?"
+
+"She chose to be very angry because I--I offended her," said the cat.
+
+"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
+
+"Oh, nothing worth telling,--a mere mistake of mine."
+
+Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was
+compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
+
+"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
+
+"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
+knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it,
+and it was rather nice, and--"
+
+"You finished it," hinted Growler.
+
+"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't
+come in. As it was, I left the head."
+
+"The head of what?" said Growler.
+
+"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
+
+"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
+
+"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
+
+"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the
+whole story, I only wonder she did _not_ hang you."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
+
+Mary -- here, and Susan and Agnes -- coming. They -- delayed on the road.
+Mother -- to come with them, but she and father -- obliged to wait till
+to-morrow.
+
+Puss said to Growler, "I -- not -- a drop of milk to-day, and -- not -- any
+yesterday."
+
+I -- my work well now. Yesterday I -- it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
+-- it perfectly.
+
+The boys -- their best, though they -- the game.
+
+John--now the boys he -- last week. He -- not -- them before.
+
+
+NOTE.--Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this
+selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils
+simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly
+natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or
+act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_14_
+
+
+scared
+swerve
+gur' gle
+rip' ples
+cur' rent
+mum' bling ly
+
+
+
+THE BROOK SONG.
+
+
+       Little brook! Little brook!
+       You have such a happy look--
+       Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook--
+       And your ripples, one and one,
+       Reach each other's hands and run
+       Like laughing little children in the sun!
+
+       Little brook, sing to me;
+       Sing about the bumblebee
+       That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
+       Because he wet the film
+       Of his wings, and had to swim,
+       While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
+
+       Little brook--sing a song
+       Of a leaf that sailed along
+       Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
+       And a dragon fly that lit
+       On the tilting rim of it,
+       And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
+
+       And sing--how oft in glee
+       Came a truant boy like me,
+       Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
+       Till the gurgle and refrain
+       Of your music in his brain
+       Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
+
+       Little brook--laugh and leap!
+       Do not let the dreamer weep:
+       Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
+       And then sing soft and low
+       Through his dreams of long ago--
+       Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
+
+
+_James Whitcomb Riley_.
+
+From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: BY THE BROOK]
+
+
+RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight
+covering.
+
+CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to _air,
+electricity_, etc.
+
+What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody,
+softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
+
+What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
+
+Insert _may_ or _can_ properly where you see a dash in the
+following: The boy said, "--I leave the room?" "Mother, I--climb the
+ladder;--I?"--a dog climb a tree?--I ask a favor?
+
+Copy the following words--they are often misspelled: loving, using,
+till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success,
+barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four,
+enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
+
+By means of the suffixes, _er, est, ness_, form three new words
+from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy,
+steady, lovely, gloomy.
+
+Example: From happy,--happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of
+_y_ to _i_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_15_
+
+
+rag'ged
+crin'kly
+rub'bish
+fil'tered
+protect'ed
+disor'derly
+disturbed'
+imme'diately
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+
+High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on
+the autumn wind's strong arms.
+
+"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down
+on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away
+immediately, because he had much to look after.
+
+That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was
+placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
+
+Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near
+being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
+
+It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the
+downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell,
+and filled the little pit it had made.
+
+The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay
+quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came,
+and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
+
+There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant
+could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near
+it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep
+into the cottage either.
+
+"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
+
+"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the
+smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
+
+And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it
+was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and
+told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
+tongue.
+
+Now there came a pair of ragged children, running--the smith's boy and
+girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after
+they were gone.
+
+"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall
+pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
+
+"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see
+what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know,
+when it grows bigger."
+
+And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up
+the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
+the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to
+make the place look better.
+
+"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you
+cannot think how in the way folks are!"
+
+"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very
+orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place
+she was so disturbed.
+
+But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned
+earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was
+several inches high.
+
+"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is
+getting!"
+
+"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant!
+Come and see it!" begged the girl.
+
+The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough
+bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
+
+The smith nodded to the children.
+
+"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an
+instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the
+little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+
+pet' als
+in' mates
+scrubbed
+fra' grant
+
+
+
+The children ran into the house.
+
+"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
+window!"
+
+The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
+that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
+
+"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
+the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
+
+"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
+dirty it is out in the yard!"
+
+Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
+cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
+the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
+
+"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
+so untidy here."
+
+She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
+she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
+smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
+every spot was white.
+
+It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
+the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
+strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
+ever before, he thought.
+
+"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
+greeting had been heard in here.
+
+"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
+for many years.
+
+The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
+children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
+mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
+
+A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
+stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
+
+In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
+see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
+yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
+
+She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
+through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
+they both smiled.
+
+"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
+
+Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
+was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
+there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
+the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
+
+The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
+flowers.
+
+"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
+
+The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
+carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
+fingers.
+
+Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
+over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
+sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
+head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
+sounded.
+
+In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
+more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
+much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
+
+But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
+but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
+flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
+blossom.
+
+"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
+husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
+at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
+children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
+for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
+
+When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
+flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
+waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
+lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
+
+
+From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvärd.
+
+Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
+Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
+plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
+would grow.
+
+_Abraham Lincoln._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_16_
+
+
+lux'u ry
+med'i cine
+a bun'dant
+wil'der ness
+
+
+
+THE USE OF FLOWERS.
+
+
+       God might have bade the earth bring forth
+         Enough for great and small,
+       The oak tree, and the cedar tree,
+         Without a flower at all.
+
+       He might have made enough, enough,
+         For every want of ours;
+       For luxury, medicine, and toil,
+         And yet have made no flowers.
+
+       The ore within the mountain mine
+         Requireth none to grow,
+       Nor doth it need the lotus flower
+         To make the river flow.
+
+       The clouds might give abundant rain,
+         The nightly dews might fall,
+       And the herb that keepeth life in man
+         Might yet have drunk them all.
+
+       Then wherefore, wherefore were they made
+         All dyed with rainbow light,
+       All fashioned with supremest grace,
+         Upspringing day and night--
+
+       Springing in valleys green and low,
+         And on the mountains high,
+       And in the silent wilderness,
+         Where no man passeth by?
+
+       Our outward life requires them not,
+         Then wherefore had they birth?
+       To minister delight to man,
+         To beautify the earth;
+
+       To whisper hope--to comfort man
+         Whene'er his faith is dim;
+       For whoso careth for the flowers
+         Will care much more for Him!
+
+
+_Mary Howitt._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf, copy,
+foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.
+
+Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following stanza:
+
+
+       In the country on every side
+         Where far and wide
+       Like a leopard's tawny hide
+         Stretches the plain
+       To the dry grass and drier grain
+       How welcome is the rain.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+         The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
+       Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+         And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+
+_Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_17_
+
+
+deigned
+in' va lid
+lone' li ness
+smoothed
+med'i cine
+be wil'dered
+gen' ius
+riv' et ed
+soul-sub du' ing
+
+
+
+PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+
+In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London, little Pierre,
+a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother.
+There was no bread in the house; and he had not tasted food all day. Yet
+he sat humming to keep up his spirits.
+
+Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could
+scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be
+so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good sweet orange; and yet he
+had not a penny in the world.
+
+The little song he was singing was his own,--one he had composed, both
+air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and,
+looking out, saw a man putting up a great poster with yellow letters,
+announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public.
+
+"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a
+moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a new hope. Running
+to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from a
+little box an old, stained paper, he gave one eager glance at his
+mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I
+am already worn out with company."
+
+"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says that if he
+can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep
+you a moment."
+
+"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I
+can never refuse children."
+
+Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand a little
+roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he walked straight
+up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come to see you, because my
+mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I
+thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little song at one of
+your grand concerts, some publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and
+so I could get food and medicine for my mother."
+
+The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately she
+was;--she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the
+air.
+
+"Did you compose it?" she asked,--"you, a child! And the words?--Would
+you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of
+thought.
+
+"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but I
+couldn't leave my mother."
+
+"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and
+here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here
+is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a
+seat near me."
+
+Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a
+little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid,
+telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt
+that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the
+glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling
+of silks, completely bewildered him. At last _she_ came; and the
+child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand
+lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship,
+would really sing his little song?
+
+Breathless he waited:--the band, the whole band, struck up a little
+plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how
+she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a
+bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the
+touching words of that little song.
+
+Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for
+money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and
+thousands had wept at his grief.
+
+The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid
+her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said:
+"Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this
+morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little
+song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."
+
+The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for
+Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the
+tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple
+prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice
+their affliction.
+
+The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and
+she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by
+her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his
+affection, was the little Pierre of former days,--now rich,
+accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.
+
+All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
+bounty to the widow and the fatherless!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIERRE (pe [^a]r'), Peter.
+
+MALIBRAN, a French singer and actress. She died in 1836, when only 28
+years old.
+
+What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?
+
+BREATHLESS = _breath_+_less_, without breath, out of breath;
+holding the breath on account of great interest.
+
+BREATHLESSLY, in a breathless manner. Use _breath, breathless,
+breathlessly,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming together in
+the following words and phrases:
+
+humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows; eyes
+sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.
+
+_St. Francis of Assisi._
+
+
+
+       Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
+         'Tis only noble to be good.
+       Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_18_
+
+
+
+SEPTEMBER.
+
+
+       The golden-rod is yellow;
+         The corn is turning brown;
+       The trees in apple orchards
+         With fruit are bending down.
+
+       The gentian's bluest fringes
+         Are curling in the sun;
+       In dusty pods the milkweed
+         Its hidden silk has spun.
+
+       The sedges flaunt their harvest
+         In every meadow nook;
+       And asters by the brookside
+         Make asters in the brook.
+
+       From dewy lanes at morning
+         The grapes' sweet odors rise;
+       At noon the roads all flutter
+         With yellow butterflies.
+
+       By all these lovely tokens
+         September days are here,
+       With summer's best of weather,
+         And autumn's best of cheer.
+
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+
+[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.]
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
+
+Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of cheer;
+sedges flaunt their harvest.
+
+How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?
+
+Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in the poem.
+Can you name any others?
+
+Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?
+
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_19_
+
+
+tat'ter
+wreathed
+Ken tuck' y
+de scend'ed
+re cess'
+home' stead
+en rap' tured
+Penn syl va' ni a
+
+
+
+"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."
+
+
+"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster, a resident
+of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a visit to his
+relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of Bardstown, Ky. One
+beautiful morning while the slaves were at work in the cornfield and the
+sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, first giving
+it a light red, then changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon
+a bench in front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and
+a sister.
+
+High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its sweet
+notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the thrush's mellow
+song could be heard. A number of small negro children were playing not
+far away. When Foster had finished the first verse of the song his
+sister took it from his hand and sang in a sweet, mellow voice:
+
+
+
+       The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;
+         'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
+       The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,
+         While the birds make music all the day.
+
+       The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
+         All merry, all happy, all bright;
+       By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+
+On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to a lower
+branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side and appeared to
+be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice of the young singer.
+When the last note died away upon the air, her fond brother sang in deep
+bass voice:
+
+
+       Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         Well sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+       A few more days for to tote the weary load,
+         No matter, 'twill never be light;
+       A few more days till we totter on the road--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little tots had
+placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees, while the old
+black women were peeping around the corner of the house. The faithful
+old house dog never took his eyes off the young singers. Everything was
+still; not even the stirring of the leaves seemed to break the wonderful
+silence.
+
+Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes, and sang
+in sweet accents:
+
+
+       They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon
+         On the meadow, the hill and the shore;
+       They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
+         On the bench by the old cabin door.
+
+       The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
+         With sorrow where all was delight:
+       The time has come when the darkies have to part--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+       The head must bow and the back will have to bend
+         Wherever the darkies may go;
+       A few more days and the trouble all will end
+         In the fields where the sugar cane grow.
+
+       Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+
+As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's cheeks; the
+children crept from their hiding place behind the trees, their faces
+wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their home in
+the thicket, while the old house dog still lay basking in the sun.
+
+
+_Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+
+Louisville _Courier-Journal._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_20_
+
+
+stew' ard
+se'quel
+Gal'i lee
+ab lu' tions
+in ter ces' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+
+In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us in his
+gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the Mother of
+Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the marriage." Mary was
+invited to be one of the honored guests because she was, no doubt, an
+intimate friend of the family. She preceded her Son to the wedding in
+order to lend her aid in the necessary preparations.
+
+Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He went as
+freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went pityingly to so
+many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary with his long fast and
+struggle in the desert, He was pleased to attend this merry wedding
+feast, and by this loving and kindly act to sanctify the bond of
+Marriage, which was to become in His Church one of the seven Sacraments.
+
+The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that greatly
+disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not calculated
+rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many guests.
+
+Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the confusion of
+the servants when they discovered that the wine vessels had become
+empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered, "They have no wine." "My
+hour is not yet come," He answered her, meaning that His time for
+working miracles had not yet arrived. He knew on the instant what the
+gentle heart of His Mother desired. His words sounded like a refusal of
+the request which Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue;
+but the sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.
+
+She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do
+ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close at hand six
+great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the custom in the
+East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh. These vessels
+"containing two or three measures apiece," were kept in readiness for
+the guests, who were required not only to wash their feet before
+touching the linen and drapery of the couches, but even during the meal
+frequently to purify their hands. Already there had been many of these
+ablutions performed, and the urns were being rapidly emptied.
+
+"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the servants.
+
+They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.
+
+"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the feast."
+
+And they carried it.
+
+When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not
+whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him: "Every man at
+first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that
+which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
+
+The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to give an
+agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table; but the
+latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a wondrous deed
+had been accomplished--that water had been changed into wine!
+
+Jesus had performed His first Miracle.
+
+From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we learn that
+Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God, whose
+intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a loving and
+motherly care over the smallest of our life's concerns.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FEAST _Veronese_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PRECEDED, went before in order of time. The prefix _pre_- means
+_before_. Tell what the following words mean:
+
+prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine, precaution,
+precursor, prefigure, prearrange.
+
+Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
+
+_Richard Crashaw._
+
+But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the
+Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His Name.
+
+
+_Gospel of St. John._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_21_
+
+
+dec' ades (dek' ads)
+di' a dem
+
+
+
+MY BEADS.
+
+
+       Sweet blessèd beads! I would not part
+           With one of you for richest gem
+           That gleams in kingly diadem:
+       Ye know the history of my heart.
+
+       For I have told you every grief
+           In all the days of twenty years,
+           And I have moistened you with tears,
+       And in your decades found relief.
+
+       Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,
+         And joys have died; but in my needs
+         Ye were my friends, my blessed beads!
+       And ye consoled me when I wailed.
+
+       For many and many a time, in grief,
+         My weary fingers wandered round
+         Thy circled chain, and always found
+       In some Hail Mary sweet relief.
+
+       How many a story you might tell
+         Of inner life, to all unknown;
+         I trusted you and you alone,
+       But ah! ye keep my secrets well.
+
+       Ye are the only chain I wear--
+         A sign that I am but the slave,
+         In life, in death, beyond the grave,
+       Of Jesus and His Mother fair.
+
+
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+From the following words make new words by means of the suffix -_ous_:
+joy, grace, grief, glory, desire, virtue, beauty, courage, disaster,
+harmony.
+
+(Consult the dictionary.)
+
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+
+       Mary,--our comfort and our hope,--
+         O, may that name be given
+       To be the last we sigh on earth,--
+         The first we breathe in heaven.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_22_
+
+
+
+THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+
+
+       The harp that once through Tara's halls
+         The soul of music shed,
+       Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
+         As if that soul were fled.
+       So sleeps the pride of former days,
+         So glory's thrill is o'er,
+       And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
+         Now feel that pulse no more.
+
+       No more to chiefs and ladies bright
+         The harp of Tara swells;
+       The chord alone that breaks at night
+         Its tale of ruin tells.
+       Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
+         The only throb she gives
+       Is when some heart indignant breaks,
+         To show that still She lives.
+
+
+_Thomas Moore._
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM MOORE]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_23_
+
+
+ma'am
+dis suade'
+re spect'a ble
+shuf' fled
+dan' ger ous
+grate' ful
+wist' ful ly
+mit' tens
+outstretched'
+res' cue
+un daunt' ed
+an' ti qua ted
+
+
+
+A LITTLE LADY.[001]
+
+
+Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice,
+I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She
+was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black,
+wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.
+
+Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are
+better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the
+faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old
+ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently
+waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and
+forgotten them.
+
+Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet
+in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry,
+that I might offer my help.
+
+At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to
+another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our
+coasting, unless we hurry."
+
+"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so
+bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a
+sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.
+
+"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking
+with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but
+had not the courage to try it.
+
+"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to
+do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her
+overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over
+the dangerous sheet of ice before her.
+
+"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little
+voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.
+
+"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get
+home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was
+worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.
+
+"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you
+might fall," said the child, offering her arm.
+
+"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've been having
+a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and I slip at every
+step."
+
+"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and can't tumble."
+
+So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the other girls
+to look after them and wish that we had done the little act of kindness,
+which now looked so lovely in another.
+
+"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child to the
+other.
+
+"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do lose some
+coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade her playmate from
+going to the rescue.
+
+Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day in real
+politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully supporting the
+old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big bag, the old socks, and
+the queer bonnet, both their faces lighted up with new respect and
+affection for their playmate.
+
+_Louisa M. Alcott._
+
+From "Little Women." Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DISSUADE, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by reasons
+given.
+
+ANTIQUATED, grown old; old-fashioned.
+
+Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands for.
+
+
+Use _their_ or _there_ properly in place of the blanks in
+the following sentences: The girls were on -- way
+to the Park. -- was an old lady at the crossing.
+Our home is --. Katy and Mary said --
+mother lived --.
+
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Count that day lost
+         Whose low descending sun,
+       Views from thy hands
+         No worthy action done.
+
+
+_Author unknown._
+
+
+
+What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+[Footnote 001: Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_24_
+
+
+
+WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Some love the glow of outward show,
+         Some love mere wealth and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+       What's all the gold that glitters cold,
+         When linked to hard or haughty feeling?
+       Whate'er we're told, the noble gold
+         Is truth of heart and manly dealing.
+
+       A lowly roof may give us proof
+         That lowly flowers are often fairest;
+       And trees whose bark is hard and dark
+         May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest.
+
+       There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor
+         As e'er adorned a loftier station;
+       And minds as just as those, we trust,
+         Whose claim is but of wealth's creation.
+
+       Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,
+         Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+What is meant by "haughty feeling"?
+
+What does the author say "the noble gold" is?
+
+Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word? Why?
+
+Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.
+
+Use _to, too, two,_ properly before each of the following words:
+
+hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.
+
+What virtues does the poem recommend?
+
+What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?
+
+What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?
+
+
+       The bird that sings on highest wing,
+         Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
+       And she that doth most sweetly sing,
+         Sings in the shade when all things rest.
+
+
+_Montgomery_.
+
+
+Name the two birds referred to.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_25_
+
+
+sears
+flecked
+de signed'
+strait'ened
+il lu'mined
+
+
+
+A SONG OF DUTY.
+
+
+       Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;
+         Life is flecked with shine and shower;
+       Now the tear of grieving flows,
+         Now we smile in happy hour;
+       Death awaits us, every one--
+         Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer--
+       Let us then, ere life be done,
+         Make the world a little brighter!
+
+       Burdens that our neighbors bear,
+         Easier let us try to make them;
+       Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,
+         Let us do our best to break them.
+       From the straitened hand and mind,
+         Let us loose the binding fetter,
+       Let us, as the Lord designed,
+         Make the world a little better!
+
+       Selfish brooding sears the soul,
+         Fills the mind with clouds of sorrow,
+       Darkens all the shining goal
+         Of the sun-illumined morrow;
+       Wherefore should our lives be spent
+         Daily growing blind and blinder--
+       Let us, as the Master meant,
+         Make the world a little kinder!
+
+
+_Denis A. McCarthy._
+
+From "Voices from Erin."
+
+Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_26_
+
+
+Sod' om
+spright' ly
+the o lo' gi an
+his' to ry
+To bi' as
+cre at' ed
+pro ceed' ed
+sep' a ra ted
+min' is ter
+Au gus' tine
+crit' i cise
+cat' e ehism
+de ter' mined
+As cen' sion
+Res ur rec' tion
+
+
+
+AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+
+"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to tell Maggie
+all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at school."
+
+"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at all to make
+Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."
+
+"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could find out
+_when_ the angels were created. Neither could our teacher tell me. And
+I'm told St. Augustine could only make a guess when they were created.
+
+"He thought the angels were created when God separated the light from
+the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure there are angels;
+that's the chief point."
+
+"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.
+
+"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I would
+know he must have a father and a mother, although I had never heard when
+he was born."
+
+"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.
+
+"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and they must
+have been created some time. Let me tell you some of the places where it
+is said in the Bible that angels have been seen, and where they spoke,
+too."
+
+"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if _she_ can find out
+some of those places herself. Here is the Bible."
+
+With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the history of Adam
+and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with a flaming sword was
+placed at the gate of Paradise.
+
+"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very sad."
+
+"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and beheld his
+young theologians with the holy Book before them. "They felt very sorry,
+indeed, but they were consoled when told that a Savior would come to
+redeem them."
+
+"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke about the
+angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the highest."
+
+"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was tempted,"
+proceeded the father.
+
+"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed James.
+
+"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip up her big
+brother, "but he is a bad one."
+
+"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His forty days'
+fast," insisted James.
+
+"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one _bad angel_
+tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister unto Him."
+
+"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry over some
+other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James, and give only
+the place and person in each case."
+
+"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who went to
+Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to steal money from
+the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a long journey."
+
+"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an _Archangel?_" inquired Maggie,
+still determined to surpass her brother.
+
+"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be Maggie's
+turn soon."
+
+"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels at the
+Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His Ascension."
+
+Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have till next
+Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all mine."
+
+"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "_your _angel is always with
+you, and James has his, too."
+
+"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the church,"
+said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse my coming in
+without knocking. They're in a great hurry."
+
+"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next Sunday. May
+your angels watch over you in the meantime."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ARCHANGEL ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.
+
+ARCHBISHOP ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.
+
+ARCH, as a prefix, means _chief_, and in nearly every case
+the _ch_ is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel, architect, and in
+one or two other words, the _ch = k._
+
+ARCH, as a suffix, is pronounced _[:a]rk_, and means _ruler;
+_ as monarch, a _sole ruler;_ one who _rules alone._
+
+Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are contractions. Write
+after each what it is a contraction of.
+
+EARTHWARD = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). _ward_ is here a suffix
+meaning _course, direction to, motion towards._ Add this SUFFIX
+to the end of each of the following words, and tell the meaning of
+each new word formed:
+
+up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.
+
+WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+                            The generous heart
+       Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_27_
+
+
+ebb' ing
+spon' sor
+judg' ments
+el' e ments
+tu' te lage
+
+
+
+MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+       My oldest friend, mine from the hour
+         When first I drew my breath;
+       My faithful friend, that shall be mine,
+         Unfailing, till my death.
+
+       Thou hast been ever at my side;
+         My Maker to thy trust
+       Consign'd my soul, what time He framed
+         The infant child of dust.
+
+       No beating heart in holy prayer,
+         No faith, inform'd aright,
+       Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,
+         Or Michael's conquering might.
+
+       Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,--
+         The dearest and the best,--
+       Has known my being as thou hast known,
+         And blest as thou hast blest.
+
+       Thou wast my sponsor at the font;
+         And thou, each budding year,
+       Didst whisper elements of truth
+         Into my childish ear.
+
+       And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,
+         My rebel spirit fell,
+       Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,
+         Yet bear each deed of Hell.
+
+       And then in turn, when judgments came.
+         And scared me back again,
+       Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe
+         And hallow every pain.
+
+       Oh! who of all thy toils and cares
+         Can tell the tale complete,
+       To place me under Mary's smile,
+         And Peter's royal feet!
+
+       And thou wilt hang above my bed,
+         When life is ebbing low;
+       Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,
+         The jealous, sleepless foe.
+
+       Mine, when I stand before my Judge;
+         And mine, if spared to stay
+       Within the golden furnace till
+         My sin is burn'd away.
+
+       And mine, O Brother of my soul,
+         When my release shall come;
+       Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,
+         Thy wings shall waft me home.
+
+
+_Cardinal Newman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: THE GUARDIAN ANGEL]
+
+
+Explain the following expressions:
+
+Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font;
+each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe
+the picture.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_28_
+
+
+quoth
+crooned
+frisked
+beech'-wood
+twain
+se'rene
+frol'icked
+wan'dering
+
+
+
+LITTLE BELL.
+
+
+       Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:
+       "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,
+           What's your name?" quoth he,--
+       "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,
+       Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"
+           "Little Bell," said she.
+
+       Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,
+       Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.
+           "Bonny bird," quoth she,
+       "Sing me your best song before I go,"
+       "Here's the very finest song I know,
+           Little Bell," said he.
+
+       And the blackbird piped: you never heard
+       Half so gay a song from any bird,--
+           Full of quips and wiles,
+       Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,
+       All for love of that sweet face below,
+           Dimpled o'er with smiles.
+
+       And the while the bonny bird did pour
+       His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine forth in happy overflow
+           From the blue, bright eyes.
+
+       Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade
+       Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,
+           And from out the tree
+       Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,
+       While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:
+           "Little Bell!" piped he.
+
+       Little Bell sat down amid the fern:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;
+           Bring me nuts," quoth she.
+       Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,--
+       Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,--
+           And adown the tree
+       Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
+       In the little lap dropped, one by one.
+       Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!
+           "Happy Bell!" pipes he.
+
+       Little Bell looked up and down the glade:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,
+           Come and share with me!"
+       Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,
+       Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!
+       Little Bell gave each his honest share;
+           Ah! the merry three!
+
+       And the while these woodland playmates twain
+       Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine out in happy overflow
+           From her blue, bright eyes.
+
+       By her snow-white cot at close of day
+       Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:
+           Very calm and clear
+       Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,
+       In blue heaven, an angel shape serene
+           Paused awhile to hear.
+
+       "What good child is this," the angel said,
+       "That, with happy heart, beside her bed
+           Prays so lovingly?"
+       Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,
+       Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,
+           "Bell, _dear_ Bell!" crooned he.
+
+       "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair
+       Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;
+           Child, thy bed shall be
+       Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,
+       Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,
+           Little Bell, for thee."
+
+
+_Thomas Westwood_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL
+
+croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.
+
+croon, to sing in a low tone.
+
+quips, quick, smart turns.
+
+piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or flute.
+
+In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose _Little
+Bell?_ Why are these marks used here?
+
+Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used. Tell what it
+denotes in each case.
+
+Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?
+
+In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid, slowly
+wandering" his way? Who is she?
+
+Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the blackbird to do?
+
+Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the bird sing
+so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the little childish
+heart below?"
+
+Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to do? Read
+the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What invitation did the
+squirrel receive from Little Bell?
+
+Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what you see
+there.
+
+Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.
+
+Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last stanza. What
+is their meaning?
+
+What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did he make
+such beautiful promises?
+
+Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem mean: quoth
+he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls of gold; bonny
+bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden woodlights; adown the tree;
+playmates twain; with folded palms; an angel shape; with angels' care;
+the bird did pour his full heart out freely; the sweetness did shine
+forth in happy overflow.
+
+Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the thought
+it contains.
+
+Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.
+
+What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this poem?
+
+Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,--
+
+       "He prayeth best who loveth best,
+       All things both great and small,"--
+
+is illustrated in the story of Little Bell.
+
+
+
+Write a composition on the story from the following hints: Where did
+Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what time of day? How old
+was she? How did she look? What companions did she meet? What did the
+three friends do? How did the little girl close the day?
+
+In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem as you
+can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       Prayer is the dew of faith,
+         Its raindrop, night and day,
+       That guards its vital power from death
+         When cherished hopes decay,
+       And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
+       A bright, perennial evergreen.
+
+       Good works, of faith the fruit,
+         Should ripen year by year,
+       Of health and soundness at the root
+         And evidence sincere.
+       Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
+       And make our faith no barren tree.
+
+
+_Lydia H. Sigourney._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_29_
+
+
+na'bob
+ap plaud'ed
+un as sum'ing
+sad' dler
+dif' fi dence
+sec' re ta ry
+ob scured'
+live' li hood
+su per cil' i ous
+
+
+
+A MODEST WIT.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       A supercilious nabob of the East--
+         Haughty,  being great--purse-proud,  being rich--
+       A governor, or general, at the least,
+         I have forgotten which--
+       Had in his family a humble youth,
+         Who went from England in his patron's suit,
+       An unassuming boy, in truth
+         A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
+
+       This youth had sense and spirit;
+         But yet with all his sense,
+         Excessive diffidence
+       Obscured his merit.
+
+       One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,
+         His honor, proudly free, severely merry,
+       Conceived it would be vastly fine
+         To crack a joke upon his secretary.
+
+       "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,
+         Did your good father gain a livelihood?"--
+       "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,
+         "And in his line was reckoned good."
+
+       "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,
+         Instead of teaching you to sew!
+       Pray, why did not your father make
+         A saddler, sir, of you?"
+
+       Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,
+       The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
+         At length, Modestus, bowing low,
+       Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),
+         "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
+       _Your_ father's trade!"
+
+       "_My_ father's _trade?_ Heavens! that's too bad!
+       My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?
+       My father, sir, did never stoop so low.
+       He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."
+
+       "Excuse the liberty I take,"
+         Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
+       "Pray, why did not your father make
+         A gentleman of you?"
+
+
+_Selleck Osborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+fain, gladly.
+
+archness, sly humor free from malice.
+
+suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of distinction;
+often written _suite_ (_sw[=e]t_).
+
+Write the plural forms of _boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary._
+
+Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
+
+He was an _unassuming_ boy, of decent _parts_ and good
+_repute_. His _diffidence obscured_ his merit.
+_Excuse_ the _liberty_ I take.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The rank is but the guinea's stamp,--
+       The man's the gold for a' that!
+
+
+_Burns._
+
+
+One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.
+
+_Goethe_ (_g[^u]' t[=e]_).
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_30_
+
+
+
+WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.[002]
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Woodman, spare that tree!
+         Touch not a single bough!
+       In youth it sheltered me,
+         And I'll protect it now.
+       'Twas my forefather's hand
+         That placed it near his cot;
+       There, woodman, let it stand,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not!
+
+       That old familiar tree,
+         Whose glory and renown
+       Are spread o'er land and sea--
+         And wouldst thou hew it down?
+       Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
+         Cut not its earth-bound ties;
+       Oh! spare that aged oak,
+         Now towering to the skies.
+
+       When but an idle boy,
+         I sought its grateful shade;
+       In all their gushing joy
+         Here, too, my sisters played.
+       My mother kissed me here;
+         My father pressed my hand;--
+       Forgive this foolish tear,
+         But let that old oak stand.
+
+       My heartstrings round thee cling,
+         Close as thy bark, old friend!
+       Here shall the wild bird sing,
+         And still thy branches bend.
+       Old tree! the storm still brave!
+         And, Woodman, leave the spot!
+       While I've a hand to save,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not.
+
+
+_George P. Morris,_
+
+
+[Footnote 002: NOTE.--Many trees in our country are landmarks, and are
+valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant trees and
+dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at Cambridge, Mass.,
+and it was under the shade of this venerable Elm that George Washington
+took command of the Continental army, July 3rd, 1775.
+
+There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs whole
+families of children passed much of their childhood. When one of these
+falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some honored citizen.
+
+Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of the
+truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited without
+being deeply moved.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_31_
+
+
+car' goes
+em bar' go
+im mor' tal ized
+prin' ci ple
+col' o nists
+rep re sen ta' tion
+de ri' sion
+pa' tri ot ism
+Phil a del' phi a
+
+
+
+THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+
+Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George III, King of
+England, claimed the right to tax the people of this country, though he
+did not permit them to take any part in framing the laws under which
+they lived.
+
+He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that they could
+not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were fighting for a
+principle,--that of no taxation without representation, and would not
+buy the tea. In New York and Philadelphia the people would not allow the
+vessels to land their cargoes.
+
+The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared they
+would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The ladies had a
+hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea, but they stood out
+nobly.
+
+Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of December 16,
+1773, a party of young Americans, painted and dressed like Indians,
+boarded the three vessels lying in the harbor, opened the chests, and
+emptied all the tea into the water. They then slipped away to their
+homes, and were never found out by the British. One of the leaders of
+these daring young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has
+been immortalized by Longfellow.
+
+When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the ocean, the
+anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong force of soldiers to
+Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This act only increased the spirit
+of patriotism that burned in the breasts of all Americans.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the origin of
+the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses, which our American
+boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and sing:
+
+
+
+       Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,
+       And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;
+       That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;
+       "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters."
+       Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee,
+       And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle"--these are facts--"Yankee doodle dandy;"
+       My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"
+
+       John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated;
+       But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.
+       Then Jonathan to pout began--he laid a strong embargo--
+       "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the cargo.
+       Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,
+       Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle--keep it up--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."
+
+       A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated,
+       And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops retreated.
+       Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his laughter;
+       "That tune," said he, "suits to a T--I'll sing it ever after!"
+       Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and brandy,
+       E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle dandy.
+       Yankee doodle,--ho-ha-he--Yankee doodle dandy,
+       We kept the tune, but not the tea--Yankee doodle dandy.
+
+       I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
+       Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"--what a pity!
+       With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty--
+       On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea party,
+       No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
+       And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle dandy?
+       Yankee doodle, firm and true--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a principle, "No
+taxation without representation." What did they mean by this? Name the
+thirteen original colonies.
+
+Are the last syllables of the words _principle_ and
+_principal_ pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences of your own.
+
+What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?
+
+Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words _colonists,
+insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts, tempts._
+
+Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo, negro, cargo,
+piano, calico, potato, embargo.
+
+How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room for all of
+it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of examples found in your
+Reader.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_32_
+
+
+scenes
+source
+seized
+re ceive'
+poised
+nec' tar
+re verts'
+Ju' pi ter
+cat' a ract
+ex' qui site
+in tru' sive ly
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.
+
+
+       How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
+         When fond recollection presents them to view!
+       The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
+         And every loved spot that my infancy knew;--
+       The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;
+         The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
+
+       The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
+         And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
+
+       That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;
+         For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
+       I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
+         The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
+       How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,
+         And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
+       Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
+         And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
+
+       How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
+         As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!
+       Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
+         Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.
+
+       And now, far removed from that loved habitation,
+         The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
+       As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,
+         And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well!
+
+
+_Samuel Woodworth._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what each
+describes. Use each to describe something else.
+
+Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and tell what
+word you would have used in the place of each had you tried to express
+its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the author's? Why?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_33_
+
+
+blouse
+receipt'ed
+coun' te nance
+ab sorbed'
+con trast' ed
+for' tu nate ly
+mir' a cle
+stock'-still
+good-hu' mored ly
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to
+the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman
+climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from
+the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it
+into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder, "What _are_ you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers'
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face lighted up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box with
+holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to the
+child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+_From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.
+
+In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and five that
+express commands or requests.
+
+What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The second?
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,
+         And I dream in the firelight's glow,
+       And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs
+         That I listened to long ago.
+       Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp
+         Like an echoing, answering cry,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+       For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
+         That this earth is a silly, strange place,
+       And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
+         And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
+       But I know he has found it far better to sing
+         Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_34_
+
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+OUR HEROES.
+
+
+       Here's a hand to the boy who has courage
+         To do what he knows to be right;
+       When he falls in the way of temptation
+         He has a hard battle to fight.
+       Who strives against self and his comrades
+         Will find a most powerful foe:
+       All honor to him if he conquers;
+         A cheer for the boy who says "No!"
+
+       There's many a battle fought daily
+         The world knows nothing about;
+       There's many a brave little soldier
+         Whose strength puts a legion to rout.
+       And he who fights sin single-handed
+         Is more of a hero, I say,
+       Than he who leads soldiers to battle,
+         And conquers by arms in the fray.
+
+       Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,
+         And do what you know to be right;
+       Stand firm by the colors of manhood,
+         And you will o'ercome in the fight.
+       "The right!" be your battle cry ever
+         In waging the warfare of life;
+       And God, who knows who are the heroes,
+         Will give you the strength for the strife.
+
+
+_Phoebe Cary._
+
+From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write sentences each containing one of the following words:
+
+I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for bringing back
+vanished smiles, for making one brave and courageous, light-hearted and
+happy, there is nothing like a good Confession.
+
+_Father Bearne, S.J._
+
+
+
+       Heroes must be more than driftwood
+       Floating on a waveless tide.
+
+       For right is right, since God is God;
+         And right the day must win;
+       To doubt would be disloyalty,
+         To falter would be sin.
+
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
+Faith.
+
+_St. Paul._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_35_
+
+
+troll
+cel' er y
+new' fan gled
+thatch
+chink' ing
+as par' a gus
+im mense'
+sauce' pan
+de mol' ish ing
+sa' vor y
+pat' terns
+ag' gra va ting
+
+
+
+THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.
+
+
+There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When it struck
+one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a saucepan off the
+fire, from which came a very savory smell.
+
+"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple dumplings will
+be too much done."
+
+"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by the wood;
+and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make haste, and have some
+apple dumpling."
+
+"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"
+
+"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench, in the
+shadow of the thatch.
+
+"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is this,
+mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he clapped his
+hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice, which frightened the
+children--"a miserable slave!"
+
+"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he meant.
+
+"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have been."
+
+"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought thou used to
+say, at the election time, that thou wast a free-born Briton."
+
+"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up rather
+sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell of the dinner,
+that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but it is certain that he
+walked into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens, and then took a
+tolerable share in demolishing the apple dumpling.
+
+When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife said to him,
+"I hope thou and thy master haven't had words to-day."
+
+"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of being at
+another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and 'Tom do that,'
+and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday morning till Saturday
+night. I was thinking as I walked over to Squire Morton's to ask for the
+turnip seed for master,--I was thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a
+poor workingman after all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't
+stand it."
+
+So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his wife
+thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was mistaken. He
+walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the border of a little
+tinkling stream, he sat down and began to brood over his grievances.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much pleasanter
+sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery trenches, and
+thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall
+before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see
+my family starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman."
+
+"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his great
+surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby, sitting
+composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,--green hat, green
+coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled
+very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.
+
+"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.
+
+"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost to the
+noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere
+stranger as thy master?'
+
+"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a slave?"
+
+"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak roughly.
+Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is bound to bear them."
+
+"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom, shortly.
+
+"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your difficulty.
+Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce, mind you--has a
+silver tail."
+
+"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide; "fishing
+for minnows and being one's own master would be much pleasanter than the
+sort of life I've been leading this many a day."
+
+"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do
+you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy in your freedom."
+So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream, full
+of joy and pride.
+
+He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity for
+bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer.
+
+The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows. But
+of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with
+silver tails. They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles
+as a hare; what a life they led him!
+
+They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought
+his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite
+out of the water, and dart down the stream again like little silver
+arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry. He came home
+late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in
+his pocket, each with a silver tail.
+
+"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed,
+"though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever,
+yet I certainly am free; no man can now order me about."
+
+This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to Saturday
+afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.
+
+After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities; and when he
+had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in all lights,
+praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to conceal his
+impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived to sell them all,
+and get exactly fourteen shillings for them, and no more.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself, "I've found
+out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing it,--that every one of
+those customers of yours was your master. Why! you were at the beck of
+every man, woman, and child that came near you;--obliged to be in a good
+temper, too, which was very aggravating."
+
+"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path. "I knew you
+were a man of sense; look you, you are all workingmen; and you must all
+please your customers. Your master was your customer; what he bought of
+you was your work. Well, you must let the work be such as will please
+the customer."
+
+"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking the
+fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman; and has he a
+master of his own? Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books, and
+manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he nearly
+ruined last year?"
+
+"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of patterns
+at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom. "Well, in a way
+of speaking, then, he works to please his masters, poor fellow! He is,
+as one may say, a fellow-servant, and plagued with very awkward masters.
+So I should not mind his being my master, and I think I'll go and tell
+him so."
+
+"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not been able
+to better yourself, and you have no objection now to dig up the
+asparagus bed."
+
+So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had earned, got
+his old master to take him back, and kept a profound secret his
+adventures with the man in green.
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you) has a
+silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis. Read the
+sentence aloud several times, _omitting_ the group in parenthesis. Now
+read the _whole_ sentence, keeping in mind the fact that the words in
+parenthesis are not at all important,--that they are merely thrown in by
+way of explanation. You notice that you have read the words in
+parenthesis in a _lower tone_ and _faster time._ Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but that
+makes no difference in the reading of them.
+
+The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page 243.
+Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the method.
+
+I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not wrong to
+say so) as the compositions read by my companions.
+
+Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against me.
+
+I felt that I was strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to the ground.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       "Work! and the clouds of care will fly;
+         Pale want will pass away.
+       Work! and the leprosy of crime
+         And tyrants must decay.
+       Leave the dead ages in their urns:
+         The present time be ours,
+       To grapple bravely with our lot,
+         And strew our path with flowers."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_36_
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+       I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+         I make a sudden sally,
+       And sparkle out among the fern,
+         To bicker down a valley.
+       By thirty hills I hurry down,
+         Or slip between the ridges,
+       By twenty thorps, a little town,
+         And half a hundred bridges.
+       Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I chatter over stony ways
+         In little sharps and trebles;
+       I bubble into eddying bays;
+         I babble on the pebbles.
+       With many a curve my banks I fret
+         By many a field and fallow.
+       And many a fairy foreland set
+         With willow-weed and mallow.
+       I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+         I slide by hazel covers,
+       I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+         That grow for happy lovers.
+       I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+         Among my skimming swallows;
+       I make the netted sunbeams dance
+         Against my sandy shallows.
+
+       I murmur under moon and stars
+         In brambly wildernesses;
+       I linger by my shingly bars;
+         I loiter round my cresses.
+       And out again I curve and flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HAUNTS, places of frequent resort.
+
+COOT and hern, water fowls that frequent lakes and other still
+waters.
+
+BICKER, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or water.
+
+THORP, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.
+
+SHARPS and trebles, terms in music. They are here used to
+describe the sound of the brook.
+
+EDDYING, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays" dangerous to the
+swimmer?
+
+FRETTED BANKS, banks worn away by the action of the water.
+
+FALLOW, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running into the sea
+or other water.
+
+MALLOW, a kind of plant.
+
+GLOOM, to shine obscurely.
+
+SHINGLY, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.
+
+BARS, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal in a river or
+harbor.
+
+CRESSES, certain plants which grow near the water. They are
+sometimes used as a salad.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_37_
+
+
+wits
+hale
+borne
+suit' ed
+prop' er ly
+sit u a' tion
+
+
+
+LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+
+Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as one of the
+wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat feeble, and the few
+locks that are left him are gray, he is still more hale and hearty than
+many a younger man.
+
+Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is fond of
+children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his pleasant talk, as
+they gather round his fireside or sit upon his knee.
+
+Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to find out
+what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead them to think.
+
+"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if I have a
+cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to proceed?"
+
+"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be sure," said
+Norman.
+
+"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose the cake has
+to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut off a very thin
+slice for you, and divide what is left between your brother and sister,
+will that be fair?"
+
+"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."
+
+"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice? Did I not
+cut it into three parts?"
+
+"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have been exactly
+the same size."
+
+"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three equal parts,
+it would have been quite fair?"
+
+"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to complain."
+
+"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send to a
+distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each a basket to
+carry?"
+
+"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might not be
+fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger than the
+others."
+
+"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think. But we will
+take care that the baskets are all of the same size."
+
+"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a basket."
+
+"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled with
+feathers?"
+
+"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the same weight,
+and all will be right."
+
+"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons is a
+strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little child?"
+
+"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things there are
+to think about."
+
+"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be equally borne,
+they must be suited to the strength of those who have to bear them."
+
+"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me, Grandpa, and
+I will try to answer it properly this time."
+
+"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig for me,
+and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be fair if I set
+them to work to try them, and choose the one who does his task in the
+quickest time?"
+
+"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"
+
+"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start together."
+
+"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"
+
+"Exactly the same."
+
+"And will each man have a good spade?"
+
+"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."
+
+"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other hard and
+stony."
+
+"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The ground
+shall be everywhere alike."
+
+"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if done as
+well as that of either of the other two, is the best man."
+
+"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it will be
+greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being thoughtful in
+little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely in important ones."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+In the words _suit_ (s[=u]t) and _soon_ (s[=oo]n), have the marked
+vowels the same sound?
+
+
+In the two statements,--
+
+
+       I give it to you because it's good;
+       Virtue brings its own reward;
+
+
+why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in the second?
+
+
+       Let your hands be honest and clean--
+       Let your conscience be honest and clean--
+
+
+Combine these two sentences by the word _and_; rewrite them, omitting
+all needless words.
+
+Compose two sentences, one having the action-word _learned_; the other
+the word _taught_.
+
+Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form of the
+action-word _bear_:
+
+
+As Christ -- His cross, so must we -- ours.
+Our cross must be --. "And -- His own
+cross, He went forth to Calvary."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_38_
+
+
+elate'
+despond'
+lu' mi nous
+pil' grim age
+
+
+
+ONE BY ONE.
+
+
+       One by one the sands are flowing,
+         One by one the moments fall;
+       Some are coming, some are going;
+         Do not strive to grasp them all.
+
+       One by one thy duties wait thee;
+         Let thy whole strength go to each;
+       Let no future dreams elate thee,
+         Learn thou first what these can teach.
+
+       One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)
+         Joys are sent thee here below;
+       Take them readily when given,
+         Ready, too, to let them go.
+
+       One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
+         Do not fear an armed band;
+       One will fade as others greet thee--
+         Shadows passing through the land.
+
+       Do not look at life's long sorrow;
+         See how small each moment's pain;
+       God will help thee for to-morrow,
+         So each day begin again.
+
+       Every hour that fleets so slowly
+         Has its task to do or bear;
+       Luminous the crown, and holy,
+         When each gem is set with care.
+
+       Do not linger with regretting,
+         Or for passing hours despond;
+       Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
+         Look too eagerly beyond.
+
+       Hours are golden links, God's token,
+         Reaching heaven; but one by one
+       Take them, lest the chain be broken
+         Ere the pilgrimage be done.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each line
+teaches.
+
+Name some great works that were done little by little.
+
+What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?
+
+Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall fall by
+little and little."
+
+What is the real or literal meaning of the word _gem_?
+
+Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has there.
+
+Explain the line--
+
+
+       "Let no future dreams elate thee."
+
+
+What is meant by "building castles in the air?"
+
+Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself what each
+line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an important moral
+lesson. Find out what that lesson is.
+
+Tell what you know of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_39_
+
+
+ca noe'
+sup' ple
+fi' brous
+res' in
+sin' ews
+tam' a rack
+ooz' ing
+bal' sam
+sol' i ta ry
+pli' ant
+fis' sure
+re sist' ance
+som' ber
+crev' ice
+re splen' dent
+
+
+
+THE BIRCH CANOE.
+
+
+           "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Growing by the rushing river,
+       Tall and stately in the valley!
+       I a light canoe will build me,
+       That shall float upon the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily!
+           Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!
+       Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,
+       For the summer time is coming,
+       And the sun is warm in heaven,
+       And you need no white-skin wrapper!"
+           Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
+       In the solitary forest,
+       When the birds were singing gayly,
+       In the Moon of Leaves were singing.
+           And the tree with all its branches
+       Rustled in the breeze of morning,
+       Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+       "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+           With his knife the tree he girdled;
+       Just beneath its lowest branches,
+       Just above the roots, he cut it,
+       Till the sap came oozing outward;
+       Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+       Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+       With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+       Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
+           "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+       Of your strong and pliant branches,
+       My canoe to make more steady,
+       Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+           Through the summit of the Cedar
+       Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+       Went a murmur of resistance;
+       But it whispered, bending downward,
+       "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+           Down he hewed the boughs of cedar
+       Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+       Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+       Like two bended bows together.
+           "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+       Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+       My canoe to bind together,
+       So to bind the ends together,
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Larch with all its fibers
+       Shivered in the air of morning,
+       Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+       Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
+       "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the earth he tore the fibers,
+       Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.
+       Closely sewed the bark together,
+       Bound it closely to the framework.
+           "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+       Of your balsam and your resin,
+       So to close the seams together
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+       Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+       Rattled like a shore with pebbles,
+       Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+       "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+           And he took the tears of balsam,
+       Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+       Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,
+       Made each crevice safe from water.
+           "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+       I will make a necklace of them,
+       Make a girdle for my beauty,
+       And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+           From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,
+       With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+       Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+       Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
+       Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+       "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the ground the quills he gathered,
+       All the little shining arrows,
+       Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+       With the juice of roots and berries;
+       Into his canoe he wrought them,
+       Round its waist a shining girdle.
+       Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+       On its breast two stars resplendent.
+           Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
+       In the valley, by the river,
+       In the bosom of the forest;
+       And the forest's life was in it,
+       All its mystery and its magic,
+       All the lightness of the birch tree,
+       All the toughness of the cedar,
+       All the larch's supple sinews;
+       And it floated on the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MOON OF LEAVES, month of May.
+
+SHEER, straight up and down.
+
+TAMARACK, the American larch tree.
+
+FISSURE, a narrow opening; a cleft.
+
+What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?
+
+Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put these to?
+
+What are the drops of balsam called? Why?
+
+NOTE.--"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest and most
+beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It is generally
+made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and so skillfully shaped
+and sewed together with the roots of the tamarack, that it is
+water-tight, and rides upon the water as light as a cork."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_40_
+
+
+pic' tures
+pal' ace
+four' teen
+fa' mous ly
+scul' lion
+re past'
+in hal' ing
+en chant' ed
+mat' tress
+char' coal
+land' scapes
+ar' chi tect
+
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+
+A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the care of the
+sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence, where he knew no
+one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as himself, who had lived
+in the same village, but who had gone to Florence to be scullion in the
+house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was for a good motive that little Peter
+desired to come to Florence: he wanted to be an artist, and he knew
+there was a school for artists there. When he had seen the town well,
+Peter stationed himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor
+of the cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a long time;
+but at length Thomas appeared.
+
+"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"
+
+"I am come to learn painting."
+
+"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is then sure
+not to die of hunger."
+
+"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied Peter.
+
+"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself ill every
+day, if I chose to do it."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have too much
+and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will bring the food;
+and we shall get on famously."
+
+"Very well," said Thomas.
+
+"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten nothing
+to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."
+
+Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept, and bade
+him wait there till he brought him some fragments that he was freely
+permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for Thomas was in high
+spirits, and little Peter had a famous appetite.
+
+"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the question is,
+how are you going to study?"
+
+"I shall study like all artists--with pencil and paper."
+
+"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and pencils?"
+
+"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is scullion at
+his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you are rich, it is just
+the same as if I was."
+
+Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken victuals, he
+had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait three years before he
+should receive wages. Peter did not mind. The garret walls were white.
+Thomas could give him charcoal, and so he set to draw on the walls with
+that; and after a little while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.
+
+With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were bought.
+Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures in the
+galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in the
+neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but enchanted with
+what he had seen, he crept back into the garret, where he was always
+sure to find his dinner hidden under the mattress, _to keep it warm,_ as
+Thomas said. Very soon the first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and
+Peter drew his best designs to ornament his friend's room.
+
+One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came with the
+architect to the very top of the house, and happened to enter the
+scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both Cardinal and architect
+were struck with the genius of the drawings. They thought they were
+executed by Thomas, and his Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas
+heard that the Cardinal had been in the garret, and had seen what he
+called Peter's daubs, he thought all was lost.
+
+"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him; and
+Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on his knees,
+and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"
+
+The Cardinal made him tell his story.
+
+"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he, smiling.
+
+But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at length a
+fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came the news that
+the monks of a distant convent had received and kept with them a boy of
+fourteen, who had come to ask permission to copy a painting of Raphael
+in the chapel of the convent. This boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal
+sent him as a pupil to one of the first artists in Rome.
+
+Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as brothers in
+one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One said of the other, "He
+is the greatest painter of our age." The other said of the first, "He is
+a model for evermore of a faithful friend."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA, a great Italian painter and architect. He was
+born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in Rome, in 1669.
+
+EMINENCE, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.
+
+GALLERIES, rooms or buildings where works of art are exhibited.
+
+VICTUALS (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human beings.
+
+FORTNIGHT (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is contracted from
+_fourteen nights._
+
+Locate the cities of _Rome_ and _Florence_.
+
+Give words that mean the opposite of the following:
+
+ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked, merry, bought,
+friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant, appeared, disgrace, famous,
+faithful, morning, enchanted.
+
+Recite the words--"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"--as
+Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a great _cardinal_ in
+favor of a poor destitute _boy_ whom he loved as a brother. He _felt_
+what he said.
+
+Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them, and tell
+wherein the humor lies.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.
+
+_Spanish Proverb._
+
+
+
+Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."_
+
+
+
+       A gift in need, though small indeed,
+       Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_41_
+
+
+vas' sal
+roy' al ly
+beg' gar y
+hom' age
+sen' ti nel
+dif' fer ence
+
+
+
+TO MY DOG BLANCO.[003]
+
+
+       My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,
+         A willing vassal at my feet,
+       Glad partner of my home and fare,
+         My shadow in the street.
+
+       I look into your great brown eyes,
+         Where love and loyal homage shine,
+       And wonder where the difference lies
+         Between your soul and mine!
+
+       For all the good that I have found
+         Within myself or human kind,
+       Hath royally informed and crowned
+         Your gentle heart and mind.
+
+       I scan the whole broad earth around
+         For that one heart which, leal and true,
+       Bears friendship without end or bound,
+         And find the prize in you.
+
+       I trust you as I trust the stars;
+         Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,
+       Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,
+         Can move you from my side!
+
+       As patient under injury
+         As any Christian saint of old,
+       As gentle as a lamb with me,
+         But with your brothers bold;
+
+       More playful than a frolic boy,
+         More watchful than a sentinel,
+       By day and night your constant joy
+         To guard and please me well.
+
+       I clasp your head upon my breast--
+         The while you whine and lick my hand--
+       And thus our friendship is confessed,
+         And thus we understand!
+
+       Ah, Blanco! did I worship God
+         As truly as you worship me,
+       Or follow where my Master trod
+         With your humility,--
+
+       Did I sit fondly at His feet,
+         As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,
+       And watch Him with a love as sweet,
+         My life would grow divine!
+
+
+_J.G. Holland_
+
+From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Footnote 003: Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's Sons.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEAL (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.
+
+DUNGEON (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison, commonly
+underground.
+
+Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal; glad
+partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.
+
+What duty does Blanco teach his master?
+
+Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.
+
+The three great divisions of time are _past, present, future._ Tell what
+time each of the following action-words expresses:
+
+found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has borne,
+crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_42_
+
+
+ab'bot
+clois'ter
+min'ster
+li'brary
+chron' i cle
+
+
+
+A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+
+Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk named Urban,
+who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent piety. He was a studious
+reader of the learned and sacred volumes in the convent library. One day
+he read in the Epistles of St. Peter the words, "One day is with the
+Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day;" and this
+saying seemed impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.
+
+Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the library
+into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird perched on the
+bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a nightingale. The bird did not
+move as the monk approached her, till he came quite close, and then she
+flew to another bough, and again another, as the monk pursued her. Still
+singing the same sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk,
+entranced by the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.
+
+At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every thing
+seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more beautiful,
+and older,--the buildings, the garden; and in the place of the low,
+humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three towers reared its
+head to the sky. This seemed very strange to the monk, indeed marvelous;
+but he walked on to the cloister gate and timidly rang the bell. A
+porter entirely unknown to him answered his summons, and drew back in
+amazement when he saw the monk.
+
+The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing with
+astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to have seen
+before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered the church; but
+all retreated when they saw the strange figure of the monk. The abbot
+only (but not his abbot) stopped, and stretching a crucifix before him,
+exclaimed, "In the name of Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And
+what dost thou seek here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"
+
+The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his eyes to the
+ground, and for the first time became aware that a long silvery beard
+descended from his chin over his girdle, to which was still suspended
+the key of the library. To the monks around, the stranger seemed some
+marvelous appearance; and, with a mixture of awe and admiration, they
+led him to the chair of the abbot. There he gave the key to a young
+monk, who opened the library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was
+written that three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and
+no one knew whither he had gone.
+
+"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk Urban,
+with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes, listening to thy
+notes, and yet three hundred years have passed away! Thou hast sung to
+me the song of eternity which I could never before learn. Now I know it;
+and, dust myself, I pray to God kneeling in the dust." With these words
+he sank to the ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of punctuation.
+
+Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare your work
+with the printed page.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness shorten
+life.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"_
+
+
+The older I grow--and I now stand upon the brink of eternity--the more
+comes back to me the sentence in the catechism which I learned when a
+child, and the fuller and deeper becomes its meaning: "What is the chief
+end of man? To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever."
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_43_
+
+
+dole
+man' na
+em' blem
+re leased'
+plumes
+breathe
+crim' son
+feath' ered
+soared
+dou' bly
+hom' i ly
+ser'a phim
+
+
+
+THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+
+
+       Up soared the lark into the air,
+       A shaft of song, a wingèd prayer,
+       As if a soul, released from pain,
+       Were flying back to heaven again.
+
+       St. Francis heard; it was to him
+       An emblem of the Seraphim;
+       The upward motion of the fire,
+       The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
+
+       Around Assisi's convent gate
+       The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
+       From moor and mere and darksome wood
+       Came flocking for their dole of food.
+
+       "O brother birds," St. Francis said,
+       "Ye come to me and ask for bread,
+       But not with bread alone to-day
+       Shall ye be fed and sent away.
+
+       "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds
+       With manna of celestial words;
+       Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
+       Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
+
+       "O, doubly are ye bound to praise
+       The great Creator in your lays;
+       He giveth you your plumes of down,
+       Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
+
+       "He giveth you your wings to fly
+       And breathe a purer air on high,
+       And careth for you everywhere,
+       Who for yourselves so little care!"
+
+       With flutter of swift wings and songs
+       Together rose the feathered throngs,
+       And singing scattered far apart;
+       Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
+
+       He knew not if the brotherhood
+       His homily had understood;
+       He only knew that to one ear
+       The meaning of his words was clear.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. FRANCIS PREACHING]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LAYS, songs.
+
+ASSISI ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St. Francis was
+born in 1182.
+
+What does "manna of celestial words" mean?
+
+What is the singular form of seraphim?
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Every word has its own spirit,
+         True or false, that never dies;
+       Every word man's lips have uttered
+         Echoes in God's skies.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_44_
+
+
+GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.
+
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sound the thrilling song;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Roll the hymn along.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let the heavens ring;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Welcome, new-born King.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Over the sea and land,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Chant the anthem grand.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let us all rejoice;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Lift each heart and voice.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Swell the hymn on high;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Sound it to the sky.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sing it, sinful earth,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         For the Savior's birth.
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+[Illustration: Artist _Hofmann_.--Caption: "Glory to God in the
+highest; and on earth peace to men of good will."]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_45_
+
+
+plied
+won' drous
+ex cite' ment
+com mo' tion
+vig' or
+fo' li age
+mar' vel ous
+com pas' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.[004]
+
+
+Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in the
+evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told of strange
+things that were to happen. They had lived in the Forest many, many
+years; but never had they seen such marvelous sights as were to be seen
+now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.
+
+"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who are not so
+tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things."
+
+"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars, "and the
+Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from
+heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon the hills."
+
+The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a tiny tree,
+so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a very beautiful
+little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses loved it very dearly.
+
+"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree; "and how
+I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very
+beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder whence it comes."
+
+"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels could make
+such sweet music."
+
+"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes, and the
+shepherds on the hills join in the song."
+
+The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about a Child
+that had been born. But further than this they did not understand. The
+strange and glorious song continued all the night.
+
+In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the same song
+about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with them, until every
+part of the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. They were clad
+all in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
+harps in their hands. Love, hope, joy and compassion beamed from their
+beautiful faces. The Angels came through the Forest to where the little
+Tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands,
+kissed its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had been
+born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon
+the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang the song of the
+Child.
+
+When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the little Tree.
+Night and day he watched so that no harm should come to it. Day by day
+it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it his choicest rays,
+heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds sang to it their
+prettiest songs.
+
+So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became the pride
+and glory of the Forest.
+
+One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest. "Have no
+fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the Master."
+
+And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its smooth
+trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and then turned and
+went away.
+
+[Illustration: _A. Bida._]
+
+Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested beneath the
+Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times He slept there and
+the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came with the Master to the
+Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the Tree, and talked with Him of
+things which the Tree never could understand. It heard them tell how the
+Master healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed blessings
+wherever He walked.
+
+But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face was pale
+and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed. The Tree heard
+Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning there was a sound of
+rude voices and a clashing of swords.
+
+[Illustration: _Hofmann._]
+
+Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree was hewn to
+the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and its soft, thick
+foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the Forest wept.
+
+The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw it no more.
+
+But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great King
+stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had seen that day
+a Cross raised on Calvary,--the Tree on which was nailed the Body of the
+dying Master.
+
+_Eugene Field._
+
+From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+[Footnote 004: Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_46_
+
+
+
+THE HOLY CITY.
+
+
+       Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;--
+       I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
+       I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang;--
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And then methought my dream was changed;--
+       The streets no longer rang
+       Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
+       The sun grew dark with mystery,
+       The morn was cold and chill,
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;--
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And once again the scene was changed--
+       New earth there seemed to be;
+       I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
+       The light of God was on its streets,
+       The gates were open wide,
+       And all who would might enter,
+       And no one was denied.
+       No need of moon or stars by night,
+       Nor sun to shine by day;
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,--
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_47_
+
+
+trea' son
+eu' lo gies
+de bat' ed
+phi los' o phy
+in ge nu' i ty
+ap pro' pri ate
+con' sum ma ted
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+
+
+Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was ordered to
+furnish the choicest dainties that money could procure. The first course
+consisted of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with
+appropriate sauces. This gave rise to much mirth and many witty remarks
+by the guests. The second course was also nothing but tongues, and so
+with the third and fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus
+demanded in an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and philosophy.
+By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried on,
+contracts executed, and marriages consummated. Nothing is equal to the
+tongue." The company applauded Aesop's wit, and good feeling was
+restored.
+
+"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of dining with
+me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow," said
+he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with the worst meat you can find." The
+next day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment and
+the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said
+Xanthus, "should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue? What
+wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in? Treasons,
+violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved upon, and
+communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of
+private friendships." The company were more than ever struck by Aesop's
+ingenuity, and they interceded for him with his master.
+
+_From "Aesop's Fables."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+XANTHUS, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the sixth century
+before Christ.
+
+Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they are formed
+in each case:
+
+dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily, copy, loaf,
+roof, half, valley, donkey.
+
+What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following sentence: "How
+should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst another?"
+
+Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he said in
+dispraise of it.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The tongue is
+a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the Father; and by
+it we curse men who are made after the likeness of God."
+
+_From "Epistle of St. James."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_48_
+
+
+ap' pe tite
+ha rangued'
+sus pend' ed
+min' strel sy
+
+
+
+THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+
+
+       A nightingale, that all day long
+       Had cheered the village with his song,
+       Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
+       Nor yet when eventide was ended,
+       Began to feel, as well he might,
+       The keen demands of appetite;
+       When, looking eagerly around,
+       He spied far off, upon the ground,
+       A something shining in the dark,
+       And knew the glowworm by his spark;
+       So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
+       He thought to put him in his crop.
+
+       The worm, aware of his intent,
+       Harangued him thus, right eloquent:
+       "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
+       "As much as I your minstrelsy,
+       You would abhor to do me wrong
+       As much as I to spoil your song:
+       For 'twas the self-same Power Divine
+       Taught you to sing and me to shine;
+       That you with music, I with light,
+       Might beautify and cheer the night."
+       The songster heard this short oration,
+       And, warbling out his approbation,
+       Released him, as my story tells,
+       And found a supper somewhere else.
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of appetite?"
+
+Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the bird? Study
+it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy with the printed
+page as to spelling, capitals and punctuation.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       I would not enter on my list of friends
+       (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
+       Yet wanting sensibility) the man
+       Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
+       An inadvertent step may crush the snail
+       That crawls at evening in the public path;
+       But he that has humanity, forewarned,
+       Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
+
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+
+       Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
+         Nor crush that helpless worm!
+       The frame thy wayward looks deride
+         Required a God to form.
+
+       The common Lord of all that move.
+         From whom thy being flowed,
+       A portion of His boundless love
+         On that poor worm bestowed.
+
+       Let them enjoy their little day,
+         Their humble bliss receive;
+       Oh! do not lightly take away
+         The life thou canst not give!
+
+
+_Thomas Gisborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_49_
+
+
+mar' gin
+pitch' er
+cup' board
+breathed
+di' a mond
+quiv' er ing
+
+
+
+JACK FROST.
+
+
+       Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
+       And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
+       So, through the valley, and over the height,
+         In silence I'll take my way.
+       I will not go on like that blustering train,
+       The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+       Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;
+         But I'll be as busy as they!"
+
+       Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;
+       He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+       In diamond beads; and over the breast
+         Of the quivering lake he spread
+       A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+       The glittering point of many a spear,
+       Which he hung on its margin, far and near,
+         Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+       He went to the windows of those who slept,
+       And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:
+       Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
+         By the morning light were seen
+       Most beautiful things!--there were flowers and trees;
+       There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
+       There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+         All pictured in silvery sheen!
+
+       But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+       He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+       That all had forgotten for him to prepare.--
+         "Now, just to set them a-thinking,
+       I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;
+       "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
+       And the glass of water they've left for me,
+       Shall '_tchick_,' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+
+_Hannah F. Gould._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CREST, top or summit.
+
+COAT OF MAIL, a garment of iron or steel worn by warriors in olden
+times.
+
+BEVIES, flocks or companies.
+
+SHEEN, brightness.
+
+TCHICK a combination of letters whose pronunciation is supposed to
+resemble the sound of breaking glass.
+
+What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?
+
+How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread over the
+lake? Why?
+
+What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of those who
+slept?"
+
+What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?
+
+Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work? Why does
+he work generally at night?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_50_
+
+
+re' al ize
+pen' du lum
+dil' i gent ly
+sig nif' i cance
+auc tion eer'
+per sist' ent ly
+in ex haust' i ble
+un der stood'
+hope' less ly
+nev er the less
+
+
+
+"GOING! GOING! GONE!"
+
+
+The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one of our
+large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room so crowded
+with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's face and uplifted
+hammer above the heads of the crowd.
+
+"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a sharp rap.
+
+I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with a new
+force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times before, with
+only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded solemn.
+
+"Going! Going! Gone!"
+
+"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;--"with time." This
+world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that we are buyers: we
+are, in fact, more like beggars; we have brought no money to exchange
+for precious minutes, hours, days, or years; they are given to us. There
+is no calling out of terms, no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but
+nevertheless, the time is "going! going! gone!"
+
+The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound, and the
+more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of the value of
+time.
+
+When we are young we think old people are preaching and prosing when
+they say so much about it,--when they declare so often that days, weeks,
+even years, are short. I can remember when a holiday, a whole day long,
+appeared to me an almost inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon,
+even, seemed an endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come
+seemed longer than does a whole year now.
+
+One needs to live many years before one learns how little time there is
+in a year,--how little, indeed, there will be even in the longest
+possible life,--how many things one will still be obliged to leave
+undone.
+
+But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize if you will
+try--if you will stop and think about it a little; and that is, how fast
+and how steadily the present time is slipping away. However long life
+may seem to you as you look forward to the whole of it, the present hour
+has only sixty minutes, and minute by minute, second by second, it is
+"going! going! gone!" If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is
+"gone" forever. Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time."
+It makes me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have
+wasted; how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.
+
+All the men and women who have made the world better, happier or wiser
+for their having lived in it, have done so by working diligently and
+persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one of these, when
+"looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw not the specter of his
+mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am so foolish as to think that all
+the preaching in the world can make anything look to young eyes as it
+looks to old eyes; not a bit of it.
+
+But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the minute,
+hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at the clock now
+and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of every minute, as it
+flies,--"Going! going! gone!"
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PROSING, talking in a dull way.
+
+In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics, use others
+that have the same general meaning:
+
+I heard these words _ringing_ out from a _room_ so _crowded_ with
+_people_ that I could _but_ just _see_ the man's _face._ How _fast_ and
+_steadily_ the present time is _slipping_ away!
+
+
+Punctuate the following:
+
+Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_51_
+
+
+yearn
+car' ol
+mus' ing
+stee' ple
+mag' ic al
+
+
+
+SEVEN TIMES TWO.
+
+
+       You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,
+         How many soever they be,
+       And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,
+         Come over, come over to me!
+
+       Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,
+         No magical sense conveys;
+       And bells have forgotten their old art of telling
+         The fortune of future days.
+
+       "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,
+         While a boy listened alone;
+       Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
+         All by himself on a stone.
+
+       Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
+         And mine, they are yet to be;
+       No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:
+         You leave the story to me.
+
+       The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,
+         And hangeth her hoods of snow;
+       She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:
+         Oh, children take long to grow!
+
+       I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,
+         Nor long summer bide so late;
+       And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,
+         For some things are ill to wait.
+
+       I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,
+         While dear hands are laid on my head,
+       "The child is a woman--the book may close over,
+         For all the lessons are said."
+
+       I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,
+         Not one, as he sits on the tree;
+       The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!
+         Such as I wish it to be.
+
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"TURN AGAIN, TURN AGAIN!" Reference is here made to Dick
+Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London to earn a
+living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord Mayor of that city.
+
+
+NOTE.--This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics, entitled
+"The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a woman's life. For
+the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see page 44 of the Fourth
+Reader. Read it in connection with this. "Seven Times Two" shows the
+girl standing at the entrance to maidenhood, books closed and lessons
+said, longing for the years to go faster to bring to her the happiness
+she imagines is waiting.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_52_
+
+
+man' i fold
+do mes' tic
+pet' tish ly
+in grat' i tude
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+
+It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long
+absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath
+which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change
+had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my
+youthful character. The world was altered, too; and as I stood at my
+mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless,
+happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of
+tenderness.
+
+But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance
+of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday--as
+if the blessed sound of her well-remembered voice was in my ear. The gay
+dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my
+mind that, had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed
+would have been gentle and refreshing.
+
+The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of it now
+pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who have parents to
+love them may learn to value them as they ought.
+
+My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so accustomed to
+her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as
+children usually are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently; but
+when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I
+began to believe she would always be spared to me; but they told me she
+would die.
+
+One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home discouraged
+and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was paler than usual,
+but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my
+return. Alas! when I look back through the lapse of thirteen years, I
+think my heart must have been stone not to have been melted by it. She
+requested me to go downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I
+pettishly asked her why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a
+look of mild reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a
+hundred years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?"
+
+I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly. Instead of
+smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I set the glass down
+very quickly, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to
+bed without bidding my mother good night; but when alone in my room, in
+darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her
+voice trembled when she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her
+chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they
+told me I must not waken her.
+
+I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my bed,
+resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I was for
+my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and, hurrying on
+my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber. She was dead! She never
+spoke more--never smiled upon me again; and when I touched the hand that
+used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it made me
+start.
+
+I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I
+then wished that I might die, and be buried with her; and, old as I now
+am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but
+have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot
+call her back; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of
+her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me
+will bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       "But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+       And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_53_
+
+
+chide
+be dewed'
+em balmed'
+be tide'
+lin' gered
+wor' shiped
+
+
+
+THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.
+
+
+       I love it, I love it; and who shall dare
+       To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?
+       I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;
+       I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.
+       'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;
+       Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
+       Would ye learn the spell?--a mother sat there!
+       And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
+
+       In Childhood's hour I lingered near
+       The hallowed seat with listening ear;
+       And gentle words that mother would give,
+       To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
+       She told me that shame would never betide,
+       With truth for my creed and God for my guide;
+       She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,
+       As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.
+
+       I sat and watched her many a day,
+       When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
+       And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,
+       And turned from her Bible to bless her child.
+       Years rolled on; but the last one sped--
+       My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:
+       I learned how much the heart can bear,
+       When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.
+
+       'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now
+       With quivering breath and throbbing brow:
+       'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;
+       And Memory flows with lava tide.
+       Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
+       While the scalding drops start down my cheek;
+       But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear
+       My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.
+
+_Eliza Cook._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPELL, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have magical power; a
+charm.
+
+HALLOWED, made holy.
+
+HOLLOWED, made a hole out of; made hollow. Use these two words
+in sentences of your own.
+
+What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"
+
+Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your imagination
+will furnish you with all needed details.
+
+Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the accented
+syllable of each:
+
+absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety, again, virtue,
+ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother, genuine, earliest, fatigued,
+business.
+
+The dictionary will aid you.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_54_
+
+
+crags
+break
+tongue
+thoughts
+ha' ven
+sail' or
+state' ly
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+       And I would that my tongue could utter
+         The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+       O well for the fisherman's boy,
+         That he shouts with his sister at play!
+       O well for the sailor lad,
+         That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+       And the stately ships go on
+         To the haven under the hill;
+       But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+         And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
+       But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+         Will never come back to me.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tennyson]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_55_
+
+
+barns
+deaf en ing
+i dol' a trous
+pon' der
+ca lum' ni ate
+Be at' i tudes
+
+
+
+GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+
+The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended to inspire
+the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It was given amidst
+fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and whatever else could fill
+the minds of the Jews with fear and wonder. Compelled, as it were, by
+the idolatrous acts of His chosen people, by their repeated rebellions,
+and their endless murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty
+Sovereign, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with awe and
+dread.
+
+It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love, was given
+to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the Beatitudes from
+which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders were heard; no angry
+flashes of lightning were visible. There was nothing forbidding in the
+voice, words, or appearance of the Divine Lawgiver. In the whole
+exterior of our Savior there was a something so sweet, so humble, so
+meek and captivating, that the people were filled with admiration and
+love.
+
+One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that Christ
+preached is the fact that He constantly called God our Father. How
+beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the Law of love! Listen
+to Him attentively, and ponder upon His words:
+
+"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by them:
+otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO is in
+heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy
+right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy FATHER WHO
+seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your enemies; do good to them
+that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you; that
+you may be the children of your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His
+sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the
+unjust.
+
+"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap,
+nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER feedeth them. Are not
+you of much more value than they?... If you, then, being evil, know how
+to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will
+forgive men their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also
+your offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your FATHER
+forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you pray: OUR FATHER
+Who art in heaven."
+
+From these and many other similar expressions found in the very first
+sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that it is the
+expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as our loving Father;
+and that, however unworthy we may be, we should look upon ourselves as
+His beloved children. There cannot be a possible doubt of this, since it
+is taught so positively by His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the
+Truth, and the Life."
+
+[Illustration: _Henry le Jeune._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_56_
+
+
+
+HAPPY OLD AGE.
+
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried;
+         "The few locks that are left you are gray;
+       You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
+         "I remembered that youth would fly fast,
+       And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
+         That I never might need them at last."
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
+         "And life must be hastening away;
+       You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;
+         "Let the cause thy attention engage;
+       In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
+         And He hath not forgotten my age."
+
+
+_Robert Southey._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of the
+important lessons it teaches?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_57_
+
+
+smit' ing
+el' o quence
+mes' mer ize
+ges' ture
+vin' e gar
+un dy' ing ly
+
+
+
+KIND WORDS.
+
+
+Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to
+be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had
+lost its way and come on earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the
+hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and putting for the while an angel's
+nature into us.
+
+Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In truth,
+there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems as they could
+almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely, soften the hard and
+angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long, loyal, and
+self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a foundation than a kind
+word.
+
+Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been made
+happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we are unable to
+explain! And happiness is a great power of holiness. Thus, kind words,
+by their power of producing happiness, have also a power of producing
+holiness, and so of winning men to God.
+
+If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious subjects, it is
+by voice and words that men mesmerize each other. Hence it is that the
+world is converted by the voice of the preacher. Hence it is that an
+angry word rankles longer in the heart than an angry gesture, nay, very
+often even longer than a blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power
+of kindness in general applies with an additional and peculiar force to
+kind words.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+From "Spiritual Conferences."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Explain: Kind words are the music of the world--An angel's song that had
+lost its way and come on earth--Smiting the hearts of men with sweetest
+wounds--Putting an angel's nature into us--Hard and angry hearts of
+men--An angry word rankles longer in the heart than even a blow.
+
+Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made you very
+happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,--to have kind words
+said to him, or for him to say them to another?
+
+Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or
+learning.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred
+barrels of vinegar.
+
+_St. Francis de Sales._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_58_
+
+
+
+KINDNESS IS THE WORD.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "What is the real good?"
+       I asked in musing mood.
+
+       Order, said the law court;
+       Knowledge, said the school;
+       Truth, said the wise man;
+       Pleasure, said the fool;
+       Love, said the maiden;
+       Beauty, said the page;
+       Freedom, said the dreamer;
+       Home, said the sage;
+       Fame, said the soldier;
+       Equity, said the seer;--
+
+       Spake my heart full sadly:
+       "The answer is not here."
+
+       Then within my bosom
+       Softly this I heard:
+       "Each heart holds the secret:
+       Kindness is the word."
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAGE, a wise man.
+
+SEER, one who foresees events; a prophet.
+
+EQUITY ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_59_
+
+
+va' cant
+joc' und
+pen' sive
+spright' ly
+sol' i tude
+daf' fo dils
+con tin' u ous
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+       I wandered lonely as a cloud
+         That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+       When all at once I saw a crowd,
+         A host, of golden daffodils,
+       Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+         Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+       Continuous as the stars that shine
+         And twinkle on the Milky Way,
+       They stretched in never-ending line
+         Along the margin of the bay:
+       Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+         Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+       The waves beside them danced; but they
+         Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
+       A poet could not but be gay
+         In such a jocund company.
+       I gazed,--and gazed,--but little thought
+         What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+       For oft, when on my couch I lie
+         In vacant or in pensive mood,
+       They flash upon that inward eye
+         Which is the bliss of solitude;
+       And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+         And dances with the daffodils.
+
+
+_William Wordsworth._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MILKY WAY, the belt of light seen at night in the heavens, and is
+composed of millions of stars.
+
+1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the poet compare
+his loneliness?
+
+What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the daffodils
+doing?
+
+What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe the picture
+contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.
+
+2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of daffodils there
+were? How would you tell it?
+
+How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does _margin_ mean?
+
+How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he say they
+were doing?
+
+3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the daffodils surpass
+the waves?
+
+What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?
+
+4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive mood?" "Inward
+eye?"
+
+How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?
+
+What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the heart of the
+poet?
+
+What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the beginning of the
+poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?
+
+Commit the poem to memory.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_60_
+
+
+hos' tile
+en dowed'
+tu' mult
+ac' o lyte
+ep' i taph
+grav' i ty
+com' bat ants
+pref' er ence
+a maz' ed ly
+ath let' ic
+Vi at' i cum
+in her' it ance
+cem' e ter y
+re tal' i ate
+un flinch' ing ly
+ir re sist' i ble
+un vi' o la ted
+con temp' tu ous ly
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.
+
+
+At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
+going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
+condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
+these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
+souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
+of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
+many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
+discharge this duty.
+
+The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
+altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
+Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
+at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
+sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
+an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
+
+"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
+admiration of the picture before him.
+
+"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
+this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
+glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
+forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
+courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
+Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
+covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
+
+"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
+Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
+must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
+wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
+
+"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
+folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
+reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
+expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
+lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
+low, thoroughfares.
+
+As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
+lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
+and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
+"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
+"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
+
+"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
+I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
+
+"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
+had a child like thee!"
+
+"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
+sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
+
+"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
+
+"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
+made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
+him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
+Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
+pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
+
+In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
+than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
+where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
+
+"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
+their leader.
+
+"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
+seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
+Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
+take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
+
+"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."
+
+"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
+youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
+done. So come, join us at once."
+
+"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
+
+"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
+carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
+not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
+I will put it by safe while we play."
+
+"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
+
+"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
+wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
+of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
+was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
+with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
+bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
+pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
+purpose.
+
+"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
+chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
+once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
+asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
+contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
+Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
+
+This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
+Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
+demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
+was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
+while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
+till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
+breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
+just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
+themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
+round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
+retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
+overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
+and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
+tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
+him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
+
+"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
+"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
+
+The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
+bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
+relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
+eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
+soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
+of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
+hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
+met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
+at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
+that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
+
+"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
+Christian."
+
+The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
+eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
+faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
+
+The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
+child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
+and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
+slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
+himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
+amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
+for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
+belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:
+
+
+
+       "Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
+         The mob profanely bade him to display;
+       He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
+         Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
+
+
+_Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."
+
+
+
+ADDLE, to become rotten, as eggs.
+
+TUNIC, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and confined at the
+waist by a girdle.
+
+SUPERNATURAL, = prefix _super_, meaning _above_ or _beyond,_ +
+_natural_.
+
+-ION, a suffix denoting _act, state, condition of_. Define
+_emotion, objection, dejection, conversion, submission, construction,
+admiration, persecution, observation, revolution, deliberation._
+
+Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of "Fabiola." Tell
+him how much you like the book, what you have read in it, and thank him
+for sending it.
+
+Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and tell what
+you like or dislike in each.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,
+         Kept murmuring under breath:
+       "Before temptation--sacrifice!
+         Before dishonor--death!"
+
+
+_Margaret J. Preston._
+
+
+
+       Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
+       Other men's failures can never save you;
+       Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
+       Stand like a hero, and battle till death.
+
+
+_George L. Taylor._
+
+
+
+       Heroes of old! I humbly lay
+         The laurel on your graves again;
+       Whatever men have done, men may--
+         The deeds you wrought are not in vain.
+
+
+_Austin Dobson._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_61_
+
+
+a jar'
+chal' ice
+a thwart'
+rap' tur ous
+sward
+ter' race
+jew' eled
+ci bo' ri um
+por' tal
+vil' lain
+au da' cious
+sac ri le' gious
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.
+
+
+       A summer night in Remy--strokes of the midnight bell,
+       Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,
+       Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,
+       A little village slumber'd,--locked in quiet dreams.
+
+       A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,
+       With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,
+       But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star
+       Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!
+
+       And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran
+       From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,
+       Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,
+       The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!
+
+       To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward,
+       (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;
+       By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,
+       Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.
+
+       Behold! a grassy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair,
+       And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.
+       Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,
+       Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!
+
+       O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!
+       Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,
+       Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright--
+       Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,
+       Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.
+       All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things
+       Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.
+
+       Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,--
+       The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts,
+       What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive
+       With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!
+
+       Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees
+       Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;
+       For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,
+       Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...
+
+       O little ones, who listen unto this legend old
+       (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),
+       From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,
+       Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.
+
+       He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare
+       A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;
+       Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,
+       Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.
+
+       "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,
+       Around My Heart shall hover your wingèd ministries,
+       And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come
+       To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"
+
+
+
+_Eleanor C. Donnelly._
+
+From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MERE, a waste place; a marsh.
+
+TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.
+
+WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use
+_golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does
+_revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as
+you can. Consult your dictionary.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_62_
+
+
+stalked
+ep'au lets
+be hind' hand
+se date'
+trudg' ing
+com pos' ed ly
+fid' dler
+strut' ted
+ap pro ba' tion
+re sumed'
+af firmed'
+dis a gree' a ble
+whith er so ev' er
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
+
+
+Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
+had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
+seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
+
+The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
+overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful
+birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom
+Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole class who were
+behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to
+attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
+moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
+mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
+this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
+Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some
+bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay
+his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a
+man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.
+
+"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
+come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a
+moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school,
+on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to
+find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the
+old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
+stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
+with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
+never heard."
+
+They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
+were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
+sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the
+new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay
+in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly
+in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal
+schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
+Mr. Toil.
+
+But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
+the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
+and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
+see him among the haymakers?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people
+say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
+
+They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
+fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
+they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes
+to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of
+old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair
+of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his
+hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
+looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
+the schoolroom.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very
+severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't
+want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making
+merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
+were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
+
+"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.
+Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and
+where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again,
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch
+rod.
+
+"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was nobody
+but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
+fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
+best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
+
+"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
+the looks of this fiddler."
+
+Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering along the
+highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant villages; and,
+whithersoever they went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil.
+
+He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he
+sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He
+made himself at home in every cottage, and, under one disguise or
+another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the schoolhouse."
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger; for,
+though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
+had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go
+back to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not
+remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there again was
+the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had been in company with
+Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
+
+When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began
+to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old
+schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as
+the face of his own dear mother.
+
+_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
+
+
+"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
+the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
+hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
+for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
+perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
+tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
+smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
+hand.
+
+From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
+School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
+margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Evil is wrought by want of thought,
+       As well as want of heart.
+
+
+_Hood._
+
+
+It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
+happiness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_63_
+
+
+su' macs
+char' coal
+of fi' cial
+fres' coes
+in i' tial
+rest' less ly
+
+
+
+IN SCHOOL DAYS
+
+
+       Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
+         A ragged beggar sunning;
+       Around it still the sumacs grow
+         And blackberry vines are running.
+
+       Within, the master's desk is seen,
+         Deep scarred by raps official;
+       The warping floor, the battered seats,
+         The jackknife's carved initial;
+
+       The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
+         Its door's worn sill, betraying
+       The feet that, creeping slow to school,
+         Went storming out to playing!
+
+       Long years ago a winter sun
+         Shone over it at setting;
+       Lit up its western window-panes,
+         And low eaves' icy fretting.
+
+       It touched the tangled golden curls,
+         And brown eyes full of grieving,
+       Of one who still her steps delayed
+         When all the school were leaving.
+
+       For near her stood the little boy
+         Her childish favor singled;
+       His cap pulled low upon a face
+         Where pride and shame were mingled.
+
+       Pushing with restless feet the snow
+         To right and left, he lingered;
+       As restlessly her tiny hands
+         The blue-checked apron fingered.
+
+       He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
+         The soft hand's light caressing,
+       And heard the tremble of her voice,
+         As if a fault confessing:
+
+       "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;
+         I hate to go above you,
+       Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,--
+         "Because, you see, I love you!"
+
+       Still memory to a gray-haired man
+         That sweet child-face is showing.
+       Dear girl! the grasses on her grave
+         Have forty years been growing!
+
+       He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
+         How few who pass above him
+       Lament their triumph and his loss,
+         Like her,--because they love him.
+
+
+_Whittier._
+
+
+From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: _John G. Whittier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_64_
+
+
+Mars
+so' lar (ler)
+Ve' nus
+plan' ets
+Mer' cu ry
+di am' e ter
+com' pass es
+sat' el lite
+tel' e scope
+grad' u al ly
+in' ter est ing
+cir cum' fer ence
+
+
+
+THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+
+"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys sat in the
+shade of a large tree.
+
+"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to recall
+one," said Frank.
+
+"Let me see. Well--perhaps--I think that the most wonderful story I have
+ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's family."
+
+"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard enough to
+puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."
+
+"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll try to tell
+you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't you--the great
+shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"
+
+"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the morning when
+I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes, then over the trees
+and houses; by evening it has traveled across the sky, when it sinks
+below the houses and trees, out of sight on the other side of the town."
+
+"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the sun is
+traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really we--we on
+this big ball of earth--who are moving. We are whirling around on the
+outer surface, rushing on at the rate--let me think--at the rate of more
+than one thousand miles a minute!"
+
+"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.
+
+"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball moves
+when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"
+
+"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe that this
+big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with all the cities,
+towns, and people whirling round and round faster than a ball from the
+mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that it stirs one inch,--this is
+much harder to believe than all that the fairies have ever told us."
+
+"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.
+
+"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and viewed the
+stars one night through a telescope. As I looked through this
+instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger than ever before. The
+earth is a planet, and there are besides our earth seven large planets
+and many small ones, which also whirl around the sun. Some of these
+planets are larger than our world. Some of them also move much faster.
+
+"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him. The one
+nearest to the sun is Mercury."
+
+"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.
+
+"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched to ashes;
+but if creatures live on that planet, God has given them a different
+nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what would be dreadful to us.
+
+"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen shining so
+bright after sunset; then she is called the evening star. Some of the
+time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen in the east; she is then
+called the morning star.
+
+"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the same time
+of the year. If you are watching her this evening before or after
+sundown, there is no use getting up early to-morrow to look for her
+again. For several weeks Venus remains an evening star, then gradually
+disappears. Two months later you may see her in the east--a bright
+morning star.
+
+"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from the sun. Now
+let us make a drawing of what we have been talking about.
+
+"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and make a dot on
+its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this circle eighty-eight
+days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to travel around the sun.
+Make another circle three and one-half inches in diameter and make a dot
+on it. This represents Venus. It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five
+days to journey around the sun.
+
+"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to us. The
+compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The path made
+represents the journey we take in three hundred sixty-five days.
+
+"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan. This circle
+must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is much farther from the
+sun than our earth is. It takes him six hundred eighty-seven days to
+make the trip around the sun. The other planets are too far away to be
+put in this plan."
+
+"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all--the moon!" said Philip.
+
+"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little ball. It is
+less than seven thousand miles around her, while our earth is
+twenty-five thousand miles around."
+
+"Is that a little ball, Frank?"
+
+"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what is called
+a satellite--that is, a servant or an attendant. She is a satellite of
+our earth. She keeps circling round and round our earth, while we go
+circling round and round the sun.
+
+"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round a field,
+and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see that the movements
+of the bird would be much quicker than mine."
+
+"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always looks so
+quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like lightning, why is it that
+she scarcely seems to move more than an inch in ten minutes?"
+
+"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that what to us
+seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You know how very fast
+the steam cars seem to go when one is quite near them, yet I have seen a
+train of cars far off which seemed to go so slowly that I could fancy it
+was painted on the sky."
+
+"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out these curious
+things about the sun and the stars--to know how large they are and how
+fast they go?" asked Philip.
+
+"That is something we shall understand when we are older," said Frank.
+"We must gain a little knowledge every day."
+
+"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked Philip.
+
+"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter has four,
+but we can see them only when we look through a telescope." replied
+Frank.
+
+"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear night,
+planets?" inquired Philip.
+
+"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars," said Frank.
+"A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its own. It shines just
+as the moon shines, because the sun gives it light."
+
+"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.
+
+"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus and Mars
+as a shining planet."
+
+"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for almost
+every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a diamond. Do these
+fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked Philip.
+
+"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed stars to show
+that they do not move like planets? The word _planet_ means to _wander._
+These fixed stars are suns themselves, which may have planets of their
+own. They are so very far away that we cannot know much about them,
+except that they shine of themselves just as our sun does.
+
+"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and satellites
+with which he is surrounded. We know that without his warm rays there
+would not be any flowers or birds or any living thing on the earth. So
+we can easily imagine that all other suns are shining in the same way
+for the worlds that surround them."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as directed
+in the lesson.
+
+Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the correct form
+of the action-word _draw_:
+
+
+My boys like to --.
+
+Yesterday they -- the picture of an old mill.
+
+They are now -- a picture of the solar system.
+
+The lines on the blackboard were -- by John.
+He -- well.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_65_
+
+
+dew' y
+clos'es
+ca ress'
+twined
+wreaths
+weath'er
+brook' let
+togeth'er
+
+
+
+WILL AND I
+
+
+       We roam the hills together,
+       In the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       And the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         Through the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Where the tinkling brooklet passes
+       Through the heart of dewy grasses,
+                 Will and I
+       Have heard the mock-bird singing,
+       And the field lark seen upspringing,
+         In his happy flight afar,
+         Like a tiny winged star--
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Amid cool forest closes,
+       We have plucked the wild wood-roses,
+                 Will and I;
+       And have twined, with tender duty,
+       Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty
+         Of the purest brows that shine
+         With a mother-love divine,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Ah! thus we roam together,
+       Through the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       While the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         O'er the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+
+_Paul H. Hayne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CLOSES, small inclosed fields.
+
+Write about what you and Will _saw, heard,_ and _did,_ as you roamed
+together over the hills, through the woods, along the brooklet, on a
+certain bright, clear day in early summer. You are a country boy and
+Will is your city cousin. If you begin your composition by saying, "It
+was a beautiful afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of
+the day in mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what _made_ the day
+beautiful,--such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In other
+paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order in which you
+saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did in the "closes" of
+the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild flowers. Conclude by
+telling what a pleasant surprise you gave mother on your return home;
+and how she surprised you two hungry boys during supper.
+
+In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of the poem as
+you can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_66_
+
+
+themes
+her' e sy
+ramp' ant
+a chieved'
+es cort ed
+po ta'toes
+trem' u lous
+lux u' ri ous
+cre du' li ty
+in cred' i ble
+phe nom' e non
+pre ma ture' ly
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.]
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
+gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she laid the cloth,
+assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in
+ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of
+potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's
+private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day)
+into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now
+two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their
+own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions, they danced
+about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while
+he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire,
+until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to
+be let out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+"And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas
+Day by half an hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this
+morning, mother!"
+
+"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least three feet
+of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his
+threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny
+Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and
+had his limb supported by an iron frame.
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+to the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the
+church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to
+remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men
+see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob compounded some hot mixture
+in a jug, and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes
+with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha
+dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at
+the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed
+spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
+turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was
+said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking
+slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;
+but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
+forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny
+Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the
+handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
+
+Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its
+tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal
+admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a
+sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
+with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish),
+they hadn't eaten it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the
+youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the
+eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs.
+Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear witnesses--to take the
+pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and
+stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
+the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A
+smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating
+house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
+next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas
+holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her
+mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been
+flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass,--two
+tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"
+
+Which all the family re[:e]choed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+_Charles Dickens._
+
+[Illustration: Portrait of Dickens.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DECLENSION, a falling downward.
+
+COPPER, a boiler made of copper.
+
+RALLIED, indulged in pleasant humor.
+
+UBIQUITOUS (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be everywhere at
+the same time.
+
+EKED OUT, added to; increased.
+
+BEDIGHT, bedecked; adorned.
+
+RE[:E]CHOED (reëchoed): What is the mark placed over the second _ë_ called,
+and what does it denote?
+
+
+NOTE.--"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken, is
+considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of the best
+Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very poor as to the
+goods of this world, but very rich in love, kindness, and contentment.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_67_
+
+
+
+WHICH SHALL IT BE?
+
+
+       Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
+       I looked at John, John looked at me;
+       And when I found that I must speak,
+       My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
+       "Tell me again what Robert said,"
+       And then I, listening, bent my head--
+       This is his letter: "I will give
+       A house and land while you shall live,
+       If in return from out your seven
+       One child to me for aye is given."
+
+       I looked at John's old garments worn;
+       I thought of all that he had borne
+       Of poverty, and work, and care,
+       Which I, though willing, could not share;
+       I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
+       Of seven little children's need,
+             And then of this.
+
+             "Come, John," said I,
+       "We'll choose among them as they lie
+       Asleep."  So, walking hand in hand,
+       Dear John and I surveyed our band:
+       First to the cradle lightly stepped,
+       Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
+       Softly the father stooped to lay
+       His rough hand down in loving way,
+       When dream or whisper made her stir,
+       And huskily he said: "Not her!"
+
+       We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
+       And one long ray of lamplight shed
+       Athwart the boyish faces there,
+       In sleep so pitiful and fair;
+       I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek
+       A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
+       "He's but a baby too," said I,
+       And kissed him as we hurried by.
+       Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
+       Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace--
+       "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
+       He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
+
+       Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son--
+       Turbulent, restless, idle one--
+       Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave
+       Bade us befriend him to the grave;
+       Only a mother's heart could be
+       Patient enough for such as he;
+       "And so," said John, "I would not dare
+       To take him from her bedside prayer."
+
+       Then stole we softly up above,
+       And knelt by Mary, child of love;
+       "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
+       I said to John. Quite silently
+       He lifted up a curl that lay
+       Across her cheek in wilful way,
+       And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"
+       The while my heart beat audibly.
+
+       Only one more, our eldest lad,
+       Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
+       So like his father. "No, John, no!
+       I cannot, will not, let him go."
+       And so we wrote in courteous way,
+       We could not give one child away;
+       And afterwards toil lighter seemed,
+       Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
+       Happy in truth that not one face
+       Was missed from its accustomed place,
+       Thankful to work for all the seven,
+       Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!
+
+
+_Anonymous_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell of the
+great affection of parents for their children. Even in the poorest and
+most numerous families, what parent could think of parting with a child
+for any sum of money?
+
+Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich man without
+children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell about the offer
+the rich man made. What a great temptation this was!
+
+The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's faces and
+asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the two youngest
+boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple. Why? Not the sweet
+child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son. Why? Not, for worlds, the
+oldest boy. Why?
+
+Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_68_
+
+
+Dor'o thy
+in her'it ance
+Cap pa do' ci a
+ob' sti na cy
+The oph' i lus
+ex e cu' tion ers
+
+
+
+ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR
+
+
+The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St. Cecilia, are
+familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt, their histories are
+well known also. Young as they were, they despised alike the pleasures
+and the flatteries of the world. They chose God alone as their portion
+and inheritance; and He has highly exalted them, and placed their names
+amongst those glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.
+
+St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born in the city
+of Cæsarea, and was descended of a rich and noble family. While the last
+of the ten terrible persecutions, which for three hundred years steeped
+the Church in the blood of martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the
+faith of Christ, and, in consequence, was seized and carried before the
+Roman Prefect of the city.
+
+She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length, condemned to
+death. When the executioners were preparing to behead her, the Prefect
+said, "Now, at least, confess your folly, and pray to the immortal gods
+for pardon."
+
+"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and earth may
+pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when I reach the land
+whither I am going."
+
+"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most of the
+pagans, had very little notion of another world.
+
+"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells with his
+saints," replied St. Dorothy. "_There_ is neither night nor sorrow;
+_there_ is the river of life, and the brightness of eternal glory; and
+_there_ is a paradise of all delight, and flowers that shall never
+fade."
+
+"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who was
+listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if these things
+be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you shall have reached the
+land you speak of."
+
+Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered: "Theophilus, you
+shall have the sign you ask for." There was no time for more; the
+executioner placed her before the block, and, in another moment, with
+one blow, he struck off the head of the holy martyr.
+
+"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his friends, as
+they were about to leave the court; "but these Christians are not like
+other people." "Their obstinacy is altogether surprising," rejoined his
+friend; "death itself will never make them waver. But who is this,
+Theophilus?" he continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such
+singular beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden hair fell
+on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses, two white and two
+red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a fragrance that their like
+had never before been seen. He held them out to Theophilus. "These
+flowers are for you," said he; "will you not take them?" "And whence do
+you bring them, my boy?" asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied,
+"and they are the sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter
+time!" said Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as
+never blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made another; I,
+too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."
+
+Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the enraged
+Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded, he too poured
+forth his blood, and obtained the crown of martyrdom.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CÆSAREA (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient city of Palestine. It
+is celebrated as being the scene of many events recorded in the New
+Testament.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.
+
+
+_A line from Lowell's "0de."_
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_69_
+
+
+
+TO A BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+       I've watched you now a full half hour
+       Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
+       And, little butterfly, indeed
+       I know not if you sleep or feed.
+       How motionless!--not frozen seas
+         More motionless!--and then
+       What joy awaits you, when the breeze
+       Hath found you out among the trees,
+         And calls you forth again!
+
+       This plot of orchard ground is ours;
+       My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
+       Here rest your wings when they are weary;
+       Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
+       Come often to us, fear no wrong;
+         Sit near us on the bough!
+       We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
+       And summer days, when we were young;
+       Sweet childish days, that were as long
+         As twenty days are now!
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SELF-POISED, balanced.
+
+What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the Holy of
+Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so supremely holy?
+
+Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are now?"
+
+Tell what you know of the author's life.
+
+Memorize the poem.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_70_
+
+
+re tort' ed
+quizzed
+in cred' i ble
+man u fac' ture
+sat' ire
+vi o lin' ist
+com pre hend'
+me lo' di ous ly
+hu' mor
+ex hib' it
+a chieve' ments
+for' ests
+
+
+
+THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.
+
+
+In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the table, it was
+said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an inkstand. What will the
+next thing be? It is wonderful!"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's extraordinary--that's what I
+always say," he exclaimed to the pen and to the other articles on the
+table that were near enough to hear. "It is wonderful what a number of
+things can come out of me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't
+myself know what will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip
+into me. One drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?
+
+"From me all the works of the poet go forth--all these living men, whom
+people can imagine they have met--all the deep feeling, the humor, the
+vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't understand how it is, for I am
+not acquainted with nature, but it certainly is in me. From me all
+things have gone forth, and from me proceed the troops of charming
+maidens, and of brave knights on prancing steeds, and all the lame and
+the blind, and I don't know what more--I assure you I don't think of
+anything."
+
+"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all; for if you
+did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the fluid. You give the
+fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what dwells in me, and what I
+would bring to the day. It is the pen that writes. No man doubts that;
+and, indeed, most people have about as much insight into poetry as an
+old inkstand."
+
+"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand. "You've hardly
+been in service a week, and are already half worn out. Do you fancy you
+are the poet? You are only a servant; and before you came I had many of
+your sorts, some of the goose family, and others of English manufacture.
+I know the quill as well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service,
+and I shall have many more when _he_ comes--the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should like
+to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of me."
+
+"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.
+
+Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a concert, where
+he had heard a famous violinist, with whose admirable performances he
+was quite enchanted. The player had drawn a wonderful wealth of tone
+from the instrument; sometimes it had sounded like tinkling water-drops,
+like rolling pearls, sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then
+again it went swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.
+
+The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though not
+only the strings sounded, but every part of the instrument.
+
+It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece was, the bow
+seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings, and it looked as
+though every one might do it. The violin seemed to sound of itself, and
+the bow to move of itself--those two appeared to do everything; and the
+audience forgot the master who guided them and breathed soul and spirit
+into them. The master was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and
+named him, and wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:
+
+"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of their
+achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly--the poet, the
+artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the general--we all do it.
+We are only the instruments which the Almighty uses: to Him alone be the
+honor! We have nothing of which we should be proud."
+
+Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form of a
+parable, which he called "The Master and the Instrument."
+
+"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand, when the
+two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud what I have
+written down?"
+
+"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That was a cut
+at you, because of your conceit. That you should not even have
+understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a cut from within
+me--surely I must know my own satire!"
+
+"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.
+
+"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.
+
+And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well; and it is
+a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good answer--a
+conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they slept upon it.
+But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up from within him, like the
+tones from the violin, falling like pearls, rushing like the storm-wind
+through the forests. He understood his own heart in these thoughts, and
+caught a ray from the Eternal Master. To _Him_ be all the honor!
+
+_Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIPKIN, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked clay.
+
+Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words _vivid,
+exhibit, comprehend_. Consult the dictionary.
+
+What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of science?"
+
+Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word _parable_. Relate one
+of our Lord's parables.
+
+By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned, form as
+many words as you can from the following: man, do, late, loud, art,
+room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden, famous, service,
+furnished.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_71_
+
+
+
+THE WIND AND THE MOON.
+
+
+       Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+              You stare in the air
+              Like a ghost in a chair,
+       Always looking what I am about,
+       I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+              So, deep on a heap
+              Of clouds, to sleep
+       Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,
+       Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+       He turned in his bed; she was there again!
+              On high in the sky,
+              With her one ghost eye,
+       The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+       Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+              "With my sledge and my wedge
+              I have knocked off her edge.
+       If only I blow right fierce and grim,
+       The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+       He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:
+              "One puff more's enough
+              To blow her to snuff!
+       One good puff more where the last was bred,
+       And  glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."
+
+       He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,
+              In the air nowhere
+              Was a moonbeam bare;
+       Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+       Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+       The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+              On down, in town,
+              Like a merry-mad clown,
+       He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,--
+       "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+       He flew in a rage--he danced and he blew;
+              But in vain was the pain
+              Of his bursting brain;
+       For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,
+       The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.
+
+       Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,
+              And shone on her throne
+              In the sky alone,
+       A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+       Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+       Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!
+              With my breath, good faith!
+              I blew her to death--
+       First blew her away right out of the sky,
+       Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+       But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;
+              For, high in the sky,
+              With her one white eye,
+       Motionless, miles above the air,
+       She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+_George MacDonald._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DOWN (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near the sea.
+
+GLIMMER, fainter.
+
+GLUM, dark, gloomy.
+
+What is a suffix? What does the suffix _less_ mean? Define _cloudless,
+matchless, motionless._
+
+What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_72_
+
+
+mi' ter
+can'on
+car' di nal
+dis course'
+di' a logue
+cour'te ous ly
+
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+
+       St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,
+       Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,
+       And being ever courteously inclined
+       To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
+       He fell into discourse with him, and thus
+       The dialogue they held comes down to us.
+
+       _Saint_.--Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
+       _Youth_.--To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
+       _St_.--And when you are one, what do you intend?
+       _Y_.--To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
+       _St_.--Suppose it so; what have you next in view?
+       _Y_.--That I may get to be a canon too.
+       _St_.--Well; and what then?
+       _Y_.--                       Why then, for aught I know,
+       I may be made a bishop.
+       _St_.--            Be it so,--
+                   What next?
+       _Y_.--             Why, cardinal's a high degree;
+       And yet my lot it possibly may be.
+       _St_.--Suppose it was; what then?
+       _Y_.--                             Why, who can say
+       But I've a chance of being pope one day?
+       _St_.--Well, having worn the miter and red hat,
+       And triple crown, what follows after that?
+
+       _Y_.--Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
+       Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
+       When I've enjoyed a dignity so high
+       As long as God shall please, then I must die.
+
+       _St_.--What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,
+       But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!
+       Take my advice--whatever may betide,
+       For that which _must be_, first of all provide;
+       Then think  of that which _may be_; and indeed,
+       When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,
+       But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
+       Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went to Rome in
+1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory," and where he died
+in 1595.
+
+TRIPLE CROWN, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy Father, the
+Pope.
+
+Use correctly in sentences the words _canon, cannon, cañon._
+
+
+NOTE.--It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first six lines
+of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip and the Youth.
+
+The whole selection might be given from memory.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_73_
+
+
+mag' ic
+sta' mens
+de sert' ed
+pet' als
+pic' tures
+dis cour' aged
+liq' uid
+sat' is fied
+per se ver' ance
+
+
+
+THE WATER LILY.
+
+
+There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were
+not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great
+American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his
+father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a
+few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
+
+The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of
+work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He
+said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
+
+"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any fairies. I
+never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child,
+and never mind the fairies."
+
+"Very well, mother," said the boy.
+
+"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures," said his
+mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. "Why, child,
+pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't clothe a body, and a log of
+wood is far better to burn and warm a body."
+
+"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.
+
+"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy could only
+say, "I don't know, mother."
+
+"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things
+as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play."
+
+So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a
+little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was
+deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and
+the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and
+thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between
+the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue
+sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding
+over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at
+the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.
+
+And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, "I am sure
+there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these
+pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I
+know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could
+paint it, every one else would know it, too."
+
+But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with
+it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But
+he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing
+and said to the lily:
+
+"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a
+painter!"
+
+As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the
+cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown
+of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds
+before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a
+beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the
+lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest
+white.
+
+"Child, are you happy?" she asked.
+
+"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint and I
+cannot."
+
+"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.
+
+"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more."
+
+"But I will help you."
+
+"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."
+
+"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the fairy. "I
+know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I
+tell you. Do you promise to obey?"
+
+"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my heart."
+
+"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little key on the
+doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the
+trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the
+door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You
+must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day.
+On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will
+make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.
+
+"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you
+shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and
+that you shall become a truly great painter."
+
+"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy
+stood trembled for joy.
+
+"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the fairy.
+"But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even
+begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day
+will never fade till my promise is fulfilled."
+
+The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in
+his hand but the flower.
+
+He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the
+doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic
+palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break
+the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent
+nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed
+whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when
+the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of
+fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking
+on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.
+
+So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken
+the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with
+his magic palette.
+
+But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them.
+His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the
+real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her
+window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt
+whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his
+palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
+
+He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but
+in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full
+of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
+
+"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so
+much discouraged.
+
+"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the fairy.
+"My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the
+charm."
+
+He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a
+beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near
+it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word--"Hope."
+
+Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he went far,
+far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his
+pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
+
+One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city.
+He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted
+before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised
+them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a
+picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
+
+Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone
+with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the
+place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again
+standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of
+the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily
+was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered,
+and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked
+up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
+
+"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your magic gift?
+I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so
+that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it."
+
+"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did the artist
+desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is the scene of the
+picture placed? What time of the day and of the year does it show?
+
+Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about him?
+
+Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's outing.
+Write a composition on how the day was spent.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_74_
+
+
+
+A BUILDER'S LESSON.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "How shall I a habit break?"
+       As you did that habit make.
+       As you gathered, you must lose;
+       As you yielded, now refuse.
+       Thread by thread the strands we twist
+       Till they bind us, neck and wrist;
+       Thread by thread the patient hand
+       Must untwine, ere free we stand.
+       As we builded, stone by stone,
+       We must toil, unhelped, alone,
+       Till the wall is overthrown.
+
+       But remember, as we try,
+       Lighter every test goes by;
+       Wading in, the stream grows deep
+       Toward the center's downward sweep;
+       Backward turn, each step ashore
+       Shallower is than that before.
+
+       Ah, the precious years we waste
+       Leveling what we raised in haste:
+       Doing what must be undone
+       Ere content or love be won!
+       First, across the gulf we cast
+       Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
+       And habit builds the bridge at last!
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last it is so
+strong we cannot break it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_75_
+
+
+in ured'
+ru' di ments
+nine' ti eth
+ma tur' er
+ac' cu ra cy
+in ad vert' ence
+an' ec dotes
+e ner' vate
+in cor' po ra ted
+dig' ni fied
+in junc' tion
+pre var i ca' tion
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+
+Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of Washington
+were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who, by the death of
+her husband, while her children were young, became the sole conductress
+of their education. To the inquiry, what course she had pursued in
+rearing one so truly illustrious, she replied, "Only to require
+obedience, diligence, and truth."
+
+These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with the
+rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his future
+greatness.
+
+He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and to speak
+of his faults and omissions without prevarication or disguise. Hence
+arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt of deceit in others,
+which ever distinguished him. Once, by an inadvertence of his youth,
+considerable loss had been incurred, and of such a nature as to
+interfere with the plans of his mother. He came to her, frankly owning
+his error, and she replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes,
+"I had rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."
+
+She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak indulgence. He was
+inured to early rising, and never permitted to be idle. Sometimes he
+engaged in labors which the children of wealthy parents would now
+account severe, and thus acquired firmness of frame and a disregard of
+hardship.
+
+The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had been
+taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's concerns
+devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who surrounded him,
+that he was never known to be in a hurry, but found time for the
+transaction of the smallest affairs in the midst of the greatest and
+most conflicting duties.
+
+Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of his mother.
+His obedience to her commands, when a child, was cheerful and strict;
+and as he approached to maturer years, the expression of her slightest
+wish was law.
+
+At length, America having secured her independence, and the war being
+ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted the repose of
+home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his mother's blessing. The
+hero, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
+countrymen," came to lay his laurels at his mother's feet.
+
+This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year, to be
+respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief, Washington closed
+her eyes and laid her in the grave which she had selected for herself.
+
+We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious armies, the
+conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of the world, in the
+delightful attitude of an obedient and affectionate son. She, whom he
+honored with such filial reverence, said that "he had learned to command
+others by first learning to obey."
+
+Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of future
+eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and remember that
+they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they neglect the
+injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments, and forsake not the
+law of thy mother."
+
+
+[Illustration: _L.E. Fournier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CONDUCTRESS, a woman who leads or directs.
+
+The suffix _-ess_ is used to form feminine name-words.
+
+Tell what each of the following words means:
+
+
+
+ab' bess
+ac' tress
+duch' ess
+li' on ess
+count' ess
+po' et ess
+song' stress
+au' thor ess
+di rect' ress
+
+
+
+Use the following homonyms in sentences:
+
+
+air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore; vain, vein;
+vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here; fair, fare; sweet,
+suite; strait, straight.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_76_
+
+
+na' tal
+a main'
+toc' sin
+re count' ed
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.
+
+
+       'Tis splendid to have a record
+         So white and free from stain
+       That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
+         Though tested and tried amain;
+       That age to age forever
+         Repeats its story of love,
+       And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,
+         All other days above.
+
+       And this is Washington's glory,
+         A steadfast soul and true,
+       Who stood for his country's honor
+         When his country's days were few.
+       And now when its days are many,
+         And its flag of stars is flung
+       To the breeze in radiant glory,
+         His name is on every tongue.
+
+       Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
+         To be so great and strong,
+       That your memory is ever a tocsin
+         To rally the foes of wrong;
+       To live so proudly and purely,
+         That your people pause in their way,
+       And year by year, with banner and drum,
+         Keep the thought of your natal day.
+
+
+_Margaret E. Sangster._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_77_
+
+
+Brit' on (un)
+ant' lers
+wrin' kled
+vet' er an
+im mor' tal
+
+
+
+THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.
+
+
+       He lay upon his dying bed,
+         His eye was growing dim,
+       When, with a feeble voice, he called
+         His weeping son to him:
+       "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
+         "I bow to heaven's high will;
+       But quickly from yon antlers bring
+         The sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+       The sword was brought; the soldier's eye
+         Lit with a sudden flame;
+       And, as he grasped the ancient blade,
+         He murmured Warren's name;
+       Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,
+         But what is richer still,
+       I leave you, mark me, mark me well,
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,
+         I dared the Briton's band;
+       A captain raised his blade on me,
+         I tore it from his hand;
+       And while the glorious battle raged,
+         It lightened Freedom's will;
+       For, son, the God of Freedom blessed
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,--
+         A smile--and he was dead;
+       But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,
+         Upon that dying bed.
+       The son remains, the sword remains,
+         Its glory growing still,
+       And twenty millions bless the sire
+         And sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+
+_William R. Wallace._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_78_
+
+
+es' say
+buoy' ant
+in sip' id
+fe quent' ing
+scowl' ing ly
+sug ges' tion
+in tel' li gence
+sin' gu lar ly
+so lic' i tude
+com pet' i tor
+phi los' o pher
+ve' he ment ly
+tre men' dous ly
+ex pos tu la' tion
+ig no min' i ous ly
+
+
+
+THE MARTYR'S BOY.
+
+
+It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes
+forward with light and buoyant steps across the open court, towards the
+inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he
+reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with
+elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are
+well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and
+warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair
+naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual
+youth's garment, the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow
+spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind him, shows
+us that he is just returning home from school.
+
+While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother's
+embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for
+some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of
+his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets
+her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence,
+that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses
+him as follows:
+
+"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has
+happened to you on the way."
+
+"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all has been
+so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell you."
+
+A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a
+delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must. You know I am
+never happy if I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the
+day about myself. But, to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt
+whether I ought to tell you all."
+
+Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety,
+or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should
+seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied:
+
+"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may
+give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me
+to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?"
+
+"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that concerns you
+can be indifferent to me."
+
+"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting school appears
+to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I was crowned as the
+successful competitor in a declamation, which our good master Cassianus
+set us for our work during the morning hours; and this led, as you will
+hear, to some singular discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real
+philosopher should be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard
+anything so cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can they have
+to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming
+suggestions such a theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart
+glowed, and all my thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of
+the lessons you have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are
+before me. The son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my
+turn came to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the second, I
+saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending affectionately towards me, he
+said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my child, there are sharp ears listening.'"
+
+"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a Christian? I chose
+his school because it was in the highest repute for learning and
+morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these days of
+danger we are obliged to live as strangers in our own land. Certainly,
+had Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been
+deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"
+
+"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows vehemently
+applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes of Corvinus bent
+scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest anger."
+
+"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?"
+
+"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in the school.
+But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, he seems
+ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause of which I cannot
+understand."
+
+"Did he say aught to you, or do?"
+
+"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school
+into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence
+of our companions, and said, 'Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is
+the last time we meet _here_; but I have a long score to demand payment
+of from you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks
+at me as you spouted your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I
+caught expressions in it which you may live to rue, and that very soon.
+Before you leave us, I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your
+name let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of the style
+and tables. Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to
+humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"
+
+The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely
+breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my dear son?"
+
+"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my
+school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.
+'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have
+always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a
+cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for
+revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you
+avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which
+are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle
+round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had
+hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness
+attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not
+so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"
+
+The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body
+trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not
+tell the rest!"
+
+"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your father's
+memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal
+nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.
+What further said or did Corvinus?"
+
+The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and
+then proceeded:
+
+"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed
+your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token
+of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a
+furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a
+shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."
+
+He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:
+
+"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed
+bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name
+of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong
+enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant by the
+throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of
+applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against
+him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood
+so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."
+
+"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling
+matron.
+
+He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched
+forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive you, as I freely
+and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Cassianus came up at
+that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd
+quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now
+acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done;
+and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in
+soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call
+this a happy day?"
+
+_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.
+
+VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat,
+sheep or young calf, for writing on.
+
+THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.
+
+SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.
+
+SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.
+
+STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or
+tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the
+sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.
+
+CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands,
+and often loaded with lead or iron.
+
+"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by
+Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans,
+which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.
+
+CASSIANUS, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for
+Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice
+to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab
+him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.
+
+AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is pronounced
+_[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_,
+and used only in poetry, it is pronounced _[=a]_.
+
+Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly
+impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words
+a description of "The Martyr's Boy."
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_79_
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY.
+
+
+       Through the blue and frosty heavens
+         Christmas stars were shining bright;
+       Glistening lamps throughout the City
+         Almost matched their gleaming light;
+       While the winter snow was lying,
+       And the winter winds were sighing,
+         Long ago, one Christmas night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Rich and poor felt love and blessing
+         From the gracious season fall;
+       Joy and plenty in the cottage,
+         Peace and feasting in the hall;
+       And the voices of the children
+         Ringing clear above it all.
+
+       Yet one house was dim and darkened;
+         Gloom, and sickness, and despair,
+       Dwelling in the gilded chambers,
+         Creeping up the marble stair,
+       Even stilled the voice of mourning,--
+         For a child lay dying there.
+
+       Silken curtains fell around him,
+         Velvet carpets hushed the tread,
+       Many costly toys were lying
+         All unheeded by his bed;
+       And his tangled golden ringlets
+         Were on downy pillows spread.
+
+       The skill of all that mighty City
+         To save one little life was vain,--
+       One little thread from being broken,
+       One fatal word from being spoken;
+         Nay, his very mother's pain
+       And the mighty love within her
+         Could not give him health again.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Suddenly an unseen Presence
+         Checked those constant moaning cries,
+       Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,
+         Raised those blue and wondering eyes,
+       Fixed on some mysterious vision
+         With a startled, sweet surprise.
+
+       For a radiant angel hovered,
+         Smiling, o'er the little bed;
+       White his raiment; from his shoulders
+         Snowy dove-like pinions spread,
+       And a starlike light was shining
+         In a glory round his head.
+
+       While, with tender love, the angel,
+         Leaning o'er the little nest,
+       In his arms the sick child folding,
+         Laid him gently on his breast,
+       Sobs and wailings told the mother
+         That her darling was at rest.
+
+       So the angel, slowly rising,
+         Spread his wings, and through the air
+       Bore the child; and, while he held him
+         To his heart with loving care,
+       Placed a branch of crimson roses
+         Tenderly beside him there.
+
+       While the child, thus clinging, floated
+         Towards the mansions of the Blest,
+       Gazing from his shining guardian
+         To the flowers upon his breast,
+       Thus the angel spake, still smiling
+         On the little heavenly guest:
+
+       "Know, dear little one, that Heaven
+         Does no earthly thing disdain;
+       Man's poor joys find there an echo
+         Just as surely as his pain;
+       Love, on earth so feebly striving,
+         Lives divine in Heaven again.
+
+       "Once, in that great town below us,
+         In a poor and narrow street,
+       Dwelt a little sickly orphan;
+         Gentle aid, or pity sweet,
+       Never in life's rugged pathway
+         Guided his poor tottering feet.
+
+       "All the striving, anxious fore-thought
+         That should only come with age
+       Weighed upon his baby spirit,
+         Showed him soon life's sternest page;
+       Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow
+         Was his only heritage."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       "One bright day, with feeble footsteps
+         Slowly forth he tried to crawl
+       Through the crowded city's pathways,
+         Till he reached a garden-wall,
+       Where 'mid princely halls and mansions
+         Stood the lordliest of all.
+
+       "There were trees with giant branches,
+       Velvet glades where shadows hide;
+       There were sparkling fountains glancing,
+         Flowers, which in luxuriant pride
+       Even wafted breaths of perfume
+         To the child who stood outside.
+
+       "He against the gate of iron
+         Pressed his wan and wistful face,
+       Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure
+         At the glories of the place;
+       Never had his brightest day-dream
+         Shone with half such wondrous grace.
+
+       "You were playing in that garden,
+         Throwing blossoms in the air,
+       Laughing when the petals floated
+         Downwards on your golden hair;
+       And the fond eyes watching o'er you,
+       And the splendor spread before you,
+         Told a House's Hope was there.
+
+       "When your servants, tired of seeing
+         Such a face of want and woe,
+       Turning to the ragged orphan,
+         Gave him coin, and bade him go,
+       Down his cheeks so thin and wasted
+         Bitter tears began to flow.
+
+       "But that look of childish sorrow
+         On your tender child-heart fell,
+       And you plucked the reddest roses
+         From the tree you loved so well,
+       Passed them through the stern cold grating,
+         Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'
+
+       "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure
+         And the gentle voice he heard,
+       In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,
+         Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;
+       In his hand he took the flowers,
+         In his heart the loving word.
+
+       "So he crept to his poor garret;
+         Poor no more, but rich and bright;
+       For the holy dreams of childhood--
+         Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light--
+       Floated round the orphan's pillow
+         Through the starry summer night.
+
+       "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;
+         All too weak to rise he lay;
+       Did he dream that none spake harshly,--
+         All were strangely kind that day?
+       Surely then his treasured roses
+         Must have charmed all ills away.
+
+       "And he smiled, though they were fading;
+         One by one their leaves were shed;
+       'Such bright things could never perish,
+         They would bloom again,' he said.
+       When the next day's sun had risen
+         Child and flowers both were dead.
+
+       "Know, dear little one, our Father
+         Will no gentle deed disdain;
+       Love on the cold earth beginning
+         Lives divine in Heaven again;
+       While the angel hearts that beat there
+         Still all tender thoughts retain."
+
+       So the angel ceased, and gently
+         O'er his little burden leant;
+       While the child gazed from the shining,
+         Loving eyes that o'er him bent,
+       To the blooming roses by him.
+         Wondering what that mystery meant.
+
+       Thus the radiant angel answered,
+         And with tender meaning smiled:
+       "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,
+         Sin and the hard world defiled,
+       God has given me leave to seek you,--
+         I was once that little child!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       In the churchyard of that city
+         Rose a tomb of marble rare,
+       Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,
+         With her buds and blossoms fair,--
+       And a humble grave beside it,--
+         No one knew who rested there.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter_.
+
+
+[Illustration: _Kaulbach_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into a
+composition the length of which to be determined by your teacher. Use
+many of the words and forms of expression you find in the poem.
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY
+
+A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given a bunch
+of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers. Afterwards he came as
+a "radiant angel" to visit his dying friend, and in a spirit of
+gratitude bore him to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_80_
+
+
+al' ti tude
+as tound' ing
+ve loc' i ty
+vag' a bond
+mus tach' es
+hes i ta' ting ly
+par' a lyzed
+tre men' dous
+ex tra or' di na ry
+
+
+
+GLUCK'S VISITOR.
+
+
+It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day
+Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to
+little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody
+in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it
+was raining very hard. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and
+brown.
+
+"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask anybody to
+dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of mutton as this, it
+would do their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." Just
+as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy and
+dull, as though the knocker had been tied up. "It must be the wind,"
+said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock double knocks at our
+door."
+
+No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and what was
+particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to
+be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck put his head out the
+window to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen
+in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his
+cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes twinkled merrily through
+long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew
+on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed
+pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about
+four feet six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the
+same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. He
+wore an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very
+much too long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.
+
+Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his visitor that
+he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until the old gentleman
+turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught
+sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with its mouth
+and eyes very wide open indeed.
+
+"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_
+wet. His feather hung down between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail,
+dripping like an umbrella; and from the end of his mustaches the water
+was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill
+stream.
+
+"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I
+thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and there's
+your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the walls, with
+nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold. When he turned and saw
+the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing.
+
+"He does look _very_ wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for
+a quarter of an hour."
+
+As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind through the
+house that made the old chimney totter.
+
+"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that. How long may
+I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and sat himself
+down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the chimney, for it was much
+too high for the roof.
+
+"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the
+mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip,
+drip, dripping among the cinders, so that the fire fizzed and sputtered
+and began to look very black and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak;
+every fold in it ran like a gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor; "mayn't I
+take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but--really--sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't you give
+me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart.
+
+"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give you that,
+but no more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.
+
+Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came a
+tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck fitted the
+slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering
+an educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning
+fiercely to Gluck.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother, he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that instant,
+the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house."
+
+"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my
+gray hairs."
+
+"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you."
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen."
+
+"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no sooner
+touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after the
+rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner on
+the top of it.
+
+Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him
+out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he went after Hans
+and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled
+into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak was all
+wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one
+side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied, with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night, I'll call again."
+
+_John Ruskin._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NOTE.--"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection is
+taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in 1841, for the
+amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the finest story of its kind
+in the language.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_81_
+
+
+elf
+en cir' cled
+jerk
+hur' ri cane
+rein'deer
+min' i a ture
+tar' nished
+
+
+
+A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.
+
+
+       'Twas the  night  before  Christmas,  when  all through the house
+       Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:
+       The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+       In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
+       The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
+       While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+       And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+       Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+       When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
+       I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+       Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+       Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
+       The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
+       Gave the luster of midday to objects below;
+       When, what  to  my wondering eyes should appear
+       But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+       With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+       I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
+       More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
+       And he whistled, and shouted  and called them by name:
+       "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!
+       On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
+       To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
+       Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"
+       As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly
+       When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+       So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
+       With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;
+       And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
+       The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+       As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+       Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
+       He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+       And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+       A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+       And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
+       His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
+       His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+       His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
+       And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
+       The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+       And the smoke it  encircled his head like a wreath;
+       He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
+       That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
+       He was chubby and plump,--a right jolly old elf--
+       And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+       A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
+       Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+       He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+       And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+       And, laying his finger aside of his nose,
+       And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+       He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+       And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+       But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+       "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
+
+
+_Clement C. Moore._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_82_
+
+
+a chieved'
+es poused'
+thral' dom
+al li' ance
+ter rif' ic
+Del' a ware
+Com' mo dore
+re cip' i ents
+New' found land
+can non ad' ing
+par tic' i pa ted
+char ac ter is' tic
+
+
+
+COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+
+The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds. From the
+early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks of King George's
+proud ships with merciless fire, down to the glories achieved by
+Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with Spain, the story of our Navy
+is the pride and glory of our Republic. The glowing track of its
+victories extends around the world.
+
+Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds adorn the
+pages of our country's history, there is none more deserving of our
+gratitude and admiration than Commodore John Barry. His name and fame
+will live in the naval annals of our country as long as the history of
+America lasts.
+
+Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in County
+Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen he left home
+for a life on
+
+       "The sea, the sea, the open sea,
+       The blue, the fresh, the ever free."
+
+
+On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America. He spent
+his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way soon acquired a
+general and practical education. By fidelity to duty, he advanced so
+rapidly in his profession that at the age of twenty-five we find him in
+command of the _Black Prince,_ one of the finest merchant vessels then
+running between Philadelphia and London.
+
+When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and England, our
+gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship, and without delay or
+hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted country. Congress purchased
+a few vessels, had them fitted out for war, and placed the little fleet
+under the command of Captain Barry. His flagship was the _Lexington_,
+named after the first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at
+this time adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+_Lexington_ was the first to hoist this ensign of freedom.
+
+From the time of the fitting out of the _Lexington_ down to the time of
+the declaration of peace, which assured the liberation of the Colonies
+from the thraldom of Great Britain, Commodore Barry was constantly
+engaged on shore and afloat. Though he actually participated in upwards
+of twenty sea fights, always against a force superior to his own, he
+never once struck his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations
+ranged all the way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies,
+and as far east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories
+were hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men were
+publicly thanked by General Washington.
+
+During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was spending the
+winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our brave soldiers
+perishing for want of provisions, blankets, clothing and tents, an
+incident occurred which shows how supremely loyal and devoted Commodore
+Barry was to the American cause. The British troops were occupying
+Philadelphia. Lord Howe, their commander, offered our great sea fighter
+a bribe of fifty thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if
+he would abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I have
+engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither the value nor
+the command of the whole British fleet can seduce me from it."
+
+General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and daring and
+loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and safest man to be
+trusted with the important mission of carrying our commissioners to
+France to secure that alliance and assistance which we then so sorely
+needed.
+
+On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a British
+man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his ship, captain,
+and destination, he gave the following bold and characteristic reply:
+"This is the United States ship _Alliance_: Jack Barry, half Irishman
+and half Yankee, commander: who are you?" In the engagement that
+followed, Barry and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor
+that after a few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was
+forced to strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."
+
+This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of Commodore
+in the service of our Republic, continued at the head of our infant Navy
+till his death, which took place in Philadelphia, on the 13th of
+September, 1803. During life he was generous and charitable, and at his
+death made the children of the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia
+the chief recipients of his wealth. His remains repose in the little
+graveyard attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.
+
+Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St. Patrick," a
+society of which General Washington himself was a member, a magnificent
+monument was erected to the memory of Commodore Barry, in Independence
+Square, Philadelphia, under the shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle
+of American liberty. Miss Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece
+of the Commodore, had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the
+unveiling, which took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There are gallant hearts whose glory
+         Columbia loves to name,
+       Whose deeds shall live in story
+         And everlasting fame.
+       But never yet one braver
+         Our starry banner bore
+       Than saucy old Jack Barry,
+         The Irish Commodore.
+
+
+
+What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies compose it?
+What is the number of senators, and how are they chosen?
+
+Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul Jones?
+
+Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And Admiral
+Schley?
+
+What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?
+
+What does "never struck his flag" mean?
+
+Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.
+
+Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the selection.
+
+
+[Illustration: COMMODORE JOHN BARRY]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_83_
+
+
+sau' cy
+ig nored'
+rev' eled
+plain' tive
+dis traught'
+wea' ri some
+rol' lick ing
+mis' chie vous
+frec'kle-faced
+
+
+
+THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.
+
+
+       He was the boy of the house, you know,
+         A jolly and rollicking lad;
+       He was never tired, and never sick,
+         And nothing could make him sad.
+
+       Did some one urge that he make less noise,
+         He would say, with a saucy grin,
+       "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir--
+         I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       "There are two of twins--oh, it must be fun
+         To go double at everything:
+       To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,
+         To whistle by twos, and to sing!"
+
+       His laugh was something to make you glad,
+         So brimful was it of joy;
+       A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,
+         But it never troubled the boy.
+
+       You met him out in the garden path,
+         With the terrier at his heels;
+       You knew by the shout he hailed you with
+         How happy a youngster feels.
+
+       The maiden auntie was half distraught
+         At his tricks as the days went by;
+       "The most mischievous child in the world!"
+         She said, with a shrug and a sigh.
+
+       His father owned that her words were true,
+         And his mother declared each day
+       Was putting wrinkles into her face,
+         And was turning her brown hair gray.
+
+       But it never troubled the boy of the house;
+         He reveled in clatter and din,
+       And had only one regret in the world--
+         That he hadn't been born a twin.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There's nobody making a noise to-day,
+         There's nobody stamping the floor,
+       There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,
+         There's crape on the wide hall door.
+
+       The terrier's whining out in the sun--
+         "Where's my comrade?" he seems to say;
+       Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.
+         There's no frolic for you to-day.
+
+       The freckle-faced girl from the house next door
+         Is sobbing her young heart out;
+       Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget
+         To miss the laugh and the shout.
+
+       How strangely quiet the little form,
+         With the hands on the bosom crossed!
+       Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,
+         Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!
+
+       So solemn and still the big house seems--
+         No laughter, no racket, no din,
+       No starting shriek, no voice piping out,
+         "I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       There a man and a woman, pale with grief,
+         As the wearisome moments creep;
+       Oh! the loneliness touches everything--
+         The boy of the house is asleep.
+
+
+_Jean Blewett._
+
+From the Toronto _Globe_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_84_
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+COOK, ELIZA, was born in London, England, in the year 1817, and was
+  the most popular poetess of her day. When a young girl, she gave herself
+  so completely up to reading that her father threatened to burn her
+  books. She began to write at an early age, and contributed poems and
+  essays to various periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will
+  live. She died in 1889.
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM, is one of the most eminent and popular of all
+  English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother dying when he
+  was only six years old, the child was sent away from home to boarding
+  school, where he suffered so much from the cruelty of a bigger boy that
+  he was obliged to leave that school for another. At the completion of
+  his college course he expressed regrets that his education was not
+  received in a school where he could be taught his duty to God. "I have
+  been graduated," he writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the
+  gospel." His longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a
+  poet chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES, one of the greatest and most popular of the
+  novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard, persistent work he
+  raised himself from obscurity and poverty to fame and fortune. After
+  only two years of schooling he was obliged to go to work. His first job
+  was pasting labels on blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five
+  cents a day! He next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then
+  reporter for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from
+  a book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in 1867, he
+  lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is buried in
+  Westminster Abbey.
+
+DONNELLY, ELEANOR CECILIA, began to write verses when she was but
+  eight years old. Her early education was directed by her mother, a
+  gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been devoted to the cause
+  of Catholic truth and the elevation of Catholic literature. Besides
+  hundreds of charming stories and essays, she has published several
+  volumes of poems. Her writings on sacred subjects display a strong,
+  intelligent faith, and a tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos,
+  originality, grace of diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment,
+  and sublimity of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our
+  American poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city
+  of Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+  admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of every
+  Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor and glory of
+  Almighty God.
+
+GOULD, HANNAH F., an American poetess, has written many pleasant
+  poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King" have long been
+  favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year 1789, and died in 1865.
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL, was born in Salem, Mass., on July 4, 1804.
+  When still quite young he showed a great fondness for reading. At the
+  early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." At
+  college he was a classmate of Longfellow. Among his writings are a
+  number of stories for children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The
+  Snow-Image," "The Wonder Books," and some stories of American history.
+  His volumes of short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The
+  Scarlet Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+  Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of the
+  Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The Marble
+  Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in 1864, and is
+  buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a delicate and exquisite
+  humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use of language. His style may be
+  said to combine almost every excellence--elegance, simplicity, grace,
+  clearness and force.
+
+HAYNE, PAUL HAMILTON, an American poet, was born in South Carolina
+  in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of poems. His death
+  occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the American patriot, Isaac
+  Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in 1780, fell into the hands of
+  the British, and was hanged by them because he refused to join their
+  ranks and fight against his country.
+
+HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT, a popular American author who wrote under
+  the assumed name of _Timothy Titcomb,_ was born in Massachusetts in the
+  year 1819. He began life as a physician, but after a few years of
+  practice gave up his profession and went to Vicksburg, Miss., as
+  Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a number of novels and several
+  volumes of essays. In 1870 he became editor of _Scribner's Magazine._ He
+  died in 1881.
+
+HUNT, LEIGH, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an intimate
+  friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born near London,
+  England, in 1784, and died in 1859.
+
+JACKSON, HELEN HUNT, a noted American writer of prose and poetry,
+  and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the initials of her
+  name), was born in Massachusetts in the year 1831. She is the author of
+  many charming poems, short stories, and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk"
+  and "Bits of Travel." She lived some years in Colorado, where her life
+  brought to her notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she
+  wrote "A Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+  Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what "Uncle
+  Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in California in
+  1885.
+
+"MERCEDES" is the pen name of an able, zealous, and devoted Sister
+  of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has written several
+  excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools which have met the test of
+  successful production. Her "Wild Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a
+  volume of Poems and Dramas that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of
+  true poetry." A competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their
+  hues most delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+  enriched the columns of _The Missionary_ and other publications with
+  several true stories, in attractive prose, of edifying conversions
+  resulting from the missionary zeal of priest and teacher. Her graceful
+  pen is ever at the service of every cause tending to the glory of God
+  and the good of souls.
+
+MOORE, THOMAS, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland, in the year
+  1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His matchless "Melodies" are
+  the delight of all lovers of music, and are sung all over the world.
+  Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated them into the grand old Celtic
+  tongue. Moore is the greatest of Ireland's song-writers, and one of the
+  world's greatest. As a poet few have equaled him in the power to write
+  poetry which charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display
+  an exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts which
+  they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he spent the
+  later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In 1896, the Moore
+  Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his grave a monument
+  consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic cross.
+
+MOORE, CLEMENT C., poet and teacher, was born in New York in 1779.
+  In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary founded by his father,
+  who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of New
+  York. He died in 1863.
+
+MORRIS, GEORGE P., poet and journalist, wrote several popular
+  poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and ballads. He was born
+  in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died in New York in 1864.
+
+MCCARTHY, DENIS ALOYSIUS, poet, lecturer and journalist, was born
+  in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland, in the year 1871, and
+  made his elementary and intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers'
+  School of his native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+  published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round of
+  Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a distinguished critic
+  who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is soulful and sweet, and sings
+  itself into the heart of anyone who has a bit of sentiment in his
+  make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at present Associate Editor of the _Sacred
+  Heart Review_ of Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and
+  contributes poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various
+  papers and magazines.
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL JOHN HENRY, was born in London in 1801, and
+  studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a minister of the
+  Church of England, and rose rapidly in his profession. In 1845 he
+  abandoned the English ministry, renounced the errors of Protestantism,
+  and entered the Catholic Church, of which he remained till death a most
+  faithful, devoted, and zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was
+  made Rector of the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879
+  was raised to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+  writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will profit by
+  and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss and Gain" and
+  "Callista." The former is the story of a convert; the latter a tale of
+  the third century, in which the beautiful heroine and martyr, Callista,
+  is presented with a master's art. Newman is the greatest master of
+  English prose. In this field he holds the same rank that Shakespeare
+  does in English poetry. To his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English
+  essayist, pays the following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm
+  of Dr. Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+  analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the jumping of
+  one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters the room." This
+  great Prince of the Church died the death of the saints in the year
+  1890.
+
+O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE, patriot, author, poet and journalist, was
+  born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in County Meath, Ireland,
+  in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to England as agent of the Fenian
+  Brotherhood, an organization whose purpose was the freedom of Ireland
+  from English rule. In 1863 he joined the English army in order to sow
+  the seeds of revolution among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested,
+  tried for treason, and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted
+  to twenty years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to
+  Australia to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+  his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston _Pilot_ in 1874.
+  He is the author of "Songs from the Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and
+  Ballads," and of other works. He died in 1890. All through life the
+  voice and pen of Boyle O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his
+  native land, and his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his
+  character. In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+  monument.
+
+RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB, called the "Hoosier Poet," was born in
+  Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a strong sense
+  of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and goes to the heart. He
+  has written much in dialect. His home is in Indianapolis.
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN, one of the most famous of English authors, was born
+  in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He spent several years in
+  Italy in the study of art. He wrote many volumes of essays and lectures,
+  chiefly on matters connected with art and art criticism. In his writings
+  we find many beautiful pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and
+  such things. His "Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature,
+  established his reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He
+  died in 1900.
+
+SANGSTER, MRS. MARGARET E., editor and poet, was born in New
+  Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated in Vienna.
+  She has successfully edited such periodicals as _Hearth and Home,
+  Harpers' Young People, and Harpers' Bazaar,_ in which much of her prose
+  and poetry has appeared. She is at present (1909) the editor of _The
+  Woman's Home Companion._
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT, an eminent English poet and author, was born in
+  the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of ten. In 1792 he was
+  expelled from the Westminster School for writing an essay against
+  corporal punishment. He then entered one of the colleges of Oxford
+  University, where he became an intimate friend of Coleridge. While
+  residing at Lisbon he began a special study of Spanish and Portuguese
+  literature. In 1813 he was appointed poet-laureate of England, and in
+  1835 received a pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey,
+  Coleridge and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+  lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in their
+  writings described the scenery of that beautiful region.
+
+TENNYSON, ALFRED, is considered the greatest poet of his age, and
+  one of the great English poets of modern times. He was born in the year
+  1809, and educated at Cambridge University. In 1850 he gave to the world
+  "In Memoriam," his lament for the loss by death of his friend, Arthur H.
+  Hallam. In 1851 he succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His
+  poems, long and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King,"
+  "The Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+  These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of thought,
+  of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented by the entire
+  English-speaking world, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson
+  always loved the sea, the music of whose restless waves awakened an
+  answering echo in his heart.
+
+WALLACE, WILLIAM R., was born at Lexington, Ky., in the year 1819.
+  As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+WESTWOOD, THOMAS, an English poet, was born in the year 1814, and
+  died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one of which was
+  "Beads from a Rosary."
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN G., called the "Quaker Poet," was born in
+  Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and were poor.
+  When young he learned to make shoes, and with the money thus earned he
+  paid his way at school. He was a boy of nineteen when his first verses
+  were published. His poems were inspired by current events, and their
+  patriotic spirit gives them a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound"
+  is considered his greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he
+  never visited a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He
+  gave thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery struggle.
+  While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied in their
+  libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the slave. Of this he
+  wrote--
+         "Forego the dreams of lettered ease,
+         Put thou the scholar's promise by;
+         The rights of man are more than these."
+
+  Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.
+
+WISEMAN, CARDINAL NICHOLAS PATRICK, was born in the year 1802 in
+  Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there. His family returned to
+  Ireland, where he was educated. When he was sixteen he entered the
+  English College, Rome, and was ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was
+  appointed Coadjutor Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of
+  Westminster, and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a
+  profound scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is
+  the author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the _Dublin
+  Review._ He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church of the Catacombs,"
+  from which some selections have been taken for this Reader, is one of
+  the classics of our language. It was written in 1854.
+
+WOODWORTH, SAMUEL, editor and poet, was born in Massachusetts in
+  1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris, he founded the _New York
+  Mirror._ "The Old Oaken Bucket" is the best known of his poems.
+
+  For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken for this
+  book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the series.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
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+EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are
+filed in a different way.  The year of a release date is no longer part
+of the directory path.  The path is based on the etext number (which is
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+
+     https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of DE LA SALLE SERIES FIFTH
+READER, by THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS.</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: De La Salle Fifth Reader
+
+Author: Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10811]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<table width="80%" summary="Bookspace" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td><br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2><i>DE LA SALLE SERIES</i></h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>FIFTH READER</h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/001.gif" alt=
+"WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901" border="0"></div>
+<h5>WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>(REVISED EDITION, 1922)</h2>
+<h5>BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS,<br>
+ ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE, POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y.<br>
+ LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="CONTENTS_1"></a>
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h4><a href="#_2_">_2_ PREFACE</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_3_">_3_ INTRODUCTION</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_4_">_4_ SUGGESTIONS</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_5_">_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_6_">_6_ DEFINITIONS</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_7_">_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+<i>Mercedes</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_8_">_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. <i>J.T.
+Trowbridge</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_9_">_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. <i>Mara L.
+Pratt</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_10_">_10_ HELPING MOTHER.</a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_2"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_11_">_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_12_">_12_ TWO LABORERS. <i>Thomas
+Carlyle</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_13_">_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_14_">_14_ THE BROOK SONG. <i>James Whitcomb
+Riley</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_15_">_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+<i>Rydingsvard</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_16_">_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. <i>Mary
+Howitt</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_17_">_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_18_">_18_ SEPTEMBER. <i>Helen Hunt
+Jackson</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_19_">_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." <i>Mrs. T.A.
+Sherrard</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_20_">_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.</a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_3"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_21_">_21_ MY BEADS. <i>Father Ryan</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_22_">_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+<i>Thomas Moore</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_23_">_23_ A LITTLE LADY. <i>Louisa M.
+Alcott</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_24_">_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+<i>Anon.</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_25_">_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. <i>Denis A.
+McCarthy</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_26_">_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_27_">_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. <i>Cardinal
+Newman</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_28_">_28_ LITTLE BELL. <i>Thomas
+Westwood</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_29_">_28_ A MODEST WIT. <i>Selleck
+Osborne</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_30_">_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. <i>George P.
+Morris</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_4"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_31_">_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_32_">_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. <i>Samuel
+Woodworth</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_33_">_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. <i>Pierre J.
+Hetzel</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_34_">_34_ OUR HEROES. <i>Phoebe Cary</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_35_">_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. <i>Jean
+Ingelow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_36_">_36_ THE BROOK. <i>Tennyson</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_37_">_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_38_">_38_ ONE BY ONE. <i>Adelaide A.
+Procter</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_39_">_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE.
+<i>Longfellow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_40_">_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.</a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_5"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_41_">_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. <i>J.G.
+Holland</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_42_">_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_43_">_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+<i>Longfellow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_44_">_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. <i>Father
+Ryan</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_45_">_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. <i>Eugene
+Field</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_46_">_46_ THE HOLY CITY.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_47_">_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+<i>Aesop</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_48_">_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+<i>William Cowper</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_49_">_49_ JACK FROST. <i>Hannah F.
+Gould</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_50_">_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" <i>Helen Hunt
+Jackson</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_6"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_51_">_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. <i>Jean
+Ingelow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_52_">_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_53_">_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. <i>Eliza
+Cook</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_54_">_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+<i>Tennyson</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_55_">_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_56_">_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. <i>Robert
+Southey</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_57_">_57_ KIND WORDS. <i>Father Faber</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_58_">_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. <i>John Boyle
+O'Reilly</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_59_">_59_ DAFFODILS. <i>William
+Wordsworth</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_60_">_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. <i>Cardinal
+Wiseman</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_7"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_61_">_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. <i>Eleanor
+C. Donnelly</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_62_">_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. <i>Nathaniel
+Hawthorne</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_63_">_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS <i>Whittier</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_64_">_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_65_">_65_ WILL AND I <i>Paul H. Hayne</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_66_">_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+<i>Charles Dickens</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_67_">_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? <i>Anon</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_68_">_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_69_">_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. <i>William
+Wordsworth</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_70_">_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. <i>Hans
+Christian Andersen</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_8"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_71_">_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. <i>George
+MacDonald</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_72_">_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_73_">_73_ THE WATER LILY. <i>Jean
+Ingelow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_74_">_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. <i>John Boyle
+O'Reilly</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_75_">_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_76_">_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. <i>Margaret E.
+Sangster</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_77_">_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. <i>William R.
+Wallace</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_78_">_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. <i>Cardinal
+Wiseman</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_79_">_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. <i>Adelaide A.
+Procter</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_80_">_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. <i>John
+Ruskin</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_9"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_81_">_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. <i>Clement C.
+Moore</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_82_">_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_83_">_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. <i>Jean
+Blewett</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_84_">_84_ BIOGRAPHIES</a></h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. <i>Leigh
+Hunt</i>" and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. <i>James Whitcomb Riley</i>" were
+originally shown in the list above, neither work appears in the
+text.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_2_"></a>
+<h1>_2_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">PREFACE</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series
+of Readers is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of
+our Catholic schools a set of books embodying the matter and
+methods best suited to their needs. The matter has been written
+or chosen with a view to interest and instruct, to cultivate a
+taste for the best literature, to build up a strong moral
+character and to imbue our children with an intelligent love of
+Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by the most
+experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.</p>
+<p>These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit
+thought and facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of
+this idea, class talks, word study, the structure of sentences,
+drills on certain correct forms of expression, the proper
+arrangement of ideas, explanation of phrases and literary
+expressions, oral and written reproductions of narrations and
+descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all receive
+the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years,
+acquire that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and
+that fluency in expressing their own, which are so essential to a
+good English education.</p>
+<p>In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition,
+the principle of order should in a great measure determine the
+value of the methods to be employed. In the acquisition of
+knowledge, the child instinctively follows the order of nature.
+This order is first, <i>observation</i>; second, <i>thought</i>;
+third, <i>expression</i>. It becomes the duty of the teacher,
+consequently, to lead the child to observe <i>accurately</i>, to
+think <i>clearly</i>, and to express his thoughts
+<i>correctly</i>. And text-books are useful only in so far as
+they supply the teacher with the material and the system best
+calculated to accomplish such results.</p>
+<p>It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers,
+having been planned in accordance with the principle just
+enunciated, will prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic
+schools.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_3_"></a>
+<h1>_3_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">INTRODUCTION</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the
+preceding numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered
+the mechanical difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired
+a fairly good working vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read
+intelligently and with some degree of fluency and pleasure. Now
+is the time to lead him to acquire a taste for good reading. The
+selections have been drawn mainly from authors whose writings are
+distinguished for their moral and literary value, and whose style
+is sure to excite a lasting interest.</p>
+<p>In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and
+forming a basis for oral and written composition work, these
+selections will raise his ideas of right living, will quicken his
+imagination, will give him his first knowledge of many things,
+stimulate his powers of observation, enlarge his vocabulary, and
+correct and refine his mode of expression. A wholesome reading
+habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily, pleasantly and
+unconsciously formed.</p>
+<p>The following are some of the features of the book:</p>
+<p>GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.-This Guide is to be referred to again
+and again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught.
+Instruction in the vowel sounds is an excellent drill in
+articulation, while a knowledge of the diacritical marks enables
+the pupil to master these sounds for himself when consulting the
+dictionary.</p>
+<p>VARIETY OF MATTER.-In the volume will be found the best
+sentiments of the best writers. The pupil will find fables,
+nature studies, tales of travel and adventure, brave deeds from
+history and fiction, stories of loyalty and heroism, examples of
+sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and selections that teach
+industry, contentment, respect for authority, reverence for all
+things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to faith and
+Country.</p>
+<p>LANGUAGE STUDY.-If reading is to hold its proper place in the
+class room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere
+reading of the text. In its truest sense, reading is far more
+comprehensive. The teacher will question the pupil on what he has
+read, point out to him the beauties of thought and language, find
+out what hold the reading has taken upon his memory, how it has
+aroused his imagination, assisted his judgment, directed his
+will, and contributed to his fund of general information. To
+assist in this most important work is the object aimed at in the
+matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give fuller
+powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.</p>
+<p>RECITATIONS.-There are some selections marked for recitation.
+The public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness
+of manner, beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for
+subsequent elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a
+single poem or address based upon some heroic or historic event,
+recited before a class or a school, will often do more to build
+up a noble character and foster a love of history, than a full
+term of instruction by question and answer.</p>
+<p>POETRY.-The numerous poetic selections, some of which are
+partly analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the
+highest and purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of
+knowledge, and emphasize the teachings of some of the prose
+selections. Many of them have been written by American authors.
+Every American boy and girl should be acquainted with the works
+of poets who have done so much for the development of American
+literature and nationality.</p>
+<p>MEMORY GEMS.-"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and
+poetry enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their
+memory, suggests delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in
+possession of sentences of the best construction. The recitation
+of these expressive texts accustoms the children to speak with
+ease, grace and elegance." ("Elements of Practical
+Pedagogy.")</p>
+<p>BIOGRAPHIES.-Young children enjoy literature for its own sake,
+and take little interest in the personality of the writer; but as
+they grow older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an
+interest in the writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are
+given at the close of the volume as helps in the study of the
+authors from whom selections are drawn, and to induce the pupils
+to read further.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_4_"></a>
+<h1>_4_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">SUGGESTIONS</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>WORD STUDY.-The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce
+correctly all the words of the selection he is preparing to read.
+He should know their ordinary meanings and the special meanings
+they may have in the text. He should be able to write them
+correctly from dictation and to use them in sentences of his own.
+He should examine if they are primitive, derivative, or compound;
+he should be able to name the prefixes and suffixes and show how
+the meanings of the original words are modified by their use. He
+should cultivate the habit of word mastery. What is read will not
+otherwise be understood. Without it there can be no good reading,
+speaking or writing.</p>
+<p>EXPRESSIVE READING.-There should be constant drill to secure
+correct pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis,
+and an agreeable tone of voice, without which there can be no
+expressive reading. This is a difficult task, and will take much
+time, trouble and practice; but it has far-reaching results. It
+enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays the foundation for a
+genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the reading lesson
+drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion
+comes largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be
+taught not only to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning
+clear to others. It is important that children be taught to
+acquire thought through the ear.</p>
+<p>CONCERT READING.-Reading in concert is generally of little
+value, and the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the
+children in getting thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an
+exercise in teaching reading it is ineffective and often
+positively harmful. A concert recitation to which special
+training has been given partakes of the nature of a hymn or a
+song, and then becomes an element of value. If occasionally there
+must be concert reading in the class room, it should always be
+preceded by individual mastery of the selection.</p>
+<p>POEMS.-In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be
+presented as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should
+first read it through, not stopping for note or comment. He
+should then read it again, part by part, stopping, for question,
+explanation and discussion. Lastly, the whole poem, should be
+read with suitable emotion, so that the final impression may be
+made by the author's own words. It is important that the pupil
+get the message which the author intended to give. In teaching a
+descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as possible, and
+thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative poem,
+the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by
+bringing out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All
+this will take time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied,
+is worth more than a volume carelessly read over. In reading
+poetry, be careful that the pupils, while giving the rhythm of
+the lines, do not fall into the singsong tone so common and so
+disagreeable.</p>
+<p>EXPLANATIONS.-Explanations should accompany every reading
+lesson, without which there can be no serious teaching of the
+vernacular. By their means the teacher enters into communication
+with his pupils; he gets them to speak, he corrects their errors,
+trains their reason, and forms their taste. It has been said that
+a teacher able to explain selections in prose and poetry "holds
+his class in the hollow of his hand." The teacher should insist
+that the pupil express himself clearly and correctly, not only
+during the reading lesson, but on every subject he has occasion
+to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout the day's
+recitations.</p>
+<p>REVIEWS.-As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak,
+frequent reviews should be held. They are necessary for the
+backward pupils and advantageous for the others. Have an informal
+talk with the children on what they have read, what they have
+learned, what they have liked, and what has interested them. Some
+important parts of the prose and poetry previously studied might,
+during this exercise, be re-read with profit.</p>
+<p>COMPOSITION.-Continue oral and written composition. The
+correct use of written language is best taught by selecting for
+compositions subject-matter that deeply interests the children.
+If persevered in, this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use
+of English. If the words of a selection that has been studied
+appear now and then in the children's conversation or writing, it
+should be a matter for praise; for this means that new words have
+been added to their vocabulary, and that the children have a new
+conception of beauty of thought and speech.</p>
+<p>See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly
+or careless habits should never be allowed in any written
+work.</p>
+<p>MEMORY GEMS.-Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize
+the pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future
+good resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of
+thought will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of
+the children who learn them by heart.</p>
+<p>THE DICTIONARY.-The use of the dictionary is a necessary part
+of education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use
+will double the value of study in connection with reading and
+language. Every Grammar School, High School and College should be
+supplied with several copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and
+every pupil taught how to consult it, and encouraged to do so.
+The dictionary should be the book of first and last and constant
+resort.</p>
+<p>USE OF THE LIBRARY.-The teacher should endeavor to create an
+interest in those books from which the selections in the Reader
+are taken, and in others of equal grade and quality. Encourage
+the children to take books from the library. Direct them in their
+choice. Encourage home reading. The reading of good books should
+be a part of regular school work; otherwise little or no true
+progress can be made in speaking and writing. The best way to
+learn to speak and write good English is to read good
+English.</p>
+<p>For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching
+Reading and Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and
+IV, Part IV, of "Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the
+Christian Brothers, and published by the La Salle Bureau of
+Supplies, 50 Second Street, New York.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:</p>
+<p>"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle
+O'Reilly, Miss Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs.
+Margaret E. Sangster, Mr. Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb
+Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T. Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W.
+Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The Ladies' Home Journal;
+Lothrop, Lee &amp; Shepard Co.; The Educational Publishing Co.;
+Little, Brown &amp; Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy &amp;
+Sons; The Hinds &amp; Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.</p>
+<p>The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne,
+Fields, Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used
+by permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton,
+Mifflin &amp; Co., publishers of the works of these authors, and
+to these gentlemen are tendered expressions of sincere
+thanks.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_5_"></a>
+<h1>_5_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication,
+Webster's International Dictionary has been taken as
+authority.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>VOWELS</h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)</p>
+[=a] as in gate--g[=a]te<br>
+<br>
+ [^a] as in care--c[^a]re<br>
+<br>
+ [)a] as in cat--c[)a]t<br>
+<br>
+ [.a] as in ask--[.a]sk<br>
+<br>
+ [a.] ([)o]) as in what--wh[a.]t<br>
+<br>
+ [:a] as in car--c[:a]r<br>
+<br>
+ [a:] as in all--[a:]ll<br>
+<br>
+ ai ([^a]) as in air--[^a]ir<br>
+<br>
+ ai ([=a]) as in aim--[=a]im<br>
+<br>
+ au ([:a]) as in aunt--[:a]unt<br>
+<br>
+ [=e] as in eve--[=e]ve<br>
+<br>
+ [)e] as in end--[)e]nd<br>
+<br>
+ [~e] as in her--h[~e]r<br>
+<br>
+ [^e] as in there--th[^e]re<br>
+<br>
+ [e=] ([=a]) as in they--th[e=]y<br>
+<br>
+ ea ([=e]) as in ear--[=e]ar<br>
+<br>
+ ei ([=e]) as in receive--rec[=e]ive<br>
+<br>
+ [=i] as in ice--[=i]ce<br>
+<br>
+ [)i] as in pin--p[)i]n<br>
+<br>
+ [~i] ([~e]) as in bird--b[~i]rd<br>
+<br>
+ [:i] ([=e]) as in police--pol[:i]ce<br>
+<br>
+ i[e=] ([=e]) as in chief--chi[=e]f<br>
+<br>
+ [=o] as in old--[=o]ld<br>
+<br>
+ [^o] as in lord--l[^o]rd<br>
+<br>
+ [)o] as in not--n[)o]t<br>
+<br>
+ [.o] ([)u]) as in son--s[.o]n<br>
+<br>
+ [o.] ([u.]) as in wolf--w[o.]lf<br>
+<br>
+ [o:] ([=oo]) as in do--d[o:]<br>
+<br>
+ oa ([=o]) as in boat--b[=o]at<br>
+<br>
+ [=oo] ([o:]) as in moon--m[=oo]n<br>
+<br>
+ [)oo] ([o.]) as in foot--f[)oo]t<br>
+<br>
+ [=u] as in pure--p[=u]re<br>
+<br>
+ [)u] as in cup--c[)u]p<br>
+<br>
+ [^u] as in burn--b[^u]rn<br>
+<br>
+ [u.] ([o.]) as in full--f[u.]ll<br>
+<br>
+ [u:] as in rude--r[u:]de<br>
+<br>
+ ew ([=u]) as in new<br>
+<br>
+ [=y] ([=i] as in fly--fl[=y]<br>
+<br>
+ [)y] ([)i]) as in hymn--h[)y]mn<br>
+<br>
+ [~y] ([~e]) as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CONSONANTS</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+ c (s) as in cent<br>
+<br>
+ c (k) as in cat<br>
+<br>
+ ce (sh) as in ocean<br>
+<br>
+ ch (k) as in school<br>
+<br>
+ ch (sh) as in machine<br>
+<br>
+ ci (sh) as in gracious<br>
+<br>
+ dg (j) as in edge<br>
+<br>
+ ed (d) as in burned<br>
+<br>
+ ed (t) as in baked<br>
+<br>
+ f (v) as in of<br>
+<br>
+ g (hard) as in get<br>
+<br>
+ g (j) as in gem<br>
+<br>
+ gh (f) as in laugh<br>
+<br>
+ n (ng) as in ink<br>
+<br>
+ ph (f) as in sulphur<br>
+<br>
+ qu (kw) as in queen<br>
+<br>
+ s (z) as in has<br>
+<br>
+ s (sh) as in sure<br>
+<br>
+ s (zh) as in pleasure<br>
+<br>
+ ssi (sh) as in passion<br>
+<br>
+ si (zh) as in occasion<br>
+<br>
+ ti (sh) as in nation<br>
+<br>
+ wh (hw) as in when<br>
+<br>
+ x (z) as in Xavier<br>
+<br>
+ x (ks) as in tax<br>
+<br>
+ x (gz) as in exist<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_6_"></a>
+<h1>_6_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">DEFINITIONS</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Language</b> is the expression of thought by means of
+words.</p>
+<p><b>Words</b>, with respect to their <i>origin</i>, are divided
+into <i>primitive</i> and <i>derivative</i>; and with respect to
+their <i>composition</i>, into <i>simple</i> and
+<i>compound</i>.</p>
+<p>A <b>primitive</b> word is one that is not derived from
+another word.</p>
+<p>A <b>derivative</b> word is one that is formed from another
+word by means of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other
+change.</p>
+<p>A <b>simple</b> word is one that consists of a single
+significant term.</p>
+<p>A <b>compound</b> word is one made up of two or more simple
+words.</p>
+<p>A <b>sentence</b> is a combination of words which make
+complete sense.</p>
+<p>A <b>syllable</b> is a word or a part of a word pronounced by
+one effort of the voice.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>The <b>diaeresis</b> is the mark (<sup><b>..</b></sup>) placed
+over the second of two adjacent vowels, to denote that they are
+to be pronounced as distinct letters; as
+<i>re<b>&euml;</b>cho</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS</h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The first word of every <b>sentence</b> should begin with a
+capital.</p>
+<p><b>Proper names,</b> and words derived from them, should begin
+with capitals.</p>
+<p>The first word of every <b>line of poetry</b> should begin
+with a capital.</p>
+<p>All names of God and all titles of the <b>Deity</b>, as well
+as all pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with
+capitals.</p>
+<p>The words <b>I</b> and <b>O</b> should always be capitals.</p>
+<p>The first word of a <b>direct quotation</b> should begin with
+a capital.</p>
+<p>The names of the <b>days</b> and of the <b>months</b> should
+begin with capitals; but not the names of the seasons.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_7_"></a>
+<h1>_7_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Glorious Patron! low before thee<br>
+ <span class="c4">Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!</span><br>
+ And our voices blend in music,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Singing praises to thy name.</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Lover of our Queen and Mother,<br>
+ <span class="c4">At her feet didst vow thy heart,</span><br>
+ Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thou didst choose the better part.</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Pierce our souls with love's own
+dart.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Model of the Christian Teacher!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Patron of the Christian youth!</span><br>
+ Lead us all to heights of glory,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As we strive in earnest ruth.</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide
+us,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">As we spread afar the Truth!</span><br>
+<br>
+ In this life of sin and sorrow,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,</span><br>
+ In the hour of dark temptation,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Father! be our spirit's stay!</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Take our hand and lead us homeward,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright
+Day!</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><i>Mercedes.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/018.gif" width="321" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE. Founder of the Brothers of the
+Christian Schools, pointing out the way of salvation to the
+children of all nations.</p>
+<p>"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels,
+moulding and shaping the souls of youth for heaven." <i>Most
+Reverend Archbishop Keane, of Dubuque.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_8_"></a>
+<h1>_8_</h1>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>due</td>
+<td>mien</td>
+<td>fri'ar</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pri'or</td>
+<td>Pa'los</td>
+<td>por'ter</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>con'vent</td>
+<td>pre'cious</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Dreary and brown the night comes down,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gloomy, without a star.</span><br>
+ On Palos town the night comes down;<br>
+ The day departs with stormy frown;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sad sea moans afar.</span><br>
+<br>
+ A convent gate is near; 'tis late;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Tin-gling! the bell they ring.</span><br>
+ They ring the bell, they ask for bread-<br>
+ "Just for my child," the father said.<br>
+ <span class="c4">Kind hands the bread will bring.</span><br>
+<br>
+ White was his hair, his mien was fair,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His look was calm and great.</span><br>
+ The porter ran and called a friar;<br>
+ The friar made haste and told the prior;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The prior came to the gate.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He took them in, he gave them food;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The traveler's dreams he heard;</span><br>
+ And fast the midnight moments flew.<br>
+ And fast the good man's wonder grew,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And all his heart was stirred.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Forgetful of all sorrow,</span><br>
+ Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.<br>
+ The good man kissed him there, and said:<br>
+ <span class="c4">"You leave us not to-morrow!</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;<br>
+ <span class="c4">This child shall be our own-</span><br>
+ A precious care, while you prepare<br>
+ Your business with the court, and bear<br>
+ <span class="c4">Your message to the throne."</span><br>
+<br>
+ And so his guest he comforted.<br>
+ <span class="c4">O wise, good prior! to you,</span><br>
+ Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,<br>
+ And helped him on his way, what praise<br>
+ <span class="c4">And gratitude are due!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>J.T. Trowbridge.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>By permission of the author.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Where is Palos? What is it noted for?</p>
+<p>Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?</p>
+<p>In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the
+traveler? Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called
+dreams? Did the dreams become facts? In what way?</p>
+<p>How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?</p>
+<p>How did the Queen of Spain assist him?</p>
+<p>Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so
+many Catholic names?</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Press on! There's no such word as fail!<br>
+ Push nobly on! The goal is near!<br>
+ Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!<br>
+ Look upward, onward,-never fear!<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/020.gif" width="297" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_9_"></a>
+<h1>_9_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">THE LITTLE FERN.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more
+beautiful than it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a
+dainty little fern leaf. All around the tiny plant were many
+others, but none of them so graceful and delicate as this one I
+tell you of. Every day the cheery breezes sought out their
+playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and out, playing
+hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little
+fern curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for
+company.</p>
+<p>So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the
+sweet wild fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But-for this
+was a very long time ago-a great change took place in the earth;
+and rocks and soil were upturned, and the rivers found new
+channels to flow in.</p>
+<p>Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered
+up with the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as
+well never have lived as to have been hidden away where none
+could see it.</p>
+<p>But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years
+afterwards, when all that clay had become stone, and had broken
+into many fragments, a very wise and learned man found the bit of
+rock upon which was all the delicate tracery of the little fern
+leaf, with outline just as perfect and lovely as when, long, long
+ago it had swayed to the breezes in its own beautiful valley.</p>
+<p>And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the
+fern leaf home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all
+could admire it; and where, if they were thoughtful and clever
+enough, they could think out the story for themselves and find
+the lesson which was hidden away with the fern in the bit of
+rock.</p>
+<p>Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only
+a truth which it will do every one of us good to remember; and
+that is, that none of the beauty in this fair world around us,
+nor anything that is sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and
+lives, will ever be useless and lost. For, as the little fern
+leaf lay hidden away for years and years, and yet finally was
+found by the wise man and given a place with his other rare and
+precious possessions where it could still, though silently, aid
+those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men and women
+who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely traits
+of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able
+to aid others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by
+word and deed, lend a hand to each and every one around us.</p>
+<p><i>Mara L. Pratt.</i></p>
+<p>From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing
+Co.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Break up the following words into their syllables, and place
+the accent mark where it belongs in each:</p>
+<p>outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character,
+hundreds, centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the
+correct use of the words in original sentences. The dictionary
+will help you in the work.</p>
+<p>Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a
+girl to be truly successful in life.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The child is father of the man;<br>
+ And I could wish my days to be<br>
+ Bound each to each by natural piety.<br>
+
+<p><i>Wordsworth</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>Truth alone makes life rich and great.</p>
+<p><i>Emerson</i>.</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>There is a tongue in every leaf-<br>
+ <span class="c4">A voice in every rill-</span><br>
+ A voice that speaketh everywhere-<br>
+ In flood and fire, through earth and air,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A tongue that's never still.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Anon</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_10_"></a>
+<h1>_10_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>blithe</td>
+<td>whistler</td>
+<td>mellow</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>replied</td>
+<td>cheery</td>
+<td>skylark</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">HELPING MOTHER.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>As I went down the street to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I saw a little lad</span><br>
+ Whose face was just the kind of face<br>
+ <span class="c4">To make a person glad.</span><br>
+ It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So cheerful and so bright,</span><br>
+ It made me think of apple-time.<br>
+ <span class="c4">And filled me with delight.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I saw him busy at his work,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While blithe as skylark's song</span><br>
+ His merry, mellow whistle rang<br>
+ <span class="c4">The pleasant street along.</span><br>
+ "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"<br>
+ <span class="c4">I thought as I passed by;</span><br>
+ "These busy, cheery, whistling boys<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make grand men by and by."</span><br>
+<br>
+ Just then a playmate came along,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And leaned across the gate-</span><br>
+ A plan that promised lots of fun<br>
+ <span class="c4">And frolic to relate.</span><br>
+ "The boys are waiting for us now,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So hurry up!" he cried;</span><br>
+ My little whistler shook his head,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And "Can't come," he replied.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?<br>
+ <span class="c4">What hinders?" asked the other.</span><br>
+ "Why, don't you see," came the reply,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I'm busy helping mother?</span><br>
+ She's lots to do, and so I like<br>
+ <span class="c4">To help her all I can;</span><br>
+ So I've no time for fun just now,"<br>
+ <span class="c4">Said this dear little man.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I like to hear you talk like that,"<br>
+ <span class="c4">I told the little lad;</span><br>
+ "Help mother all you can, and make<br>
+ <span class="c4">Her kind heart light and glad."</span><br>
+ It does me good to think of him,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And know that there are others</span><br>
+ Who, like this manly little boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Take hold and help their mothers.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>LANGUAGE WORK:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any
+boy like him?</p>
+<p>Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.</p>
+<p>When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much
+fun? What kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_11_"></a>
+<h1>_11_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>rid' dle</td>
+<td>brand'-new</td>
+<td>mys' ter y</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>un rav' el</td>
+<td>like' ness es</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">A CONTENTED WORKMAN.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old
+Fritz," took a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by
+the wayside cheerily singing his song.</p>
+<p>"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this
+land on which you are working so hard belong to you?"</p>
+<p>"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the
+king; "I am not so rich as that; I plow for wages."</p>
+<p>"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.</p>
+<p>"Two dollars," said the laborer.</p>
+<p>"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with
+that?"</p>
+<p>"Yes; and have something left."</p>
+<p>"How is that?"</p>
+<p>The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty
+cents are for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts,
+fifty I lend, and fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."</p>
+<p>"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the
+king.</p>
+<p>"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two
+old parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help;
+and now, that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is
+my debt, towards which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty
+cents, which I lend, I spend for my children, that they may
+receive Christian instruction. This will come handy to me and my
+wife when we get old. With the last fifty I maintain two sick
+sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."</p>
+<p>The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken,
+old man. Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you
+ever seen me before?"</p>
+<p>"Never," said the laborer.</p>
+<p>"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and
+carry in your pocket fifty of my likenesses."</p>
+<p>"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the
+laborer.</p>
+<p>"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his
+hand into his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces
+into his hand, stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the
+astonished laborer, who knew not what was coming, "The coin is
+good, for it also comes from our Lord God, and I am his
+paymaster. I bid you good-day."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The working men, whatever their task,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Who carve the stone, or bear the
+hod,</span><br>
+ They wear upon their honest brows<br>
+ <span class="c4">The royal stamp and seal of God;</span><br>
+ And worthier are their drops of sweat<br>
+ <span class="c4">Than diamonds in a coronet.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;</span><br>
+ Who sows a field, or trains a flower,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or plants a tree, is more than all.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Whittier</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/028.gif" width="530" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>LABOR <i>Millet</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_12_"></a>
+<h1>_12_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>con' script</td>
+<td>in dis pen' sa ble</td>
+<td>im' ple ment</td>
+<td>in de fea' si bly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">TWO LABORERS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman,
+that with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth,
+and makes her man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked,
+coarse, wherein, notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue,
+indefeasibly royal, as of the scepter of this planet. Venerable,
+too, is the rugged face, all weather tanned, besoiled, with its
+rude intelligence; for it is the face of a man living
+manlike.</p>
+<p>Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because
+I must pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For
+us was thy back so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and
+fingers so deformed. Thou wert our conscript on whom the lot fell
+and, fighting our battles, wert so marred. Yet toil on, toil on;
+... thou toilest for the altogether indispensable,-for daily
+bread.</p>
+<p>A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen
+toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but
+the bread of life. Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring
+towards inward harmony; revealing this, by act or word, through
+all his outward endeavors, be they high or low? Highest of all,
+when his outward and his inward endeavor are one; when we can
+name him artist; not earthly craftsman only, but inspired
+thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers heaven for
+us!</p>
+<p>If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not
+the high and glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have
+light and guidance, freedom, immortality?-these two, in all their
+degrees, I honor; all else is chaff and dust, which let the wind
+blow whither it listeth.</p>
+<p>Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both
+dignities united; and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest
+of man's wants, is also toiling inwardly for the highest.
+Sublimer in this world know I nothing than a peasant saint. Such
+a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself; thou wilt see the
+splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest depths of earth
+like a light shining in great darkness.</p>
+<p><i>Thomas Carlyle.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and
+the great break through.</p>
+<p><i>Bacon</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_13_"></a>
+<h1>_13_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>gust</td>
+<td>thief</td>
+<td>mop' ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>awk' ward</td>
+<td>pet' tish ly</td>
+<td>in dig' nant</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>un bear' a ble</td>
+<td>med' dle some</td>
+<td>en light' ened</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td> </td>
+<td>in quis' i tive</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE GRUMBLING PUSS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat
+moping on the top of the garden wall.</p>
+<p>"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way,
+"Our cook is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily
+some one would hang <i>her</i>."</p>
+<p>"Why, what <i>is</i> the matter?" repeated Growler.</p>
+<p>"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened
+to be the death of me?"</p>
+<p>"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it
+about?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants
+complain of it. I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."</p>
+<p>"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to
+hang; you and I might be managed much more easily."</p>
+<p>"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat;
+"and such a pain in my side!"</p>
+<p>"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"</p>
+<p>"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:-oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she
+breaks she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me.
+Really, it is quite unbearable!"</p>
+<p>Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn,
+after the first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was
+there no particular cause this morning?"</p>
+<p>"She chose to be very angry because I-I offended her," said
+the cat.</p>
+<p>"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.</p>
+<p>"Oh, nothing worth telling,-a mere mistake of mine."</p>
+<p>Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that
+she was compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my
+breakfast."</p>
+<p>"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.</p>
+<p>"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a
+mouse, and knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it
+was, I smelt it, and it was rather nice, and-"</p>
+<p>"You finished it," hinted Growler.</p>
+<p>"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome
+cook hadn't come in. As it was, I left the head."</p>
+<p>"The head of what?" said Growler.</p>
+<p>"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.</p>
+<p>"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.</p>
+<p>"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for
+dinner."</p>
+<p>"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've
+heard the whole story, I only wonder she did <i>not</i> hang
+you."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete
+sentences:</p>
+<p>Mary - here, and Susan and Agnes - coming. They - delayed on
+the road. Mother - to come with them, but she and father -
+obliged to wait till to-morrow.</p>
+<p>Puss said to Growler, "I - not - a drop of milk to-day, and -
+not - any yesterday."</p>
+<p>I - my work well now. Yesterday I - it fairly well. To-morrow
+I shall - it perfectly.</p>
+<p>The boys - their best, though they - the game.</p>
+<p>John-now the boys he - last week. He - not - them before.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts
+of this selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the
+other pupils simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and
+in a perfectly natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting
+exercise. To play or act the story of a selection helps to
+develop the imagination.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_14_"></a>
+<h1>_14_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>scared</td>
+<td>swerve</td>
+<td>gur' gle</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>rip' ples</td>
+<td>cur' rent</td>
+<td>mum' bling ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE BROOK SONG.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Little brook! Little brook!<br>
+ You have such a happy look-<br>
+ Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook-<br>
+ And your ripples, one and one,<br>
+ Reach each other's hands and run<br>
+ Like laughing little children in the sun!<br>
+<br>
+ Little brook, sing to me;<br>
+ Sing about the bumblebee<br>
+ That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,<br>
+ Because he wet the film<br>
+ Of his wings, and had to swim,<br>
+ While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.<br>
+<br>
+ Little brook-sing a song<br>
+ Of a leaf that sailed along<br>
+ Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and
+strong,<br>
+ And a dragon fly that lit<br>
+ On the tilting rim of it,<br>
+ And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.<br>
+<br>
+ And sing-how oft in glee<br>
+ Came a truant boy like me,<br>
+ Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,<br>
+ Till the gurgle and refrain<br>
+ Of your music in his brain<br>
+ Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.<br>
+<br>
+ Little brook-laugh and leap!<br>
+ Do not let the dreamer weep:<br>
+ Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest
+sleep;<br>
+ And then sing soft and low<br>
+ Through his dreams of long ago-<br>
+ Sing back to him the rest he used to know!<br>
+
+<p><i>James Whitcomb Riley</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/036.gif" width="310" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>BY THE BROOK</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>ripples</b>, little curling waves <b>film</b>, a thin skin
+or slight covering.</p>
+<p><b>current</b>, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to
+<i>air, electricity</i>, etc.</p>
+<p>What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting
+melody, softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to
+him as pain?</p>
+<p>What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.</p>
+<p>Insert <i>may</i> or <i>can</i> properly where you see a dash
+in the following: The boy said, "-I leave the room?" "Mother,
+I-climb the ladder;-I?"-a dog climb a tree?-I ask a favor?</p>
+<p>Copy the following words-they are often misspelled: loving,
+using, till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme,
+success, barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy,
+hurried, forty-four, enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense,
+exhaust.</p>
+<p>By means of the suffixes, <i>er, est, ness</i>, form three new
+words from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively,
+greedy, steady, lovely, gloomy.</p>
+<p>Example: From happy,-happier, happiest, happiness. Note the
+change of <i>y</i> to <i>i</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_15_"></a>
+<h1>_15_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>rag'ged</td>
+<td>crin'kly</td>
+<td>rub'bish</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fil'tered</td>
+<td>protect'ed</td>
+<td>disor'derly</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>disturbed'</td>
+<td>imme'diately</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.</a></h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>I.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p>High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the
+seed-down, borne on the autumn wind's strong arms.</p>
+<p>"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and
+put it down on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then
+he flew away immediately, because he had much to look after.</p>
+<p>That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where
+it was placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.</p>
+<p>Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed
+came near being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was,
+protected it.</p>
+<p>It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and
+pressed the downy seed into the earth. When the foot was
+withdrawn, the earth fell, and filled the little pit it had
+made.</p>
+<p>The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the
+seed lay quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When
+the spring came, and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out
+of the earth.</p>
+<p>There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The
+tiny plant could not see very far around, because rubbish and
+brush-heaps lay near it, and the little window was so gray and
+dusty that it could not peep into the cottage either.</p>
+<p>"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.</p>
+<p>"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near.
+"Why, the smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who
+wore me out."</p>
+<p>And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on
+there, and it was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe
+knew it all well, and told a whole lot in a few minutes, because
+she had such a well-hung tongue.</p>
+<p>Now there came a pair of ragged children, running-the smith's
+boy and girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the
+shoe said, after they were gone.</p>
+<p>"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now,
+I shall pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the
+root's heart.</p>
+<p>"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do
+you not see what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have
+lovely flowers, I know, when it grows bigger."</p>
+<p>And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick
+and dug up the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed
+field. Then they threw the shoe and the sweepings a little way
+off, because they thought to make the place look better.</p>
+<p>"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had
+gone, "you cannot think how in the way folks are!"</p>
+<p>"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be
+very orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in
+another place she was so disturbed.</p>
+<p>But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the
+upturned earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days
+the plant was several inches high.</p>
+<p>"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how
+beautiful it is getting!"</p>
+<p>"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a
+pretty plant! Come and see it!" begged the girl.</p>
+<p>The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the
+little rough bit of soil which lay between the piles of
+sweepings.</p>
+<p>The smith nodded to the children.</p>
+<p>"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and
+stopped an instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but
+thought of the little green spot, with the lovely plant in the
+midst of it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>II.</h2>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>pet' als</td>
+<td>in' mates</td>
+<td>scrubbed</td>
+<td>fra' grant</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>The children ran into the house.</p>
+<p>"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right
+by the window!"</p>
+<p>The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick
+with dust that she could not do so. She wiped off a little
+spot.</p>
+<p>"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window
+looked beside the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole
+window.</p>
+<p>"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how
+dreadfully dirty it is out in the yard!"</p>
+<p>Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very
+light in the cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children
+and at the rubbish in the room, and the blood rushed over her
+pale cheeks.</p>
+<p>"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed
+that it was so untidy here."</p>
+<p>She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that
+was done, she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard
+that her hands smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she
+did not stop until every spot was white.</p>
+<p>It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat
+mending the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It
+looked so strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him
+was brighter than ever before, he thought.</p>
+<p>"Go-God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such
+a greeting had been heard in here.</p>
+<p>"God's peace!" answered she; "wel-welcome home!" She had not
+said this for many years.</p>
+<p>The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it
+the two children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked
+out on the mound where the little plant stood. After a few
+minutes he went out.</p>
+<p>A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that
+he would stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the
+little dress.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the
+window to see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He
+was out in the yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.</p>
+<p>She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He
+glanced in through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he
+nodded back, and they both smiled.</p>
+<p>"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.</p>
+<p>Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every
+evening. It was green and lovely round the little cottage, and
+outside the window there was a whole flower-bed, with many
+blossoms; but in the midst stood the little plant the autumn wind
+had brought thither.</p>
+<p>The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked
+about the flowers.</p>
+<p>"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful
+of all," said the girl.</p>
+<p>"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.</p>
+<p>The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand,
+but very carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with
+his thick, coarse fingers.</p>
+<p>Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound
+floated out over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the
+eventide, just as the sun sank behind the tree-tops in the
+forest. And every one bowed the head, because it was Saturday
+evening, and it was a sacred voice that sounded.</p>
+<p>In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates
+slumbered, more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's
+toils, but also much, much happier. And round about, all was calm
+and peaceful.</p>
+<p>But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,-and
+it bore but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the
+little flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the
+beautiful, fragrant blossom.</p>
+<p>"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife,
+turning to her husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the
+flower. The wife looked at the husband, and he looked at her, and
+then their eyes rested on both children; then their eyes grew
+dim, but became immediately bright again, for the tears were not
+of sorrow, but of happiness.</p>
+<p>When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the
+temple, the flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its
+mission; but on the waves of song its perfume floated upwards.
+And in the sweet fragrance lay a warm thanksgiving from the
+little seed-down.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss
+Rydingsv&auml;rd.</p>
+<p>Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee
+&amp; Shepard Co.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<p>I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I
+have always plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place
+wherever a flower would grow.</p>
+<p><i>Abraham Lincoln.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_16_"></a>
+<h1>_16_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>lux'u ry</td>
+<td>med'i cine</td>
+<td>a bun'dant</td>
+<td>wil'der ness</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE USE OF FLOWERS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>God might have bade the earth bring forth<br>
+ <span class="c4">Enough for great and small,</span><br>
+ The oak tree, and the cedar tree,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Without a flower at all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He might have made enough, enough,<br>
+ <span class="c4">For every want of ours;</span><br>
+ For luxury, medicine, and toil,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And yet have made no flowers.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The ore within the mountain mine<br>
+ <span class="c4">Requireth none to grow,</span><br>
+ Nor doth it need the lotus flower<br>
+ <span class="c4">To make the river flow.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The clouds might give abundant rain,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The nightly dews might fall,</span><br>
+ And the herb that keepeth life in man<br>
+ <span class="c4">Might yet have drunk them all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then wherefore, wherefore were they made<br>
+ <span class="c4">All dyed with rainbow light,</span><br>
+ All fashioned with supremest grace,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Upspringing day and night-</span><br>
+<br>
+ Springing in valleys green and low,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And on the mountains high,</span><br>
+ And in the silent wilderness,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where no man passeth by?</span><br>
+<br>
+ Our outward life requires them not,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then wherefore had they birth?</span><br>
+ To minister delight to man,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To beautify the earth;</span><br>
+<br>
+ To whisper hope-to comfort man<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whene'er his faith is dim;</span><br>
+ For whoso careth for the flowers<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will care much more for Him!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Mary Howitt.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf,
+copy, foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.</p>
+<p>Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following
+stanza:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>In the country on every side<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where far and wide</span><br>
+ Like a leopard's tawny hide<br>
+ <span class="c4">Stretches the plain</span><br>
+ To the dry grass and drier grain<br>
+ How welcome is the rain.<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br>
+ <span class="c4">The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean
+bear;</span><br>
+ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And waste its sweetness on the desert
+air.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_17_"></a>
+<h1>_17_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>deigned</td>
+<td>in' va lid</td>
+<td>lone' li ness</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>smoothed</td>
+<td>med'i cine</td>
+<td>be wil'dered</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>gen' ius</td>
+<td>riv' et ed</td>
+<td>soul-sub du' ing</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London,
+little Pierre, a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the
+bedside of his sick mother. There was no bread in the house; and
+he had not tasted food all day. Yet he sat humming to keep up his
+spirits.</p>
+<p>Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and
+he could scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that
+nothing would be so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good
+sweet orange; and yet he had not a penny in the world.</p>
+<p>The little song he was singing was his own,-one he had
+composed, both air and words; for the child was a genius. He went
+to the window, and, looking out, saw a man putting up a great
+poster with yellow letters, announcing that Madame Malibran would
+sing that night in public.</p>
+<p>"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then,
+pausing a moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a
+new hope. Running to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow
+curls, and, taking from a little box an old, stained paper, he
+gave one eager glance at his mother, who slept, and ran speedily
+from the house.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<p>"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her
+servant. "I am already worn out with company."</p>
+<p>"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says
+that if he can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry,
+and he will not keep you a moment."</p>
+<p>"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a
+smile; "I can never refuse children."</p>
+<p>Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand
+a little roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he
+walked straight up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come
+to see you, because my mother is very sick, and we are too poor
+to get food and medicine. I thought that, perhaps, if you would
+only sing my little song at one of your grand concerts, some
+publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and so I could get food
+and medicine for my mother."</p>
+<p>The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately
+she was;-she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly
+hummed the air.</p>
+<p>"Did you compose it?" she asked,-"you, a child! And the
+words?-Would you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a
+few moments of thought.</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but
+I couldn't leave my mother."</p>
+<p>"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the
+evening; and here is a crown, with which you may go and get food
+and medicine. Here is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and
+that will admit you to a seat near me."</p>
+<p>Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges,
+and many a little luxury besides, and carried them home to the
+poor invalid, telling her, not without tears, of his good
+fortune.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<p>When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert
+hall, he felt that never in his life had he been in so grand a
+place. The music, the glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing
+of diamonds and the rustling of silks, completely bewildered him.
+At last <i>she</i> came; and the child sat with his eyes riveted
+on her face. Could it be that the grand lady, glittering with
+jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship, would really sing
+his little song?</p>
+<p>Breathless he waited:-the band, the whole band, struck up a
+little plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for
+joy! And oh, how she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so
+soul-subduing. Many a bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a
+heart was moved, by the touching words of that little song.</p>
+<p>Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared
+he for money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his
+little song, and thousands had wept at his grief.</p>
+<p>The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame
+Malibran. She laid her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to
+the sick woman, said: "Your little boy, madam, has brought you a
+fortune. I was offered, this morning, by the first publisher in
+London, a large sum for his little song. Madam, thank God that
+your son has a gift from heaven."</p>
+<p>The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As
+for Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and
+the tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a
+simple prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had
+deigned to notice their affliction.</p>
+<p>The memory of that prayer made the singer even more
+tender-hearted; and she now went about doing good. And on her
+early death, he who stood by her bed, and smoothed her pillow,
+and lightened her last moments by his affection, was the little
+Pierre of former days,-now rich, accomplished, and one of the
+most talented composers of the day.</p>
+<p>All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations,
+send down bounty to the widow and the fatherless!</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Pierre</b> (pe [^a]r'), Peter.</p>
+<p><b>Malibran</b>, a French singer and actress. She died in
+1836, when only 28 years old.</p>
+<p>What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?</p>
+<p><b>breathless</b> = <i>breath</i>+<i>less</i>, without breath,
+out of breath; holding the breath on account of great
+interest.</p>
+<p><b>breathlessly</b>, in a breathless manner. Use <i>breath,
+breathless, breathlessly,</i> in sentences of your own.</p>
+<p>Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming
+together in the following words and phrases:</p>
+<p>humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows;
+eyes sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<p>A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.</p>
+<p><i>St. Francis of Assisi.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Howe'er it be, it seems to me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">'Tis only noble to be good.</span><br>
+ Kind hearts are more than coronets,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And simple faith than Norman blood.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_18_"></a>
+<h1>_18_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">SEPTEMBER.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The golden-rod is yellow;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The corn is turning brown;</span><br>
+ The trees in apple orchards<br>
+ <span class="c4">With fruit are bending down.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The gentian's bluest fringes<br>
+ <span class="c4">Are curling in the sun;</span><br>
+ In dusty pods the milkweed<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its hidden silk has spun.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The sedges flaunt their harvest<br>
+ <span class="c4">In every meadow nook;</span><br>
+ And asters by the brookside<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make asters in the brook.</span><br>
+<br>
+ From dewy lanes at morning<br>
+ <span class="c4">The grapes' sweet odors rise;</span><br>
+ At noon the roads all flutter<br>
+ <span class="c4">With yellow butterflies.</span><br>
+<br>
+ By all these lovely tokens<br>
+ <span class="c4">September days are here,</span><br>
+ With summer's best of weather,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And autumn's best of cheer.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Helen Hunt Jackson.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.]</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/053.gif" width="383" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.</p>
+<p>Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of
+cheer; sedges flaunt their harvest.</p>
+<p>How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?</p>
+<p>Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in
+the poem. Can you name any others?</p>
+<p>Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_19_"></a>
+<h1>_19_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>tat'ter</td>
+<td>wreathed</td>
+<td>Ken tuck' y</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>de scend'ed</td>
+<td>re cess'</td>
+<td>home' stead</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>en rap' tured</td>
+<td>Penn syl va' ni a</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster,
+a resident of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a
+visit to his relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of
+Bardstown, Ky. One beautiful morning while the slaves were at
+work in the cornfield and the sun was shining with a mighty
+splendor on the waving grass, first giving it a light red, then
+changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon a bench in
+front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and a
+sister.</p>
+<p>High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its
+sweet notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the
+thrush's mellow song could be heard. A number of small negro
+children were playing not far away. When Foster had finished the
+first verse of the song his sister took it from his hand and sang
+in a sweet, mellow voice:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;<br>
+ <span class="c4">'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;</span><br>
+ The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While the birds make music all the
+day.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,<br>
+ <span class="c4">All merry, all happy, all bright;</span><br>
+ By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then, my old Kentucky home, good
+night.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to
+a lower branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side
+and appeared to be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice
+of the young singer. When the last note died away upon the air,
+her fond brother sang in deep bass voice:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Well sing one song for the old Kentucky
+home,</span><br>
+ For our old Kentucky home far away.<br>
+<br>
+ A few more days for to tote the weary load,<br>
+ <span class="c4">No matter, 'twill never be light;</span><br>
+ A few more days till we totter on the road-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then, my old Kentucky home, good
+night.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little
+tots had placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees,
+while the old black women were peeping around the corner of the
+house. The faithful old house dog never took his eyes off the
+young singers. Everything was still; not even the stirring of the
+leaves seemed to break the wonderful silence.</p>
+<p>Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes,
+and sang in sweet accents:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon<br>
+ <span class="c4">On the meadow, the hill and the
+shore;</span><br>
+ They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,<br>
+ <span class="c4">On the bench by the old cabin door.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With sorrow where all was delight:</span><br>
+ The time has come when the darkies have to part-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then, my old Kentucky home, good
+night.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The head must bow and the back will have to bend<br>
+ <span class="c4">Wherever the darkies may go;</span><br>
+ A few more days and the trouble all will end<br>
+ <span class="c4">In the fields where the sugar cane
+grow.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky
+home,</span><br>
+ For our old Kentucky home far away.<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's
+cheeks; the children crept from their hiding place behind the
+trees, their faces wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the
+thrush sought their home in the thicket, while the old house dog
+still lay basking in the sun.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. T.A. Sherrard</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Louisville <i>Courier-Journal.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_20_"></a>
+<h1>_20_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>stew' ard</td>
+<td>se'quel</td>
+<td>Gal'i lee</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ab lu' tions</td>
+<td>in ter ces' sion</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us
+in his gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and
+the Mother of Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the
+marriage." Mary was invited to be one of the honored guests
+because she was, no doubt, an intimate friend of the family. She
+preceded her Son to the wedding in order to lend her aid in the
+necessary preparations.</p>
+<p>Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He
+went as freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went
+pityingly to so many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary
+with his long fast and struggle in the desert, He was pleased to
+attend this merry wedding feast, and by this loving and kindly
+act to sanctify the bond of Marriage, which was to become in His
+Church one of the seven Sacraments.</p>
+<p>The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that
+greatly disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not
+calculated rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many
+guests.</p>
+<p>Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the
+confusion of the servants when they discovered that the wine
+vessels had become empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered,
+"They have no wine." "My hour is not yet come," He answered her,
+meaning that His time for working miracles had not yet arrived.
+He knew on the instant what the gentle heart of His Mother
+desired. His words sounded like a refusal of the request which
+Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue; but the
+sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.</p>
+<p>She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to
+you, do ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close
+at hand six great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the
+custom in the East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh.
+These vessels "containing two or three measures apiece," were
+kept in readiness for the guests, who were required not only to
+wash their feet before touching the linen and drapery of the
+couches, but even during the meal frequently to purify their
+hands. Already there had been many of these ablutions performed,
+and the urns were being rapidly emptied.</p>
+<p>"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the
+servants.</p>
+<p>They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.</p>
+<p>"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the
+feast."</p>
+<p>And they carried it.</p>
+<p>When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and
+knew not whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him:
+"Every man at first setteth forth good wine, and when men have
+well drunk then that which is worse; but thou hast kept the good
+wine until now."</p>
+<p>The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to
+give an agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table;
+but the latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a
+wondrous deed had been accomplished-that water had been changed
+into wine!</p>
+<p>Jesus had performed His first Miracle.</p>
+<p>From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we
+learn that Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God,
+whose intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a
+loving and motherly care over the smallest of our life's
+concerns.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/058.gif" width="600" height=
+"270" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>THE FEAST <i>Veronese</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>preceded</b>, went before in order of time. The prefix
+<i>pre</i>- means <i>before</i>. Tell what the following words
+mean:</p>
+<p>prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine,
+precaution, precursor, prefigure, prearrange.</p>
+<p>Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>The conscious water saw its God and blushed.</p>
+<p><i>Richard Crashaw.</i></p>
+<p>But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the
+Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in
+His Name.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><i>Gospel of St. John.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_21_"></a>
+<h1>_21_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>dec' ades (dek' ads)</td>
+<td>di' a dem</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">MY BEADS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Sweet bless&egrave;d beads! I would not part<br>
+ <span class="c5">With one of you for richest gem</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">That gleams in kingly diadem:</span><br>
+ Ye know the history of my heart.<br>
+<br>
+ For I have told you every grief<br>
+ <span class="c5">In all the days of twenty years,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">And I have moistened you with tears,</span><br>
+ And in your decades found relief.<br>
+<br>
+ Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And joys have died; but in my needs</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Ye were my friends, my blessed
+beads!</span><br>
+ And ye consoled me when I wailed.<br>
+<br>
+ For many and many a time, in grief,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My weary fingers wandered round</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy circled chain, and always found</span><br>
+ In some Hail Mary sweet relief.<br>
+<br>
+ How many a story you might tell<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of inner life, to all unknown;</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">I trusted you and you alone,</span><br>
+ But ah! ye keep my secrets well.<br>
+<br>
+ Ye are the only chain I wear-<br>
+ <span class="c4">A sign that I am but the slave,</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">In life, in death, beyond the grave,</span><br>
+ Of Jesus and His Mother fair.<br>
+
+<p><i>Father Ryan.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>"Father Ryan's Poems."<br>
+ Published by P. J. Kenedy &amp; Sons, New York.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>From the following words make new words by means of the
+suffix <b><i>-ous</i></b>: joy, grace, grief, glory, desire,
+virtue, beauty, courage, disaster, harmony.</p>
+<p>(Consult the dictionary.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Mary,-our comfort and our hope,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">O, may that name be given</span><br>
+ To be the last we sigh on earth,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The first we breathe in heaven.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_22_"></a>
+<h1>_22_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S
+HALLS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The harp that once through Tara's halls<br>
+ <span class="c4">The soul of music shed,</span><br>
+ Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As if that soul were fled.</span><br>
+ So sleeps the pride of former days,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So glory's thrill is o'er,</span><br>
+ And hearts, that once beat high for praise,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now feel that pulse no more.</span><br>
+<br>
+ No more to chiefs and ladies bright<br>
+ <span class="c4">The harp of Tara swells;</span><br>
+ The chord alone that breaks at night<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its tale of ruin tells.</span><br>
+ Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The only throb she gives</span><br>
+ Is when some heart indignant breaks,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To show that still She lives.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Thomas Moore.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<img src="images/063.gif" width="335" height="430" alt="" border=
+"0">
+<p>TOM MOORE</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_23_"></a>
+<h1>_23_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ma'am</td>
+<td>dis suade'</td>
+<td>re spect'a ble</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>shuf' fled</td>
+<td>dan' ger ous</td>
+<td>grate' ful</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>wist' ful ly</td>
+<td>mit' tens</td>
+<td>outstretched'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>res' cue</td>
+<td>un daunt' ed</td>
+<td>an' ti qua ted</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a name="FNanchor001"></a><a href="#CONTENTS_3">A LITTLE
+LADY.</a><a href="#Footnote_001"><sup>[001]</sup></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered
+with ice, I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly
+picking her way. She was one of the poor but respectable old
+ladies who dress in rusty black, wear old-fashioned bonnets, and
+carry big bags.</p>
+<p>Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those
+who are better bred treat them with respect. They find something
+touching in the faded suits, the withered faces, and the
+knowledge that these lonely old ladies have lost youth, friends,
+and often fortune, and are patiently waiting to be called away
+from a world that seems to have passed by and forgotten them.</p>
+<p>Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little
+black bonnet in front, expecting every minute to see it go down,
+and trying to hurry, that I might offer my help.</p>
+<p>At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard
+one say to another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and
+we shall lose our coasting, unless we hurry."</p>
+<p>"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I
+should feel so bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child,
+whose eyes, full of a sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old
+lady.</p>
+<p>"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen
+walking with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind
+thing to do, but had not the courage to try it.</p>
+<p>"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and
+I'm going to do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running
+by me, I saw her overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing,
+looking wistfully over the dangerous sheet of ice before her.</p>
+<p>"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the
+kind little voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully
+out-stretched.</p>
+<p>"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I
+must get home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful
+smile, which was worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.</p>
+<p>"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm
+afraid you might fall," said the child, offering her arm.</p>
+<p>"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've
+been having a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and
+I slip at every step."</p>
+<p>"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and
+can't tumble."</p>
+<p>So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the
+other girls to look after them and wish that we had done the
+little act of kindness, which now looked so lovely in
+another.</p>
+<p>"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child
+to the other.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do
+lose some coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade
+her playmate from going to the rescue.</p>
+<p>Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day
+in real politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully
+supporting the old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big
+bag, the old socks, and the queer bonnet, both their faces
+lighted up with new respect and affection for their playmate.</p>
+<p><i>Louisa M. Alcott.</i></p>
+<p>From "Little Women." Little, Brown &amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>dissuade</b>, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by
+reasons given.</p>
+<p><b>antiquated</b>, grown old; old-fashioned.</p>
+<p>Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands
+for.</p>
+<p><br>
+ Use <i>their</i> or <i>there</i> properly in place of the blanks
+in<br>
+ the following sentences: The girls were on - way<br>
+ to the Park. - was an old lady at the crossing.<br>
+ Our home is -. Katy and Mary said -<br>
+ mother lived -.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Count that day lost<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose low descending sun,</span><br>
+ Views from thy hands<br>
+ <span class="c4">No worthy action done.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Author unknown.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.</p>
+<p><i>Emerson</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_001"></a><a href=
+"#FNanchor001">[001]</a></p>
+<p>Copyrighted by Little, Brown &amp; Company.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_24_"></a>
+<h1>_24_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Some love the glow of outward show,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Some love mere wealth and try to win
+it;</span><br>
+ The house to me may lowly be<br>
+ <span class="c4">If I but like the people in it.</span><br>
+<br>
+ What's all the gold that glitters cold,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When linked to hard or haughty
+feeling?</span><br>
+ Whate'er we're told, the noble gold<br>
+ <span class="c4">Is truth of heart and manly dealing.</span><br>
+<br>
+ A lowly roof may give us proof<br>
+ <span class="c4">That lowly flowers are often
+fairest;</span><br>
+ And trees whose bark is hard and dark<br>
+ <span class="c4">May yield us fruit and bloom the
+rarest.</span><br>
+<br>
+ There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor<br>
+ <span class="c4">As e'er adorned a loftier station;</span><br>
+ And minds as just as those, we trust,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose claim is but of wealth's
+creation.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Mere fashion's smile, and try to win
+it;</span><br>
+ The house to me may lowly be<br>
+ <span class="c4">If I but like the people in it.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Anon</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>What is meant by "haughty feeling"?</p>
+<p>What does the author say "the noble gold" is?</p>
+<p>Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word?
+Why?</p>
+<p>Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.</p>
+<p>Use <i>to, too, two,</i> properly before each of the following
+words:</p>
+<p>hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.</p>
+<p>What virtues does the poem recommend?</p>
+<p>What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?</p>
+<p>What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The bird that sings on highest wing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Builds on the ground her lowly nest;</span><br>
+ And she that doth most sweetly sing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sings in the shade when all things
+rest.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Montgomery</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Name the two birds referred to.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_25_"></a>
+<h1>_25_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>sears</td>
+<td>flecked</td>
+<td>de signed'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>strait'ened</td>
+<td>il lu'mined</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">A SONG OF DUTY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Life is flecked with shine and
+shower;</span><br>
+ Now the tear of grieving flows,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now we smile in happy hour;</span><br>
+ Death awaits us, every one-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer-</span><br>
+ Let us then, ere life be done,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make the world a little brighter!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Burdens that our neighbors bear,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Easier let us try to make them;</span><br>
+ Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let us do our best to break them.</span><br>
+ From the straitened hand and mind,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let us loose the binding fetter,</span><br>
+ Let us, as the Lord designed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make the world a little better!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Selfish brooding sears the soul,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Fills the mind with clouds of
+sorrow,</span><br>
+ Darkens all the shining goal<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of the sun-illumined morrow;</span><br>
+ Wherefore should our lives be spent<br>
+ <span class="c4">Daily growing blind and blinder-</span><br>
+ Let us, as the Master meant,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make the world a little kinder!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Denis A. McCarthy.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Voices from Erin."</p>
+<p>Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_26_"></a>
+<h1>_26_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>the o lo' gi an</td>
+<td>his' to ry</td>
+<td>To bi' as</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>cre at' ed</td>
+<td>pro ceed' ed</td>
+<td>sep' a ra ted</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>min' is ter</td>
+<td>Au gus' tine</td>
+<td>crit' i cise</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>cat' e ehism</td>
+<td>de ter' mined</td>
+<td>As cen' sion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td> </td>
+<td>Res ur rec' tion</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to
+tell Maggie all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at
+school."</p>
+<p>"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at
+all to make Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."</p>
+<p>"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could
+find out <i>when</i> the angels were created. Neither could our
+teacher tell me. And I'm told St. Augustine could only make a
+guess when they were created.</p>
+<p>"He thought the angels were created when God separated the
+light from the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure
+there are angels; that's the chief point."</p>
+<p>"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.</p>
+<p>"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I
+would know he must have a father and a mother, although I had
+never heard when he was born."</p>
+<p>"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.</p>
+<p>"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and
+they must have been created some time. Let me tell you some of
+the places where it is said in the Bible that angels have been
+seen, and where they spoke, too."</p>
+<p>"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if <i>she</i>
+can find out some of those places herself. Here is the
+Bible."</p>
+<p>With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the
+history of Adam and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with
+a flaming sword was placed at the gate of Paradise.</p>
+<p>"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very
+sad."</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and
+beheld his young theologians with the holy Book before them.
+"They felt very sorry, indeed, but they were consoled when told
+that a Savior would come to redeem them."</p>
+<p>"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke
+about the angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the
+highest."</p>
+<p>"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was
+tempted," proceeded the father.</p>
+<p>"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed
+James.</p>
+<p>"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip
+up her big brother, "but he is a bad one."</p>
+<p>"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His
+forty days' fast," insisted James.</p>
+<p>"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one <i>bad
+angel</i> tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister
+unto Him."</p>
+<p>"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry
+over some other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James,
+and give only the place and person in each case."</p>
+<p>"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who
+went to Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to
+steal money from the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a
+long journey."</p>
+<p>"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an <i>Archangel?</i>"
+inquired Maggie, still determined to surpass her brother.</p>
+<p>"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be
+Maggie's turn soon."</p>
+<p>"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels
+at the Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His
+Ascension."</p>
+<p>Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have
+till next Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all
+mine."</p>
+<p>"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "<i>your</i> angel
+is always with you, and James has his, too."</p>
+<p>"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the
+church," said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse
+my coming in without knocking. They're in a great hurry."</p>
+<p>"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next
+Sunday. May your angels watch over you in the meantime."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>archangel</b> ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.</p>
+<p><b>archbishop</b> ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.</p>
+<p><b>arch</b>, as a prefix, means <i>chief</i>, and in nearly
+every case the <i>ch</i> is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel,
+architect, and in one or two other words, the <i>ch = k.</i></p>
+<p><b>arch</b>, as a suffix, is pronounced <i>[:a]rk</i>, and
+means <i>ruler;</i> as monarch, a <i>sole ruler;</i> one who
+<i>rules alone.</i></p>
+<p>Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are
+contractions. Write after each what it is a contraction of.</p>
+<p><b>earthward</b> = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). <i>ward</i> is here
+a suffix meaning <i>course, direction to, motion towards.</i> Add
+this <b>suffix</b> to the end of each of the following words, and
+tell the meaning of each new word formed:</p>
+<p>up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.</p>
+<p><b>What</b> word is the opposite in meaning of each of these
+new words?</p>
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td><span class="c6">The generous heart</span><br>
+ Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.<br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_27_"></a>
+<h1>_27_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ebb' ing</td>
+<td>spon' sor</td>
+<td>judg' ments</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>el' e ments</td>
+<td>tu' te lage</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>My oldest friend, mine from the hour<br>
+ <span class="c4">When first I drew my breath;</span><br>
+ My faithful friend, that shall be mine,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Unfailing, till my death.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Thou hast been ever at my side;<br>
+ <span class="c4">My Maker to thy trust</span><br>
+ Consign'd my soul, what time He framed<br>
+ <span class="c4">The infant child of dust.</span><br>
+<br>
+ No beating heart in holy prayer,<br>
+ <span class="c4">No faith, inform'd aright,</span><br>
+ Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or Michael's conquering might.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The dearest and the best,-</span><br>
+ Has known my being as thou hast known,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And blest as thou hast blest.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Thou wast my sponsor at the font;<br>
+ <span class="c4">And thou, each budding year,</span><br>
+ Didst whisper elements of truth<br>
+ <span class="c4">Into my childish ear.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My rebel spirit fell,</span><br>
+ Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Yet bear each deed of Hell.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And then in turn, when judgments came.<br>
+ <span class="c4">And scared me back again,</span><br>
+ Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe<br>
+ <span class="c4">And hallow every pain.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Oh! who of all thy toils and cares<br>
+ <span class="c4">Can tell the tale complete,</span><br>
+ To place me under Mary's smile,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And Peter's royal feet!</span><br>
+<br>
+ And thou wilt hang above my bed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When life is ebbing low;</span><br>
+ Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The jealous, sleepless foe.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Mine, when I stand before my Judge;<br>
+ <span class="c4">And mine, if spared to stay</span><br>
+ Within the golden furnace till<br>
+ <span class="c4">My sin is burn'd away.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And mine, O Brother of my soul,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When my release shall come;</span><br>
+ Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy wings shall waft me home.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Cardinal Newman.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/074.gif" width="330" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>THE GUARDIAN ANGEL</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Explain the following expressions:</p>
+<p>Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at
+the font; each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal
+feet. Describe the picture.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_28_"></a>
+<h1>_28_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>quoth</td>
+<td>crooned</td>
+<td>frisked</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>beech'-wood</td>
+<td>twain</td>
+<td>se'rene</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>frol'icked</td>
+<td>wan'dering</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">LITTLE BELL.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td><br>
+ Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:<br>
+ "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,<br>
+ <span class="c5">What's your name?" quoth he,-</span><br>
+ "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,<br>
+ Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Little Bell," said she.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,<br>
+ Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Bonny bird," quoth she,</span><br>
+ "Sing me your best song before I go,"<br>
+ "Here's the very finest song I know,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Little Bell," said he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the blackbird piped: you never heard<br>
+ Half so gay a song from any bird,-<br>
+ <span class="c5">Full of quips and wiles,</span><br>
+ Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,<br>
+ All for love of that sweet face below,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Dimpled o'er with smiles.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the while the bonny bird did pour<br>
+ His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,<br>
+ <span class="c5">'Neath the morning skies,</span><br>
+ In the little childish heart below<br>
+ All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,<br>
+ And shine forth in happy overflow<br>
+ <span class="c5">From the blue, bright eyes.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade<br>
+ Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,<br>
+ <span class="c5">And from out the tree</span><br>
+ Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,<br>
+ While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Little Bell!" piped he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Little Bell sat down amid the fern:<br>
+ "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;<br>
+ <span class="c5">Bring me nuts," quoth she.</span><br>
+ Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,-<br>
+ Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,-<br>
+ <span class="c5">And adown the tree</span><br>
+ Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,<br>
+ In the little lap dropped, one by one.<br>
+ Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Happy Bell!" pipes he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Little Bell looked up and down the glade:<br>
+ "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Come and share with me!"</span><br>
+ Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,<br>
+ Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!<br>
+ Little Bell gave each his honest share;<br>
+ <span class="c5">Ah! the merry three!</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the while these woodland playmates twain<br>
+ Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,<br>
+ <span class="c5">'Neath the morning skies,</span><br>
+ In the little childish heart below<br>
+ All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,<br>
+ And shine out in happy overflow<br>
+ <span class="c5">From her blue, bright eyes.</span><br>
+<br>
+ By her snow-white cot at close of day<br>
+ Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:<br>
+ <span class="c5">Very calm and clear</span><br>
+ Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,<br>
+ In blue heaven, an angel shape serene<br>
+ <span class="c5">Paused awhile to hear.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "What good child is this," the angel said,<br>
+ "That, with happy heart, beside her bed<br>
+ <span class="c5">Prays so lovingly?"</span><br>
+ Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,<br>
+ Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Bell, <i>dear</i> Bell!" crooned
+he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair<br>
+ Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;<br>
+ <span class="c5">Child, thy bed shall be</span><br>
+ Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,<br>
+ Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Little Bell, for thee."</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Thomas Westwood</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/079.gif" width="433" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL</p>
+<p>croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.</p>
+<p>croon, to sing in a low tone.</p>
+<p>quips, quick, smart turns.</p>
+<p>piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or
+flute.</p>
+<p>In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose
+<i>Little Bell?</i> Why are these marks used here?</p>
+<p>Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used.
+Tell what it denotes in each case.</p>
+<p>Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?</p>
+<p>In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid,
+slowly wandering" his way? Who is she?</p>
+<p>Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the
+blackbird to do?</p>
+<p>Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the
+bird sing so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the
+little childish heart below?"</p>
+<p>Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to
+do? Read the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What
+invitation did the squirrel receive from Little Bell?</p>
+<p>Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what
+you see there.</p>
+<p>Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.</p>
+<p>Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last
+stanza. What is their meaning?</p>
+<p>What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did
+he make such beautiful promises?</p>
+<p>Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem
+mean: quoth he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls
+of gold; bonny bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden
+woodlights; adown the tree; playmates twain; with folded palms;
+an angel shape; with angels' care; the bird did pour his full
+heart out freely; the sweetness did shine forth in happy
+overflow.</p>
+<p>Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the
+thought it contains.</p>
+<p>Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.</p>
+<p>What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this
+poem?</p>
+<p>Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,- "He
+prayeth best who loveth best,<br>
+ All things both great and small,"- is illustrated in the story
+of Little Bell.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Write a composition on the story from the following hints:
+Where did Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what
+time of day? How old was she? How did she look? What companions
+did she meet? What did the three friends do? How did the little
+girl close the day?</p>
+<p>In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem
+as you can.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Prayer is the dew of faith,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its raindrop, night and day,</span><br>
+ That guards its vital power from death<br>
+ <span class="c4">When cherished hopes decay,</span><br>
+ And keeps it mid this changeful scene,<br>
+ A bright, perennial evergreen.<br>
+<br>
+ Good works, of faith the fruit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Should ripen year by year,</span><br>
+ Of health and soundness at the root<br>
+ <span class="c4">And evidence sincere.</span><br>
+ Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free<br>
+ And make our faith no barren tree.<br>
+
+<p><i>Lydia H. Sigourney.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_29_"></a>
+<h1>_29_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>na'bob</td>
+<td>ap plaud'ed</td>
+<td>un as sum'ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sad' dler</td>
+<td>dif' fi dence</td>
+<td>sec' re ta ry</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ob scured'</td>
+<td>live' li hood</td>
+<td>su per cil' i ous</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">A MODEST WIT.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A supercilious nabob of the East-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Haughty,  being great-purse-proud,  being
+rich-</span><br>
+ A governor, or general, at the least,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I have forgotten which---</span><br>
+ Had in his family a humble youth,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Who went from England in his patron's
+suit,</span><br>
+ An unassuming boy, in truth<br>
+ <span class="c4">A lad of decent parts, and good
+repute.</span><br>
+<br>
+ This youth had sense and spirit;<br>
+ <span class="c4">But yet with all his sense,</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Excessive diffidence</span><br>
+ Obscured his merit.<br>
+<br>
+ One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His honor, proudly free, severely
+merry,</span><br>
+ Conceived it would be vastly fine<br>
+ <span class="c4">To crack a joke upon his secretary.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Did your good father gain a
+livelihood?"-</span><br>
+ "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"And in his line was reckoned good."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Instead of teaching you to sew!</span><br>
+ Pray, why did not your father make<br>
+ <span class="c4">A saddler, sir, of you?"</span><br>
+<br>
+ Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,<br>
+ The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.<br>
+ <span class="c4">At length, Modestus, bowing low,</span><br>
+ Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Sir, by your leave, I fain would
+know</span><br>
+ <i>Your</i> father's trade!"<br>
+<br>
+ "<i>My</i> father's <i>trade?</i> Heavens! that's too bad!<br>
+ My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?<br>
+ My father, sir, did never stoop so low.<br>
+ He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."<br>
+<br>
+ "Excuse the liberty I take,"<br>
+ <span class="c4">Modestus said, with archness on his
+brow,</span><br>
+ "Pray, why did not your father make<br>
+ <span class="c4">A gentleman of you?"</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Selleck Osborne.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>fain, gladly.</p>
+<p>archness, sly humor free from malice.</p>
+<p>suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of
+distinction; often written <i>suite</i> (<i>sw[=e]t</i>).</p>
+<p>Write the plural forms of <i>boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary.</i></p>
+<p>Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in
+italics:</p>
+<p>He was an <i>unassuming</i> boy, of decent <i>parts</i> and
+good <i>repute</i>. His <i>diffidence obscured</i> his merit.
+<i>Excuse</i> the <i>liberty</i> I take.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The rank is but the guinea's stamp,-<br>
+ The man's the gold for a' that!<br>
+
+<p><i>Burns.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.</p>
+<p><i>Goethe</i> (g[^u]' t[=e]).</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_30_"></a>
+<h1>_30_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="FNanchor002"></a>
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.</a><a href=
+"#Footnote_002"><sup>[002]</sup></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Woodman, spare that tree!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Touch not a single bough!</span><br>
+ In youth it sheltered me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And I'll protect it now.</span><br>
+ 'Twas my forefather's hand<br>
+ <span class="c4">That placed it near his cot;</span><br>
+ There, woodman, let it stand,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy ax shall harm it not!</span><br>
+<br>
+ That old familiar tree,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose glory and renown</span><br>
+ Are spread o'er land and sea---<br>
+ <span class="c4">And wouldst thou hew it down?</span><br>
+ Woodman, forbear thy stroke!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Cut not its earth-bound ties;</span><br>
+ Oh! spare that aged oak,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now towering to the skies.</span><br>
+<br>
+ When but an idle boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I sought its grateful shade;</span><br>
+ In all their gushing joy<br>
+ <span class="c4">Here, too, my sisters played.</span><br>
+ My mother kissed me here;<br>
+ <span class="c4">My father pressed my hand;-</span><br>
+ Forgive this foolish tear,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But let that old oak stand.</span><br>
+<br>
+ My heartstrings round thee cling,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Close as thy bark, old friend!</span><br>
+ Here shall the wild bird sing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And still thy branches bend.</span><br>
+ Old tree! the storm still brave!<br>
+ <span class="c4">And, Woodman, leave the spot!</span><br>
+ While I've a hand to save,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy ax shall harm it not.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>George P. Morris,</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+ <a name="Footnote_002"></a><a href="#FNanchor002">[002]</a>
+<blockquote>NOTE.-Many trees in our country are landmarks, and
+are valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant
+trees and dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at
+Cambridge, Mass., and it was under the shade of this venerable
+Elm that George Washington took command of the Continental army,
+July 3rd, 1775.<br>
+<br>
+ There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs
+whole families of children passed much of their childhood. When
+one of these falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some
+honored citizen.<br>
+<br>
+ Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of
+the truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited
+without being deeply moved.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_31_"></a>
+<h1>_31_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>car' goes</td>
+<td>em bar' go</td>
+<td>im mor' tal ized</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>prin' ci ple</td>
+<td>col' o nists</td>
+<td>rep re sen ta' tion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>de ri' sion</td>
+<td>pa' tri ot ism</td>
+<td>Phil a del' phi a</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George
+III, King of England, claimed the right to tax the people of this
+country, though he did not permit them to take any part in
+framing the laws under which they lived.</p>
+<p>He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that
+they could not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were
+fighting for a principle,-that of no taxation without
+representation, and would not buy the tea. In New York and
+Philadelphia the people would not allow the vessels to land their
+cargoes.</p>
+<p>The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared
+they would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The
+ladies had a hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea,
+but they stood out nobly.</p>
+<p>Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of
+December 16, 1773, a party of young Americans, painted and
+dressed like Indians, boarded the three vessels lying in the
+harbor, opened the chests, and emptied all the tea into the
+water. They then slipped away to their homes, and were never
+found out by the British. One of the leaders of these daring
+young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has been
+immortalized by Longfellow.</p>
+<p>When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the
+ocean, the anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong
+force of soldiers to Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This
+act only increased the spirit of patriotism that burned in the
+breasts of all Americans.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/088.gif" width="298" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the
+origin of the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses,
+which our American boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and
+sing:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,<br>
+ And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;<br>
+ That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;<br>
+ "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and
+daughters."<br>
+ Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a
+grandee,<br>
+ And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."<br>
+ "Yankee doodle"-these are facts-"Yankee doodle dandy;"<br>
+ My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"<br>
+<br>
+ John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties
+rated;<br>
+ But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.<br>
+ Then Jonathan to pout began-he laid a strong embargo-<br>
+ "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the
+cargo.<br>
+ Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,<br>
+ Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle
+dandy."<br>
+ "Yankee doodle-keep it up-Yankee doodle dandy-<br>
+ I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."<br>
+<br>
+ A long war then they had, in which John was at last
+defeated,<br>
+ And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops
+retreated.<br>
+ Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his
+laughter;<br>
+ "That tune," said he, "suits to a T-I'll sing it ever
+after!"<br>
+ Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and
+brandy,<br>
+ E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle
+dandy.<br>
+ Yankee doodle,-ho-ha-he-Yankee doodle dandy,<br>
+ We kept the tune, but not the tea-Yankee doodle dandy.<br>
+<br>
+ I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,<br>
+ Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"-what a pity!<br>
+ With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty-<br>
+ On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea
+party,<br>
+ No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them
+handy,<br>
+ And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle
+dandy?<br>
+ Yankee doodle, firm and true-Yankee doodle dandy-<br>
+ Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a
+principle, "No taxation without representation." What did they
+mean by this? Name the thirteen original colonies.</p>
+<p>Are the last syllables of the words <i>principle</i> and
+<i>principal</i>pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences
+of your own.</p>
+<p>What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?</p>
+<p>Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words
+<i>colonists, insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts,
+tempts.</i></p>
+<p>Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo,
+negro, cargo, piano, calico, potato, embargo.</p>
+<p>How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room
+for all of it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of
+examples found in your Reader.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_32_"></a>
+<h1>_32_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>scenes</td>
+<td>source</td>
+<td>seized</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re ceive'</td>
+<td>poised</td>
+<td>nec' tar</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re verts'</td>
+<td>Ju' pi ter</td>
+<td>cat' a ract</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ex' qui site</td>
+<td>in tru' sive ly</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When fond recollection presents them to
+view!</span><br>
+ The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And every loved spot that my infancy
+knew;-</span><br>
+ The wide-spreading pond,and the mill that stood by it;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The bridge, and the rock where the cataract
+fell;</span><br>
+<br>
+ The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the
+well:</span><br>
+ The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the
+well.</span><br>
+<br>
+ That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;<br>
+ <span class="c4">For often, at noon, when returned from the
+field,</span><br>
+ I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The purest and sweetest that nature can
+yield.</span><br>
+ How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it
+fell;</span><br>
+ Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And dripping with coolness, it rose from the
+well:</span><br>
+ The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The moss-covered bucket arose from the
+well.</span><br>
+<br>
+ How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my
+lips!</span><br>
+ Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter
+sips.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And now, far removed from that loved habitation,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The tear of regret will intrusively
+swell,</span><br>
+ As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the
+well:</span><br>
+ The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the
+well!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Samuel Woodworth.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/092.gif" width="336" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what
+each describes. Use each to describe something else.</p>
+<p>Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and
+tell what word you would have used in the place of each had you
+tried to express its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the
+author's? Why?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_33_"></a>
+<h1>_33_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>blouse</td>
+<td>receipt'ed</td>
+<td>coun' te nance</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ab sorbed'</td>
+<td>con trast' ed</td>
+<td>for' tu nate ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>mir' a cle</td>
+<td>stock'-still</td>
+<td>good-hu' mored ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a
+little cake which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a
+child whose appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat
+only by amusing him. He thought that such a pretty loaf might
+tempt even the sick. While he waited for his change, a little boy
+six or eight years old, in poor but perfectly clean clothes,
+entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to the baker's wife,
+"mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman climbed upon the
+counter (this happened in a country town), took from the shelf of
+four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it into
+the arms of the little boy.</p>
+<p>My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful
+face of the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round,
+open countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the
+greatest care.</p>
+<p>"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.</p>
+<p>The little boy's eyes grew sad.</p>
+<p>"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin
+blouse; "but mother told me to say that she would come and speak
+to you about it to-morrow."</p>
+<p>"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home,
+child."</p>
+<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.</p>
+<p>My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his
+purchase into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the
+child with the big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home,
+standing stock-still behind him.</p>
+<p>"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the
+child, whom she also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you
+like the bread?"</p>
+<p>"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.</p>
+<p>"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you
+wait any longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and
+you will get a scolding."</p>
+<p>The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his
+attention.</p>
+<p>The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap
+on the shoulder, "What <i>are</i> you thinking about?" said
+she.</p>
+<p>"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"</p>
+<p>"There is no singing," said she.</p>
+<p>"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek,
+queek!"</p>
+<p>My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear
+nothing, unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests
+in bakers' houses.</p>
+<p>"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or
+perhaps the bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"</p>
+<p>"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are
+crickets. They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the
+oven, and they like to see the fire."</p>
+<p>"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face
+lighted up.</p>
+<p>"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I
+would like it very much if you would give me a cricket."</p>
+<p>"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the
+world would you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would
+gladly give you all there are in the house, to get rid of them,
+they run about so."</p>
+<p>"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the
+child, clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They
+say that crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we
+had one at home, mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry
+any more."</p>
+<p>"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no
+longer help joining in the conversation.</p>
+<p>"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow.
+"Father is dead, and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay
+them all."</p>
+<p>My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into
+his arms, and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the
+baker's wife, who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had
+gone into the bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put
+them into a box with holes in the cover, so that they might
+breathe. She gave the box to the child, who went away perfectly
+happy.</p>
+<p>When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each
+other a good squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they
+both together. Then she took down her account book, and, finding
+the page where the mother's charges were written, made a great
+dash all down the page, and then wrote at the bottom, "Paid."</p>
+<p>Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all
+the money in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum
+that day, and had begged the good wife to send it at once to the
+mother of the little cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a
+note, in which he told her she had a son who would one day be her
+joy and pride.</p>
+<p>They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to
+make haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and
+his little short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he
+reached home, he found his mother, for the first time in many
+weeks, with her eyes raised from her work, and a smile of peace
+and happiness upon her lips.</p>
+<p>The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little
+black things which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he
+was mistaken. Without the crickets, and his good little heart,
+would this happy change have taken place in his mother's
+fortunes?</p>
+<p><i>From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<p>Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.</p>
+<p>In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and
+five that express commands or requests.</p>
+<p>What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The
+second?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And I dream in the firelight's glow,</span><br>
+ And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs<br>
+ <span class="c4">That I listened to long ago.</span><br>
+ Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp<br>
+ <span class="c4">Like an echoing, answering cry,-</span><br>
+ Little we care for the outside world,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My friend the cricket, and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That this earth is a silly, strange
+place,</span><br>
+ And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And perhaps he's been passed in the
+race.</span><br>
+ But I know he has found it far better to sing<br>
+ <span class="c4">Than to talk of ill luck and to
+sigh,-</span><br>
+ Little we care for the outside world,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My friend the cricket, and I.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_34_"></a>
+<h1>_34_</h1>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">OUR HEROES.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Here's a hand to the boy who has courage<br>
+ <span class="c4">To do what he knows to be right;</span><br>
+ When he falls in the way of temptation<br>
+ <span class="c4">He has a hard battle to fight.</span><br>
+ Who strives against self and his comrades<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will find a most powerful foe:</span><br>
+ All honor to him if he conquers;<br>
+ <span class="c4">A cheer for the boy who says "No!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ There's many a battle fought daily<br>
+ <span class="c4">The world knows nothing about;</span><br>
+ There's many a brave little soldier<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose strength puts a legion to
+rout.</span><br>
+ And he who fights sin single-handed<br>
+ <span class="c4">Is more of a hero, I say,</span><br>
+ Than he who leads soldiers to battle,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And conquers by arms in the fray.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And do what you know to be right;</span><br>
+ Stand firm by the colors of manhood,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And you will o'ercome in the fight.</span><br>
+ "The right!" be your battle cry ever<br>
+ <span class="c4">In waging the warfare of life;</span><br>
+ And God, who knows who are the heroes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will give you the strength for the
+strife.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Phoebe Cary.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin
+&amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Write sentences each containing one of the following
+words:</p>
+<p>I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<p>For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for
+bringing back vanished smiles, for making one brave and
+courageous, light-hearted and happy, there is nothing like a good
+Confession.</p>
+<p><i>Father Bearne, S.J.</i></p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Heroes must be more than driftwood<br>
+ Floating on a waveless tide.<br>
+<br>
+ For right is right, since God is God;<br>
+ <span class="c4">And right the day must win;</span><br>
+ To doubt would be disloyalty,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To falter would be sin.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Father Faber.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have
+kept the Faith.</p>
+<p><i>St. Paul.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_35_"></a>
+<h1>_35_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>troll</td>
+<td>cel' er y</td>
+<td>new' fan gled</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>thatch</td>
+<td>chink' ing</td>
+<td>as par' a gus&lt;&lt;/td&gt;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>im mense'</td>
+<td>sauce' pan</td>
+<td>de mol' ish ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sa' vor y</td>
+<td>pat' terns</td>
+<td>ag' gra va ting</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When
+it struck one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a
+saucepan off the fire, from which came a very savory smell.</p>
+<p>"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple
+dumplings will be too much done."</p>
+<p>"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by
+the wood; and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make
+haste, and have some apple dumpling."</p>
+<p>"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"</p>
+<p>"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench,
+in the shadow of the thatch.</p>
+<p>"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the
+matter?"</p>
+<p>"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is
+this, mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he
+clapped his hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice,
+which frightened the children-"a miserable slave!"</p>
+<p>"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he
+meant.</p>
+<p>"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have
+been."</p>
+<p>"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought
+thou used to say, at the election time, that thou wast a
+free-born Briton."</p>
+<p>"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up
+rather sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell
+of the dinner, that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but
+it is certain that he walked into the house, ate plenty of pork
+and greens, and then took a tolerable share in demolishing the
+apple dumpling.</p>
+<p>When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife
+said to him, "I hope thou and thy master haven't had words
+to-day."</p>
+<p>"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of
+being at another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and
+'Tom do that,' and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday
+morning till Saturday night. I was thinking as I walked over to
+Squire Morton's to ask for the turnip seed for master,-I was
+thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a poor workingman after
+all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't stand it."</p>
+<p>So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his
+wife thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was
+mistaken. He walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the
+border of a little tinkling stream, he sat down and began to
+brood over his grievances.</p>
+<p>"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much
+pleasanter sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery
+trenches, and thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's
+back, and a hot wall before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable
+slave. I must either work or see my family starve; a very hard
+lot it is to be a workingman."</p>
+<p>"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his
+great surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby,
+sitting composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,-green
+hat, green coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes,
+and they twinkled very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.</p>
+<p>"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther
+off.</p>
+<p>"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost
+to the noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation
+acknowledges a mere stranger as thy master?'</p>
+<p>"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a
+slave?"</p>
+<p>"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak
+roughly. Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is
+bound to bear them."</p>
+<p>"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom,
+shortly.</p>
+<p>"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your
+difficulty. Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce,
+mind you-has a silver tail."</p>
+<p>"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide;
+"fishing for minnows and being one's own master would be much
+pleasanter than the sort of life I've been leading this many a
+day."</p>
+<p>"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good
+may it do you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy
+in your freedom." So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the
+brink of the stream, full of joy and pride.</p>
+<p>He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity
+for bettering himself, and should not work for him any
+longer.</p>
+<p>The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of
+minnows. But of all the minnows in the world, never were any so
+nimble as those with silver tails. They were very shy, too, and
+had as many turns and doubles as a hare; what a life they led
+him!</p>
+<p>They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he
+thought his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they
+would leap quite out of the water, and dart down the stream again
+like little silver arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet,
+and hungry. He came home late in the evening, wearied and
+footsore, with only three minnows in his pocket, each with a
+silver tail.</p>
+<p>"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his
+bed, "though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work
+harder than ever, yet I certainly am free; no man can now order
+me about."</p>
+<p>This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to
+Saturday afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.</p>
+<p>After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities;
+and when he had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in
+all lights, praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to
+conceal his impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived
+to sell them all, and get exactly fourteen shillings for them,
+and no more.</p>
+<p>"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself,
+"I've found out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing
+it,-that every one of those customers of yours was your master.
+Why! you were at the beck of every man, woman, and child that
+came near you;-obliged to be in a good temper, too, which was
+very aggravating."</p>
+<p>"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path.
+"I knew you were a man of sense; look you, you are all
+workingmen; and you must all please your customers. Your master
+was your customer; what he bought of you was your work. Well, you
+must let the work be such as will please the customer."</p>
+<p>"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking
+the fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman;
+and has he a master of his own? Nonsense!"</p>
+<p>"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books,
+and manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he
+nearly ruined last year?"</p>
+<p>"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of
+patterns at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom.
+"Well, in a way of speaking, then, he works to please his
+masters, poor fellow! He is, as one may say, a fellow-servant,
+and plagued with very awkward masters. So I should not mind his
+being my master, and I think I'll go and tell him so."</p>
+<p>"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not
+been able to better yourself, and you have no objection now to
+dig up the asparagus bed."</p>
+<p>So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had
+earned, got his old master to take him back, and kept a profound
+secret his adventures with the man in green.</p>
+<p><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/105.gif" width="357" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you)
+has a silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis.
+Read the sentence aloud several times, <i>omitting</i> the group
+in parenthesis. Now read the <i>whole</i> sentence, keeping in
+mind the fact that the words in parenthesis are not at all
+important,-that they are merely thrown in by way of explanation.
+You notice that you have read the words in parenthesis in a
+<i>lower tone</i> and <i>faster time.</i> Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but
+that makes no difference in the reading of them.</p>
+<p>The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page
+243. Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the
+method.</p>
+<p>I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not
+wrong to say so) as the compositions read by my companions.</p>
+<p>Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against
+me.</p>
+<p>I felt that I was strong enough-my rising anger made me so-to
+seize my unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to
+the ground.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"Work! and the clouds of care will fly;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Pale want will pass away.</span><br>
+ Work! and the leprosy of crime<br>
+ <span class="c4">And tyrants must decay.</span><br>
+ Leave the dead ages in their urns:<br>
+ <span class="c4">The present time be ours,</span><br>
+ To grapple bravely with our lot,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And strew our path with flowers."</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_36_"></a>
+<h1>_36_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BROOK.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I come from haunts of coot and hern,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I make a sudden sally,</span><br>
+ And sparkle out among the fern,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To bicker down a valley.</span><br>
+ By thirty hills I hurry down,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or slip between the ridges,</span><br>
+ By twenty thorps, a little town,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And half a hundred bridges.</span><br>
+ Till last by Philip's farm I flow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To join the brimming river;</span><br>
+ For men may come, and men may go,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I go on forever.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I chatter over stony ways<br>
+ <span class="c4">In little sharps and trebles;</span><br>
+ I bubble into eddying bays;<br>
+ <span class="c4">I babble on the pebbles.</span><br>
+ With many a curve my banks I fret<br>
+ <span class="c4">By many a field and fallow.</span><br>
+ And many a fairy foreland set<br>
+ <span class="c4">With willow-weed and mallow.</span><br>
+ I chatter, chatter, as I flow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To join the brimming river;</span><br>
+ For men may come, and men may go,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I go on forever.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I steal by lawns and grassy plots,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I slide by hazel covers,</span><br>
+ I move the sweet forget-me-nots<br>
+ <span class="c4">That grow for happy lovers.</span><br>
+ I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Among my skimming swallows;</span><br>
+ I make the netted sunbeams dance<br>
+ <span class="c4">Against my sandy shallows.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I murmur under moon and stars<br>
+ <span class="c4">In brambly wildernesses;</span><br>
+ I linger by my shingly bars;<br>
+ <span class="c4">I loiter round my cresses.</span><br>
+ And out again I curve and flow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To join the brimming river;</span><br>
+ For men may come, and men may go,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I go on forever.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/110.gif" width="353" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>haunts</b>, places of frequent resort.</p>
+<p><b>coot</b> and <b>hern</b>, water fowls that frequent lakes
+and other still waters.</p>
+<p><b>bicker</b>, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or
+water.</p>
+<p><b>thorp</b>, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.</p>
+<p><b>sharps</b> and <b>trebles</b>, terms in music. They are
+here used to describe the sound of the brook.</p>
+<p><b>eddying</b>, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays"
+dangerous to the swimmer?</p>
+<p><b>fretted banks</b>, banks worn away by the action of the
+water.</p>
+<p><b>fallow</b>, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running
+into the sea or other water.</p>
+<p><b>mallow</b>, a kind of plant.</p>
+<p><b>gloom</b>, to shine obscurely.</p>
+<p><b>shingly</b>, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.</p>
+<p><b>bars</b>, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal
+in a river or harbor.</p>
+<p><b>cresses</b>, certain plants which grow near the water. They
+are sometimes used as a salad.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_37_"></a>
+<h1>_37_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>wits</td>
+<td>hale</td>
+<td>borne</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>suit' ed</td>
+<td>prop' er ly</td>
+<td>sit u a' tion</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">LEARNING TO THINK.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as
+one of the wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat
+feeble, and the few locks that are left him are gray, he is still
+more hale and hearty than many a younger man.</p>
+<p>Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is
+fond of children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his
+pleasant talk, as they gather round his fireside or sit upon his
+knee.</p>
+<p>Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to
+find out what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead
+them to think.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if
+I have a cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to
+proceed?"</p>
+<p>"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be
+sure," said Norman.</p>
+<p>"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose
+the cake has to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut
+off a very thin slice for you, and divide what is left between
+your brother and sister, will that be fair?"</p>
+<p>"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."</p>
+<p>"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice?
+Did I not cut it into three parts?"</p>
+<p>"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have
+been exactly the same size."</p>
+<p>"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three
+equal parts, it would have been quite fair?"</p>
+<p>"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to
+complain."</p>
+<p>"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send
+to a distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each
+a basket to carry?"</p>
+<p>"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might
+not be fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger
+than the others."</p>
+<p>"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think.
+But we will take care that the baskets are all of the same
+size."</p>
+<p>"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a
+basket."</p>
+<p>"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled
+with feathers?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the
+same weight, and all will be right."</p>
+<p>"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons
+is a strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little
+child?"</p>
+<p>"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things
+there are to think about."</p>
+<p>"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be
+equally borne, they must be suited to the strength of those who
+have to bear them."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me,
+Grandpa, and I will try to answer it properly this time."</p>
+<p>"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig
+for me, and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be
+fair if I set them to work to try them, and choose the one who
+does his task in the quickest time?"</p>
+<p>"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"</p>
+<p>"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start
+together."</p>
+<p>"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"</p>
+<p>"Exactly the same."</p>
+<p>"And will each man have a good spade?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."</p>
+<p>"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other
+hard and stony."</p>
+<p>"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The
+ground shall be everywhere alike."</p>
+<p>"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if
+done as well as that of either of the other two, is the best
+man."</p>
+<p>"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it
+will be greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being
+thoughtful in little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely
+in important ones."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the words <i>suit</i> (s[=u]t) and <i>soon</i> (s[=oo]n),
+have the marked vowels the same sound?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the two statements,-</p>
+I give it to you because it's good;<br>
+ Virtue brings its own reward;<br>
+
+<p>why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in
+the second?</p>
+Let your hands be honest and clean-<br>
+ Let your conscience be honest and clean-<br>
+
+<p>Combine these two sentences by the word <i>and</i>; rewrite
+them, omitting all needless words.</p>
+<p>Compose two sentences, one having the action-word
+<i>learned</i>; the other the word <i>taught</i>.</p>
+<p>Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form
+of the action-word <i>bear</i>:</p>
+As Christ - His cross, so must we - ours.<br>
+ Our cross must be -. "And - His own<br>
+ cross, He went forth to Calvary."<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_38_"></a>
+<h1>_38_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>elate'</td>
+<td>despond'</td>
+<td>lu' mi nous</td>
+<td>pil' grim age</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">ONE BY ONE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>One by one the sands are flowing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">One by one the moments fall;</span><br>
+ Some are coming, some are going;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Do not strive to grasp them all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ One by one thy duties wait thee;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let thy whole strength go to each;</span><br>
+ Let no future dreams elate thee,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Learn thou first what these can
+teach.</span><br>
+<br>
+ One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)<br>
+ <span class="c4">Joys are sent thee here below;</span><br>
+ Take them readily when given,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Ready, too, to let them go.</span><br>
+<br>
+ One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Do not fear an armed band;</span><br>
+ One will fade as others greet thee-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Shadows passing through the land.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Do not look at life's long sorrow;<br>
+ <span class="c4">See how small each moment's pain;</span><br>
+ God will help thee for to-morrow,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So each day begin again.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Every hour that fleets so slowly<br>
+ <span class="c4">Has its task to do or bear;</span><br>
+ Luminous the crown, and holy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When each gem is set with care.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Do not linger with regretting,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or for passing hours despond;</span><br>
+ Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Look too eagerly beyond.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Hours are golden links, God's token,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Reaching heaven; but one by one</span><br>
+ Take them, lest the chain be broken<br>
+ <span class="c4">Ere the pilgrimage be done.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each
+line teaches.</p>
+<p>Name some great works that were done little by little.</p>
+<p>What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?</p>
+<p>Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall
+fall by little and little."</p>
+<p>What is the real or literal meaning of the word
+<i>gem</i>?</p>
+<p>Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has
+there.</p>
+<p>Explain the line-</p>
+"Let no future dreams elate thee."<br>
+
+<p>What is meant by "building castles in the air?"</p>
+<p>Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself
+what each line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an
+important moral lesson. Find out what that lesson is.</p>
+<p>Tell what you know of the author.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_39_"></a>
+<h1>_39_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ca noe'</td>
+<td>sup' ple</td>
+<td>fi' brous</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>res' in</td>
+<td>sin' ews</td>
+<td>tam' a rack</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ooz' ing</td>
+<td>bal' sam</td>
+<td>sol' i ta ry</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pli' ant</td>
+<td>fis' sure</td>
+<td>re sist' ance</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>som' ber</td>
+<td>crev' ice</td>
+<td>re splen' dent</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BIRCH CANOE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td><span class="c5">"Give me of your bark, O Birch
+Tree!</span><br>
+ Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!<br>
+ Growing by the rushing river,<br>
+ Tall and stately in the valley!<br>
+ I a light canoe will build me,<br>
+ That shall float upon the river,<br>
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,<br>
+ Like a yellow water lily!<br>
+ <span class="c5">Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!</span><br>
+ Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,<br>
+ For the summer time is coming,<br>
+ And the sun is warm in heaven,<br>
+ And you need no white-skin wrapper!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">Thus aloud cried Hiawatha</span><br>
+ In the solitary forest,<br>
+ When the birds were singing gayly,<br>
+ In the Moon of Leaves were singing.<br>
+ <span class="c5">And the tree with all its branches</span><br>
+ Rustled in the breeze of morning,<br>
+ Saying, with a sigh of patience,<br>
+ "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">With his knife the tree he girdled;</span><br>
+ Just beneath its lowest branches,<br>
+ Just above the roots, he cut it,<br>
+ Till the sap came oozing outward;<br>
+ Down the trunk, from top to bottom,<br>
+ Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,<br>
+ With a wooden wedge he raised it,<br>
+ Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!</span><br>
+ Of your strong and pliant branches,<br>
+ My canoe to make more steady,<br>
+ Make more strong and firm beneath me!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">Through the summit of the Cedar</span><br>
+ Went a sound, a cry of horror,<br>
+ Went a murmur of resistance;<br>
+ But it whispered, bending downward,<br>
+ "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">Down he hewed the boughs of cedar</span><br>
+ Shaped them straightway to a framework,<br>
+ Like two bows he formed and shaped them,<br>
+ Like two bended bows together.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!</span><br>
+ Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!<br>
+ My canoe to bind together,<br>
+ So to bind the ends together,<br>
+ That the water may not enter,<br>
+ That the river may not wet me!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">And the Larch with all its fibers</span><br>
+ Shivered in the air of morning,<br>
+ Touched his forehead with its tassels,<br>
+ Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,<br>
+ "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">From the earth he tore the fibers,</span><br>
+ Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.<br>
+ Closely sewed the bark together,<br>
+ Bound it closely to the framework.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!</span><br>
+ Of your balsam and your resin,<br>
+ So to close the seams together<br>
+ That the water may not enter,<br>
+ That the river may not wet me!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,</span><br>
+ Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,<br>
+ Rattled like a shore with pebbles,<br>
+ Answered wailing, answered weeping,<br>
+ "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">And he took the tears of balsam,</span><br>
+ Took the resin of the Fir Tree,<br>
+ Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,<br>
+ Made each crevice safe from water.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!</span><br>
+ I will make a necklace of them,<br>
+ Make a girdle for my beauty,<br>
+ And two stars to deck her bosom!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,</span><br>
+ With his sleepy eyes looked at him,<br>
+ Shot his shining quills, like arrows,<br>
+ Saying, with a drowsy murmur,<br>
+ Through the tangle of his whiskers,<br>
+ "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">From the ground the quills he
+gathered,</span><br>
+ All the little shining arrows,<br>
+ Stained them red and blue and yellow,<br>
+ With the juice of roots and berries;<br>
+ Into his canoe he wrought them,<br>
+ Round its waist a shining girdle.<br>
+ Round its bows a gleaming necklace,<br>
+ On its breast two stars resplendent.<br>
+ <span class="c5">Thus the Birch Canoe was builded</span><br>
+ In the valley, by the river,<br>
+ In the bosom of the forest;<br>
+ And the forest's life was in it,<br>
+ All its mystery and its magic,<br>
+ All the lightness of the birch tree,<br>
+ All the toughness of the cedar,<br>
+ All the larch's supple sinews;<br>
+ And it floated on the river,<br>
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,<br>
+ Like a yellow water lily.<br>
+
+<p><i>Longfellow.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/122.gif" width="314" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Moon of Leaves</b>, month of May.</p>
+<p><b>sheer</b>, straight up and down.</p>
+<p><b>Tamarack</b>, the American larch tree.</p>
+<p><b>fissure</b>, a narrow opening; a cleft.</p>
+<p>What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?</p>
+<p>Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put
+these to?</p>
+<p>What are the drops of balsam called? Why?</p>
+<p>NOTE.-"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest
+and most beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It
+is generally made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and
+so skillfully shaped and sewed together with the roots of the
+tamarack, that it is water-tight, and rides upon the water as
+light as a cork."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_40_"></a>
+<h1>_40_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>pic' tures</td>
+<td>pal' ace</td>
+<td>four' teen</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fa' mous ly</td>
+<td>scul' lion</td>
+<td>re past'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in hal' ing</td>
+<td>en chant' ed</td>
+<td>mat' tress</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>char' coal</td>
+<td>land' scapes</td>
+<td>ar' chi tect</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">PETER OF CORTONA.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the
+care of the sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence,
+where he knew no one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as
+himself, who had lived in the same village, but who had gone to
+Florence to be scullion in the house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was
+for a good motive that little Peter desired to come to Florence:
+he wanted to be an artist, and he knew there was a school for
+artists there. When he had seen the town well, Peter stationed
+himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor of the
+cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a
+long time; but at length Thomas appeared.</p>
+<p>"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"</p>
+<p>"I am come to learn painting."</p>
+<p>"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is
+then sure not to die of hunger."</p>
+<p>"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied
+Peter.</p>
+<p>"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself
+ill every day, if I chose to do it."</p>
+<p>"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have
+too much and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will
+bring the food; and we shall get on famously."</p>
+<p>"Very well," said Thomas.</p>
+<p>"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten
+nothing to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."</p>
+<p>Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept,
+and bade him wait there till he brought him some fragments that
+he was freely permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for
+Thomas was in high spirits, and little Peter had a famous
+appetite.</p>
+<p>"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the
+question is, how are you going to study?"</p>
+<p>"I shall study like all artists-with pencil and paper."</p>
+<p>"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and
+pencils?"</p>
+<p>"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is
+scullion at his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you
+are rich, it is just the same as if I was."</p>
+<p>Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken
+victuals, he had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait
+three years before he should receive wages. Peter did not mind.
+The garret walls were white. Thomas could give him charcoal, and
+so he set to draw on the walls with that; and after a little
+while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.</p>
+<p>With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were
+bought. Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures
+in the galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in
+the neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but
+enchanted with what he had seen, he crept back into the garret,
+where he was always sure to find his dinner hidden under the
+mattress, <i>to keep it warm,</i> as Thomas said. Very soon the
+first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and Peter drew his best
+designs to ornament his friend's room.</p>
+<p>One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came
+with the architect to the very top of the house, and happened to
+enter the scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both
+Cardinal and architect were struck with the genius of the
+drawings. They thought they were executed by Thomas, and his
+Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas heard that the Cardinal
+had been in the garret, and had seen what he called Peter's
+daubs, he thought all was lost.</p>
+<p>"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him;
+and Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on
+his knees, and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor
+Peter?"</p>
+<p>The Cardinal made him tell his story.</p>
+<p>"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he,
+smiling.</p>
+<p>But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at
+length a fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came
+the news that the monks of a distant convent had received and
+kept with them a boy of fourteen, who had come to ask permission
+to copy a painting of Raphael in the chapel of the convent. This
+boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal sent him as a pupil to one
+of the first artists in Rome.</p>
+<p>Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as
+brothers in one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One
+said of the other, "He is the greatest painter of our age." The
+other said of the first, "He is a model for evermore of a
+faithful friend."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Peter of Cortona</b>, a great Italian painter and
+architect. He was born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in
+Rome, in 1669.</p>
+<p><b>Eminence</b>, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.</p>
+<p><b>galleries</b>, rooms or buildings where works of art are
+exhibited.</p>
+<p><b>victuals</b> (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human
+beings.</p>
+<p><b>fortnight</b> (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is
+contracted from <i>fourteen nights.</i></p>
+<p>Locate the cities of <i>Rome</i> and <i>Florence</i>.</p>
+<p>Give words that mean the opposite of the following:</p>
+<p>ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked,
+merry, bought, friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant,
+appeared, disgrace, famous, faithful, morning, enchanted.</p>
+<p>Recite the words-"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor
+Peter?"-as Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a
+great <i>cardinal</i> in favor of a poor destitute <i>boy</i>
+whom he loved as a brother. He <i>felt</i> what he said.</p>
+<p>Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them,
+and tell wherein the humor lies.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.<br>
+ <i>Spanish Proverb.</i></p>
+<p>Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.<br>
+ <i>From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."</i></p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A gift in need, though small indeed,<br>
+ Is large as earth and rich as heaven.<br>
+
+<p><i>Whittier</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_41_"></a>
+<h1>_41_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>vas' sal</td>
+<td>roy' al ly</td>
+<td>beg' gar y</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>hom' age</td>
+<td>sen' ti nel</td>
+<td>dif' fer ence</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="FNanchor003"></a>
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">TO MY DOG BLANCO.</a><a href=
+"#Footnote_003"><sup>[003]</sup></a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A willing vassal at my feet,</span><br>
+ Glad partner of my home and fare,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My shadow in the street.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I look into your great brown eyes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where love and loyal homage shine,</span><br>
+ And wonder where the difference lies<br>
+ <span class="c4">Between your soul and mine!</span><br>
+<br>
+ For all the good that I have found<br>
+ <span class="c4">Within myself or human kind,</span><br>
+ Hath royally informed and crowned<br>
+ <span class="c4">Your gentle heart and mind.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I scan the whole broad earth around<br>
+ <span class="c4">For that one heart which, leal and
+true,</span><br>
+ Bears friendship without end or bound,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And find the prize in you.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I trust you as I trust the stars;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,</span><br>
+ Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Can move you from my side!</span><br>
+<br>
+ As patient under injury<br>
+ <span class="c4">As any Christian saint of old,</span><br>
+ As gentle as a lamb with me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But with your brothers bold;</span><br>
+<br>
+ More playful than a frolic boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">More watchful than a sentinel,</span><br>
+ By day and night your constant joy<br>
+ <span class="c4">To guard and please me well.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I clasp your head upon my breast-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The while you whine and lick my
+hand-</span><br>
+ And thus our friendship is confessed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And thus we understand!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Ah, Blanco! did I worship God<br>
+ <span class="c4">As truly as you worship me,</span><br>
+ Or follow where my Master trod<br>
+ <span class="c4">With your humility,-</span><br>
+<br>
+ Did I sit fondly at His feet,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,</span><br>
+ And watch Him with a love as sweet,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My life would grow divine!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>J.G. Holland</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/129.gif" width="348" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<a name="Footnote_003"></a><a href="#FNanchor003">[003]</a>
+<blockquote>Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's
+Sons.</blockquote>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>leal</b> (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.</p>
+<p><b>dungeon</b> (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison,
+commonly underground.</p>
+<p>Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal;
+glad partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.</p>
+<p>What duty does Blanco teach his master?</p>
+<p>Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.</p>
+<p>The three great divisions of time are <i>past, present,
+future.</i> Tell what time each of the following action-words
+expresses:</p>
+<p>found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has
+borne, crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_42_"></a>
+<h1>_42_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ab'bot</td>
+<td>clois'ter</td>
+<td>min'ster</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>li'brary</td>
+<td>chron' i cle</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">A STORY OF A MONK.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk
+named Urban, who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent
+piety. He was a studious reader of the learned and sacred volumes
+in the convent library. One day he read in the Epistles of St.
+Peter the words, "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years,
+and a thousand years as one day;" and this saying seemed
+impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.</p>
+<p>Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the
+library into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird
+perched on the bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a
+nightingale. The bird did not move as the monk approached her,
+till he came quite close, and then she flew to another bough, and
+again another, as the monk pursued her. Still singing the same
+sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk, entranced by
+the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.</p>
+<p>At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every
+thing seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more
+beautiful, and older,-the buildings, the garden; and in the place
+of the low, humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three
+towers reared its head to the sky. This seemed very strange to
+the monk, indeed marvelous; but he walked on to the cloister gate
+and timidly rang the bell. A porter entirely unknown to him
+answered his summons, and drew back in amazement when he saw the
+monk.</p>
+<p>The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing
+with astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to
+have seen before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered
+the church; but all retreated when they saw the strange figure of
+the monk. The abbot only (but not his abbot) stopped, and
+stretching a crucifix before him, exclaimed, "In the name of
+Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And what dost thou seek
+here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"</p>
+<p>The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his
+eyes to the ground, and for the first time became aware that a
+long silvery beard descended from his chin over his girdle, to
+which was still suspended the key of the library. To the monks
+around, the stranger seemed some marvelous appearance; and, with
+a mixture of awe and admiration, they led him to the chair of the
+abbot. There he gave the key to a young monk, who opened the
+library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was written that
+three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and no
+one knew whither he had gone.</p>
+<p>"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk
+Urban, with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes,
+listening to thy notes, and yet three hundred years have passed
+away! Thou hast sung to me the song of eternity which I could
+never before learn. Now I know it; and, dust myself, I pray to
+God kneeling in the dust." With these words he sank to the
+ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of
+punctuation.</p>
+<p>Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare
+your work with the printed page.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness
+shorten life.</p>
+<p><i>From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>The older I grow-and I now stand upon the brink of
+eternity-the more comes back to me the sentence in the catechism
+which I learned when a child, and the fuller and deeper becomes
+its meaning: "What is the chief end of man? To glorify God, and
+to enjoy Him forever."</p>
+<p><i>Thomas Carlyle.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_43_"></a>
+<h1>_43_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>dole</td>
+<td>man' na</td>
+<td>em' blem</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re leased'</td>
+<td>plumes</td>
+<td>breathe</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>crim' son</td>
+<td>feath' ered</td>
+<td>soared</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>dou' bly</td>
+<td>hom' i ly</td>
+<td>ser'a phim</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Up soared the lark into the air,<br>
+ A shaft of song, a wing&egrave;d prayer,<br>
+ As if a soul, released from pain,<br>
+ Were flying back to heaven again.<br>
+<br>
+ St. Francis heard; it was to him<br>
+ An emblem of the Seraphim;<br>
+ The upward motion of the fire,<br>
+ The light, the heat, the heart's desire.<br>
+<br>
+ Around Assisi's convent gate<br>
+ The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,<br>
+ From moor and mere and darksome wood<br>
+ Came flocking for their dole of food.<br>
+<br>
+ "O brother birds," St. Francis said,<br>
+ "Ye come to me and ask for bread,<br>
+ But not with bread alone to-day<br>
+ Shall ye be fed and sent away.<br>
+<br>
+ "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds<br>
+ With manna of celestial words;<br>
+ Not mine, though mine they seem to be,<br>
+ Not mine, though they be spoken through me.<br>
+<br>
+ "O, doubly are ye bound to praise<br>
+ The great Creator in your lays;<br>
+ He giveth you your plumes of down,<br>
+ Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.<br>
+<br>
+ "He giveth you your wings to fly<br>
+ And breathe a purer air on high,<br>
+ And careth for you everywhere,<br>
+ Who for yourselves so little care!"<br>
+<br>
+ With flutter of swift wings and songs<br>
+ Together rose the feathered throngs,<br>
+ And singing scattered far apart;<br>
+ Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.<br>
+<br>
+ He knew not if the brotherhood<br>
+ His homily had understood;<br>
+ He only knew that to one ear<br>
+ The meaning of his words was clear.<br>
+
+<p><i>Longfellow.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin
+&amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/136.gif" width="327" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>ST. FRANCIS PREACHING</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>lays</b>, songs.</p>
+<p><b>Assisi</b> ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St.
+Francis was born in 1182.</p>
+<p>What does "manna of celestial words" mean?</p>
+<p>What is the singular form of seraphim?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Every word has its own spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">True or false, that never dies;</span><br>
+ Every word man's lips have uttered<br>
+ <span class="c4">Echoes in God's skies.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_44_"></a>
+<h1>_44_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sound the thrilling song;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Roll the hymn along.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let the heavens ring;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Welcome, new-born King.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Over the sea and land,</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Chant the anthem grand.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let us all rejoice;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lift each heart and voice.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Swell the hymn on high;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sound it to the sky.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sing it, sinful earth,</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">For the Savior's birth.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Father Ryan.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy &amp; Sons,
+New York.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/138.gif" width="309" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Hofmann</i>.--"Glory to God in the highest; and on earth
+peace to men of good will."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_45_"></a>
+<h1>_45_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>plied</td>
+<td>won' drous</td>
+<td>ex cite' ment</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com mo' tion</td>
+<td>vig' or</td>
+<td>fo' li age</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>mar' vel ous</td>
+<td>com pas' sion</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="FNanchor004"></a>
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.</a><a href=
+"#Footnote_004"><sup>[004]</sup></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in
+the evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told
+of strange things that were to happen. They had lived in the
+Forest many, many years; but never had they seen such marvelous
+sights as were to be seen now in the sky, and upon the hills, and
+in the distant village.</p>
+<p>"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who
+are not so tall as you can behold none of these wonderful
+things."</p>
+<p>"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars,
+"and the Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk
+down from heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon
+the hills."</p>
+<p>The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a
+tiny tree, so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a
+very beautiful little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses
+loved it very dearly.</p>
+<p>"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree;
+"and how I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds!
+It must be very beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder
+whence it comes."</p>
+<p>"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels
+could make such sweet music."</p>
+<p>"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes,
+and the shepherds on the hills join in the song."</p>
+<p>The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about
+a Child that had been born. But further than this they did not
+understand. The strange and glorious song continued all the
+night.</p>
+<p>In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the
+same song about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with
+them, until every part of the woods rang with echoes of that
+wondrous song. They were clad all in white, and there were crowns
+upon their fair heads, and golden harps in their hands. Love,
+hope, joy and compassion beamed from their beautiful faces. The
+Angels came through the Forest to where the little Tree stood,
+and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands, kissed
+its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had
+been born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and
+hung upon the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang
+the song of the Child.</p>
+<p>When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the
+little Tree. Night and day he watched so that no harm should come
+to it. Day by day it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it
+his choicest rays, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and
+the winds sang to it their prettiest songs.</p>
+<p>So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became
+the pride and glory of the Forest.</p>
+<p>One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest.
+"Have no fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the
+Master."</p>
+<p>And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its
+smooth trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and
+then turned and went away.</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/142.gif" width="297" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>A.Bida.</i></p>
+<p>Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested
+beneath the Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times
+He slept there and the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came
+with the Master to the Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the
+Tree, and talked with Him of things which the Tree never could
+understand. It heard them tell how the Master healed the sick and
+raised the dead and bestowed blessings wherever He walked.</p>
+<p>But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face
+was pale and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed.
+The Tree heard Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning
+there was a sound of rude voices and a clashing of swords.</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/143.gif" width="321" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Hofmann.</i></p>
+<p>Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree
+was hewn to the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and
+its soft, thick foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the
+Forest wept.</p>
+<p>The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw
+it no more.</p>
+<p>But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great
+King stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had
+seen that day a Cross raised on Calvary,-the Tree on which was
+nailed the Body of the dying Master.</p>
+<p><i>Eugene Field.</i></p>
+<p>From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_004"></a><a href=
+"#FNanchor004">[004]</a></p>
+<blockquote>Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_46_"></a>
+<h1>_46_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE HOLY CITY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;-<br>
+ I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;<br>
+ I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang<br>
+ Methought the voice of Angels<br>
+ From Heaven in answer rang;-<br>
+ Methought the voice of Angels<br>
+ From Heaven in answer rang.<br>
+ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing<br>
+ Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!<br>
+<br>
+ And then methought my dream was changed;-<br>
+ The streets no longer rang<br>
+ Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.<br>
+ The sun grew dark with mystery,<br>
+ The morn was cold and chill,<br>
+ As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;-<br>
+ As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.<br>
+ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing<br>
+ Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!<br>
+<br>
+ And once again the scene was changed-<br>
+ New earth there seemed to be;<br>
+ I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;<br>
+ The light of God was on its streets,<br>
+ The gates were open wide,<br>
+ And all who would might enter,<br>
+ And no one was denied.<br>
+ No need of moon or stars by night,<br>
+ Nor sun to shine by day;<br>
+ It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,-<br>
+ It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.<br>
+ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,<br>
+ Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_47_"></a>
+<h1>_47_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>trea' son</td>
+<td>eu' lo gies</td>
+<td>de bat' ed</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>phi los' o phy</td>
+<td>in ge nu' i ty</td>
+<td>ap pro' pri ate</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>con' sum ma ted</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE FEAST OF TONGUES.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was
+ordered to furnish the choicest dainties that money could
+procure. The first course consisted of tongues, cooked in
+different ways and served with appropriate sauces. This gave rise
+to much mirth and many witty remarks by the guests. The second
+course was also nothing but tongues, and so with the third and
+fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus demanded in
+an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and
+philosophy. By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce
+carried on, contracts executed, and marriages consummated.
+Nothing is equal to the tongue." The company applauded Aesop's
+wit, and good feeling was restored.</p>
+<p>"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of
+dining with me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the
+feast; to-morrow," said he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with
+the worst meat you can find." The next day the guests assembled
+as before, and to their astonishment and the anger of Xanthus
+nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said Xanthus,
+"should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue?
+What wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in?
+Treasons, violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved
+upon, and communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires,
+cities, and of private friendships." The company were more than
+ever struck by Aesop's ingenuity, and they interceded for him
+with his master.</p>
+<p><i>From "Aesop's Fables."</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Xanthus</b>, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the
+sixth century before Christ.</p>
+<p>Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they
+are formed in each case:</p>
+<p>dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily,
+copy, loaf, roof, half, valley, donkey.</p>
+<p>What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following
+sentence: "How should tongues be the best of meat one day and the
+worst another?"</p>
+<p>Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he
+said in dispraise of it.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The
+tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the
+Father; and by it we curse men who are made after the likeness of
+God."</p>
+<p><i>From "Epistle of St. James."</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_48_"></a>
+<h1>_48_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ap' pe tite</td>
+<td>ha rangued'</td>
+<td>sus pend' ed</td>
+<td>min' strel sy</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE
+GLOWWORM.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A nightingale, that all day long<br>
+ Had cheered the village with his song,<br>
+ Nor yet at eve his note suspended,<br>
+ Nor yet when eventide was ended,<br>
+ Began to feel, as well he might,<br>
+ The keen demands of appetite;<br>
+ When, looking eagerly around,<br>
+ He spied far off, upon the ground,<br>
+ A something shining in the dark,<br>
+ And knew the glowworm by his spark;<br>
+ So, stooping down from hawthorn top,<br>
+ He thought to put him in his crop.<br>
+<br>
+ The worm, aware of his intent,<br>
+ Harangued him thus, right eloquent:<br>
+ "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,<br>
+ "As much as I your minstrelsy,<br>
+ You would abhor to do me wrong<br>
+ As much as I to spoil your song:<br>
+ For 'twas the self-same Power Divine<br>
+ Taught you to sing and me to shine;<br>
+ That you with music, I with light,<br>
+ Might beautify and cheer the night."<br>
+ The songster heard this short oration,<br>
+ And, warbling out his approbation,<br>
+ Released him, as my story tells,<br>
+ And found a supper somewhere else.<br>
+ <i>William Cowper.</i><br>
+<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of
+appetite?"</p>
+<p>Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the
+bird? Study it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy
+with the printed page as to spelling, capitals and
+punctuation.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I would not enter on my list of friends<br>
+ (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,<br>
+ Yet wanting sensibility) the man<br>
+ Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.<br>
+ An inadvertent step may crush the snail<br>
+ That crawls at evening in the public path;<br>
+ But he that has humanity, forewarned,<br>
+ Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.<br>
+
+<p><i>William Cowper.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c7">
+<br>
+<br>
+ Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nor crush that helpless worm!</span><br>
+ The frame thy wayward looks deride<br>
+ <span class="c4">Required a God to form.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The common Lord of all that move.<br>
+ <span class="c4">From whom thy being flowed,</span><br>
+ A portion of His boundless love<br>
+ <span class="c4">On that poor worm bestowed.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Let them enjoy their little day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Their humble bliss receive;</span><br>
+ Oh! do not lightly take away<br>
+ <span class="c4">The life thou canst not give!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Thomas Gisborne.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_49_"></a>
+<h1>_49_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>mar' gin</td>
+<td>pitch' er</td>
+<td>cup' board</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>breathed</td>
+<td>di' a mond</td>
+<td>quiv' er ing</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">JACK FROST.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,<br>
+ And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;<br>
+ So, through the valley, and over the height,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In silence I'll take my way.</span><br>
+ I will not go on like that blustering train,<br>
+ The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,<br>
+ Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I'll be as busy as they!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;<br>
+ He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed<br>
+ In diamond beads; and over the breast<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of the quivering lake he spread</span><br>
+ A coat of mail, that it need not fear<br>
+ The glittering point of many a spear,<br>
+ Which he hung on its margin, far and near,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where a rock could rear its head.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He went to the windows of those who slept,<br>
+ And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:<br>
+ Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,<br>
+ <span class="c4">By the morning light were seen</span><br>
+ Most beautiful things!-there were flowers and trees;<br>
+ There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;<br>
+ There were cities with temples and towers; and these<br>
+ <span class="c4">All pictured in silvery sheen!</span><br>
+<br>
+ But he did one thing that was hardly fair;<br>
+ He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there<br>
+ That all had forgotten for him to prepare.-<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Now, just to set them a-thinking,</span><br>
+ I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;<br>
+ "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;<br>
+ And the glass of water they've left for me,<br>
+ Shall '<i>tchick</i>,' to tell them I'm drinking."<br>
+
+<p><i>Hannah F. Gould.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>crest</b>, top or summit.</p>
+<p><b>coat of mail</b>, a garment of iron or steel worn by
+warriors in olden times.</p>
+<p><b>bevies</b>, flocks or companies.</p>
+<p><b>sheen</b>, brightness.</p>
+<p><b>tchick</b> a combination of letters whose pronunciation is
+supposed to resemble the sound of breaking glass.</p>
+<p>What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?</p>
+<p>How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread
+over the lake? Why?</p>
+<p>What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of
+those who slept?"</p>
+<p>What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?</p>
+<p>Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work?
+Why does he work generally at night?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_50_"></a>
+<h1>_50_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>re' al ize</td>
+<td>pen' du lum</td>
+<td>dil' i gent ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sig nif' i cance</td>
+<td>auc tion eer'</td>
+<td>per sist' ent ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in ex haust' i ble</td>
+<td>un der stood'</td>
+<td>hope' less ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>nev er the less</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">"GOING! GOING! GONE!"</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one
+of our large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room
+so crowded with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's
+face and uplifted hammer above the heads of the crowd.</p>
+<p>"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a
+sharp rap.</p>
+<p>I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with
+a new force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times
+before, with only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded
+solemn.</p>
+<p>"Going! Going! Gone!"</p>
+<p>"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;-"with
+time." This world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that
+we are buyers: we are, in fact, more like beggars; we have
+brought no money to exchange for precious minutes, hours, days,
+or years; they are given to us. There is no calling out of terms,
+no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but nevertheless, the time is
+"going! going! gone!"</p>
+<p>The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound,
+and the more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of
+the value of time.</p>
+<p>When we are young we think old people are preaching and
+prosing when they say so much about it,-when they declare so
+often that days, weeks, even years, are short. I can remember
+when a holiday, a whole day long, appeared to me an almost
+inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon, even, seemed an
+endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come seemed
+longer than does a whole year now.</p>
+<p>One needs to live many years before one learns how little time
+there is in a year,-how little, indeed, there will be even in the
+longest possible life,-how many things one will still be obliged
+to leave undone.</p>
+<p>But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize
+if you will try-if you will stop and think about it a little; and
+that is, how fast and how steadily the present time is slipping
+away. However long life may seem to you as you look forward to
+the whole of it, the present hour has only sixty minutes, and
+minute by minute, second by second, it is "going! going! gone!"
+If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is "gone" forever.
+Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time." It makes
+me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have wasted;
+how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.</p>
+<p>All the men and women who have made the world better, happier
+or wiser for their having lived in it, have done so by working
+diligently and persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one
+of these, when "looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw
+not the specter of his mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am
+so foolish as to think that all the preaching in the world can
+make anything look to young eyes as it looks to old eyes; not a
+bit of it.</p>
+<p>But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the
+minute, hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at
+the clock now and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of
+every minute, as it flies,-"Going! going! gone!"</p>
+<p><i>Helen Hunt Jackson.</i></p>
+<p>From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>prosing</b>, talking in a dull way.</p>
+<p>In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics,
+use others that have the same general meaning:</p>
+<p>I heard these words <i>ringing</i> out from a <i>room</i> so
+<i>crowded</i> with <i>people</i> that I could <i>but</i> just
+<i>see</i> the man's <i>face.</i> How <i>fast</i> and
+<i>steadily</i> the present time is <i>slipping</i> away!</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Punctuate the following:</p>
+<p>Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_51_"></a>
+<h1>_51_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>yearn</td>
+<td>car' ol</td>
+<td>mus' ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>stee' ple</td>
+<td>mag' ic al</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">SEVEN TIMES TWO.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">How many soever they be,</span><br>
+ And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Come over, come over to me!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,<br>
+ <span class="c4">No magical sense conveys;</span><br>
+ And bells have forgotten their old art of telling<br>
+ <span class="c4">The fortune of future days.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While a boy listened alone;</span><br>
+ Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily<br>
+ <span class="c4">All by himself on a stone.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And mine, they are yet to be;</span><br>
+ No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:<br>
+ <span class="c4">You leave the story to me.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And hangeth her hoods of snow;</span><br>
+ She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:<br>
+ <span class="c4">Oh, children take long to grow!</span><br>
+<br>
+ I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nor long summer bide so late;</span><br>
+ And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,<br>
+ <span class="c4">For some things are ill to wait.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While dear hands are laid on my
+head,</span><br>
+ "The child is a woman-the book may close over,<br>
+ <span class="c4">For all the lessons are said."</span><br>
+<br>
+ I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Not one, as he sits on the tree;</span><br>
+ The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Such as I wish it to be.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>"Turn again, turn again!"</b> Reference is here made to
+Dick Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London
+to earn a living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord
+Mayor of that city.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics,
+entitled "The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a
+woman's life. For the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see
+page 44 of the Fourth Reader. Read it in connection with this.
+"Seven Times Two" shows the girl standing at the entrance to
+maidenhood, books closed and lessons said, longing for the years
+to go faster to bring to her the happiness she imagines is
+waiting.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/156.gif" width="339" height=
+"423" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_52_"></a>
+<h1>_52_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>man' i fold</td>
+<td>do mes' tic</td>
+<td>pet' tish ly</td>
+<td>in grat' i tude</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a
+long absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred
+mound beneath which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful
+period, a great change had come over me. My childish years had
+passed away, and with them my youthful character. The world was
+altered, too; and as I stood at my mother's grave, I could hardly
+realize that I was the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose
+cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of tenderness.</p>
+<p>But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the
+remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen
+her but yesterday-as if the blessed sound of her well-remembered
+voice was in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood
+were brought back so distinctly to my mind that, had it not been
+for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have been
+gentle and refreshing.</p>
+<p>The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of
+it now pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who
+have parents to love them may learn to value them as they
+ought.</p>
+<p>My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so
+accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was not
+frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is
+true, I sobbed violently; but when, day after day, I returned
+from school, and found her the same, I began to believe she would
+always be spared to me; but they told me she would die.</p>
+<p>One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home
+discouraged and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was
+paler than usual, but she met me with the same affectionate smile
+that always welcomed my return. Alas! when I look back through
+the lapse of thirteen years, I think my heart must have been
+stone not to have been melted by it. She requested me to go
+downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I pettishly asked her
+why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a look of mild
+reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred
+years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of water
+for her poor, sick mother?"</p>
+<p>I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly.
+Instead of smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I
+set the glass down very quickly, and left the room. After playing
+a short time, I went to bed without bidding my mother good night;
+but when alone in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered
+how pale she looked, and how her voice trembled when she said,
+"Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor, sick
+mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her chamber to ask
+forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they told me
+I must not waken her.</p>
+<p>I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my
+bed, resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry
+I was for my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke,
+and, hurrying on my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber.
+She was dead! She never spoke more-never smiled upon me again;
+and when I touched the hand that used to rest upon my head in
+blessing, it was so cold that it made me start.</p>
+<p>I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my
+heart. I then wished that I might die, and be buried with her;
+and, old as I now am, I would give worlds, were they mine to
+give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my
+childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back; and when I
+stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her manifold
+kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me will
+bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"But O for the touch of a vanished hand,<br>
+ And the sound of a voice that is still!"<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_53_"></a>
+<h1>_53_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>chide</td>
+<td>be dewed'</td>
+<td>em balmed'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>be tide'</td>
+<td>lin' gered</td>
+<td>wor' shiped</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I love it, I love it; and who shall dare<br>
+ To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?<br>
+ I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;<br>
+ I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.<br>
+ 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;<br>
+ Not a tie will break, not a link will start.<br>
+ Would ye learn the spell?-a mother sat there!<br>
+ And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.<br>
+<br>
+ In Childhood's hour I lingered near<br>
+ The hallowed seat with listening ear;<br>
+ And gentle words that mother would give,<br>
+ To fit me to die, and teach me to live.<br>
+ She told me that shame would never betide,<br>
+ With truth for my creed and God for my guide;<br>
+ She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,<br>
+ As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.<br>
+<br>
+ I sat and watched her many a day,<br>
+ When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;<br>
+ And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,<br>
+ And turned from her Bible to bless her child.<br>
+ Years rolled on; but the last one sped-<br>
+ My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:<br>
+ I learned how much the heart can bear,<br>
+ When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.<br>
+<br>
+ 'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now<br>
+ With quivering breath and throbbing brow:<br>
+ 'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;<br>
+ And Memory flows with lava tide.<br>
+ Say it is folly, and deem me weak,<br>
+ While the scalding drops start down my cheek;<br>
+ But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear<br>
+ My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.<br>
+
+<p><i>Eliza Cook.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>spell</b>, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have
+magical power; a charm.</p>
+<p><b>hallowed</b>, made holy. <b>hollowed</b>, made a hole out
+of; made hollow. Use these two words in sentences of your
+own.</p>
+<p>What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"</p>
+<p>Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your
+imagination will furnish you with all needed details.</p>
+<p>Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the
+accented syllable of each:</p>
+<p>absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety,
+again, virtue, ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother,
+genuine, earliest, fatigued, business.</p>
+<p>The dictionary will aid you.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_54_"></a>
+<h1>_54_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>crags</td>
+<td>break</td>
+<td>tongue</td>
+<td>thoughts</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ha' ven</td>
+<td>sail' or</td>
+<td>state' ly</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Break, break, break,<br>
+ <span class="c4">On thy cold gray stones, O sea!</span><br>
+ And I would that my tongue could utter<br>
+ <span class="c4">The thoughts that arise in me.</span><br>
+<br>
+ O well for the fisherman's boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That he shouts with his sister at
+play!</span><br>
+ O well for the sailor lad,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That he sings in his boat on the
+bay!</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the stately ships go on<br>
+ <span class="c4">To the haven under the hill;</span><br>
+ But O for the touch of a vanished hand,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And the sound of a voice that is
+still!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Break, break, break,<br>
+ <span class="c4">At the foot of thy crags, O sea!</span><br>
+ But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will never come back to me.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/163.gif" width="304" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>Tennyson</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_55_"></a>
+<h1>_55_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>barns</td>
+<td>deaf en ing</td>
+<td>i dol' a trous</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pon' der</td>
+<td>ca lum' ni ate</td>
+<td>Be at' i tudes</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">GOD IS OUR FATHER.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended
+to inspire the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It
+was given amidst fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and
+whatever else could fill the minds of the Jews with fear and
+wonder. Compelled, as it were, by the idolatrous acts of His
+chosen people, by their repeated rebellions, and their endless
+murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty Sovereign,
+the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with
+awe and dread.</p>
+<p>It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love,
+was given to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the
+Beatitudes from which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders
+were heard; no angry flashes of lightning were visible. There was
+nothing forbidding in the voice, words, or appearance of the
+Divine Lawgiver. In the whole exterior of our Savior there was a
+something so sweet, so humble, so meek and captivating, that the
+people were filled with admiration and love.</p>
+<p>One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that
+Christ preached is the fact that He constantly called God our
+Father. How beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the
+Law of love! Listen to Him attentively, and ponder upon His
+words:</p>
+<p>"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen
+by them: otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand
+know what thy right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret,
+and thy FATHER WHO seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your
+enemies; do good to them that hate you; and pray for them that
+persecute and calumniate you; that you may be the children of
+your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His sun to rise upon the
+good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust.</p>
+<p>"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do
+they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER
+feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they?... If
+you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your
+children, how much more will your FATHER WHO is in heaven give
+good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will forgive men
+their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also your
+offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your
+FATHER forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you
+pray: OUR FATHER Who art in heaven."</p>
+<p>From these and many other similar expressions found in the
+very first sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that
+it is the expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as
+our loving Father; and that, however unworthy we may be, we
+should look upon ourselves as His beloved children. There cannot
+be a possible doubt of this, since it is taught so positively by
+His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the Truth, and the
+Life."</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/165.gif" width="600" height=
+"420" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Henry le Jeune.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_56_"></a>
+<h1>_56_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">HAPPY OLD AGE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"You are old, Father William," the young man cried;<br>
+ <span class="c4">"The few locks that are left you are
+gray;</span><br>
+ You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now, tell me the reason, I pray."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I remembered that youth would fly
+fast,</span><br>
+ And abused not my health and my vigor at first,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That I never might need them at
+last."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"And life must be hastening away;</span><br>
+ You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now, tell me the reason, I pray."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Let the cause thy attention engage;</span><br>
+ In the days of my youth I remembered my God!<br>
+ <span class="c4">And He hath not forgotten my age."</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Robert Southey.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of
+the important lessons it teaches?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_57_"></a>
+<h1>_57_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>smit' ing</td>
+<td>el' o quence</td>
+<td>mes' mer ize</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ges' ture</td>
+<td>vin' e gar</td>
+<td>un dy' ing ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">KIND WORDS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which
+seems to be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's
+song, which had lost its way and come on earth, and sang on
+undyingly, smiting the hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and
+putting for the while an angel's nature into us.</p>
+<p>Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In
+truth, there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems
+as they could almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely,
+soften the hard and angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long,
+loyal, and self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a
+foundation than a kind word.</p>
+<p>Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been
+made happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we
+are unable to explain! And happiness is a great power of
+holiness. Thus, kind words, by their power of producing
+happiness, have also a power of producing holiness, and so of
+winning men to God.</p>
+<p>If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious
+subjects, it is by voice and words that men mesmerize each other.
+Hence it is that the world is converted by the voice of the
+preacher. Hence it is that an angry word rankles longer in the
+heart than an angry gesture, nay, very often even longer than a
+blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power of kindness in
+general applies with an additional and peculiar force to kind
+words.</p>
+<p><i>Father Faber.</i></p>
+<p>From "Spiritual Conferences."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Explain: Kind words are the music of the world-An angel's song
+that had lost its way and come on earth-Smiting the hearts of men
+with sweetest wounds-Putting an angel's nature into us-Hard and
+angry hearts of men-An angry word rankles longer in the heart
+than even a blow.</p>
+<p>Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made
+you very happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,-to have
+kind words said to him, or for him to say them to another?</p>
+<p>Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal,
+eloquence, or learning.</p>
+<p><i>Father Faber.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a
+hundred barrels of vinegar.</p>
+<p><i>St. Francis de Sales.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_58_"></a>
+<h1>_58_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">KINDNESS IS THE WORD.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="35%"> </td>
+<td width="65%">"What is the real good?"<br>
+ I asked in musing mood.<br>
+<br>
+ Order, said the law court;<br>
+ Knowledge, said the school;<br>
+ Truth, said the wise man;<br>
+ Pleasure, said the fool;<br>
+ Love, said the maiden;<br>
+ Beauty, said the page;<br>
+ Freedom, said the dreamer;<br>
+ Home, said the sage;<br>
+ Fame, said the soldier;<br>
+ Equity, said the seer;-<br>
+<br>
+ Spake my heart full sadly:<br>
+ "The answer is not here."<br>
+<br>
+ Then within my bosom<br>
+ Softly this I heard:<br>
+ "Each heart holds the secret:<br>
+ Kindness is the word."<br>
+
+<p><i>John Boyle O'Reilly.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>sage</b>, a wise man.</p>
+<p><b>seer</b>, one who foresees events; a prophet.</p>
+<p><b>equity</b> ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_59_"></a>
+<h1>_59_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>va' cant</td>
+<td>joc' und</td>
+<td>pen' sive</td>
+<td>spright' ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sol' i tude</td>
+<td>daf' fo dils</td>
+<td>con tin' u ous</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">DAFFODILS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I wandered lonely as a cloud<br>
+ <span class="c4">That floats on high o'er vales and
+hills,</span><br>
+ When all at once I saw a crowd,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A host, of golden daffodils,</span><br>
+ Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Fluttering and dancing in the
+breeze.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Continuous as the stars that shine<br>
+ <span class="c4">And twinkle on the Milky Way,</span><br>
+ They stretched in never-ending line<br>
+ <span class="c4">Along the margin of the bay:</span><br>
+ Ten thousand saw I at a glance,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Tossing their heads in sprightly
+dance.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The waves beside them danced; but they<br>
+ <span class="c4">Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:</span><br>
+ A poet could not but be gay<br>
+ <span class="c4">In such a jocund company.</span><br>
+ I gazed,-and gazed,-but little thought<br>
+ <span class="c4">What wealth the show to me had
+brought:</span><br>
+<br>
+ For oft, when on my couch I lie<br>
+ <span class="c4">In vacant or in pensive mood,</span><br>
+ They flash upon that inward eye<br>
+ <span class="c4">Which is the bliss of solitude;</span><br>
+ And then my heart with pleasure fills,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And dances with the daffodils.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>William Wordsworth.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Milky Way</b>, the belt of light seen at night in the
+heavens, and is composed of millions of stars.</p>
+<p>1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the
+poet compare his loneliness?</p>
+<p>What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the
+daffodils doing?</p>
+<p>What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe
+the picture contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.</p>
+<p>2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of
+daffodils there were? How would you tell it?</p>
+<p>How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does
+<i>margin</i> mean?</p>
+<p>How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he
+say they were doing?</p>
+<p>3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the
+daffodils surpass the waves?</p>
+<p>What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?</p>
+<p>4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive
+mood?" "Inward eye?"</p>
+<p>How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?</p>
+<p>What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the
+heart of the poet?</p>
+<p>What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the
+beginning of the poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?</p>
+<p>Commit the poem to memory.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/171.gif" width="285" height=
+"411" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_60_"></a>
+<h1>_60_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>hos' tile</td>
+<td>en dowed'</td>
+<td>tu' mult</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ac' o lyte</td>
+<td>ep' i taph</td>
+<td>grav' i ty</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com' bat ants</td>
+<td>pref' er ence</td>
+<td>a maz' ed ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ath let' ic</td>
+<td>Vi at' i cum</td>
+<td>in her' it ance</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>cem' e ter y</td>
+<td>re tal' i ate</td>
+<td>un flinch' ing ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ir re sist' i ble</td>
+<td>un vi' o la ted</td>
+<td>con temp' tu ous ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the
+Church was going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with
+Christians condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on
+the morrow, and to these it was necessary to send the Holy
+Viaticum to strengthen their souls for the battle before them. On
+this day, when the hostile passions of heathen Rome were
+unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so many Christian
+victims, it was a work of more than common danger to discharge
+this duty.</p>
+<p>The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round
+from the altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its
+safest bearer. Before any other could step forward, the young
+acolyte Tarcisius knelt at his feet. With his hands extended
+before him, ready to receive the sacred deposit, with a
+countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as an angel's, he
+seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.</p>
+<p>"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled
+with admiration of the picture before him.</p>
+<p>"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not
+refuse me this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes,
+and his cheeks glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these
+words. He stretched forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was
+so full of fervor and courage, that the plea was irresistible.
+The priest took the Divine Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a
+linen cloth, then in an outer covering, and put them on his
+palms, saying-</p>
+<p>"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy
+feeble care. Avoid public places as thou goest along; and
+remember that holy things must not be delivered to dogs, nor
+pearls be cast before swine. Thou wilt keep safely God's sacred
+gifts?"</p>
+<p>"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth,
+as he folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and
+with cheerful reverence started on his journey. There was a
+gravity beyond the usual expression of his years stamped upon his
+countenance, as he tripped lightly along the streets, avoiding
+equally the more public, and the too low, thoroughfares.</p>
+<p>As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its
+mistress, a rich lady without children, saw him coming, and was
+struck with his beauty and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his
+breast, he was hastening on. "Stay one moment, dear child," she
+said, putting herself in his way; "tell me thy name, and where do
+thy parents live?"</p>
+<p>"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up
+smilingly; "and I have no home, save one which it might be
+displeasing to thee to hear."</p>
+<p>"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee.
+Oh, that I had a child like thee!"</p>
+<p>"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most
+solemn and sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its
+performance."</p>
+<p>"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."</p>
+<p>"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled
+look, which made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher
+sphere. She watched him a long time, and after some deliberation
+determined to follow him. Soon, however, she heard a tumult with
+horrid cries, which made her pause on her way until they had
+ceased, when she went on again.</p>
+<p>In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better
+things than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into
+an open space, where boys, just escaped from school, were
+beginning to play.</p>
+<p>"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get
+him?" said their leader.</p>
+<p>"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I
+have not seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all
+sports. Come, Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his
+arm, "whither so fast? take a part in our game, that's a good
+fellow."</p>
+<p>"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."</p>
+<p>"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and
+bullying youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when
+I want anything done. So come, join us at once."</p>
+<p>"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me
+go."</p>
+<p>"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to
+be carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose;
+well, it will not addle by being for half an hour out of its
+nest. Give it to me, and I will put it by safe while we
+play."</p>
+<p>"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards
+heaven.</p>
+<p>"I <i>will</i> see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will
+know what is this wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him
+roughly about. A crowd of men from the neighborhood soon got
+round, and all asked eagerly what was the matter. They saw a boy,
+who, with folded arms, seemed endowed with a supernatural
+strength, as he resisted every effort of one much bigger and
+stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs, pulls,
+blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept
+his purpose.</p>
+<p>"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when
+Fulvius chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the
+combatants. He at once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at
+the Ordination; and being asked, as a better-dressed man, the
+same question, he replied contemptuously, as he turned on his
+heel, "What is it? Why, only a Christian, bearing the
+Mysteries."</p>
+<p>This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of
+the Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a
+general demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge.
+"Never with life," was his only reply. A heavy blow from a
+smith's fist nearly stunned him, while the blood flowed from the
+wound. Another and another followed, till, covered with bruises,
+but with his arms crossed fast upon his breast, he fell heavily
+on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were just seizing,
+him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt themselves
+pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round
+and round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and
+the rest retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the
+author of this overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground
+than he was on his knees, and with tears in his eyes raised up
+the bruised and fainting boy as tenderly as a mother could have
+done, and in most gentle tones asked him, "Are you much hurt,
+Tarcisius?"</p>
+<p>"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with
+a smile; "but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of
+them."</p>
+<p>The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence,
+as if bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice,
+a martyr's relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the
+divine Victim of eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in
+confidence on the stout soldier's neck, but his arms and hands
+never left their watchful custody of the confided gift; and his
+gallant bearer felt no weight in the hallowed double burden which
+he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady met him and stared
+amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer at what he
+carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is that
+Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"</p>
+<p>"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he
+was a Christian."</p>
+<p>The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He
+opened his eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look
+came the light of faith-she hastened to be a Christian.</p>
+<p>The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he
+removed the child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated,
+the Holy of Holies; and he thought he looked more like an angel
+now, sleeping the martyr's slumber, than he did when living
+scarcely an hour before. Quadratus himself bore him to the
+cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried amidst the admiration
+of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed for him an
+epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the belief
+in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The mob profanely bade him to
+display;</span><br>
+ He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Than Christ's Body to mad dogs
+betray."</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Cardinal Wiseman.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>addle</b>, to become rotten, as eggs.</p>
+<p><b>tunic</b>, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and
+confined at the waist by a girdle.</p>
+<p><b>supernatural</b>, = prefix <i>super</i>, meaning
+<i>above</i> or <i>beyond,</i> + <i>natural</i>.</p>
+<p><b>-ion</b>, a suffix denoting <i>act, state, condition
+of</i>. Define <i>emotion, objection, dejection, conversion,
+submission, construction, admiration, persecution, observation,
+revolution, deliberation.</i></p>
+<p>Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of
+"Fabiola." Tell him how much you like the book, what you have
+read in it, and thank him for sending it.</p>
+<p>Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and
+tell what you like or dislike in each.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Kept murmuring under breath:</span><br>
+ "Before temptation-sacrifice!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Before dishonor-death!"</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Margaret J. Preston.</i></p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ Dare to do right! Dare to be true!<br>
+ Other men's failures can never save you;<br>
+ Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;<br>
+ Stand like a hero, and battle till death.<br>
+
+<p><i>George L. Taylor.</i></p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ Heroes of old! I humbly lay<br>
+ <span class="c4">The laurel on your graves again;</span><br>
+ Whatever men have done, men may-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The deeds you wrought are not in
+vain.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Austin Dobson.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_61_"></a>
+<h1>_61_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>a jar'</td>
+<td>chal' ice</td>
+<td>a thwart'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>rap' tur ous</td>
+<td>sward</td>
+<td>ter' race</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>jew' eled</td>
+<td>ci bo' ri um</td>
+<td>por' tal</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>vil' lain</td>
+<td>au da' cious</td>
+<td>sac ri le' gious</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A summer night in Remy-strokes of the midnight bell,<br>
+ Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,<br>
+ Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,<br>
+ A little village slumber'd,-locked in quiet dreams.<br>
+<br>
+ A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,<br>
+ With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,<br>
+ But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star<br>
+ Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!<br>
+<br>
+ And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran<br>
+ From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,<br>
+ Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,<br>
+ The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!<br>
+<br>
+ To right-to left,-he faltered; then swift across the sward,<br>
+ (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;<br>
+ By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,<br>
+ Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.<br>
+<br>
+ Behold! a grassy terrace,-a garden, wide and fair,<br>
+ And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.<br>
+ Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,<br>
+ Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!<br>
+<br>
+ O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!<br>
+ Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,<br>
+ Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright-<br>
+ Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,<br>
+ Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.<br>
+ All silent stands the beehive,-no little buzzing things<br>
+ Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.<br>
+<br>
+ Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,-<br>
+ The master paces nearer,-he listens-lo! he starts,<br>
+ What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive<br>
+ With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!<br>
+<br>
+ Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees<br>
+ Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;<br>
+ For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,<br>
+ Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...<br>
+<br>
+ O little ones, who listen unto this legend old<br>
+ (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),<br>
+ From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,<br>
+ Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.<br>
+<br>
+ He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare<br>
+ A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;<br>
+ Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,<br>
+ Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.<br>
+<br>
+ "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,<br>
+ Around My Heart shall hover your wing&egrave;d ministries,<br>
+ And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come<br>
+ To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><i>Eleanor C. Donnelly.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C.
+Donnelly.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>mere</b>, a waste place; a marsh.</p>
+<p><b>trellis</b>, a frame of latticework.</p>
+<p><b>waxen</b>, made of wax. <i>en</i> is here a suffix meaning
+<i>made of.</i> Use <i>golden, leaden, wooden,</i> in sentences
+of your own.</p>
+<p>Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning.
+What does <i>revealed</i> mean? <i>cloister</i>? Find as many
+synonyms of these two words as you can. Consult your
+dictionary.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_62_"></a>
+<h1>_62_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>stalked</td>
+<td>ep'au lets</td>
+<td>be hind' hand</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>se date'</td>
+<td>trudg' ing</td>
+<td>com pos' ed ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fid' dler</td>
+<td>strut' ted</td>
+<td>ap pro ba' tion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re sumed'</td>
+<td>af firmed'</td>
+<td>dis a gree' a ble</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>whith er so ev' er</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he
+resembled a flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and
+agreeable, and took no delight in labor of any kind. But, while
+Daffy-down-dilly was yet a little boy, his mother sent him away
+from his pleasant home, and put him under the care of a very
+strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of Mr. Toil. Those who
+knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a very worthy
+character, and that he had done more good, both to children and
+grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr.
+Toil had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all
+his ways seemed very disagreeable to our friend
+Daffy-down-dilly.</p>
+<p>The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his
+desk, overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a
+certain awful birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the
+shoulders of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he
+punished a whole class who were behindhand with their lessons;
+and, in short, unless a lad chose to attend constantly to his
+book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the
+schoolroom of Mr. Toil.</p>
+<p>"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to
+himself, when he had been at school about a week. "I'll run away,
+and try to find my dear mother; at any rate, I shall never find
+anybody half so disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil." So, the very
+next morning, off started poor Daffy-down-dilly, and began his
+rambles about the world, with only some bread and cheese for his
+breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay his expenses. But
+he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a man of
+grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.</p>
+<p>"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence
+do you come so early, and whither are you going?"
+Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a moment or two, but finally confessed
+that he had run away from school, on account of his great dislike
+to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to find some place in the
+world where he should never see nor hear of the old schoolmaster
+again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the stranger, "we
+will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do with
+Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name
+was never heard."</p>
+<p>They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some
+haymakers were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading
+it out in the sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the
+sweet smell of the new-mown grass, and thought how much
+pleasanter it must be to make hay in the sunshine, under the blue
+sky, and with the birds singing sweetly in the neighboring trees
+and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal schoolroom, learning
+lessons all day long, and continually scolded by Mr. Toil.</p>
+<p>But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to
+peep over the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his
+companion's hand, and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or
+he will catch us!"</p>
+<p>"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.</p>
+<p>"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly.
+"Don't you see him among the haymakers?"</p>
+<p>"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil,
+the schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer;
+and people say he is the more disagreeable man of the two.
+However, he won't trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the
+farm."</p>
+<p>They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a
+drum and fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry
+forward, that they might not miss seeing the soldiers.</p>
+<p>"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.</p>
+<p>Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning
+his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see but
+the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and
+feather on his head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a
+laced coat on his back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long
+sword, instead of a birch rod, in his hand! Though he held his
+head high and strutted like a rooster, still he looked quite as
+ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the
+schoolroom.</p>
+<p>"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a
+trembling voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us
+enlist in his company!"</p>
+<p>"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the
+stranger, very composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who has served in the army
+all his life. People say he's a very severe fellow, but you and I
+need not be afraid of him."</p>
+<p>"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir,
+I don't want to see the soldiers any more."</p>
+<p>So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by
+and by, they came to a house by the roadside, where some people
+were making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles
+on their faces, were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.</p>
+<p>"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion;
+"for Mr. Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a
+fiddler, and where people are dancing and making merry. We shall
+be quite safe here."</p>
+<p>But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue,
+for, happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he
+behold again, but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow
+instead of a birch rod.</p>
+<p>"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there
+was nobody but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of
+his playing on a fiddle!"</p>
+<p>"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but
+another brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned
+the profession of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and
+generally calls himself Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil,
+and those who have known him best, think him still more
+disagreeable than his brother."</p>
+<p>"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I
+don't like the looks of this fiddler."</p>
+<p>Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering
+along the highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant
+villages; and, whithersoever they went, behold! there was the
+image of old Mr. Toil.</p>
+<p>He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a
+house, he sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he
+was there. He made himself at home in every cottage, and, under
+one disguise or another, stole into the most splendid
+mansions.</p>
+<p>"Oh, take me back!-take me back!" said poor little
+Daffy-down-dilly, bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but
+Toil all the world over, I may just as well go back to the
+schoolhouse."</p>
+<p>"Yonder it is,-there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger;
+for, though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many
+steps, they had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line.
+"Come; we will go back to school together."</p>
+<p>There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had
+not remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there
+again was the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had
+been in company with Toil all day, even while he was doing his
+best to run away from him.</p>
+<p>When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil,
+he began to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable,
+and that the old schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his
+face almost as pleasant as the face of his own dear mother.</p>
+<p><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin
+&amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>How will the following sentences read if you change the
+name-words from the singular to the plural form: The old
+schoolmaster has a rod in his hand. The boy likes his teacher.
+The girl goes cheerfully on an errand for her mother. The pupil
+attends to his book, and knows his lesson perfectly. Under the
+blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in tree and
+bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain
+had a smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his
+back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of
+a birch rod in his hand.</p>
+<p>From points furnished by your teacher, write a short
+composition on "Our School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals,
+punctuation, paragraphs, margin, penmanship, neatness and general
+appearance.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Evil is wrought by want of thought,<br>
+ As well as want of heart.<br>
+
+<p><i>Hood.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines
+your happiness.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_63_"></a>
+<h1>_63_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>su' macs</td>
+<td>char' coal</td>
+<td>of fi' cial</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fres' coes</td>
+<td>in i' tial</td>
+<td>rest' less ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">IN SCHOOL DAYS</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A ragged beggar sunning;</span><br>
+ Around it still the sumacs grow<br>
+ <span class="c4">And blackberry vines are running.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Within, the master's desk is seen,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Deep scarred by raps official;</span><br>
+ The warping floor, the battered seats,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The jackknife's carved initial;</span><br>
+<br>
+ The charcoal frescoes on its wall;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its door's worn sill, betraying</span><br>
+ The feet that, creeping slow to school,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Went storming out to playing!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Long years ago a winter sun<br>
+ <span class="c4">Shone over it at setting;</span><br>
+ Lit up its western window-panes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And low eaves' icy fretting.</span><br>
+<br>
+ It touched the tangled golden curls,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And brown eyes full of grieving,</span><br>
+ Of one who still her steps delayed<br>
+ <span class="c4">When all the school were leaving.</span><br>
+<br>
+ For near her stood the little boy<br>
+ <span class="c4">Her childish favor singled;</span><br>
+ His cap pulled low upon a face<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where pride and shame were mingled.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Pushing with restless feet the snow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To right and left, he lingered;</span><br>
+ As restlessly her tiny hands<br>
+ <span class="c4">The blue-checked apron fingered.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He saw her lift her eyes; he felt<br>
+ <span class="c4">The soft hand's light caressing,</span><br>
+ And heard the tremble of her voice,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As if a fault confessing:</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;<br>
+ <span class="c4">I hate to go above you,</span><br>
+ Because,"-the brown eyes lower fell,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Because, you see, I love you!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ Still memory to a gray-haired man<br>
+ <span class="c4">That sweet child-face is showing.</span><br>
+ Dear girl! the grasses on her grave<br>
+ <span class="c4">Have forty years been growing!</span><br>
+<br>
+ He lives to learn, in life's hard school,<br>
+ <span class="c4">How few who pass above him</span><br>
+ Lament their triumph and his loss,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Like her,-because they love him.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Whittier.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+ <img src="images/194.gif" width="94" height="129" alt="" border=
+"0">
+<p><i>John G. Whittier.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_64_"></a>
+<h1>_64_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>Mars</td>
+<td>so' lar (ler)</td>
+<td>Ve' nus</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>plan' ets</td>
+<td>Mer' cu ry</td>
+<td>di am' e ter</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com' pass es</td>
+<td>sat' el lite</td>
+<td>tel' e scope</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>grad' u al ly</td>
+<td>in' ter est ing</td>
+<td>cir cum' fer ence</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">THE SUN'S FAMILY</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys
+sat in the shade of a large tree.</p>
+<p>"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to
+recall one," said Frank.</p>
+<p>"Let me see. Well-perhaps-I think that the most wonderful
+story I have ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's
+family."</p>
+<p>"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard
+enough to puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."</p>
+<p>"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll
+try to tell you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't
+you--the great shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"</p>
+<p>"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the
+morning when I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes,
+then over the trees and houses; by evening it has traveled across
+the sky, when it sinks below the houses and trees, out of sight
+on the other side of the town."</p>
+<p>"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the
+sun is traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really
+we-we on this big ball of earth-who are moving. We are whirling
+around on the outer surface, rushing on at the rate-let me
+think-at the rate of more than one thousand miles a minute!"</p>
+<p>"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.</p>
+<p>"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball
+moves when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"</p>
+<p>"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe
+that this big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with
+all the cities, towns, and people whirling round and round faster
+than a ball from the mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that
+it stirs one inch,-this is much harder to believe than all that
+the fairies have ever told us."</p>
+<p>"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.</p>
+<p>"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and
+viewed the stars one night through a telescope. As I looked
+through this instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger
+than ever before. The earth is a planet, and there are besides
+our earth seven large planets and many small ones, which also
+whirl around the sun. Some of these planets are larger than our
+world. Some of them also move much faster.</p>
+<p>"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him.
+The one nearest to the sun is Mercury."</p>
+<p>"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.</p>
+<p>"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched
+to ashes; but if creatures live on that planet, God has given
+them a different nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what
+would be dreadful to us.</p>
+<p>"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen
+shining so bright after sunset; then she is called the evening
+star. Some of the time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen
+in the east; she is then called the morning star.</p>
+<p>"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the
+same time of the year. If you are watching her this evening
+before or after sundown, there is no use getting up early
+to-morrow to look for her again. For several weeks Venus remains
+an evening star, then gradually disappears. Two months later you
+may see her in the east-a bright morning star.</p>
+<p>"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from
+the sun. Now let us make a drawing of what we have been talking
+about.</p>
+<p>"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and
+make a dot on its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this
+circle eighty-eight days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to
+travel around the sun. Make another circle three and one-half
+inches in diameter and make a dot on it. This represents Venus.
+It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five days to journey around the
+sun.</p>
+<p>"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to
+us. The compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The
+path made represents the journey we take in three hundred
+sixty-five days.</p>
+<p>"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan.
+This circle must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is
+much farther from the sun than our earth is. It takes him six
+hundred eighty-seven days to make the trip around the sun. The
+other planets are too far away to be put in this plan."</p>
+<p>"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all-the moon!" said
+Philip.</p>
+<p>"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little
+ball. It is less than seven thousand miles around her, while our
+earth is twenty-five thousand miles around."</p>
+<p>"Is that a little ball, Frank?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what
+is called a satellite-that is, a servant or an attendant. She is
+a satellite of our earth. She keeps circling round and round our
+earth, while we go circling round and round the sun.</p>
+<p>"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round
+a field, and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see
+that the movements of the bird would be much quicker than
+mine."</p>
+<p>"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always
+looks so quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like
+lightning, why is it that she scarcely seems to move more than an
+inch in ten minutes?"</p>
+<p>"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that
+what to us seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You
+know how very fast the steam cars seem to go when one is quite
+near them, yet I have seen a train of cars far off which seemed
+to go so slowly that I could fancy it was painted on the
+sky."</p>
+<p>"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out
+these curious things about the sun and the stars-to know how
+large they are and how fast they go?" asked Philip.</p>
+<p>"That is something we shall understand when we are older,"
+said Frank. "We must gain a little knowledge every day."</p>
+<p>"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked
+Philip.</p>
+<p>"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter
+has four, but we can see them only when we look through a
+telescope." replied Frank.</p>
+<p>"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear
+night, planets?" inquired Philip.</p>
+<p>"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars,"
+said Frank. "A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its
+own. It shines just as the moon shines, because the sun gives it
+light."</p>
+<p>"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.</p>
+<p>"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus
+and Mars as a shining planet."</p>
+<p>"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for
+almost every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a
+diamond. Do these fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked
+Philip.</p>
+<p>"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed
+stars to show that they do not move like planets? The word
+<i>planet</i> means to <i>wander.</i> These fixed stars are suns
+themselves, which may have planets of their own. They are so very
+far away that we cannot know much about them, except that they
+shine of themselves just as our sun does.</p>
+<p>"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and
+satellites with which he is surrounded. We know that without his
+warm rays there would not be any flowers or birds or any living
+thing on the earth. So we can easily imagine that all other suns
+are shining in the same way for the worlds that surround
+them."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as
+directed in the lesson.</p>
+<p>Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the
+correct form of the action-word <i>draw</i>:</p>
+<p>My boys like to - .</p>
+<p>Yesterday they - the picture of an old mill.</p>
+<p>They are now - a picture of the solar system.</p>
+<p>The lines on the blackboard were - by John.</p>
+<p>He - well.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_65_"></a>
+<h1>_65_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>dew' y</td>
+<td>clos'es</td>
+<td>ca ress'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>twined</td>
+<td>wreaths</td>
+<td>weath'er</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>brook' let</td>
+<td>togeth'er</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">WILL AND I</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>We roam the hills together,<br>
+ In the golden summer weather,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I;</span><br>
+ And the glowing sunbeams bless us,<br>
+ And the winds of heaven caress us,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As we wander hand in hand</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Through the blissful summer land,</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Where the tinkling brooklet passes<br>
+ Through the heart of dewy grasses,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I</span><br>
+ Have heard the mock-bird singing,<br>
+ And the field lark seen upspringing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In his happy flight afar,</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Like a tiny winged star-</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Amid cool forest closes,<br>
+ We have plucked the wild wood-roses,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I;</span><br>
+ And have twined, with tender duty,<br>
+ Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of the purest brows that shine</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">With a mother-love divine,</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Ah! thus we roam together,<br>
+ Through the golden summer weather,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I;</span><br>
+ While the glowing sunbeams bless us,<br>
+ And the winds of heaven caress us,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As we wander hand in hand</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">O'er the blissful summer land,</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Paul H. Hayne.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>closes</b>, small inclosed fields.</p>
+<p>Write about what you and Will <i>saw, heard,</i> and
+<i>did,</i> as you roamed together over the hills, through the
+woods, along the brooklet, on a certain bright, clear day in
+early summer. You are a country boy and Will is your city cousin.
+If you begin your composition by saying, "It was a beautiful
+afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of the day in
+mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what <i>made</i> the day
+beautiful,-such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In
+other paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order
+in which you saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did
+in the "closes" of the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild
+flowers. Conclude by telling what a pleasant surprise you gave
+mother on your return home; and how she surprised you two hungry
+boys during supper.</p>
+<p>In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of
+the poem as you can.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_66_"></a>
+<h1>_66_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>themes</td>
+<td>her' e sy</td>
+<td>ramp' ant</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>a chieved'</td>
+<td>es cort ed</td>
+<td>po ta'toes</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>trem' u lous</td>
+<td>lux u' ri ous</td>
+<td>cre du' li ty</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in cred' i ble</td>
+<td>phe nom' e non</td>
+<td>pre ma ture' ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE
+CRATCHITS'.</a></h3>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/206.gif" width="298" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.</p>
+<p>Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a
+twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she
+laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her
+daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit
+plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the
+corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property,
+conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his
+mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now two
+smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for
+their own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions,
+they danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to
+the skies, while he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked
+him) blew the fire, until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked
+loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled.</p>
+<p>"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs.
+Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late
+last Christmas Day by half an hour!"</p>
+<p>"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits.
+"Hurrah! There's <i>such</i> a goose, Martha!"</p>
+<p>"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said
+Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her
+shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.</p>
+<p>"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear
+away this morning, mother!"</p>
+<p>"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs.
+Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm,
+Lord bless ye!"</p>
+<p>"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young
+Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"</p>
+<p>So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least
+three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down
+before him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to
+look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny
+Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limb supported by an
+iron frame.</p>
+<p>"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking
+round.</p>
+<p>"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.</p>
+<p>"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high
+spirits; for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from
+church, and had come home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas
+Day!"</p>
+<p>Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in
+joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door,
+and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny
+Tim, and bore him off to the wash-house, that he might hear the
+pudding singing in the copper.</p>
+<p>"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she
+had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter
+to his heart's content.</p>
+<p>"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets
+thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest
+things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the
+people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it
+might be pleasant to them to remember, upon Christmas Day, who
+made lame beggars walk and blind men see."</p>
+<p>Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled
+more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and
+hearty.</p>
+<p>His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back
+came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his
+brother and sister to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob
+compounded some hot mixture in a jug, and put it on the hob to
+simmer, Master Peter and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went
+to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high
+procession.</p>
+<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the
+rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black
+swan was a matter of course-and in truth it was something very
+like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot;
+Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss
+Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha dusted the hot
+plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the
+table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts,
+crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for
+goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes
+were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless
+pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving
+knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and
+when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur
+of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited
+by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of
+his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!</p>
+<p>Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked.
+Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of
+universal admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed
+potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family;
+indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one
+small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't eaten it all at
+last! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in
+particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But
+now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left
+the room alone-too nervous to bear witnesses-to take the pudding
+up and bring it in.</p>
+<p>Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break
+in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of
+the backyard and stolen it, while they were merry with the
+goose-a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became
+livid. All sorts of horrors were supposed.</p>
+<p>Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the
+copper. A smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell
+like an eating house and a pastry cook's next door to each other,
+with a laundress's next door to that! That was the pudding! In
+half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered-flushed, but smiling
+proudly-with the pudding like a speckled cannon ball, so hard and
+firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into
+the top.</p>
+<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too,
+that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs.
+Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the
+weight was off her mind, she would confess she had her doubts
+about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about
+it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for
+so large a family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any
+Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.</p>
+<p>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the
+hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being
+tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon
+the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the
+Cratchit family drew round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called
+a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood
+the family display of glass,-two tumblers and a custard cup
+without a handle.</p>
+<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as
+golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with
+beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and
+cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all,
+my dears. God bless us!"</p>
+<p>Which all the family re[:e]choed.</p>
+<p>"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.</p>
+<p>He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool.
+Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the
+child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he
+might be taken from him.</p>
+<img src="images/204.gif" width="93" height="129" alt="" border=
+"0">
+<p><i>Charles Dickens.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>declension</b>, a falling downward.</p>
+<p><b>copper</b>, a boiler made of copper.</p>
+<p><b>rallied</b>, indulged in pleasant humor.</p>
+<p><b>ubiquitous</b> (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be
+everywhere at the same time.</p>
+<p><b>eked out</b>, added to; increased.</p>
+<p><b>bedight</b>, bedecked; adorned.</p>
+<p><b>re[:e]choed</b> (re&euml;choed): What is the mark placed
+over the second <i>&euml;</i> called, and what does it
+denote?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken,
+is considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of
+the best Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very
+poor as to the goods of this world, but very rich in love,
+kindness, and contentment.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_67_"></a>
+<h1>_67_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">WHICH SHALL IT BE?</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Which shall it be? Which shall it be?<br>
+ I looked at John, John looked at me;<br>
+ And when I found that I must speak,<br>
+ My voice seemed strangely low and weak:<br>
+ "Tell me again what Robert said,"<br>
+ And then I, listening, bent my head-<br>
+ This is his letter: "I will give<br>
+ A house and land while you shall live,<br>
+ If in return from out your seven<br>
+ One child to me for aye is given."<br>
+<br>
+ I looked at John's old garments worn;<br>
+ I thought of all that he had borne<br>
+ Of poverty, and work, and care,<br>
+ Which I, though willing, could not share;<br>
+ I thought of seven young mouths to feed,<br>
+ Of seven little children's need,<br>
+ <span class="c9">And then of this.</span><br>
+<br>
+ <span class="c9">"Come, John," said I,</span><br>
+ "We'll choose among them as they lie<br>
+ Asleep." So, walking hand in hand,<br>
+ Dear John and I surveyed our band:<br>
+ First to the cradle lightly stepped,<br>
+ Where Lilian, the baby, slept.<br>
+ Softly the father stooped to lay<br>
+ His rough hand down in loving way,<br>
+ When dream or whisper made her stir,<br>
+ And huskily he said: "Not her!"<br>
+<br>
+ We stooped beside the trundle-bed,<br>
+ And one long ray of lamplight shed<br>
+ Athwart the boyish faces there,<br>
+ In sleep so pitiful and fair;<br>
+ I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek<br>
+ A tear undried. Ere John could speak,<br>
+ "He's but a baby too," said I,<br>
+ And kissed him as we hurried by.<br>
+ Pale, patient Robbie's angel face<br>
+ Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace-<br>
+ "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"<br>
+ He whispered, while our eyes were dim.<br>
+<br>
+ Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son-<br>
+ Turbulent, restless, idle one-<br>
+ Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave<br>
+ Bade us befriend him to the grave;<br>
+ Only a mother's heart could be<br>
+ Patient enough for such as he;<br>
+ "And so," said John, "I would not dare<br>
+ To take him from her bedside prayer."<br>
+<br>
+ Then stole we softly up above,<br>
+ And knelt by Mary, child of love;<br>
+ "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"<br>
+ I said to John. Quite silently<br>
+ He lifted up a curl that lay<br>
+ Across her cheek in wilful way,<br>
+ And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"<br>
+ The while my heart beat audibly.<br>
+<br>
+ Only one more, our eldest lad,<br>
+ Trusty and truthful, good and glad,<br>
+ So like his father. "No, John, no!<br>
+ I cannot, will not, let him go."<br>
+ And so we wrote in courteous way,<br>
+ We could not give one child away;<br>
+ And afterwards toil lighter seemed,<br>
+ Thinking of that of which we dreamed,<br>
+ Happy in truth that not one face<br>
+ Was missed from its accustomed place,<br>
+ Thankful to work for all the seven,<br>
+ Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!<br>
+
+<p><i>Anonymous</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell
+of the great affection of parents for their children. Even in the
+poorest and most numerous families, what parent could think of
+parting with a child for any sum of money?</p>
+<p>Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich
+man without children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell
+about the offer the rich man made. What a great temptation this
+was!</p>
+<p>The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's
+faces and asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the
+two youngest boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple.
+Why? Not the sweet child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son.
+Why? Not, for worlds, the oldest boy. Why?</p>
+<p>Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_68_"></a>
+<h1>_68_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>Dor'o thy</td>
+<td>in her'it ance</td>
+<td>Cap pa do' ci a</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ob' sti na cy</td>
+<td>The oph' i lus</td>
+<td>ex e cu' tion ers</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St.
+Cecilia, are familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt,
+their histories are well known also. Young as they were, they
+despised alike the pleasures and the flatteries of the world.
+They chose God alone as their portion and inheritance; and He has
+highly exalted them, and placed their names amongst those
+glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.</p>
+<p>St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born
+in the city of C&aelig;sarea, and was descended of a rich and
+noble family. While the last of the ten terrible persecutions,
+which for three hundred years steeped the Church in the blood of
+martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the faith of Christ, and,
+in consequence, was seized and carried before the Roman Prefect
+of the city.</p>
+<p>She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length,
+condemned to death. When the executioners were preparing to
+behead her, the Prefect said, "Now, at least, confess your folly,
+and pray to the immortal gods for pardon."</p>
+<p>"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and
+earth may pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when
+I reach the land whither I am going."</p>
+<p>"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most
+of the pagans, had very little notion of another world.</p>
+<p>"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells
+with his saints," replied St. Dorothy. "<i>There</i> is neither
+night nor sorrow; <i>there</i> is the river of life, and the
+brightness of eternal glory; and <i>there</i> is a paradise of
+all delight, and flowers that shall never fade."</p>
+<p>"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who
+was listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if
+these things be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you
+shall have reached the land you speak of."</p>
+<p>Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered:
+"Theophilus, you shall have the sign you ask for." There was no
+time for more; the executioner placed her before the block, and,
+in another moment, with one blow, he struck off the head of the
+holy martyr.</p>
+<p>"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his
+friends, as they were about to leave the court; "but these
+Christians are not like other people." "Their obstinacy is
+altogether surprising," rejoined his friend; "death itself will
+never make them waver. But who is this, Theophilus?" he
+continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such singular
+beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden
+hair fell on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses,
+two white and two red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a
+fragrance that their like had never before been seen. He held
+them out to Theophilus. "These flowers are for you," said he;
+"will you not take them?" "And whence do you bring them, my boy?"
+asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied, "and they are the
+sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter time!" said
+Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as never
+blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made
+another; I, too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."</p>
+<p>Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the
+enraged Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded,
+he too poured forth his blood, and obtained the crown of
+martyrdom.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>C&aelig;sarea</b> (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient
+city of Palestine. It is celebrated as being the scene of many
+events recorded in the New Testament.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>
+<p>Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.</p>
+<p><i>A line from Lowell's "0de."</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/217.gif" width="295" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_69_"></a>
+<h1>_69_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">TO A BUTTERFLY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I've watched you now a full half hour<br>
+ Self-poised upon that yellow flower;<br>
+ And, little butterfly, indeed<br>
+ I know not if you sleep or feed.<br>
+ How motionless!-not frozen seas<br>
+ <span class="c4">More motionless!-and then</span><br>
+ What joy awaits you, when the breeze<br>
+ Hath found you out among the trees,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And calls you forth again!</span><br>
+<br>
+ This plot of orchard ground is ours;<br>
+ My trees they are, my sister's flowers;<br>
+ Here rest your wings when they are weary;<br>
+ Here lodge as in a sanctuary!<br>
+ Come often to us, fear no wrong;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sit near us on the bough!</span><br>
+ We'll talk of sunshine and of song,<br>
+ And summer days, when we were young;<br>
+ Sweet childish days, that were as long<br>
+ <span class="c4">As twenty days are now!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Wordsworth</i>.</p>
+<img src="images/219.gif" width="208" height="360" alt="" border=
+"0"></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>self-poised</b>, balanced.</p>
+<p>What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the
+Holy of Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so
+supremely holy?</p>
+<p>Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are
+now?"</p>
+<p>Tell what you know of the author's life.</p>
+<p>Memorize the poem.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_70_"></a>
+<h1>_70_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>re tort' ed</td>
+<td>quizzed</td>
+<td>in cred' i ble</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>man u fac' ture</td>
+<td>sat' ire</td>
+<td>vi o lin' ist</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com pre hend'</td>
+<td>me lo' di ous ly</td>
+<td>hu' mor</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ex hib' it</td>
+<td>a chieve' ments</td>
+<td>for' ests</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the
+table, it was said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an
+inkstand. What will the next thing be? It is wonderful!"</p>
+<p>"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's
+extraordinary-that's what I always say," he exclaimed to the pen
+and to the other articles on the table that were near enough to
+hear. "It is wonderful what a number of things can come out of
+me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't myself know what
+will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip into me. One
+drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?</p>
+<p>"From me all the works of the poet go forth-all these living
+men, whom people can imagine they have met-all the deep feeling,
+the humor, the vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't
+understand how it is, for I am not acquainted with nature, but it
+certainly is in me. From me all things have gone forth, and from
+me proceed the troops of charming maidens, and of brave knights
+on prancing steeds, and all the lame and the blind, and I don't
+know what more-I assure you I don't think of anything."</p>
+<p>"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all;
+for if you did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the
+fluid. You give the fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what
+dwells in me, and what I would bring to the day. It is the pen
+that writes. No man doubts that; and, indeed, most people have
+about as much insight into poetry as an old inkstand."</p>
+<p>"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand.
+"You've hardly been in service a week, and are already half worn
+out. Do you fancy you are the poet? You are only a servant; and
+before you came I had many of your sorts, some of the goose
+family, and others of English manufacture. I know the quill as
+well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service, and I shall
+have many more when <i>he</i> comes-the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should
+like to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of
+me."</p>
+<p>"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.</p>
+<p>Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a
+concert, where he had heard a famous violinist, with whose
+admirable performances he was quite enchanted. The player had
+drawn a wonderful wealth of tone from the instrument; sometimes
+it had sounded like tinkling water-drops, like rolling pearls,
+sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then again it went
+swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.</p>
+<p>The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though
+not only the strings sounded, but every part of the
+instrument.</p>
+<p>It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece
+was, the bow seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings,
+and it looked as though every one might do it. The violin seemed
+to sound of itself, and the bow to move of itself-those two
+appeared to do everything; and the audience forgot the master who
+guided them and breathed soul and spirit into them. The master
+was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and named him, and
+wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:</p>
+<p>"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of
+their achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly-the
+poet, the artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the
+general-we all do it. We are only the instruments which the
+Almighty uses: to Him alone be the honor! We have nothing of
+which we should be proud."</p>
+<p>Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form
+of a parable, which he called "The Master and the
+Instrument."</p>
+<p>"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand,
+when the two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud
+what I have written down?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That
+was a cut at you, because of your conceit. That you should not
+even have understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a
+cut from within me-surely I must know my own satire!"</p>
+<p>"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.</p>
+<p>"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.</p>
+<p>And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well;
+and it is a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good
+answer-a conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they
+slept upon it. But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up
+from within him, like the tones from the violin, falling like
+pearls, rushing like the storm-wind through the forests. He
+understood his own heart in these thoughts, and caught a ray from
+the Eternal Master. To <i>Him</i> be all the honor!</p>
+<p><i>Hans Christian Andersen.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Pipkin</b>, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked
+clay.</p>
+<p>Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words
+<i>vivid, exhibit, comprehend</i>. Consult the dictionary.</p>
+<p>What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of
+science?"</p>
+<p>Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word
+<i>parable</i>. Relate one of our Lord's parables.</p>
+<p>By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned,
+form as many words as you can from the following: man, do, late,
+loud, art, room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden,
+famous, service, furnished.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_71_"></a>
+<h1>_71_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE WIND AND THE MOON.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.<br>
+ <span class="c10">You stare in the air</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Like a ghost in a chair,</span><br>
+ Always looking what I am about,<br>
+ I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."<br>
+<br>
+ The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.<br>
+ <span class="c10">So, deep on a heap</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Of clouds, to sleep</span><br>
+ Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,<br>
+ Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."<br>
+<br>
+ He turned in his bed; she was there again!<br>
+ <span class="c10">On high in the sky,</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">With her one ghost eye,</span><br>
+ The Moon shone white and alive and plain.<br>
+ Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."<br>
+<br>
+ The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.<br>
+ <span class="c10">"With my sledge and my wedge</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">I have knocked off her edge.</span><br>
+ If only I blow right fierce and grim,<br>
+ The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."<br>
+<br>
+ He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:<br>
+ <span class="c10">"One puff more's enough</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">To blow her to snuff!</span><br>
+ One good puff more where the last was bred,<br>
+ And glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."<br>
+<br>
+ He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,<br>
+ <span class="c10">In the air nowhere</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Was a moonbeam bare;</span><br>
+ Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;<br>
+ Sure and certain the Moon was gone!<br>
+<br>
+ The Wind he took to his revels once more;<br>
+ <span class="c10">On down, in town,</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Like a merry-mad clown,</span><br>
+ He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,-<br>
+ "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!<br>
+<br>
+ He flew in a rage-he danced and he blew;<br>
+ <span class="c10">But in vain was the pain</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Of his bursting brain;</span><br>
+ For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,<br>
+ The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.<br>
+<br>
+ Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,<br>
+ <span class="c10">And shone on her throne</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">In the sky alone,</span><br>
+ A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,<br>
+ Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.<br>
+<br>
+ Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!<br>
+ <span class="c10">With my breath, good faith!</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">I blew her to death-</span><br>
+ First blew her away right out of the sky,<br>
+ Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"<br>
+<br>
+ But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;<br>
+ <span class="c10">For, high in the sky,</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">With her one white eye,</span><br>
+ Motionless, miles above the air,<br>
+ She had never heard the great Wind blare.<br>
+
+<p><i>George MacDonald.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>down</b> (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near
+the sea.</p>
+<p><b>glimmer</b>, fainter.</p>
+<p><b>glum</b>, dark, gloomy.</p>
+<p>What is a suffix? What does the suffix <i>less</i> mean?
+Define <i>cloudless, matchless, motionless.</i></p>
+<p>What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_72_"></a>
+<h1>_72_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>mi' ter</td>
+<td>can'on</td>
+<td>car' di nal</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>dis course'</td>
+<td>di' a logue</td>
+<td>cour'te ous ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,<br>
+ Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,<br>
+ And being ever courteously inclined<br>
+ To give young folks a sober turn of mind,<br>
+ He fell into discourse with him, and thus<br>
+ The dialogue they held comes down to us.<br>
+<br>
+ <i>Saint</i>.-Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to
+Rome?<br>
+ <i>Youth</i>.-To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-And when you are one, what do you intend?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.-To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Suppose it so; what have you next in view?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.-That I may get to be a canon too.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Well; and what then?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.- Why then, for aught I know,<br>
+ I may be made a bishop.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.- Be it so,-<br>
+ <span class="c11">What next?</span><br>
+ <i>Y</i>.- Why, cardinal's a high degree;<br>
+ And yet my lot it possibly may be.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Suppose it was; what then?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.- Why, who can say<br>
+ But I've a chance of being pope one day?<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Well, having worn the miter and red hat,<br>
+ And triple crown, what follows after that?<br>
+<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.-Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,<br>
+ Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:<br>
+ When I've enjoyed a dignity so high<br>
+ As long as God shall please, then I must die.<br>
+<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,<br>
+ But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!<br>
+ Take my advice-whatever may betide,<br>
+ For that which <i>must be</i>, first of all provide;<br>
+ Then think of that which <i>may be</i>; and indeed,<br>
+ When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,<br>
+ But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,<br>
+ Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>St. Philip Neri</b>, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went
+to Rome in 1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory,"
+and where he died in 1595.</p>
+<p><b>triple crown</b>, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy
+Father, the Pope.</p>
+<p>Use correctly in sentences the words <i>canon, cannon,
+ca&ntilde;on.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first
+six lines of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip
+and the Youth.</p>
+<p>The whole selection might be given from memory.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_73_"></a>
+<h1>_73_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>mag' ic</td>
+<td>sta' mens</td>
+<td>de sert' ed</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pet' als</td>
+<td>pic' tures</td>
+<td>dis cour' aged</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>liq' uid</td>
+<td>sat' is fied</td>
+<td>per se ver' ance</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE WATER LILY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures.
+There were not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived
+long ago near a great American forest. His father and mother had
+come from England, but his father was dead now. His mother was
+very poor, but there were still a few beautiful pictures on the
+walls of her house.</p>
+<p>The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not
+fond of work, he often threw his drawings away before they were
+half done. He said that he wished that some good fairy would
+finish them for him.</p>
+<p>"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any
+fairies. I never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind
+your books, my child, and never mind the fairies."</p>
+<p>"Very well, mother," said the boy.</p>
+<p>"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures,"
+said his mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly
+head. "Why, child, pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't
+clothe a body, and a log of wood is far better to burn and warm a
+body."</p>
+<p>"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.</p>
+<p>"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy
+could only say, "I don't know, mother."</p>
+<p>"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the
+dumb things as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to
+play."</p>
+<p>So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the
+brink of a little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a
+lake; but it was deep and clear, and was overhung with tall
+trees. It was evening, and the sun was getting low. The boy stood
+still beside the water and thought how beautiful it was to see
+the sun, red and glorious, between the black trunks of the pine
+trees. Then he looked up at the great blue sky and thought how
+beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding over one
+another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at the
+lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.</p>
+<p>And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself,
+"I am sure there are no trees in the world with such beautiful
+leaves as these pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world
+so lovely as these. I know this is the prettiest little lake in
+the world, and if I could paint it, every one else would know it,
+too."</p>
+<p>But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat
+down with it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct
+drawing of it. But he could not make a very good picture. At last
+he threw down his drawing and said to the lily:</p>
+<p>"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I
+were a painter!"</p>
+<p>As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and
+the cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered
+like a crown of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens
+changed to diamonds before his eyes. The white petals flowed
+together, and the next moment a beautiful little fairy stood on
+his hand. She was no taller than the lily from which she came,
+and she was dressed in a robe of the purest white.</p>
+<p>"Child, are you happy?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint
+and I cannot."</p>
+<p>"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try
+any more."</p>
+<p>"But I will help you."</p>
+<p>"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."</p>
+<p>"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the
+fairy. "I know a charm which will give you success. But you must
+do exactly as I tell you. Do you promise to obey?"</p>
+<p>"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my
+heart."</p>
+<p>"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little
+key on the doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine
+tree; strike the trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not
+be afraid to unlock the door. Slip in your hand, and you will
+bring out a magic palette. You must be very careful to paint with
+colors from that palette every day. On this depends the success
+of the charm. You will find that it will make your pictures
+beautiful and full of grace.</p>
+<p>"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few
+years you shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will
+be satisfied; and that you shall become a truly great
+painter."</p>
+<p>"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the
+fairy stood trembled for joy.</p>
+<p>"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the
+fairy. "But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow
+older even begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily
+you gathered to-day will never fade till my promise is
+fulfilled."</p>
+<p>The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was
+nothing in his hand but the flower.</p>
+<p>He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once.
+There on the doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he
+found the magic palette. He was so delighted with it and so
+afraid that he might break the spell that he began to work that
+very night. After that he spent nearly all his time working with
+the magic palette. He often passed whole days beside the sheet of
+water in the forest. He painted it when the sun shone on it and
+it was spotted all over with the reflections of fleeting white
+clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking on the
+ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.</p>
+<p>So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had
+never broken the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still
+worked every day with his magic palette.</p>
+<p>But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not
+like them. His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too
+much like the real ones. She said she could see as good any day
+by looking out of her window. All this made the young man very
+unhappy. He began to doubt whether he should ever be a painter,
+and one day he threw down his palette. He thought the fairy had
+deserted him.</p>
+<p>He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell
+asleep; but in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His
+chamber was full of light, and his fairy friend stood near.</p>
+<p>"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not
+feel so much discouraged.</p>
+<p>"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the
+fairy. "My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly
+assist the charm."</p>
+<p>He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set
+with a beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright
+that came near it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one
+word-"Hope."</p>
+<p>Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he
+went far, far from home. In the strange land to which he went
+people thought his pictures were wonderful; and he had become a
+great and famous painter.</p>
+<p>One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a
+great city. He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had
+been painted before he left his forest home. All the people and
+the painters praised them; but there was one that they liked
+better than the others. It was a picture of a little child,
+holding in its hands several water lilies.</p>
+<p>Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was
+left alone with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair
+thinking of leaving the place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And
+he dreamed that he was again standing near the little lake in his
+native land, watching the rays of the setting sun as they melted
+away from its surface. The beautiful lily was in his hand, and
+while he looked at it the leaves became withered, and fell at his
+feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked up, and
+there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.</p>
+<p>"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your
+magic gift? I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least
+tell me your name, so that I may cut it on a ring and always wear
+it."</p>
+<p>"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."</p>
+<p><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/231.gif" width="311" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did
+the artist desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is
+the scene of the picture placed? What time of the day and of the
+year does it show?</p>
+<p>Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about
+him?</p>
+<p>Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's
+outing. Write a composition on how the day was spent.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_74_"></a>
+<h1>_74_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">A BUILDER'S LESSON.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"How shall I a habit break?"<br>
+ As you did that habit make.<br>
+ As you gathered, you must lose;<br>
+ As you yielded, now refuse.<br>
+ Thread by thread the strands we twist<br>
+ Till they bind us, neck and wrist;<br>
+ Thread by thread the patient hand<br>
+ Must untwine, ere free we stand.<br>
+ As we builded, stone by stone,<br>
+ We must toil, unhelped, alone,<br>
+ Till the wall is overthrown.<br>
+<br>
+ But remember, as we try,<br>
+ Lighter every test goes by;<br>
+ Wading in, the stream grows deep<br>
+ Toward the center's downward sweep;<br>
+ Backward turn, each step ashore<br>
+ Shallower is than that before.<br>
+<br>
+ Ah, the precious years we waste<br>
+ Leveling what we raised in haste:<br>
+ Doing what must be undone<br>
+ Ere content or love be won!<br>
+ First, across the gulf we cast<br>
+ Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,<br>
+ And habit builds the bridge at last!<br>
+
+<p><i>John Boyle O'Reilly.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last
+it is so strong we cannot break it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_75_"></a>
+<h1>_75_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>in ured'</td>
+<td>ru' di ments</td>
+<td>nine' ti eth</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ma tur' er</td>
+<td>ac' cu ra cy</td>
+<td>in ad vert' ence</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>an' ec dotes</td>
+<td>e ner' vate</td>
+<td>in cor' po ra ted</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>dig' ni fied</td>
+<td>in junc' tion</td>
+<td>pre var i ca' tion</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of
+Washington were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who,
+by the death of her husband, while her children were young,
+became the sole conductress of their education. To the inquiry,
+what course she had pursued in rearing one so truly illustrious,
+she replied, "Only to require obedience, diligence, and
+truth."</p>
+<p>These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with
+the rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his
+future greatness.</p>
+<p>He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and
+to speak of his faults and omissions without prevarication or
+disguise. Hence arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt
+of deceit in others, which ever distinguished him. Once, by an
+inadvertence of his youth, considerable loss had been incurred,
+and of such a nature as to interfere with the plans of his
+mother. He came to her, frankly owning his error, and she
+replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes, "I had
+rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."</p>
+<p>She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak
+indulgence. He was inured to early rising, and never permitted to
+be idle. Sometimes he engaged in labors which the children of
+wealthy parents would now account severe, and thus acquired
+firmness of frame and a disregard of hardship.</p>
+<p>The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had
+been taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's
+concerns devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who
+surrounded him, that he was never known to be in a hurry, but
+found time for the transaction of the smallest affairs in the
+midst of the greatest and most conflicting duties.</p>
+<p>Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of
+his mother. His obedience to her commands, when a child, was
+cheerful and strict; and as he approached to maturer years, the
+expression of her slightest wish was law.</p>
+<p>At length, America having secured her independence, and the
+war being ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted
+the repose of home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his
+mother's blessing. The hero, "first in war, first in peace, and
+first in the hearts of his countrymen," came to lay his laurels
+at his mother's feet.</p>
+<p>This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year,
+to be respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief,
+Washington closed her eyes and laid her in the grave which she
+had selected for herself.</p>
+<p>We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious
+armies, the conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of
+the world, in the delightful attitude of an obedient and
+affectionate son. She, whom he honored with such filial
+reverence, said that "he had learned to command others by first
+learning to obey."</p>
+<p>Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of
+future eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and
+remember that they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they
+neglect the injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments,
+and forsake not the law of thy mother."</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/239.gif" width="337" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>L.E. Fournier.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>conductress</b>, a woman who leads or directs.</p>
+<p>The suffix <i>-ess</i> is used to form feminine
+name-words.</p>
+<p>Tell what each of the following words means:</p>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ab' bess</td>
+<td>ac' tress</td>
+<td>duch' ess</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>li' on ess</td>
+<td>count' ess</td>
+<td>po' et ess</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>song' stress</td>
+<td>au' thor ess</td>
+<td>di rect' ress</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Use the following homonyms in sentences:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore;
+vain, vein; vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here;
+fair, fare; sweet, suite; strait, straight.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_76_"></a>
+<h1>_76_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>na' tal</td>
+<td>a main'</td>
+<td>toc' sin</td>
+<td>re count' ed</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>'Tis splendid to have a record<br>
+ <span class="c4">So white and free from stain</span><br>
+ That, held to the light, it shows no blot,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Though tested and tried amain;</span><br>
+ That age to age forever<br>
+ <span class="c4">Repeats its story of love,</span><br>
+ And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,<br>
+ <span class="c4">All other days above.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And this is Washington's glory,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A steadfast soul and true,</span><br>
+ Who stood for his country's honor<br>
+ <span class="c4">When his country's days were few.</span><br>
+ And now when its days are many,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And its flag of stars is flung</span><br>
+ To the breeze in radiant glory,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His name is on every tongue.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To be so great and strong,</span><br>
+ That your memory is ever a tocsin<br>
+ <span class="c4">To rally the foes of wrong;</span><br>
+ To live so proudly and purely,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That your people pause in their way,</span><br>
+ And year by year, with banner and drum,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Keep the thought of your natal day.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Margaret E. Sangster.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>By permission of the author.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_77_"></a>
+<h1>_77_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>Brit' on (un)</td>
+<td>ant' lers</td>
+<td>wrin' kled</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>vet' er an</td>
+<td>im mor' tal</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>He lay upon his dying bed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His eye was growing dim,</span><br>
+ When, with a feeble voice, he called<br>
+ <span class="c4">His weeping son to him:</span><br>
+ "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I bow to heaven's high will;</span><br>
+ But quickly from yon antlers bring<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sword of Bunker Hill."</span><br>
+<br>
+ The sword was brought; the soldier's eye<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lit with a sudden flame;</span><br>
+ And, as he grasped the ancient blade,<br>
+ <span class="c4">He murmured Warren's name;</span><br>
+ Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But what is richer still,</span><br>
+ I leave you, mark me, mark me well,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sword of Bunker Hill.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I dared the Briton's band;</span><br>
+ A captain raised his blade on me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I tore it from his hand;</span><br>
+ And while the glorious battle raged,<br>
+ <span class="c4">It lightened Freedom's will;</span><br>
+ For, son, the God of Freedom blessed<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sword of Bunker Hill.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">A smile-and he was dead;</span><br>
+ But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Upon that dying bed.</span><br>
+ The son remains, the sword remains,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its glory growing still,</span><br>
+ And twenty millions bless the sire<br>
+ <span class="c4">And sword of Bunker Hill.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>William R. Wallace.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/243.gif" width="530" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_78_"></a>
+<h1>_78_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>es' say</td>
+<td>buoy' ant</td>
+<td>in sip' id</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fe quent' ing</td>
+<td>scowl' ing ly</td>
+<td>sug ges' tion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in tel' li gence</td>
+<td>sin' gu lar ly</td>
+<td>so lic' i tude</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com pet' i tor</td>
+<td>phi los' o pher</td>
+<td>ve' he ment ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>tre men' dous ly</td>
+<td>ex pos tu la' tion</td>
+<td>ig no min' i ous ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE MARTYR'S BOY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor,
+that comes forward with light and buoyant steps across the open
+court, towards the inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to
+sketch him before he reaches it. He is about fourteen years old,
+but tall for that age, with elegance of form and manliness of
+bearing. His bare neck and limbs are well developed by healthy
+exercise; his features display an open and warm heart, while his
+lofty forehead, round which his brown hair naturally curls, beams
+with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual youth's garment,
+the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow spheroid of
+gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind
+him, shows us that he is just returning home from school.</p>
+<p>While we have been thus noting him, he has received his
+mother's embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes
+upon him for some time in silence, as if to discover in his
+countenance the cause of his unusual delay, for he is an hour
+late in his return. But he meets her glance with so frank a look,
+and with such a smile of innocence, that every cloud of doubt is
+in a moment dispelled, and she addresses him as follows:</p>
+<p>"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I
+trust, has happened to you on the way."</p>
+<p>"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all
+has been so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell
+you."</p>
+<p>A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted
+boy a delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must.
+You know I am never happy if I have failed to tell you all the
+bad and the good of the day about myself. But, to-day, for the
+first time, I have a doubt whether I ought to tell you all."</p>
+<p>Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a
+first anxiety, or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye,
+that the youth should seize her hand and put it tenderly to his
+lips, while he thus replied:</p>
+<p>"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing
+that may give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear <i>all</i>
+that has befallen me to-day, or only the cause of my late return
+home?"</p>
+<p>"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that
+concerns you can be indifferent to me."</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/246.gif" width="471" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting
+school appears to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I
+was crowned as the successful competitor in a declamation, which
+our good master Cassianus set us for our work during the morning
+hours; and this led, as you will hear, to some singular
+discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real philosopher should
+be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard anything so
+cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can
+they have to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a
+Christian, what charming suggestions such a theme naturally
+makes! And so I felt it. My heart glowed, and all my thoughts
+seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of the lessons you have
+taught me, and of the domestic examples that are before me. The
+son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my turn came
+to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the
+second, I saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending
+affectionately towards me, he said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my
+child, there are sharp ears listening.'"</p>
+<p>"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a
+Christian? I chose his school because it was in the highest
+repute for learning and morality; and now indeed I thank God that
+I did so. But in these days of danger we are obliged to live as
+strangers in our own land. Certainly, had Cassianus proclaimed
+his faith, his school would soon have been deserted. But go on,
+my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"</p>
+<p>"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows
+vehemently applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes
+of Corvinus bent scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in
+manifest anger."</p>
+<p>"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and
+wherefore?"</p>
+<p>"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in
+the school. But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know
+not why, he seems ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause
+of which I cannot understand."</p>
+<p>"Did he say aught to you, or do?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth
+from school into the field by the river, he addressed me
+insultingly in the presence of our companions, and said, 'Come,
+Pancratius, this, I understand, is the last time we meet
+<i>here</i>; but I have a long score to demand payment of from
+you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your
+supercilious looks at me as you spouted your high-flown
+declamation to-day; ay, and I caught expressions in it which you
+may live to rue, and that very soon. Before you leave us, I must
+have my revenge. If you are worthy of your name let us fairly
+contend in more manly strife than that of the style and tables.
+Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to humble
+you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"</p>
+<p>The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and
+scarcely breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my
+dear son?"</p>
+<p>"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of
+my school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority
+over them. 'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know,
+Corvinus, that I have always refused to indulge in personal
+combats, which, beginning in a cool trial of skill, end in an
+angry strife, hatred, and wish for revenge. How much less could I
+think of entering on them now, when you avow that you are anxious
+to begin them with those evil feelings which are usually their
+bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle round us; and
+I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had hoped
+to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all
+happiness attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you,
+in peace,' 'Not so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face
+with fury; 'but-'"</p>
+<p>The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered,
+his body trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go
+on; I dare not tell the rest!"</p>
+<p>"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your
+father's memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her
+son's head, "conceal nothing from me. I shall never again have
+rest if you tell me not all. What further said or did
+Corvinus?"</p>
+<p>The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent
+prayer, and then proceeded:</p>
+<p>"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have
+concealed your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then
+bear this token of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So
+saying, he dealt me a furious blow upon the face, which made me
+reel and stagger, while a shout of savage delight broke forth
+from the boys around us."</p>
+<p>He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:</p>
+<p>"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart
+seemed bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my
+ear the name of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt
+that I was strong enough-my rising anger made me so-to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping on the
+ground. I heard already the shout of applause that would have
+hailed my victory and turned the tables against him. It was the
+hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood so strong
+within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."</p>
+<p>"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the
+trembling matron.</p>
+<p>He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I
+stretched forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive
+you, as I freely and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.'
+Cassianus came up at that moment, having seen all from a
+distance, and the youthful crowd quickly dispersed. I entreated
+him, by our common faith, now acknowledged between us, not to
+pursue Corvinus for what he had done; and I obtained his promise.
+And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in soft, gentle
+accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call this a
+happy day?"</p>
+<p><i>"Fabiola"-Cardinal Wiseman.</i></p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/251.gif" width="541" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>spheroid</b> (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a
+sphere.</p>
+<p><b>vellum</b>, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a
+lamb, goat, sheep or young calf, for writing on.</p>
+<p><b>theme</b>, a subject or topic on which a person writes or
+speaks.</p>
+<p><b>score</b>, bill, account, reckoning.</p>
+<p><b>supercil'ious</b>, proud, haughty.</p>
+<p><b>styles and tables</b>, writing implements for schools. The
+tables or tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters
+were traced by the sharp point of the style, and erased by its
+flat top.</p>
+<p><b>cestus</b>, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of
+leather bands, and often loaded with lead or iron.</p>
+<p><b>"If you are worthy of your name."</b> Reference is here
+made by Corvinus to the <i>pancratium</i>, an athletic exercise
+among the Romans, which combined all personal contests, such as
+boxing, wrestling, etc.</p>
+<p><b>Cassianus</b>, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a
+school for Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to
+offer sacrifice to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his
+own pupils should stab him to death with their iron writing
+pencils, called styles.</p>
+<p><b>ay</b> or <b>aye</b>, meaning <i>yes</i>, is pronounced
+<i>[=i]</i> or <i>[:a][)i]</i>; meaning <i>ever</i>, and used
+only in poetry, it is pronounced <i>[=a]</i>.</p>
+<p>Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be
+clearly impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in
+your own words a description of "The Martyr's Boy."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_79_"></a>
+<h1>_79_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE ANGEL'S STORY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Through the blue and frosty heavens<br>
+ <span class="c4">Christmas stars were shining bright;</span><br>
+ Glistening lamps throughout the City<br>
+ <span class="c4">Almost matched their gleaming light;</span><br>
+ While the winter snow was lying,<br>
+ And the winter winds were sighing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Long ago, one Christmas night.</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ Rich and poor felt love and blessing<br>
+ <span class="c4">From the gracious season fall;</span><br>
+ Joy and plenty in the cottage,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Peace and feasting in the hall;</span><br>
+ And the voices of the children<br>
+ <span class="c4">Ringing clear above it all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Yet one house was dim and darkened;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gloom, and sickness, and despair,</span><br>
+ Dwelling in the gilded chambers,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Creeping up the marble stair,</span><br>
+ Even stilled the voice of mourning,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">For a child lay dying there.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Silken curtains fell around him,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Velvet carpets hushed the tread,</span><br>
+ Many costly toys were lying<br>
+ <span class="c4">All unheeded by his bed;</span><br>
+ And his tangled golden ringlets<br>
+ <span class="c4">Were on downy pillows spread.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The skill of all that mighty City<br>
+ <span class="c4">To save one little life was vain,-</span><br>
+ One little thread from being broken,<br>
+ One fatal word from being spoken;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nay, his very mother's pain</span><br>
+ And the mighty love within her<br>
+ <span class="c4">Could not give him health again.</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ Suddenly an unseen Presence<br>
+ <span class="c4">Checked those constant moaning
+cries,</span><br>
+ Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Raised those blue and wondering
+eyes,</span><br>
+ Fixed on some mysterious vision<br>
+ <span class="c4">With a startled, sweet surprise.</span><br>
+<br>
+ For a radiant angel hovered,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Smiling, o'er the little bed;</span><br>
+ White his raiment; from his shoulders<br>
+ <span class="c4">Snowy dove-like pinions spread,</span><br>
+ And a starlike light was shining<br>
+ <span class="c4">In a glory round his head.</span><br>
+<br>
+ While, with tender love, the angel,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Leaning o'er the little nest,</span><br>
+ In his arms the sick child folding,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Laid him gently on his breast,</span><br>
+ Sobs and wailings told the mother<br>
+ <span class="c4">That her darling was at rest.</span><br>
+<br>
+ So the angel, slowly rising,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Spread his wings, and through the
+air</span><br>
+ Bore the child; and, while he held him<br>
+ <span class="c4">To his heart with loving care,</span><br>
+ Placed a branch of crimson roses<br>
+ <span class="c4">Tenderly beside him there.</span><br>
+<br>
+ While the child, thus clinging, floated<br>
+ <span class="c4">Towards the mansions of the Blest,</span><br>
+ Gazing from his shining guardian<br>
+ <span class="c4">To the flowers upon his breast,</span><br>
+ Thus the angel spake, still smiling<br>
+ <span class="c4">On the little heavenly guest:</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Know, dear little one, that Heaven<br>
+ <span class="c4">Does no earthly thing disdain;</span><br>
+ Man's poor joys find there an echo<br>
+ <span class="c4">Just as surely as his pain;</span><br>
+ Love, on earth so feebly striving,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lives divine in Heaven again.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Once, in that great town below us,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In a poor and narrow street,</span><br>
+ Dwelt a little sickly orphan;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gentle aid, or pity sweet,</span><br>
+ Never in life's rugged pathway<br>
+ <span class="c4">Guided his poor tottering feet.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "All the striving, anxious fore-thought<br>
+ <span class="c4">That should only come with age</span><br>
+ Weighed upon his baby spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Showed him soon life's sternest
+page;</span><br>
+ Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow<br>
+ <span class="c4">Was his only heritage."</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ "One bright day, with feeble footsteps<br>
+ <span class="c4">Slowly forth he tried to crawl</span><br>
+ Through the crowded city's pathways,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Till he reached a garden-wall,</span><br>
+ Where 'mid princely halls and mansions<br>
+ <span class="c4">Stood the lordliest of all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "There were trees with giant branches,<br>
+ Velvet glades where shadows hide;<br>
+ There were sparkling fountains glancing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Flowers, which in luxuriant pride</span><br>
+ Even wafted breaths of perfume<br>
+ <span class="c4">To the child who stood outside.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "He against the gate of iron<br>
+ <span class="c4">Pressed his wan and wistful face,</span><br>
+ Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure<br>
+ <span class="c4">At the glories of the place;</span><br>
+ Never had his brightest day-dream<br>
+ <span class="c4">Shone with half such wondrous grace.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "You were playing in that garden,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Throwing blossoms in the air,</span><br>
+ Laughing when the petals floated<br>
+ <span class="c4">Downwards on your golden hair;</span><br>
+ And the fond eyes watching o'er you,<br>
+ And the splendor spread before you,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Told a House's Hope was there.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "When your servants, tired of seeing<br>
+ <span class="c4">Such a face of want and woe,</span><br>
+ Turning to the ragged orphan,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gave him coin, and bade him go,</span><br>
+ Down his cheeks so thin and wasted<br>
+ <span class="c4">Bitter tears began to flow.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "But that look of childish sorrow<br>
+ <span class="c4">On your tender child-heart fell,</span><br>
+ And you plucked the reddest roses<br>
+ <span class="c4">From the tree you loved so well,</span><br>
+ Passed them through the stern cold grating,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure<br>
+ <span class="c4">And the gentle voice he heard,</span><br>
+ In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;</span><br>
+ In his hand he took the flowers,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In his heart the loving word.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "So he crept to his poor garret;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Poor no more, but rich and bright;</span><br>
+ For the holy dreams of childhood-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light-</span><br>
+ Floated round the orphan's pillow<br>
+ <span class="c4">Through the starry summer night.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;<br>
+ <span class="c4">All too weak to rise he lay;</span><br>
+ Did he dream that none spake harshly,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">All were strangely kind that day?</span><br>
+ Surely then his treasured roses<br>
+ <span class="c4">Must have charmed all ills away.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "And he smiled, though they were fading;<br>
+ <span class="c4">One by one their leaves were shed;</span><br>
+ 'Such bright things could never perish,<br>
+ <span class="c4">They would bloom again,' he said.</span><br>
+ When the next day's sun had risen<br>
+ <span class="c4">Child and flowers both were dead.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Know, dear little one, our Father<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will no gentle deed disdain;</span><br>
+ Love on the cold earth beginning<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lives divine in Heaven again;</span><br>
+ While the angel hearts that beat there<br>
+ <span class="c4">Still all tender thoughts retain."</span><br>
+<br>
+ So the angel ceased, and gently<br>
+ <span class="c4">O'er his little burden leant;</span><br>
+ While the child gazed from the shining,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Loving eyes that o'er him bent,</span><br>
+ To the blooming roses by him.<br>
+ <span class="c4">Wondering what that mystery meant.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Thus the radiant angel answered,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And with tender meaning smiled:</span><br>
+ "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sin and the hard world defiled,</span><br>
+ God has given me leave to seek you,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">I was once that little child!"</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ In the churchyard of that city<br>
+ <span class="c4">Rose a tomb of marble rare,</span><br>
+ Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With her buds and blossoms fair,-</span><br>
+ And a humble grave beside it,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">No one knew who rested there.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/257.gif" width="277" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Kaulbach</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into
+a composition the length of which to be determined by your
+teacher. Use many of the words and forms of expression you find
+in the poem.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>THE ANGEL'S STORY</p>
+<p>A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given
+a bunch of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers.
+Afterwards he came as a "radiant angel" to visit his dying
+friend, and in a spirit of gratitude bore him to heaven.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_80_"></a>
+<h1>_80_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>al' ti tude</td>
+<td>as tound' ing</td>
+<td>ve loc' i ty</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>vag' a bond</td>
+<td>mus tach' es</td>
+<td>hes i ta' ting ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>par' a lyzed</td>
+<td>tre men' dous</td>
+<td>ex tra or' di na ry</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">GLUCK'S VISITOR.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one
+day Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual
+warning to little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he
+was to let nobody in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite
+close to the fire, for it was raining very hard. He turned and
+turned, and the roast got nice and brown.</p>
+<p>"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask
+anybody to dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of
+mutton as this, it would do their hearts good to have somebody to
+eat it with them." Just as he spoke there came a double knock at
+the house door, yet heavy and dull, as though the knocker had
+been tied up. "It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else
+would venture to knock double knocks at our door."</p>
+<p>No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and
+what was particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a
+hurry, and not to be in the least afraid of the consequences.
+Gluck put his head out the window to see who it was.</p>
+<p>It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had
+ever seen in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly
+brass-colored; his cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes
+twinkled merrily through long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches
+curled twice round like a corkscrew on each side of his mouth,
+and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt color, descended
+far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in height, and
+wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude, decorated
+with a black feather some three feet long. He wore an enormous
+black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very much too
+long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.</p>
+<p>Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his
+visitor that he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until
+the old gentleman turned round to look after his fly-away cloak.
+In so doing he caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed
+in the window, with its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/264.gif" width="397" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to
+answer the door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman
+justice, he <i>was</i> wet. His feather hung down between his
+legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella; and
+from the end of his mustaches the water was running into his
+waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.</p>
+<p>"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."</p>
+<p>"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.</p>
+<p>"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death,
+sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"</p>
+<p>"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and
+there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on
+the walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."</p>
+<p>Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the
+window that he began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold.
+When he turned and saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring,
+and throwing long, bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were
+licking its chops at the savory smell of the leg of mutton, his
+heart melted within him that it should be burning away for
+nothing.</p>
+<p>"He does look <i>very</i> wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just
+let him in for a quarter of an hour."</p>
+<p>As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind
+through the house that made the old chimney totter.</p>
+<p>"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to
+them."</p>
+<p>"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let
+you stay till they come; they'd be the death of me."</p>
+<p>"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that.
+How long may I stay?"</p>
+<p>"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's
+very brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and
+sat himself down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the
+chimney, for it was much too high for the roof.</p>
+<p>"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again
+to turn the mutton. But the old gentleman did <i>not</i> dry
+there, but went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, so
+that the fire fizzed and sputtered and began to look very black
+and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran
+like a gutter.</p>
+<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the
+water spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor;
+"mayn't I take your cloak?"</p>
+<p>"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.</p>
+<p>"Your cap, sir?"</p>
+<p>"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather
+gruffly.</p>
+<p>"But-sir-I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but-really-sir-you're putting the fire out."</p>
+<p>"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."</p>
+<p>Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it
+was such a strange mixture of coolness and humility.</p>
+<p>"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't
+you give me a little bit?"</p>
+<p>"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.</p>
+<p>"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had
+nothing to eat yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a
+bit from the knuckle!"</p>
+<p>He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted
+Gluck's heart.</p>
+<p>"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give
+you that, but no more."</p>
+<p>"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.</p>
+<p>"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.</p>
+<p>Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came
+a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck
+fitted the slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the
+door.</p>
+<p>"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz,
+as he walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.</p>
+<p>"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans,
+administering an educational box on the ear, as he followed his
+brother.</p>
+<p>"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.</p>
+<p>"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off,
+and was standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the
+utmost velocity.</p>
+<p>"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and
+turning fiercely to Gluck.</p>
+<p>"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great
+terror.</p>
+<p>"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.</p>
+<p>"My dear brother, he was so <i>very</i> wet!"</p>
+<p>The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that
+instant, the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which
+it crashed with a shock that shook the water out of it all over
+the room. What was very odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched
+the cap, than it flew out of Schwartz's hand, spinning like a
+straw in a high wind, and fell into the corner at the farther end
+of the room.</p>
+<p>"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.</p>
+<p>"What's your business?" snarled Hans.</p>
+<p>"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very
+modestly, "and I saw your fire through the window, and begged
+shelter for a quarter of an hour."</p>
+<p>"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz.
+"We've quite enough water in our kitchen, without making it a
+drying house."</p>
+<p>"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir;
+look at my gray hairs."</p>
+<p>"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm.
+Walk!"</p>
+<p>"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of
+bread before I go?"</p>
+<p>"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing
+to do with our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"</p>
+<p>"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out
+with you."</p>
+<p>"A little bit," said the old gentleman.</p>
+<p>"Be off!" said Schwartz.</p>
+<p>"Pray, gentlemen."</p>
+<p>"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no
+sooner touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after
+the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the
+corner on the top of it.</p>
+<p>Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to
+turn him out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he
+went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the
+wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all
+three.</p>
+<p>Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak
+was all wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very
+much on one side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and
+replied, with perfect coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very
+good morning. At twelve o'clock to-night, I'll call again."</p>
+<p><i>John Ruskin.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection
+is taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in
+1841, for the amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the
+finest story of its kind in the language.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_81_"></a>
+<h1>_81_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>elf</td>
+<td>en cir' cled</td>
+<td>jerk</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>hur' ri cane</td>
+<td>rein'deer</td>
+<td>min' i a ture</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>tar' nished</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9">A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the
+house<br>
+ Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:<br>
+ The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,<br>
+ In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.<br>
+ The children were nestled all snug in their beds,<br>
+ While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;<br>
+ And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,<br>
+ Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,<br>
+ When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,<br>
+ I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.<br>
+ Away to the window I flew like a flash,<br>
+ Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.<br>
+ The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow<br>
+ Gave the luster of midday to objects below;<br>
+ When, what to my wondering eyes should appear<br>
+ But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,<br>
+ With a little old driver, so lively and quick,<br>
+ I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!<br>
+ More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,<br>
+ And he whistled, and shouted and called them by name:<br>
+ "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!<br>
+ On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!<br>
+ To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,<br>
+ Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"<br>
+ As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly<br>
+ When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,<br>
+ So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,<br>
+ With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;<br>
+ And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof<br>
+ The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.<br>
+ As I drew in my head, and was turning around,<br>
+ Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.<br>
+ He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,<br>
+ And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;<br>
+ A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,<br>
+ And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;<br>
+ His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!<br>
+ His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;<br>
+ His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,<br>
+ And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;<br>
+ The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,<br>
+ And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;<br>
+ He had a broad face, and a little round belly,<br>
+ That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.<br>
+ He was chubby and plump,-a right jolly old elf-<br>
+ And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.<br>
+ A wink of his eye and a twist of his head<br>
+ Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.<br>
+ He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,<br>
+ And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,<br>
+ And, laying his finger aside of his nose,<br>
+ And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.<br>
+ He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,<br>
+ And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;<br>
+ But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,<br>
+ "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"<br>
+
+<p><i>Clement C. Moore.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_82_"></a>
+<h1>_82_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>a chieved'</td>
+<td>es poused'</td>
+<td>thral' dom</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>al li' ance</td>
+<td>ter rif' ic</td>
+<td>Del' a ware</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Com' mo dore</td>
+<td>re cip' i ents</td>
+<td>New' found land</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>can non ad' ing</td>
+<td>par tic' i pa ted</td>
+<td>char ac ter is' tic</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9">COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds.
+From the early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks
+of King George's proud ships with merciless fire, down to the
+glories achieved by Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with
+Spain, the story of our Navy is the pride and glory of our
+Republic. The glowing track of its victories extends around the
+world.</p>
+<p>Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds
+adorn the pages of our country's history, there is none more
+deserving of our gratitude and admiration than Commodore John
+Barry. His name and fame will live in the naval annals of our
+country as long as the history of America lasts.</p>
+<p>Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in
+County Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen
+he left home for a life on</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"The sea, the sea, the open sea,<br>
+ The blue, the fresh, the ever free."<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America.
+He spent his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way
+soon acquired a general and practical education. By fidelity to
+duty, he advanced so rapidly in his profession that at the age of
+twenty-five we find him in command of the <i>Black Prince,</i>
+one of the finest merchant vessels then running between
+Philadelphia and London.</p>
+<p>When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and
+England, our gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship,
+and without delay or hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted
+country. Congress purchased a few vessels, had them fitted out
+for war, and placed the little fleet under the command of Captain
+Barry. His flagship was the <i>Lexington</i>, named after the
+first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at this time
+adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+<i>Lexington</i> was the first to hoist this ensign of
+freedom.</p>
+<p>From the time of the fitting out of the <i>Lexington</i> down
+to the time of the declaration of peace, which assured the
+liberation of the Colonies from the thraldom of Great Britain,
+Commodore Barry was constantly engaged on shore and afloat.
+Though he actually participated in upwards of twenty sea fights,
+always against a force superior to his own, he never once struck
+his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations ranged all the
+way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies, and as far
+east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories were
+hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men
+were publicly thanked by General Washington.</p>
+<p>During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was
+spending the winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our
+brave soldiers perishing for want of provisions, blankets,
+clothing and tents, an incident occurred which shows how
+supremely loyal and devoted Commodore Barry was to the American
+cause. The British troops were occupying Philadelphia. Lord Howe,
+their commander, offered our great sea fighter a bribe of fifty
+thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if he would
+abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I
+have engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither
+the value nor the command of the whole British fleet can seduce
+me from it."</p>
+<p>General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and
+daring and loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and
+safest man to be trusted with the important mission of carrying
+our commissioners to France to secure that alliance and
+assistance which we then so sorely needed.</p>
+<p>On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a
+British man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his
+ship, captain, and destination, he gave the following bold and
+characteristic reply: "This is the United States ship
+<i>Alliance</i>: Jack Barry, half Irishman and half Yankee,
+commander: who are you?" In the engagement that followed, Barry
+and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor that after a
+few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was forced to
+strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."</p>
+<p>This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of
+Commodore in the service of our Republic, continued at the head
+of our infant Navy till his death, which took place in
+Philadelphia, on the 13th of September, 1803. During life he was
+generous and charitable, and at his death made the children of
+the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia the chief recipients
+of his wealth. His remains repose in the little graveyard
+attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.</p>
+<p>Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St.
+Patrick," a society of which General Washington himself was a
+member, a magnificent monument was erected to the memory of
+Commodore Barry, in Independence Square, Philadelphia, under the
+shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle of American liberty. Miss
+Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece of the Commodore,
+had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the unveiling, which
+took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>There are gallant hearts whose glory<br>
+ <span class="c4">Columbia loves to name,</span><br>
+ Whose deeds shall live in story<br>
+ <span class="c4">And everlasting fame.</span><br>
+ But never yet one braver<br>
+ <span class="c4">Our starry banner bore</span><br>
+ Than saucy old Jack Barry,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The Irish Commodore.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies
+compose it? What is the number of senators, and how are they
+chosen?</p>
+<p>Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul
+Jones?</p>
+<p>Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And
+Admiral Schley?</p>
+<p>What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?</p>
+<p>What does "never struck his flag" mean?</p>
+<p>Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.</p>
+<p>Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the
+selection.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/274.gif" width="273" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>COMMODORE JOHN BARRY</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_83_"></a>
+<h1>_83_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>sau' cy</td>
+<td>ig nored'</td>
+<td>rev' eled</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>plain' tive</td>
+<td>dis traught'</td>
+<td>wea' ri some</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>rol' lick ing</td>
+<td>mis' chie vous</td>
+<td>frec'kle-faced</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9">THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>He was the boy of the house, you know,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A jolly and rollicking lad;</span><br>
+ He was never tired, and never sick,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And nothing could make him sad.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Did some one urge that he make less noise,<br>
+ <span class="c4">He would say, with a saucy grin,</span><br>
+ "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir-<br>
+ <span class="c4">I'm sorry I am not a twin!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ "There are two of twins-oh, it must be fun<br>
+ <span class="c4">To go double at everything:</span><br>
+ To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To whistle by twos, and to sing!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ His laugh was something to make you glad,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So brimful was it of joy;</span><br>
+ A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But it never troubled the boy.</span><br>
+<br>
+ You met him out in the garden path,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With the terrier at his heels;</span><br>
+ You knew by the shout he hailed you with<br>
+ <span class="c4">How happy a youngster feels.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The maiden auntie was half distraught<br>
+ <span class="c4">At his tricks as the days went by;</span><br>
+ "The most mischievous child in the world!"<br>
+ <span class="c4">She said, with a shrug and a sigh.</span><br>
+<br>
+ His father owned that her words were true,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And his mother declared each day</span><br>
+ Was putting wrinkles into her face,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And was turning her brown hair gray.</span><br>
+<br>
+ But it never troubled the boy of the house;<br>
+ <span class="c4">He reveled in clatter and din,</span><br>
+ And had only one regret in the world-<br>
+ <span class="c4">That he hadn't been born a twin.</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ There's nobody making a noise to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">There's nobody stamping the floor,</span><br>
+ There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,<br>
+ <span class="c4">There's crape on the wide hall door.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The terrier's whining out in the sun-<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Where's my comrade?" he seems to
+say;</span><br>
+ Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.<br>
+ <span class="c4">There's no frolic for you to-day.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The freckle-faced girl from the house next door<br>
+ <span class="c4">Is sobbing her young heart out;</span><br>
+ Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget<br>
+ <span class="c4">To miss the laugh and the shout.</span><br>
+<br>
+ How strangely quiet the little form,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With the hands on the bosom crossed!</span><br>
+ Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!</span><br>
+<br>
+ So solemn and still the big house seems-<br>
+ <span class="c4">No laughter, no racket, no din,</span><br>
+ No starting shriek, no voice piping out,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I'm sorry I am not a twin!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ There a man and a woman, pale with grief,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As the wearisome moments creep;</span><br>
+ Oh! the loneliness touches everything-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The boy of the house is asleep.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Jean Blewett.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From the Toronto <i>Globe</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/279.gif" width="387" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_84_"></a>
+<h1>_84_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9"><b>BIOGRAPHIES</b></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Cook, Eliza</b>, was born in London, England, in the year
+1817, and was the most popular poetess of her day. When a young
+girl, she gave herself so completely up to reading that her
+father threatened to burn her books. She began to write at an
+early age, and contributed poems and essays to various
+periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will live. She
+died in 1889.</p>
+<p><b>Cowper, William</b>, is one of the most eminent and popular
+of all English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother
+dying when he was only six years old, the child was sent away
+from home to boarding school, where he suffered so much from the
+cruelty of a bigger boy that he was obliged to leave that school
+for another. At the completion of his college course he expressed
+regrets that his education was not received in a school where he
+could be taught his duty to God. "I have been graduated," he
+writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the gospel." His
+longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a poet
+chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.</p>
+<p><b>Dickens, Charles</b>, one of the greatest and most popular
+of the novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard,
+persistent work he raised himself from obscurity and poverty to
+fame and fortune. After only two years of schooling he was
+obliged to go to work. His first job was pasting labels on
+blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five cents a day! He
+next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then reporter
+for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from a
+book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in
+1867, he lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is
+buried in Westminster Abbey.</p>
+<p><b>Donnelly, Eleanor Cecilia</b>, began to write verses when
+she was but eight years old. Her early education was directed by
+her mother, a gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been
+devoted to the cause of Catholic truth and the elevation of
+Catholic literature. Besides hundreds of charming stories and
+essays, she has published several volumes of poems. Her writings
+on sacred subjects display a strong, intelligent faith, and a
+tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos, originality, grace of
+diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment, and sublimity
+of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our American
+poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city of
+Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of
+every Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor
+and glory of Almighty God.</p>
+<p><b>Gould, Hannah F.,</b> an American poetess, has written many
+pleasant poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King"
+have long been favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year
+1789, and died in 1865.</p>
+<p><b>Hawthorne, Nathaniel,</b> was born in Salem, Mass., on July
+4, 1804. When still quite young he showed a great fondness for
+reading. At the early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's
+"Pilgrim's Progress." At college he was a classmate of
+Longfellow. Among his writings are a number of stories for
+children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The Snow-Image," "The Wonder
+Books," and some stories of American history. His volumes of
+short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The Scarlet
+Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of
+the Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The
+Marble Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in
+1864, and is buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a
+delicate and exquisite humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use
+of language. His style may be said to combine almost every
+excellence-elegance, simplicity, grace, clearness and force.</p>
+<p><b>Hayne, Paul Hamilton,</b> an American poet, was born in
+South Carolina in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of
+poems. His death occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the
+American patriot, Isaac Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in
+1780, fell into the hands of the British, and was hanged by them
+because he refused to join their ranks and fight against his
+country.</p>
+<p><b>Holland, Josiah Gilbert,</b> a popular American author who
+wrote under the assumed name of <i>Timothy Titcomb,</i> was born
+in Massachusetts in the year 1819. He began life as a physician,
+but after a few years of practice gave up his profession and went
+to Vicksburg, Miss., as Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a
+number of novels and several volumes of essays. In 1870 he became
+editor of <i>Scribner's Magazine.</i> He died in 1881.</p>
+<p><b>Hunt, Leigh</b>, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an
+intimate friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born
+near London, England, in 1784, and died in 1859.</p>
+<p><b>Jackson, Helen Hunt</b>, a noted American writer of prose
+and poetry, and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the
+initials of her name), was born in Massachusetts in the year
+1831. She is the author of many charming poems, short stories,
+and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk" and "Bits of Travel." She
+lived some years in Colorado, where her life brought to her
+notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she wrote "A
+Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what
+"Uncle Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in
+California in 1885.</p>
+<p><b>"Mercedes"</b> is the pen name of an able, zealous, and
+devoted Sister of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has
+written several excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools
+which have met the test of successful production. Her "Wild
+Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a volume of Poems and Dramas
+that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of true poetry." A
+competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their hues most
+delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+enriched the columns of <i>The Missionary</i> and other
+publications with several true stories, in attractive prose, of
+edifying conversions resulting from the missionary zeal of priest
+and teacher. Her graceful pen is ever at the service of every
+cause tending to the glory of God and the good of souls.</p>
+<p><b>Moore, Thomas</b>, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland,
+in the year 1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His
+matchless "Melodies" are the delight of all lovers of music, and
+are sung all over the world. Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated
+them into the grand old Celtic tongue. Moore is the greatest of
+Ireland's song-writers, and one of the world's greatest. As a
+poet few have equaled him in the power to write poetry which
+charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display an
+exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts
+which they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he
+spent the later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In
+1896, the Moore Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his
+grave a monument consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic
+cross.</p>
+<p><b>Moore, Clement C.,</b> poet and teacher, was born in New
+York in 1779. In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary
+founded by his father, who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the
+Protestant Episcopal diocese of New York. He died in 1863.</p>
+<p><b>Morris, George P.,</b> poet and journalist, wrote several
+popular poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and
+ballads. He was born in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died
+in New York in 1864.</p>
+<p><b>McCarthy, Denis Aloysius,</b> poet, lecturer and
+journalist, was born in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary,
+Ireland, in the year 1871, and made his elementary and
+intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers' School of his
+native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round
+of Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a
+distinguished critic who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is
+soulful and sweet, and sings itself into the heart of anyone who
+has a bit of sentiment in his make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at
+present Associate Editor of the <i>Sacred Heart Review</i> of
+Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and contributes
+poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various papers and
+magazines.</p>
+<p><b>Newman, Cardinal John Henry,</b> was born in London in
+1801, and studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a
+minister of the Church of England, and rose rapidly in his
+profession. In 1845 he abandoned the English ministry, renounced
+the errors of Protestantism, and entered the Catholic Church, of
+which he remained till death a most faithful, devoted, and
+zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was made Rector of
+the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879 was raised
+to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will
+profit by and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss
+and Gain" and "Callista." The former is the story of a convert;
+the latter a tale of the third century, in which the beautiful
+heroine and martyr, Callista, is presented with a master's art.
+Newman is the greatest master of English prose. In this field he
+holds the same rank that Shakespeare does in English poetry. To
+his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English essayist, pays the
+following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm of Dr.
+Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the
+jumping of one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters
+the room." This great Prince of the Church died the death of the
+saints in the year 1890.</p>
+<p><b>O'Reilly, John Boyle,</b> patriot, author, poet and
+journalist, was born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in
+County Meath, Ireland, in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to
+England as agent of the Fenian Brotherhood, an organization whose
+purpose was the freedom of Ireland from English rule. In 1863 he
+joined the English army in order to sow the seeds of revolution
+among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested, tried for treason,
+and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted to twenty
+years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to Australia
+to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston
+<i>Pilot</i> in 1874. He is the author of "Songs from the
+Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and Ballads," and of other works.
+He died in 1890. All through life the voice and pen of Boyle
+O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his native land, and
+his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his character.
+In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+monument.</p>
+<p><b>Riley, James Whitcomb,</b> called the "Hoosier Poet," was
+born in Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a
+strong sense of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and
+goes to the heart. He has written much in dialect. His home is in
+Indianapolis.</p>
+<p><b>Ruskin, John,</b> one of the most famous of English
+authors, was born in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He
+spent several years in Italy in the study of art. He wrote many
+volumes of essays and lectures, chiefly on matters connected with
+art and art criticism. In his writings we find many beautiful
+pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and such things. His
+"Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature, established his
+reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He died in
+1900.</p>
+<p><b>Sangster, Mrs. Margaret E.,</b> editor and poet, was born
+in New Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated
+in Vienna. She has successfully edited such periodicals as
+<i>Hearth and Home, Harpers' Young People, and Harpers'
+Bazaar,</i> in which much of her prose and poetry has appeared.
+She is at present (1909) the editor of <i>The Woman's Home
+Companion.</i></p>
+<p><b>Southey, Robert,</b> an eminent English poet and author,
+was born in the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of
+ten. In 1792 he was expelled from the Westminster School for
+writing an essay against corporal punishment. He then entered one
+of the colleges of Oxford University, where he became an intimate
+friend of Coleridge. While residing at Lisbon he began a special
+study of Spanish and Portuguese literature. In 1813 he was
+appointed poet-laureate of England, and in 1835 received a
+pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey, Coleridge
+and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in
+their writings described the scenery of that beautiful
+region.</p>
+<p><b>Tennyson, Alfred,</b> is considered the greatest poet of
+his age, and one of the great English poets of modern times. He
+was born in the year 1809, and educated at Cambridge University.
+In 1850 he gave to the world "In Memoriam," his lament for the
+loss by death of his friend, Arthur H. Hallam. In 1851 he
+succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His poems, long
+and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King," "The
+Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of
+thought, of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented
+by the entire English-speaking world, and was buried in
+Westminster Abbey. Tennyson always loved the sea, the music of
+whose restless waves awakened an answering echo in his heart.</p>
+<p><b>Wallace, William R.,</b> was born at Lexington, Ky., in the
+year 1819. As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword
+of Bunker Hill."</p>
+<p><b>Westwood, Thomas,</b> an English poet, was born in the year
+1814, and died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one
+of which was "Beads from a Rosary."</p>
+<p><b>Whittier, John G.,</b> called the "Quaker Poet," was born
+in Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and
+were poor. When young he learned to make shoes, and with the
+money thus earned he paid his way at school. He was a boy of
+nineteen when his first verses were published. His poems were
+inspired by current events, and their patriotic spirit gives them
+a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound" is considered his
+greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he never visited
+a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He gave
+thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery
+struggle. While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied
+in their libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the
+slave. Of this he wrote-<br>
+</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"Forego the dreams of lettered ease,<br>
+ Put thou the scholar's promise by;<br>
+ The rights of man are more than these."<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.</p>
+<p><b>Wiseman, Cardinal Nicholas Patrick,</b> was born in the
+year 1802 in Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there.
+His family returned to Ireland, where he was educated. When he
+was sixteen he entered the English College, Rome, and was
+ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was appointed Coadjutor
+Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of Westminster,
+and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a profound
+scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is the
+author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the
+<i>Dublin Review.</i> He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church
+of the Catacombs," from which some selections have been taken for
+this Reader, is one of the classics of our language. It was
+written in 1854.</p>
+<p><b>Woodworth, Samuel,</b> editor and poet, was born in
+Massachusetts in 1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris,
+he founded the <i>New York Mirror.</i> "The Old Oaken Bucket" is
+the best known of his poems.</p>
+<p>For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken
+for this book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the
+series.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
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@@ -0,0 +1,10188 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: De La Salle Fifth Reader
+
+Author: Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10811]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+_DE LA SALLE SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+FIFTH READER
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901]
+
+
+
+(REVISED EDITION, 1922)
+
+BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE,
+POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y. LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+_2_ PREFACE
+
+_3_ INTRODUCTION
+
+_4_ SUGGESTIONS
+
+_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+_6_ DEFINITIONS
+
+_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE. _Mercedes_
+
+_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. _J.T. Trowbridge_
+
+_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. _Mara L. Pratt_
+
+_10_ HELPING MOTHER.
+
+_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+_12_ TWO LABORERS. _Thomas Carlyle_
+
+_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+_14_ THE BROOK SONG. _James Whitcomb Riley_
+
+_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN. _Rydingsvard_
+
+_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. _Mary Howitt_
+
+_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+_18_ SEPTEMBER. _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." _Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+_21_ MY BEADS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. _Thomas Moore_
+
+_23_ A LITTLE LADY. _Louisa M. Alcott_
+
+_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE. _Anon._
+
+_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. _Denis A. McCarthy_
+
+_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. _Cardinal Newman_
+
+_28_ LITTLE BELL. _Thomas Westwood_
+
+_29_ A MODEST WIT. _Selleck Osborne_
+
+_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. _George P. Morris_
+
+_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. _Samuel Woodworth_
+
+_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. _Pierre J. Hetzel_
+
+_34_ OUR HEROES. _Phoebe Cary_
+
+_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_36_ THE BROOK. _Tennyson_
+
+_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+_38_ ONE BY ONE. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE. _Longfellow_
+
+_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. _J.G. Holland_
+
+_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS. _Longfellow_
+
+_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. _Eugene Field_
+
+_46_ THE HOLY CITY.
+
+_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES. _Aesop_
+
+_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM. _William Cowper_
+
+_49_ JACK FROST. _Hannah F. Gould_
+
+_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. _Eliza Cook_
+
+_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! _Tennyson_
+
+_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. _Robert Southey_
+
+_57_ KIND WORDS. _Father Faber_
+
+_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_59_ DAFFODILS. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. _Eleanor C. Donnelly_
+
+_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+
+_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS _Whittier_
+
+_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+_65_ WILL AND I _Paul H. Hayne_
+
+_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'. _Charles Dickens_
+
+_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? _Anon_
+
+_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.
+
+_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. _George MacDonald_
+
+_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+_73_ THE WATER LILY. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. _Margaret E. Sangster_
+
+_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. _William R. Wallace_
+
+_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. _John Ruskin_
+
+_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. _Clement C. Moore_
+
+_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. _Jean Blewett_
+
+_84_ BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. _Leigh Hunt_"
+and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. _James Whitcomb Riley_" were originally shown in the
+list above, neither work appears in the text.)
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_2_
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series of Readers
+is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of our Catholic
+schools a set of books embodying the matter and methods best suited to
+their needs. The matter has been written or chosen with a view to
+interest and instruct, to cultivate a taste for the best literature, to
+build up a strong moral character and to imbue our children with an
+intelligent love of Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by
+the most experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.
+
+These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit thought and
+facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of this idea, class
+talks, word study, the structure of sentences, drills on certain correct
+forms of expression, the proper arrangement of ideas, explanation of
+phrases and literary expressions, oral and written reproductions of
+narrations and descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all
+receive the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years, acquire
+that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and that fluency in
+expressing their own, which are so essential to a good English
+education.
+
+In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition, the
+principle of order should in a great measure determine the value of the
+methods to be employed. In the acquisition of knowledge, the child
+instinctively follows the order of nature. This order is first,
+_observation_; second, _thought_; third, _expression_. It becomes the
+duty of the teacher, consequently, to lead the child to observe
+_accurately_, to think _clearly_, and to express his thoughts
+_correctly_. And text-books are useful only in so far as they supply the
+teacher with the material and the system best calculated to accomplish
+such results.
+
+It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers, having
+been planned in accordance with the principle just enunciated, will
+prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic schools.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_3_
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the preceding
+numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered the mechanical
+difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired a fairly good working
+vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read intelligently and with some
+degree of fluency and pleasure. Now is the time to lead him to acquire a
+taste for good reading. The selections have been drawn mainly from
+authors whose writings are distinguished for their moral and literary
+value, and whose style is sure to excite a lasting interest.
+
+In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and forming a basis
+for oral and written composition work, these selections will raise his
+ideas of right living, will quicken his imagination, will give him his
+first knowledge of many things, stimulate his powers of observation,
+enlarge his vocabulary, and correct and refine his mode of expression. A
+wholesome reading habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily,
+pleasantly and unconsciously formed.
+
+The following are some of the features of the book:
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.--This Guide is to be referred to again and
+again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught. Instruction in the
+vowel sounds is an excellent drill in articulation, while a knowledge of
+the diacritical marks enables the pupil to master these sounds for
+himself when consulting the dictionary.
+
+VARIETY OF MATTER.--In the volume will be found the best sentiments of
+the best writers. The pupil will find fables, nature studies, tales of
+travel and adventure, brave deeds from history and fiction, stories of
+loyalty and heroism, examples of sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and
+selections that teach industry, contentment, respect for authority,
+reverence for all things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to
+faith and Country.
+
+LANGUAGE STUDY.--If reading is to hold its proper place in the class
+room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere reading of the
+text. In its truest sense, reading is far more comprehensive. The
+teacher will question the pupil on what he has read, point out to him
+the beauties of thought and language, find out what hold the reading has
+taken upon his memory, how it has aroused his imagination, assisted his
+judgment, directed his will, and contributed to his fund of general
+information. To assist in this most important work is the object aimed
+at in the matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give
+fuller powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.
+
+RECITATIONS.--There are some selections marked for recitation. The
+public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness of manner,
+beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for subsequent
+elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a single poem or
+address based upon some heroic or historic event, recited before a class
+or a school, will often do more to build up a noble character and foster
+a love of history, than a full term of instruction by question and
+answer.
+
+POETRY.--The numerous poetic selections, some of which are partly
+analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the highest and
+purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of knowledge, and
+emphasize the teachings of some of the prose selections. Many of them
+have been written by American authors. Every American boy and girl
+should be acquainted with the works of poets who have done so much for
+the development of American literature and nationality.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and poetry
+enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their memory, suggests
+delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in possession of sentences of
+the best construction. The recitation of these expressive texts
+accustoms the children to speak with ease, grace and elegance."
+("Elements of Practical Pedagogy.")
+
+BIOGRAPHIES.--Young children enjoy literature for its own sake, and take
+little interest in the personality of the writer; but as they grow
+older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an interest in the
+writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are given at the close of
+the volume as helps in the study of the authors from whom selections are
+drawn, and to induce the pupils to read further.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_4_
+
+
+
+SUGGESTIONS
+
+
+WORD STUDY.--The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce correctly
+all the words of the selection he is preparing to read. He should know
+their ordinary meanings and the special meanings they may have in the
+text. He should be able to write them correctly from dictation and to
+use them in sentences of his own. He should examine if they are
+primitive, derivative, or compound; he should be able to name the
+prefixes and suffixes and show how the meanings of the original words
+are modified by their use. He should cultivate the habit of word
+mastery. What is read will not otherwise be understood. Without it there
+can be no good reading, speaking or writing.
+
+EXPRESSIVE READING.--There should be constant drill to secure correct
+pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis, and an agreeable
+tone of voice, without which there can be no expressive reading. This is
+a difficult task, and will take much time, trouble and practice; but it
+has far-reaching results. It enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays
+the foundation for a genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the
+reading lesson drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion comes
+largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be taught not only
+to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning clear to others. It is
+important that children be taught to acquire thought through the ear.
+
+CONCERT READING.--Reading in concert is generally of little value, and
+the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the children in getting
+thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an exercise in teaching
+reading it is ineffective and often positively harmful. A concert
+recitation to which special training has been given partakes of the
+nature of a hymn or a song, and then becomes an element of value. If
+occasionally there must be concert reading in the class room, it should
+always be preceded by individual mastery of the selection.
+
+POEMS.--In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be presented
+as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should first read it
+through, not stopping for note or comment. He should then read it again,
+part by part, stopping, for question, explanation and discussion.
+Lastly, the whole poem, should be read with suitable emotion, so that
+the final impression may be made by the author's own words. It is
+important that the pupil get the message which the author intended to
+give. In teaching a descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as
+possible, and thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative
+poem, the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by bringing
+out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All this will take
+time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied, is worth more than a
+volume carelessly read over. In reading poetry, be careful that the
+pupils, while giving the rhythm of the lines, do not fall into the
+singsong tone so common and so disagreeable.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.--Explanations should accompany every reading lesson,
+without which there can be no serious teaching of the vernacular. By
+their means the teacher enters into communication with his pupils; he
+gets them to speak, he corrects their errors, trains their reason, and
+forms their taste. It has been said that a teacher able to explain
+selections in prose and poetry "holds his class in the hollow of his
+hand." The teacher should insist that the pupil express himself clearly
+and correctly, not only during the reading lesson, but on every subject
+he has occasion to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout
+the day's recitations.
+
+REVIEWS.--As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak, frequent
+reviews should be held. They are necessary for the backward pupils and
+advantageous for the others. Have an informal talk with the children on
+what they have read, what they have learned, what they have liked, and
+what has interested them. Some important parts of the prose and poetry
+previously studied might, during this exercise, be re-read with profit.
+
+COMPOSITION.--Continue oral and written composition. The correct use of
+written language is best taught by selecting for compositions
+subject-matter that deeply interests the children. If persevered in,
+this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use of English. If the words
+of a selection that has been studied appear now and then in the
+children's conversation or writing, it should be a matter for praise;
+for this means that new words have been added to their vocabulary, and
+that the children have a new conception of beauty of thought and speech.
+
+See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly or
+careless habits should never be allowed in any written work.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize the
+pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future good
+resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of thought
+will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of the children
+who learn them by heart.
+
+THE DICTIONARY.--The use of the dictionary is a necessary part of
+education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use will double
+the value of study in connection with reading and language. Every
+Grammar School, High School and College should be supplied with several
+copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and every pupil taught how to
+consult it, and encouraged to do so. The dictionary should be the book
+of first and last and constant resort.
+
+USE OF THE LIBRARY.--The teacher should endeavor to create an interest
+in those books from which the selections in the Reader are taken, and in
+others of equal grade and quality. Encourage the children to take books
+from the library. Direct them in their choice. Encourage home reading.
+The reading of good books should be a part of regular school work;
+otherwise little or no true progress can be made in speaking and
+writing. The best way to learn to speak and write good English is to
+read good English.
+
+For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching Reading and
+Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and IV, Part IV, of
+"Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the Christian Brothers, and
+published by the La Salle Bureau of Supplies, 50 Second Street, New
+York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:
+
+"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle O'Reilly, Miss
+Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Mr.
+Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T.
+Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W. Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The
+Ladies' Home Journal; Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.; The Educational
+Publishing Co.; Little, Brown & Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy
+& Sons; The Hinds & Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne, Fields,
+Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers
+of the works of these authors, and to these gentlemen are tendered
+expressions of sincere thanks.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_5_
+
+
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+
+NOTE.--This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication, Webster's
+International Dictionary has been taken as authority.
+
+
+
+
+VOWELS
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)
+
+
+
+[=a]            as in gate--g[=a]te
+
+[^a]            as in care--c[^a]re
+
+[)a]            as in cat--c[)a]t
+
+[.a]            as in ask--[.a]sk
+
+[a.]  ([)o])    as in what--wh[a.]t
+
+[:a]            as in car--c[:a]r
+
+[a:]            as in all--[a:]ll
+
+ai  ([^a])      as in air--[^a]ir
+
+ai  ([=a])      as in aim--[=a]im
+
+au  ([:a])      as in aunt--[:a]unt
+
+[=e]            as in eve--[=e]ve
+
+[)e]            as in end--[)e]nd
+
+[~e]            as in her--h[~e]r
+
+[^e]            as in there--th[^e]re
+
+[e=]  ([=a])    as in they--th[e=]y
+
+ea  ([=e])      as in ear--[=e]ar
+
+ei  ([=e])      as in receive--rec[=e]ive
+
+[=i]            as in ice--[=i]ce
+
+[)i]            as in pin--p[)i]n
+
+[~i]  ([~e])    as in bird--b[~i]rd
+
+[:i]  ([=e])    as in police--pol[:i]ce
+
+i[e=]  ([=e])   as in chief--chi[=e]f
+
+[=o]            as in old--[=o]ld
+
+[^o]            as in lord--l[^o]rd
+
+[)o]            as in not--n[)o]t
+
+[.o]  ([)u])    as in son--s[.o]n
+
+[o.]  ([u.])    as in wolf--w[o.]lf
+
+[o:]  ([=oo])   as in do--d[o:]
+
+oa  ([=o])      as in boat--b[=o]at
+
+[=oo]  ([o:])   as in moon--m[=oo]n
+
+[)oo]  ([o.])   as in foot--f[)oo]t
+
+[=u]            as in pure--p[=u]re
+
+[)u]            as in cup--c[)u]p
+
+[^u]            as in burn--b[^u]rn
+
+[u.]  ([o.])    as in full--f[u.]ll
+
+[u:]            as in rude--r[u:]de
+
+ew  ([=u])      as in new
+
+[=y]  ([=i]     as in fly--fl[=y]
+
+[)y]  ([)i])    as in hymn--h[)y]mn
+
+[~y]  ([~e])    as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh
+
+
+
+CONSONANTS
+
+
+c   (s)        as in cent
+
+c   (k)        as in cat
+
+ce  (sh)       as in ocean
+
+ch  (k)        as in school
+
+ch  (sh)       as in machine
+
+ci  (sh)       as in gracious
+
+dg  (j)        as in edge
+
+ed  (d)        as in burned
+
+ed  (t)        as in baked
+
+f   (v)        as in of
+
+g   (hard)     as in get
+
+g   (j)        as in gem
+
+gh  (f)        as in laugh
+
+n   (ng)       as in ink
+
+ph  (f)        as in sulphur
+
+qu  (kw)       as in queen
+
+s   (z)        as in has
+
+s   (sh)       as in sure
+
+s   (zh)       as in pleasure
+
+ssi (sh)       as in passion
+
+si  (zh)       as in occasion
+
+ti  (sh)       as in nation
+
+wh  (hw)       as in when
+
+x   (z)        as in Xavier
+
+x   (ks)       as in tax
+
+x   (gz)       as in exist
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_6_
+
+
+
+DEFINITIONS
+
+
+LANGUAGE is the expression of thought by means of words.
+
+WORDS, with respect to their _origin_, are divided into _primitive_
+and _derivative_; and with respect to their _composition_, into _simple_
+and _compound_.
+
+A PRIMITIVE word is one that is not derived from another word.
+
+A DERIVATIVE word is one that is formed from another word by means
+of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other change.
+
+A SIMPLE word is one that consists of a single significant term.
+
+A COMPOUND word is one made up of two or more simple words.
+
+A SENTENCE is a combination of words which make complete sense.
+
+A SYLLABLE is a word or a part of a word pronounced by one effort
+of the voice.
+
+
+The DIAERESIS is the mark [..] placed over the second of two
+adjacent vowels, to denote that they are to be pronounced as distinct
+letters; as _REECHO_.
+
+
+
+RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS
+
+
+The first word of every SENTENCE should begin with a capital.
+
+PROPER NAMES, and words derived from them, should begin with
+capitals.
+
+The first word of every LINE OF POETRY should begin with a capital.
+
+All names of God and all titles of the DEITY, as well as all
+pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with capitals.
+
+The words I and O should always be capitals.
+
+The first word of a DIRECT QUOTATION should begin with a capital.
+
+The names of the DAYS and of the MONTHS should begin with
+capitals; but not the names of the seasons.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_7_
+
+
+
+HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+
+
+       Glorious Patron! low before thee
+         Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!
+       And our voices blend in music,
+         Singing praises to thy name.
+           Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!
+           Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.
+
+       Lover of our Queen and Mother,
+         At her feet didst vow thy heart,
+       Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,
+         Thou didst choose the better part.
+           Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,
+           Pierce our souls with love's own dart.
+
+       Model of the Christian Teacher!
+         Patron of the Christian youth!
+       Lead us all to heights of glory,
+         As we strive in earnest ruth.
+           Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide us,
+           As we spread afar the Truth!
+
+       In this life of sin and sorrow,
+         Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,
+       In the hour of dark temptation,
+         Father! be our spirit's stay!
+           Take our hand and lead us homeward,
+           Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright Day!
+
+
+_Mercedes._
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE.]
+Founder of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, pointing out the way
+of salvation to the children of all nations.
+
+"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels, moulding and
+shaping the souls of youth for heaven." _Most Reverend Archbishop
+Keane, of Dubuque._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_8_
+
+
+due
+mien
+fri'ar
+pri'or
+Pa'los
+por'ter
+con'vent
+pre'cious
+grat'i tude
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.
+
+
+       Dreary and brown the night comes down,
+         Gloomy, without a star.
+       On Palos town the night comes down;
+       The day departs with stormy frown;
+         The sad sea moans afar.
+
+       A convent gate is near; 'tis late;
+         Tin-gling! the bell they ring.
+       They ring the bell, they ask for bread--
+       "Just for my child," the father said.
+         Kind hands the bread will bring.
+
+       White was his hair, his mien was fair,
+         His look was calm and great.
+       The porter ran and called a friar;
+       The friar made haste and told the prior;
+         The prior came to the gate.
+
+       He took them in, he gave them food;
+         The traveler's dreams he heard;
+       And fast the midnight moments flew.
+       And fast the good man's wonder grew,
+         And all his heart was stirred.
+
+       The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,
+         Forgetful of all sorrow,
+       Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.
+       The good man kissed him there, and said:
+         "You leave us not to-morrow!
+
+       "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;
+         This child shall be our own--
+       A precious care, while you prepare
+       Your business with the court, and bear
+         Your message to the throne."
+
+       And so his guest he comforted.
+         O wise, good prior! to you,
+       Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,
+       And helped him on his way, what praise
+         And gratitude are due!
+
+
+_J.T. Trowbridge._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Where is Palos? What is it noted for?
+
+Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?
+
+In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the traveler?
+Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called dreams? Did the
+dreams become facts? In what way?
+
+How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
+
+How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
+
+Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many
+Catholic names?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Press on! There's no such word as fail!
+       Push nobly on! The goal is near!
+       Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!
+       Look upward, onward,--never fear!
+
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_9_
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FERN.
+
+
+A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
+it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
+leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
+graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
+breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
+out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
+curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
+
+So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
+fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
+time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
+were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
+
+Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
+the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
+lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
+
+But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,
+when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments,
+a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the
+delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect
+and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its
+own beautiful valley.
+
+And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf
+home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it;
+and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think
+out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away
+with the fern in the bit of rock.
+
+Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth
+which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that
+none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is
+sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and
+lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years,
+and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his
+other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though
+silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men
+and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely
+traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid
+others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed,
+lend a hand to each and every one around us.
+
+_Mara L. Pratt._
+
+From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent
+mark where it belongs in each:
+
+outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds,
+centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the
+words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
+
+Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to
+be truly successful in life.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The child is father of the man;
+       And I could wish my days to be
+       Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+Truth alone makes life rich and great.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+       There is a tongue in every leaf--
+         A voice in every rill--
+       A voice that speaketh everywhere--
+       In flood and fire, through earth and air,
+         A tongue that's never still.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_10_
+
+
+blithe
+whistler
+mellow
+replied
+cheery
+skylark
+
+
+
+HELPING MOTHER.
+
+
+       As I went down the street to-day,
+         I saw a little lad
+       Whose face was just the kind of face
+         To make a person glad.
+       It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
+         So cheerful and so bright,
+       It made me think of apple-time.
+         And filled me with delight.
+
+       I saw him busy at his work,
+         While blithe as skylark's song
+       His merry, mellow whistle rang
+         The pleasant street along.
+       "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
+         I thought as I passed by;
+       "These busy, cheery, whistling boys
+         Make grand men by and by."
+
+       Just then a playmate came along,
+         And leaned across the gate--
+       A plan that promised lots of fun
+         And frolic to relate.
+       "The boys are waiting for us now,
+         So hurry up!" he cried;
+       My little whistler shook his head,
+         And "Can't come," he replied.
+
+       "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
+         What hinders?" asked the other.
+       "Why, don't you see," came the reply,
+         "I'm busy helping mother?
+       She's lots to do, and so I like
+         To help her all I can;
+       So I've no time for fun just now,"
+         Said this dear little man.
+
+       "I like to hear you talk like that,"
+         I told the little lad;
+       "Help mother all you can, and make
+         Her kind heart light and glad."
+       It does me good to think of him,
+         And know that there are others
+       Who, like this manly little boy,
+         Take hold and help their mothers.
+
+
+
+LANGUAGE WORK:
+
+
+Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like
+him?
+
+Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
+
+When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What
+kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_11_
+
+
+rid' dle
+brand'-new
+mys' ter y
+un rav' el
+like' ness es
+
+
+
+A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+
+Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took
+a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily
+singing his song.
+
+"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which
+you are working so hard belong to you?"
+
+"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am
+not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
+
+"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
+
+"Two dollars," said the laborer.
+
+"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
+
+"Yes; and have something left."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are
+for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and
+fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
+
+"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
+
+"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old
+parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now,
+that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards
+which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I
+spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This
+will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I
+maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
+
+The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man.
+Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me
+before?"
+
+"Never," said the laborer.
+
+"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in
+your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
+
+"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
+
+"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into
+his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand,
+stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who
+knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our
+Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The working men, whatever their task,
+         Who carve the stone, or bear the hod,
+       They wear upon their honest brows
+         The royal stamp and seal of God;
+       And worthier are their drops of sweat
+         Than diamonds in a coronet.
+
+       Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
+         Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
+       Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
+         Or plants a tree, is more than all.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+[Illustration: LABOR _Millet_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_12_
+
+
+con' script
+in dis pen' sa ble
+im' ple ment
+in de fea' si bly
+
+
+
+TWO LABORERS.
+
+
+Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
+earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
+man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
+notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
+scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
+tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
+man living manlike.
+
+Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
+pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
+so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
+wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
+so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
+indispensable,--for daily bread.
+
+A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
+the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
+Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
+revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
+they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
+endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
+only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
+heaven for us!
+
+If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
+glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
+freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
+else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
+
+Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
+and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
+toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
+than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
+thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
+depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
+break through.
+
+_Bacon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_13_
+
+
+gust
+thief
+mop' ing
+awk' ward
+pet' tish ly
+in dig' nant
+un bear' a ble
+med' dle some
+en light' ened
+in quis' i tive
+
+
+
+THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
+the top of the garden wall.
+
+"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
+is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
+hang _her_."
+
+"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.
+
+"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
+death of me?"
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
+I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
+
+"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
+and I might be managed much more easily."
+
+"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a
+pain in my side!"
+
+"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
+
+"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:--oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks
+she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is
+quite unbearable!"
+
+Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the
+first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular
+cause this morning?"
+
+"She chose to be very angry because I--I offended her," said the cat.
+
+"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
+
+"Oh, nothing worth telling,--a mere mistake of mine."
+
+Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was
+compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
+
+"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
+
+"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
+knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it,
+and it was rather nice, and--"
+
+"You finished it," hinted Growler.
+
+"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't
+come in. As it was, I left the head."
+
+"The head of what?" said Growler.
+
+"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
+
+"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
+
+"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
+
+"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the
+whole story, I only wonder she did _not_ hang you."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
+
+Mary -- here, and Susan and Agnes -- coming. They -- delayed on the road.
+Mother -- to come with them, but she and father -- obliged to wait till
+to-morrow.
+
+Puss said to Growler, "I -- not -- a drop of milk to-day, and -- not -- any
+yesterday."
+
+I -- my work well now. Yesterday I -- it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
+-- it perfectly.
+
+The boys -- their best, though they -- the game.
+
+John--now the boys he -- last week. He -- not -- them before.
+
+
+NOTE.--Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this
+selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils
+simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly
+natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or
+act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_14_
+
+
+scared
+swerve
+gur' gle
+rip' ples
+cur' rent
+mum' bling ly
+
+
+
+THE BROOK SONG.
+
+
+       Little brook! Little brook!
+       You have such a happy look--
+       Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook--
+       And your ripples, one and one,
+       Reach each other's hands and run
+       Like laughing little children in the sun!
+
+       Little brook, sing to me;
+       Sing about the bumblebee
+       That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
+       Because he wet the film
+       Of his wings, and had to swim,
+       While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
+
+       Little brook--sing a song
+       Of a leaf that sailed along
+       Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
+       And a dragon fly that lit
+       On the tilting rim of it,
+       And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
+
+       And sing--how oft in glee
+       Came a truant boy like me,
+       Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
+       Till the gurgle and refrain
+       Of your music in his brain
+       Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
+
+       Little brook--laugh and leap!
+       Do not let the dreamer weep:
+       Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
+       And then sing soft and low
+       Through his dreams of long ago--
+       Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
+
+
+_James Whitcomb Riley_.
+
+From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: BY THE BROOK]
+
+
+RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight
+covering.
+
+CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to _air,
+electricity_, etc.
+
+What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody,
+softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
+
+What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
+
+Insert _may_ or _can_ properly where you see a dash in the
+following: The boy said, "--I leave the room?" "Mother, I--climb the
+ladder;--I?"--a dog climb a tree?--I ask a favor?
+
+Copy the following words--they are often misspelled: loving, using,
+till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success,
+barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four,
+enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
+
+By means of the suffixes, _er, est, ness_, form three new words
+from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy,
+steady, lovely, gloomy.
+
+Example: From happy,--happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of
+_y_ to _i_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_15_
+
+
+rag'ged
+crin'kly
+rub'bish
+fil'tered
+protect'ed
+disor'derly
+disturbed'
+imme'diately
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+
+High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on
+the autumn wind's strong arms.
+
+"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down
+on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away
+immediately, because he had much to look after.
+
+That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was
+placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
+
+Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near
+being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
+
+It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the
+downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell,
+and filled the little pit it had made.
+
+The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay
+quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came,
+and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
+
+There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant
+could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near
+it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep
+into the cottage either.
+
+"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
+
+"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the
+smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
+
+And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it
+was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and
+told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
+tongue.
+
+Now there came a pair of ragged children, running--the smith's boy and
+girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after
+they were gone.
+
+"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall
+pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
+
+"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see
+what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know,
+when it grows bigger."
+
+And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up
+the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
+the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to
+make the place look better.
+
+"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you
+cannot think how in the way folks are!"
+
+"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very
+orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place
+she was so disturbed.
+
+But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned
+earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was
+several inches high.
+
+"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is
+getting!"
+
+"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant!
+Come and see it!" begged the girl.
+
+The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough
+bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
+
+The smith nodded to the children.
+
+"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an
+instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the
+little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+
+pet' als
+in' mates
+scrubbed
+fra' grant
+
+
+
+The children ran into the house.
+
+"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
+window!"
+
+The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
+that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
+
+"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
+the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
+
+"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
+dirty it is out in the yard!"
+
+Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
+cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
+the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
+
+"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
+so untidy here."
+
+She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
+she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
+smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
+every spot was white.
+
+It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
+the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
+strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
+ever before, he thought.
+
+"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
+greeting had been heard in here.
+
+"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
+for many years.
+
+The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
+children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
+mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
+
+A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
+stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
+
+In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
+see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
+yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
+
+She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
+through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
+they both smiled.
+
+"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
+
+Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
+was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
+there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
+the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
+
+The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
+flowers.
+
+"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
+
+The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
+carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
+fingers.
+
+Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
+over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
+sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
+head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
+sounded.
+
+In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
+more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
+much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
+
+But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
+but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
+flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
+blossom.
+
+"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
+husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
+at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
+children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
+for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
+
+When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
+flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
+waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
+lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
+
+
+From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvaerd.
+
+Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
+Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
+plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
+would grow.
+
+_Abraham Lincoln._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_16_
+
+
+lux'u ry
+med'i cine
+a bun'dant
+wil'der ness
+
+
+
+THE USE OF FLOWERS.
+
+
+       God might have bade the earth bring forth
+         Enough for great and small,
+       The oak tree, and the cedar tree,
+         Without a flower at all.
+
+       He might have made enough, enough,
+         For every want of ours;
+       For luxury, medicine, and toil,
+         And yet have made no flowers.
+
+       The ore within the mountain mine
+         Requireth none to grow,
+       Nor doth it need the lotus flower
+         To make the river flow.
+
+       The clouds might give abundant rain,
+         The nightly dews might fall,
+       And the herb that keepeth life in man
+         Might yet have drunk them all.
+
+       Then wherefore, wherefore were they made
+         All dyed with rainbow light,
+       All fashioned with supremest grace,
+         Upspringing day and night--
+
+       Springing in valleys green and low,
+         And on the mountains high,
+       And in the silent wilderness,
+         Where no man passeth by?
+
+       Our outward life requires them not,
+         Then wherefore had they birth?
+       To minister delight to man,
+         To beautify the earth;
+
+       To whisper hope--to comfort man
+         Whene'er his faith is dim;
+       For whoso careth for the flowers
+         Will care much more for Him!
+
+
+_Mary Howitt._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf, copy,
+foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.
+
+Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following stanza:
+
+
+       In the country on every side
+         Where far and wide
+       Like a leopard's tawny hide
+         Stretches the plain
+       To the dry grass and drier grain
+       How welcome is the rain.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+         The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
+       Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+         And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+
+_Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_17_
+
+
+deigned
+in' va lid
+lone' li ness
+smoothed
+med'i cine
+be wil'dered
+gen' ius
+riv' et ed
+soul-sub du' ing
+
+
+
+PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+
+In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London, little Pierre,
+a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother.
+There was no bread in the house; and he had not tasted food all day. Yet
+he sat humming to keep up his spirits.
+
+Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could
+scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be
+so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good sweet orange; and yet he
+had not a penny in the world.
+
+The little song he was singing was his own,--one he had composed, both
+air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and,
+looking out, saw a man putting up a great poster with yellow letters,
+announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public.
+
+"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a
+moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a new hope. Running
+to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from a
+little box an old, stained paper, he gave one eager glance at his
+mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I
+am already worn out with company."
+
+"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says that if he
+can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep
+you a moment."
+
+"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I
+can never refuse children."
+
+Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand a little
+roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he walked straight
+up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come to see you, because my
+mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I
+thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little song at one of
+your grand concerts, some publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and
+so I could get food and medicine for my mother."
+
+The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately she
+was;--she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the
+air.
+
+"Did you compose it?" she asked,--"you, a child! And the words?--Would
+you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of
+thought.
+
+"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but I
+couldn't leave my mother."
+
+"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and
+here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here
+is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a
+seat near me."
+
+Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a
+little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid,
+telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt
+that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the
+glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling
+of silks, completely bewildered him. At last _she_ came; and the
+child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand
+lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship,
+would really sing his little song?
+
+Breathless he waited:--the band, the whole band, struck up a little
+plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how
+she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a
+bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the
+touching words of that little song.
+
+Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for
+money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and
+thousands had wept at his grief.
+
+The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid
+her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said:
+"Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this
+morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little
+song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."
+
+The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for
+Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the
+tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple
+prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice
+their affliction.
+
+The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and
+she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by
+her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his
+affection, was the little Pierre of former days,--now rich,
+accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.
+
+All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
+bounty to the widow and the fatherless!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIERRE (pe [^a]r'), Peter.
+
+MALIBRAN, a French singer and actress. She died in 1836, when only 28
+years old.
+
+What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?
+
+BREATHLESS = _breath_+_less_, without breath, out of breath;
+holding the breath on account of great interest.
+
+BREATHLESSLY, in a breathless manner. Use _breath, breathless,
+breathlessly,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming together in
+the following words and phrases:
+
+humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows; eyes
+sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.
+
+_St. Francis of Assisi._
+
+
+
+       Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
+         'Tis only noble to be good.
+       Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_18_
+
+
+
+SEPTEMBER.
+
+
+       The golden-rod is yellow;
+         The corn is turning brown;
+       The trees in apple orchards
+         With fruit are bending down.
+
+       The gentian's bluest fringes
+         Are curling in the sun;
+       In dusty pods the milkweed
+         Its hidden silk has spun.
+
+       The sedges flaunt their harvest
+         In every meadow nook;
+       And asters by the brookside
+         Make asters in the brook.
+
+       From dewy lanes at morning
+         The grapes' sweet odors rise;
+       At noon the roads all flutter
+         With yellow butterflies.
+
+       By all these lovely tokens
+         September days are here,
+       With summer's best of weather,
+         And autumn's best of cheer.
+
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+
+[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.]
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
+
+Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of cheer;
+sedges flaunt their harvest.
+
+How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?
+
+Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in the poem.
+Can you name any others?
+
+Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?
+
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_19_
+
+
+tat'ter
+wreathed
+Ken tuck' y
+de scend'ed
+re cess'
+home' stead
+en rap' tured
+Penn syl va' ni a
+
+
+
+"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."
+
+
+"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster, a resident
+of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a visit to his
+relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of Bardstown, Ky. One
+beautiful morning while the slaves were at work in the cornfield and the
+sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, first giving
+it a light red, then changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon
+a bench in front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and
+a sister.
+
+High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its sweet
+notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the thrush's mellow
+song could be heard. A number of small negro children were playing not
+far away. When Foster had finished the first verse of the song his
+sister took it from his hand and sang in a sweet, mellow voice:
+
+
+
+       The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;
+         'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
+       The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,
+         While the birds make music all the day.
+
+       The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
+         All merry, all happy, all bright;
+       By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+
+On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to a lower
+branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side and appeared to
+be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice of the young singer.
+When the last note died away upon the air, her fond brother sang in deep
+bass voice:
+
+
+       Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         Well sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+       A few more days for to tote the weary load,
+         No matter, 'twill never be light;
+       A few more days till we totter on the road--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little tots had
+placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees, while the old
+black women were peeping around the corner of the house. The faithful
+old house dog never took his eyes off the young singers. Everything was
+still; not even the stirring of the leaves seemed to break the wonderful
+silence.
+
+Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes, and sang
+in sweet accents:
+
+
+       They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon
+         On the meadow, the hill and the shore;
+       They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
+         On the bench by the old cabin door.
+
+       The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
+         With sorrow where all was delight:
+       The time has come when the darkies have to part--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+       The head must bow and the back will have to bend
+         Wherever the darkies may go;
+       A few more days and the trouble all will end
+         In the fields where the sugar cane grow.
+
+       Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+
+As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's cheeks; the
+children crept from their hiding place behind the trees, their faces
+wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their home in
+the thicket, while the old house dog still lay basking in the sun.
+
+
+_Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+
+Louisville _Courier-Journal._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_20_
+
+
+stew' ard
+se'quel
+Gal'i lee
+ab lu' tions
+in ter ces' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+
+In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us in his
+gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the Mother of
+Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the marriage." Mary was
+invited to be one of the honored guests because she was, no doubt, an
+intimate friend of the family. She preceded her Son to the wedding in
+order to lend her aid in the necessary preparations.
+
+Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He went as
+freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went pityingly to so
+many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary with his long fast and
+struggle in the desert, He was pleased to attend this merry wedding
+feast, and by this loving and kindly act to sanctify the bond of
+Marriage, which was to become in His Church one of the seven Sacraments.
+
+The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that greatly
+disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not calculated
+rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many guests.
+
+Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the confusion of
+the servants when they discovered that the wine vessels had become
+empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered, "They have no wine." "My
+hour is not yet come," He answered her, meaning that His time for
+working miracles had not yet arrived. He knew on the instant what the
+gentle heart of His Mother desired. His words sounded like a refusal of
+the request which Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue;
+but the sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.
+
+She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do
+ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close at hand six
+great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the custom in the
+East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh. These vessels
+"containing two or three measures apiece," were kept in readiness for
+the guests, who were required not only to wash their feet before
+touching the linen and drapery of the couches, but even during the meal
+frequently to purify their hands. Already there had been many of these
+ablutions performed, and the urns were being rapidly emptied.
+
+"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the servants.
+
+They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.
+
+"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the feast."
+
+And they carried it.
+
+When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not
+whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him: "Every man at
+first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that
+which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
+
+The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to give an
+agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table; but the
+latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a wondrous deed
+had been accomplished--that water had been changed into wine!
+
+Jesus had performed His first Miracle.
+
+From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we learn that
+Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God, whose
+intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a loving and
+motherly care over the smallest of our life's concerns.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FEAST _Veronese_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PRECEDED, went before in order of time. The prefix _pre_- means
+_before_. Tell what the following words mean:
+
+prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine, precaution,
+precursor, prefigure, prearrange.
+
+Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
+
+_Richard Crashaw._
+
+But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the
+Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His Name.
+
+
+_Gospel of St. John._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_21_
+
+
+dec' ades (dek' ads)
+di' a dem
+
+
+
+MY BEADS.
+
+
+       Sweet blessed beads! I would not part
+           With one of you for richest gem
+           That gleams in kingly diadem:
+       Ye know the history of my heart.
+
+       For I have told you every grief
+           In all the days of twenty years,
+           And I have moistened you with tears,
+       And in your decades found relief.
+
+       Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,
+         And joys have died; but in my needs
+         Ye were my friends, my blessed beads!
+       And ye consoled me when I wailed.
+
+       For many and many a time, in grief,
+         My weary fingers wandered round
+         Thy circled chain, and always found
+       In some Hail Mary sweet relief.
+
+       How many a story you might tell
+         Of inner life, to all unknown;
+         I trusted you and you alone,
+       But ah! ye keep my secrets well.
+
+       Ye are the only chain I wear--
+         A sign that I am but the slave,
+         In life, in death, beyond the grave,
+       Of Jesus and His Mother fair.
+
+
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+From the following words make new words by means of the suffix -_ous_:
+joy, grace, grief, glory, desire, virtue, beauty, courage, disaster,
+harmony.
+
+(Consult the dictionary.)
+
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+
+       Mary,--our comfort and our hope,--
+         O, may that name be given
+       To be the last we sigh on earth,--
+         The first we breathe in heaven.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_22_
+
+
+
+THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+
+
+       The harp that once through Tara's halls
+         The soul of music shed,
+       Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
+         As if that soul were fled.
+       So sleeps the pride of former days,
+         So glory's thrill is o'er,
+       And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
+         Now feel that pulse no more.
+
+       No more to chiefs and ladies bright
+         The harp of Tara swells;
+       The chord alone that breaks at night
+         Its tale of ruin tells.
+       Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
+         The only throb she gives
+       Is when some heart indignant breaks,
+         To show that still She lives.
+
+
+_Thomas Moore._
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM MOORE]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_23_
+
+
+ma'am
+dis suade'
+re spect'a ble
+shuf' fled
+dan' ger ous
+grate' ful
+wist' ful ly
+mit' tens
+outstretched'
+res' cue
+un daunt' ed
+an' ti qua ted
+
+
+
+A LITTLE LADY.[001]
+
+
+Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice,
+I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She
+was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black,
+wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.
+
+Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are
+better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the
+faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old
+ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently
+waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and
+forgotten them.
+
+Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet
+in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry,
+that I might offer my help.
+
+At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to
+another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our
+coasting, unless we hurry."
+
+"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so
+bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a
+sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.
+
+"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking
+with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but
+had not the courage to try it.
+
+"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to
+do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her
+overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over
+the dangerous sheet of ice before her.
+
+"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little
+voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.
+
+"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get
+home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was
+worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.
+
+"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you
+might fall," said the child, offering her arm.
+
+"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've been having
+a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and I slip at every
+step."
+
+"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and can't tumble."
+
+So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the other girls
+to look after them and wish that we had done the little act of kindness,
+which now looked so lovely in another.
+
+"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child to the
+other.
+
+"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do lose some
+coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade her playmate from
+going to the rescue.
+
+Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day in real
+politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully supporting the
+old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big bag, the old socks, and
+the queer bonnet, both their faces lighted up with new respect and
+affection for their playmate.
+
+_Louisa M. Alcott._
+
+From "Little Women." Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DISSUADE, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by reasons
+given.
+
+ANTIQUATED, grown old; old-fashioned.
+
+Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands for.
+
+
+Use _their_ or _there_ properly in place of the blanks in
+the following sentences: The girls were on -- way
+to the Park. -- was an old lady at the crossing.
+Our home is --. Katy and Mary said --
+mother lived --.
+
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Count that day lost
+         Whose low descending sun,
+       Views from thy hands
+         No worthy action done.
+
+
+_Author unknown._
+
+
+
+What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+[Footnote 001: Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_24_
+
+
+
+WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Some love the glow of outward show,
+         Some love mere wealth and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+       What's all the gold that glitters cold,
+         When linked to hard or haughty feeling?
+       Whate'er we're told, the noble gold
+         Is truth of heart and manly dealing.
+
+       A lowly roof may give us proof
+         That lowly flowers are often fairest;
+       And trees whose bark is hard and dark
+         May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest.
+
+       There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor
+         As e'er adorned a loftier station;
+       And minds as just as those, we trust,
+         Whose claim is but of wealth's creation.
+
+       Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,
+         Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+What is meant by "haughty feeling"?
+
+What does the author say "the noble gold" is?
+
+Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word? Why?
+
+Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.
+
+Use _to, too, two,_ properly before each of the following words:
+
+hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.
+
+What virtues does the poem recommend?
+
+What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?
+
+What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?
+
+
+       The bird that sings on highest wing,
+         Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
+       And she that doth most sweetly sing,
+         Sings in the shade when all things rest.
+
+
+_Montgomery_.
+
+
+Name the two birds referred to.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_25_
+
+
+sears
+flecked
+de signed'
+strait'ened
+il lu'mined
+
+
+
+A SONG OF DUTY.
+
+
+       Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;
+         Life is flecked with shine and shower;
+       Now the tear of grieving flows,
+         Now we smile in happy hour;
+       Death awaits us, every one--
+         Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer--
+       Let us then, ere life be done,
+         Make the world a little brighter!
+
+       Burdens that our neighbors bear,
+         Easier let us try to make them;
+       Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,
+         Let us do our best to break them.
+       From the straitened hand and mind,
+         Let us loose the binding fetter,
+       Let us, as the Lord designed,
+         Make the world a little better!
+
+       Selfish brooding sears the soul,
+         Fills the mind with clouds of sorrow,
+       Darkens all the shining goal
+         Of the sun-illumined morrow;
+       Wherefore should our lives be spent
+         Daily growing blind and blinder--
+       Let us, as the Master meant,
+         Make the world a little kinder!
+
+
+_Denis A. McCarthy._
+
+From "Voices from Erin."
+
+Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_26_
+
+
+Sod' om
+spright' ly
+the o lo' gi an
+his' to ry
+To bi' as
+cre at' ed
+pro ceed' ed
+sep' a ra ted
+min' is ter
+Au gus' tine
+crit' i cise
+cat' e ehism
+de ter' mined
+As cen' sion
+Res ur rec' tion
+
+
+
+AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+
+"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to tell Maggie
+all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at school."
+
+"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at all to make
+Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."
+
+"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could find out
+_when_ the angels were created. Neither could our teacher tell me. And
+I'm told St. Augustine could only make a guess when they were created.
+
+"He thought the angels were created when God separated the light from
+the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure there are angels;
+that's the chief point."
+
+"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.
+
+"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I would
+know he must have a father and a mother, although I had never heard when
+he was born."
+
+"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.
+
+"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and they must
+have been created some time. Let me tell you some of the places where it
+is said in the Bible that angels have been seen, and where they spoke,
+too."
+
+"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if _she_ can find out
+some of those places herself. Here is the Bible."
+
+With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the history of Adam
+and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with a flaming sword was
+placed at the gate of Paradise.
+
+"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very sad."
+
+"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and beheld his
+young theologians with the holy Book before them. "They felt very sorry,
+indeed, but they were consoled when told that a Savior would come to
+redeem them."
+
+"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke about the
+angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the highest."
+
+"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was tempted,"
+proceeded the father.
+
+"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed James.
+
+"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip up her big
+brother, "but he is a bad one."
+
+"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His forty days'
+fast," insisted James.
+
+"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one _bad angel_
+tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister unto Him."
+
+"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry over some
+other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James, and give only
+the place and person in each case."
+
+"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who went to
+Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to steal money from
+the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a long journey."
+
+"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an _Archangel?_" inquired Maggie,
+still determined to surpass her brother.
+
+"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be Maggie's
+turn soon."
+
+"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels at the
+Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His Ascension."
+
+Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have till next
+Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all mine."
+
+"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "_your _angel is always with
+you, and James has his, too."
+
+"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the church,"
+said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse my coming in
+without knocking. They're in a great hurry."
+
+"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next Sunday. May
+your angels watch over you in the meantime."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ARCHANGEL ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.
+
+ARCHBISHOP ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.
+
+ARCH, as a prefix, means _chief_, and in nearly every case
+the _ch_ is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel, architect, and in
+one or two other words, the _ch = k._
+
+ARCH, as a suffix, is pronounced _[:a]rk_, and means _ruler;
+_ as monarch, a _sole ruler;_ one who _rules alone._
+
+Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are contractions. Write
+after each what it is a contraction of.
+
+EARTHWARD = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). _ward_ is here a suffix
+meaning _course, direction to, motion towards._ Add this SUFFIX
+to the end of each of the following words, and tell the meaning of
+each new word formed:
+
+up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.
+
+WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+                            The generous heart
+       Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_27_
+
+
+ebb' ing
+spon' sor
+judg' ments
+el' e ments
+tu' te lage
+
+
+
+MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+       My oldest friend, mine from the hour
+         When first I drew my breath;
+       My faithful friend, that shall be mine,
+         Unfailing, till my death.
+
+       Thou hast been ever at my side;
+         My Maker to thy trust
+       Consign'd my soul, what time He framed
+         The infant child of dust.
+
+       No beating heart in holy prayer,
+         No faith, inform'd aright,
+       Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,
+         Or Michael's conquering might.
+
+       Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,--
+         The dearest and the best,--
+       Has known my being as thou hast known,
+         And blest as thou hast blest.
+
+       Thou wast my sponsor at the font;
+         And thou, each budding year,
+       Didst whisper elements of truth
+         Into my childish ear.
+
+       And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,
+         My rebel spirit fell,
+       Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,
+         Yet bear each deed of Hell.
+
+       And then in turn, when judgments came.
+         And scared me back again,
+       Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe
+         And hallow every pain.
+
+       Oh! who of all thy toils and cares
+         Can tell the tale complete,
+       To place me under Mary's smile,
+         And Peter's royal feet!
+
+       And thou wilt hang above my bed,
+         When life is ebbing low;
+       Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,
+         The jealous, sleepless foe.
+
+       Mine, when I stand before my Judge;
+         And mine, if spared to stay
+       Within the golden furnace till
+         My sin is burn'd away.
+
+       And mine, O Brother of my soul,
+         When my release shall come;
+       Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,
+         Thy wings shall waft me home.
+
+
+_Cardinal Newman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: THE GUARDIAN ANGEL]
+
+
+Explain the following expressions:
+
+Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font;
+each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe
+the picture.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_28_
+
+
+quoth
+crooned
+frisked
+beech'-wood
+twain
+se'rene
+frol'icked
+wan'dering
+
+
+
+LITTLE BELL.
+
+
+       Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:
+       "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,
+           What's your name?" quoth he,--
+       "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,
+       Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"
+           "Little Bell," said she.
+
+       Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,
+       Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.
+           "Bonny bird," quoth she,
+       "Sing me your best song before I go,"
+       "Here's the very finest song I know,
+           Little Bell," said he.
+
+       And the blackbird piped: you never heard
+       Half so gay a song from any bird,--
+           Full of quips and wiles,
+       Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,
+       All for love of that sweet face below,
+           Dimpled o'er with smiles.
+
+       And the while the bonny bird did pour
+       His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine forth in happy overflow
+           From the blue, bright eyes.
+
+       Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade
+       Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,
+           And from out the tree
+       Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,
+       While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:
+           "Little Bell!" piped he.
+
+       Little Bell sat down amid the fern:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;
+           Bring me nuts," quoth she.
+       Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,--
+       Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,--
+           And adown the tree
+       Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
+       In the little lap dropped, one by one.
+       Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!
+           "Happy Bell!" pipes he.
+
+       Little Bell looked up and down the glade:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,
+           Come and share with me!"
+       Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,
+       Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!
+       Little Bell gave each his honest share;
+           Ah! the merry three!
+
+       And the while these woodland playmates twain
+       Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine out in happy overflow
+           From her blue, bright eyes.
+
+       By her snow-white cot at close of day
+       Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:
+           Very calm and clear
+       Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,
+       In blue heaven, an angel shape serene
+           Paused awhile to hear.
+
+       "What good child is this," the angel said,
+       "That, with happy heart, beside her bed
+           Prays so lovingly?"
+       Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,
+       Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,
+           "Bell, _dear_ Bell!" crooned he.
+
+       "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair
+       Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;
+           Child, thy bed shall be
+       Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,
+       Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,
+           Little Bell, for thee."
+
+
+_Thomas Westwood_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL
+
+croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.
+
+croon, to sing in a low tone.
+
+quips, quick, smart turns.
+
+piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or flute.
+
+In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose _Little
+Bell?_ Why are these marks used here?
+
+Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used. Tell what it
+denotes in each case.
+
+Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?
+
+In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid, slowly
+wandering" his way? Who is she?
+
+Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the blackbird to do?
+
+Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the bird sing
+so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the little childish
+heart below?"
+
+Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to do? Read
+the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What invitation did the
+squirrel receive from Little Bell?
+
+Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what you see
+there.
+
+Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.
+
+Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last stanza. What
+is their meaning?
+
+What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did he make
+such beautiful promises?
+
+Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem mean: quoth
+he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls of gold; bonny
+bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden woodlights; adown the tree;
+playmates twain; with folded palms; an angel shape; with angels' care;
+the bird did pour his full heart out freely; the sweetness did shine
+forth in happy overflow.
+
+Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the thought
+it contains.
+
+Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.
+
+What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this poem?
+
+Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,--
+
+       "He prayeth best who loveth best,
+       All things both great and small,"--
+
+is illustrated in the story of Little Bell.
+
+
+
+Write a composition on the story from the following hints: Where did
+Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what time of day? How old
+was she? How did she look? What companions did she meet? What did the
+three friends do? How did the little girl close the day?
+
+In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem as you
+can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       Prayer is the dew of faith,
+         Its raindrop, night and day,
+       That guards its vital power from death
+         When cherished hopes decay,
+       And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
+       A bright, perennial evergreen.
+
+       Good works, of faith the fruit,
+         Should ripen year by year,
+       Of health and soundness at the root
+         And evidence sincere.
+       Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
+       And make our faith no barren tree.
+
+
+_Lydia H. Sigourney._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_29_
+
+
+na'bob
+ap plaud'ed
+un as sum'ing
+sad' dler
+dif' fi dence
+sec' re ta ry
+ob scured'
+live' li hood
+su per cil' i ous
+
+
+
+A MODEST WIT.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       A supercilious nabob of the East--
+         Haughty,  being great--purse-proud,  being rich--
+       A governor, or general, at the least,
+         I have forgotten which--
+       Had in his family a humble youth,
+         Who went from England in his patron's suit,
+       An unassuming boy, in truth
+         A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
+
+       This youth had sense and spirit;
+         But yet with all his sense,
+         Excessive diffidence
+       Obscured his merit.
+
+       One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,
+         His honor, proudly free, severely merry,
+       Conceived it would be vastly fine
+         To crack a joke upon his secretary.
+
+       "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,
+         Did your good father gain a livelihood?"--
+       "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,
+         "And in his line was reckoned good."
+
+       "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,
+         Instead of teaching you to sew!
+       Pray, why did not your father make
+         A saddler, sir, of you?"
+
+       Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,
+       The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
+         At length, Modestus, bowing low,
+       Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),
+         "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
+       _Your_ father's trade!"
+
+       "_My_ father's _trade?_ Heavens! that's too bad!
+       My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?
+       My father, sir, did never stoop so low.
+       He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."
+
+       "Excuse the liberty I take,"
+         Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
+       "Pray, why did not your father make
+         A gentleman of you?"
+
+
+_Selleck Osborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+fain, gladly.
+
+archness, sly humor free from malice.
+
+suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of distinction;
+often written _suite_ (_sw[=e]t_).
+
+Write the plural forms of _boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary._
+
+Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
+
+He was an _unassuming_ boy, of decent _parts_ and good
+_repute_. His _diffidence obscured_ his merit.
+_Excuse_ the _liberty_ I take.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The rank is but the guinea's stamp,--
+       The man's the gold for a' that!
+
+
+_Burns._
+
+
+One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.
+
+_Goethe_ (_g[^u]' t[=e]_).
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_30_
+
+
+
+WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.[002]
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Woodman, spare that tree!
+         Touch not a single bough!
+       In youth it sheltered me,
+         And I'll protect it now.
+       'Twas my forefather's hand
+         That placed it near his cot;
+       There, woodman, let it stand,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not!
+
+       That old familiar tree,
+         Whose glory and renown
+       Are spread o'er land and sea--
+         And wouldst thou hew it down?
+       Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
+         Cut not its earth-bound ties;
+       Oh! spare that aged oak,
+         Now towering to the skies.
+
+       When but an idle boy,
+         I sought its grateful shade;
+       In all their gushing joy
+         Here, too, my sisters played.
+       My mother kissed me here;
+         My father pressed my hand;--
+       Forgive this foolish tear,
+         But let that old oak stand.
+
+       My heartstrings round thee cling,
+         Close as thy bark, old friend!
+       Here shall the wild bird sing,
+         And still thy branches bend.
+       Old tree! the storm still brave!
+         And, Woodman, leave the spot!
+       While I've a hand to save,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not.
+
+
+_George P. Morris,_
+
+
+[Footnote 002: NOTE.--Many trees in our country are landmarks, and are
+valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant trees and
+dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at Cambridge, Mass.,
+and it was under the shade of this venerable Elm that George Washington
+took command of the Continental army, July 3rd, 1775.
+
+There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs whole
+families of children passed much of their childhood. When one of these
+falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some honored citizen.
+
+Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of the
+truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited without
+being deeply moved.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_31_
+
+
+car' goes
+em bar' go
+im mor' tal ized
+prin' ci ple
+col' o nists
+rep re sen ta' tion
+de ri' sion
+pa' tri ot ism
+Phil a del' phi a
+
+
+
+THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+
+Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George III, King of
+England, claimed the right to tax the people of this country, though he
+did not permit them to take any part in framing the laws under which
+they lived.
+
+He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that they could
+not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were fighting for a
+principle,--that of no taxation without representation, and would not
+buy the tea. In New York and Philadelphia the people would not allow the
+vessels to land their cargoes.
+
+The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared they
+would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The ladies had a
+hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea, but they stood out
+nobly.
+
+Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of December 16,
+1773, a party of young Americans, painted and dressed like Indians,
+boarded the three vessels lying in the harbor, opened the chests, and
+emptied all the tea into the water. They then slipped away to their
+homes, and were never found out by the British. One of the leaders of
+these daring young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has
+been immortalized by Longfellow.
+
+When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the ocean, the
+anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong force of soldiers to
+Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This act only increased the spirit
+of patriotism that burned in the breasts of all Americans.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the origin of
+the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses, which our American
+boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and sing:
+
+
+
+       Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,
+       And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;
+       That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;
+       "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters."
+       Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee,
+       And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle"--these are facts--"Yankee doodle dandy;"
+       My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"
+
+       John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated;
+       But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.
+       Then Jonathan to pout began--he laid a strong embargo--
+       "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the cargo.
+       Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,
+       Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle--keep it up--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."
+
+       A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated,
+       And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops retreated.
+       Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his laughter;
+       "That tune," said he, "suits to a T--I'll sing it ever after!"
+       Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and brandy,
+       E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle dandy.
+       Yankee doodle,--ho-ha-he--Yankee doodle dandy,
+       We kept the tune, but not the tea--Yankee doodle dandy.
+
+       I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
+       Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"--what a pity!
+       With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty--
+       On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea party,
+       No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
+       And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle dandy?
+       Yankee doodle, firm and true--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a principle, "No
+taxation without representation." What did they mean by this? Name the
+thirteen original colonies.
+
+Are the last syllables of the words _principle_ and
+_principal_ pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences of your own.
+
+What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?
+
+Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words _colonists,
+insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts, tempts._
+
+Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo, negro, cargo,
+piano, calico, potato, embargo.
+
+How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room for all of
+it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of examples found in your
+Reader.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_32_
+
+
+scenes
+source
+seized
+re ceive'
+poised
+nec' tar
+re verts'
+Ju' pi ter
+cat' a ract
+ex' qui site
+in tru' sive ly
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.
+
+
+       How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
+         When fond recollection presents them to view!
+       The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
+         And every loved spot that my infancy knew;--
+       The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;
+         The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
+
+       The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
+         And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
+
+       That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;
+         For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
+       I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
+         The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
+       How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,
+         And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
+       Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
+         And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
+
+       How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
+         As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!
+       Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
+         Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.
+
+       And now, far removed from that loved habitation,
+         The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
+       As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,
+         And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well!
+
+
+_Samuel Woodworth._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what each
+describes. Use each to describe something else.
+
+Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and tell what
+word you would have used in the place of each had you tried to express
+its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the author's? Why?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_33_
+
+
+blouse
+receipt'ed
+coun' te nance
+ab sorbed'
+con trast' ed
+for' tu nate ly
+mir' a cle
+stock'-still
+good-hu' mored ly
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to
+the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman
+climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from
+the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it
+into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder, "What _are_ you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers'
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face lighted up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box with
+holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to the
+child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+_From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.
+
+In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and five that
+express commands or requests.
+
+What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The second?
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,
+         And I dream in the firelight's glow,
+       And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs
+         That I listened to long ago.
+       Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp
+         Like an echoing, answering cry,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+       For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
+         That this earth is a silly, strange place,
+       And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
+         And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
+       But I know he has found it far better to sing
+         Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_34_
+
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+OUR HEROES.
+
+
+       Here's a hand to the boy who has courage
+         To do what he knows to be right;
+       When he falls in the way of temptation
+         He has a hard battle to fight.
+       Who strives against self and his comrades
+         Will find a most powerful foe:
+       All honor to him if he conquers;
+         A cheer for the boy who says "No!"
+
+       There's many a battle fought daily
+         The world knows nothing about;
+       There's many a brave little soldier
+         Whose strength puts a legion to rout.
+       And he who fights sin single-handed
+         Is more of a hero, I say,
+       Than he who leads soldiers to battle,
+         And conquers by arms in the fray.
+
+       Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,
+         And do what you know to be right;
+       Stand firm by the colors of manhood,
+         And you will o'ercome in the fight.
+       "The right!" be your battle cry ever
+         In waging the warfare of life;
+       And God, who knows who are the heroes,
+         Will give you the strength for the strife.
+
+
+_Phoebe Cary._
+
+From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write sentences each containing one of the following words:
+
+I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for bringing back
+vanished smiles, for making one brave and courageous, light-hearted and
+happy, there is nothing like a good Confession.
+
+_Father Bearne, S.J._
+
+
+
+       Heroes must be more than driftwood
+       Floating on a waveless tide.
+
+       For right is right, since God is God;
+         And right the day must win;
+       To doubt would be disloyalty,
+         To falter would be sin.
+
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
+Faith.
+
+_St. Paul._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_35_
+
+
+troll
+cel' er y
+new' fan gled
+thatch
+chink' ing
+as par' a gus
+im mense'
+sauce' pan
+de mol' ish ing
+sa' vor y
+pat' terns
+ag' gra va ting
+
+
+
+THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.
+
+
+There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When it struck
+one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a saucepan off the
+fire, from which came a very savory smell.
+
+"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple dumplings will
+be too much done."
+
+"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by the wood;
+and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make haste, and have some
+apple dumpling."
+
+"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"
+
+"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench, in the
+shadow of the thatch.
+
+"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is this,
+mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he clapped his
+hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice, which frightened the
+children--"a miserable slave!"
+
+"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he meant.
+
+"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have been."
+
+"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought thou used to
+say, at the election time, that thou wast a free-born Briton."
+
+"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up rather
+sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell of the dinner,
+that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but it is certain that he
+walked into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens, and then took a
+tolerable share in demolishing the apple dumpling.
+
+When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife said to him,
+"I hope thou and thy master haven't had words to-day."
+
+"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of being at
+another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and 'Tom do that,'
+and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday morning till Saturday
+night. I was thinking as I walked over to Squire Morton's to ask for the
+turnip seed for master,--I was thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a
+poor workingman after all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't
+stand it."
+
+So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his wife
+thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was mistaken. He
+walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the border of a little
+tinkling stream, he sat down and began to brood over his grievances.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much pleasanter
+sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery trenches, and
+thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall
+before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see
+my family starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman."
+
+"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his great
+surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby, sitting
+composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,--green hat, green
+coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled
+very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.
+
+"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.
+
+"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost to the
+noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere
+stranger as thy master?'
+
+"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a slave?"
+
+"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak roughly.
+Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is bound to bear them."
+
+"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom, shortly.
+
+"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your difficulty.
+Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce, mind you--has a
+silver tail."
+
+"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide; "fishing
+for minnows and being one's own master would be much pleasanter than the
+sort of life I've been leading this many a day."
+
+"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do
+you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy in your freedom."
+So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream, full
+of joy and pride.
+
+He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity for
+bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer.
+
+The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows. But
+of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with
+silver tails. They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles
+as a hare; what a life they led him!
+
+They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought
+his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite
+out of the water, and dart down the stream again like little silver
+arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry. He came home
+late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in
+his pocket, each with a silver tail.
+
+"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed,
+"though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever,
+yet I certainly am free; no man can now order me about."
+
+This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to Saturday
+afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.
+
+After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities; and when he
+had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in all lights,
+praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to conceal his
+impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived to sell them all,
+and get exactly fourteen shillings for them, and no more.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself, "I've found
+out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing it,--that every one of
+those customers of yours was your master. Why! you were at the beck of
+every man, woman, and child that came near you;--obliged to be in a good
+temper, too, which was very aggravating."
+
+"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path. "I knew you
+were a man of sense; look you, you are all workingmen; and you must all
+please your customers. Your master was your customer; what he bought of
+you was your work. Well, you must let the work be such as will please
+the customer."
+
+"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking the
+fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman; and has he a
+master of his own? Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books, and
+manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he nearly
+ruined last year?"
+
+"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of patterns
+at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom. "Well, in a way
+of speaking, then, he works to please his masters, poor fellow! He is,
+as one may say, a fellow-servant, and plagued with very awkward masters.
+So I should not mind his being my master, and I think I'll go and tell
+him so."
+
+"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not been able
+to better yourself, and you have no objection now to dig up the
+asparagus bed."
+
+So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had earned, got
+his old master to take him back, and kept a profound secret his
+adventures with the man in green.
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you) has a
+silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis. Read the
+sentence aloud several times, _omitting_ the group in parenthesis. Now
+read the _whole_ sentence, keeping in mind the fact that the words in
+parenthesis are not at all important,--that they are merely thrown in by
+way of explanation. You notice that you have read the words in
+parenthesis in a _lower tone_ and _faster time._ Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but that
+makes no difference in the reading of them.
+
+The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page 243.
+Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the method.
+
+I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not wrong to
+say so) as the compositions read by my companions.
+
+Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against me.
+
+I felt that I was strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to the ground.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       "Work! and the clouds of care will fly;
+         Pale want will pass away.
+       Work! and the leprosy of crime
+         And tyrants must decay.
+       Leave the dead ages in their urns:
+         The present time be ours,
+       To grapple bravely with our lot,
+         And strew our path with flowers."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_36_
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+       I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+         I make a sudden sally,
+       And sparkle out among the fern,
+         To bicker down a valley.
+       By thirty hills I hurry down,
+         Or slip between the ridges,
+       By twenty thorps, a little town,
+         And half a hundred bridges.
+       Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I chatter over stony ways
+         In little sharps and trebles;
+       I bubble into eddying bays;
+         I babble on the pebbles.
+       With many a curve my banks I fret
+         By many a field and fallow.
+       And many a fairy foreland set
+         With willow-weed and mallow.
+       I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+         I slide by hazel covers,
+       I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+         That grow for happy lovers.
+       I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+         Among my skimming swallows;
+       I make the netted sunbeams dance
+         Against my sandy shallows.
+
+       I murmur under moon and stars
+         In brambly wildernesses;
+       I linger by my shingly bars;
+         I loiter round my cresses.
+       And out again I curve and flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HAUNTS, places of frequent resort.
+
+COOT and hern, water fowls that frequent lakes and other still
+waters.
+
+BICKER, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or water.
+
+THORP, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.
+
+SHARPS and trebles, terms in music. They are here used to
+describe the sound of the brook.
+
+EDDYING, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays" dangerous to the
+swimmer?
+
+FRETTED BANKS, banks worn away by the action of the water.
+
+FALLOW, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running into the sea
+or other water.
+
+MALLOW, a kind of plant.
+
+GLOOM, to shine obscurely.
+
+SHINGLY, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.
+
+BARS, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal in a river or
+harbor.
+
+CRESSES, certain plants which grow near the water. They are
+sometimes used as a salad.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_37_
+
+
+wits
+hale
+borne
+suit' ed
+prop' er ly
+sit u a' tion
+
+
+
+LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+
+Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as one of the
+wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat feeble, and the few
+locks that are left him are gray, he is still more hale and hearty than
+many a younger man.
+
+Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is fond of
+children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his pleasant talk, as
+they gather round his fireside or sit upon his knee.
+
+Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to find out
+what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead them to think.
+
+"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if I have a
+cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to proceed?"
+
+"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be sure," said
+Norman.
+
+"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose the cake has
+to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut off a very thin
+slice for you, and divide what is left between your brother and sister,
+will that be fair?"
+
+"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."
+
+"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice? Did I not
+cut it into three parts?"
+
+"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have been exactly
+the same size."
+
+"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three equal parts,
+it would have been quite fair?"
+
+"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to complain."
+
+"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send to a
+distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each a basket to
+carry?"
+
+"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might not be
+fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger than the
+others."
+
+"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think. But we will
+take care that the baskets are all of the same size."
+
+"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a basket."
+
+"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled with
+feathers?"
+
+"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the same weight,
+and all will be right."
+
+"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons is a
+strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little child?"
+
+"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things there are
+to think about."
+
+"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be equally borne,
+they must be suited to the strength of those who have to bear them."
+
+"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me, Grandpa, and
+I will try to answer it properly this time."
+
+"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig for me,
+and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be fair if I set
+them to work to try them, and choose the one who does his task in the
+quickest time?"
+
+"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"
+
+"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start together."
+
+"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"
+
+"Exactly the same."
+
+"And will each man have a good spade?"
+
+"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."
+
+"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other hard and
+stony."
+
+"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The ground
+shall be everywhere alike."
+
+"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if done as
+well as that of either of the other two, is the best man."
+
+"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it will be
+greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being thoughtful in
+little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely in important ones."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+In the words _suit_ (s[=u]t) and _soon_ (s[=oo]n), have the marked
+vowels the same sound?
+
+
+In the two statements,--
+
+
+       I give it to you because it's good;
+       Virtue brings its own reward;
+
+
+why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in the second?
+
+
+       Let your hands be honest and clean--
+       Let your conscience be honest and clean--
+
+
+Combine these two sentences by the word _and_; rewrite them, omitting
+all needless words.
+
+Compose two sentences, one having the action-word _learned_; the other
+the word _taught_.
+
+Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form of the
+action-word _bear_:
+
+
+As Christ -- His cross, so must we -- ours.
+Our cross must be --. "And -- His own
+cross, He went forth to Calvary."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_38_
+
+
+elate'
+despond'
+lu' mi nous
+pil' grim age
+
+
+
+ONE BY ONE.
+
+
+       One by one the sands are flowing,
+         One by one the moments fall;
+       Some are coming, some are going;
+         Do not strive to grasp them all.
+
+       One by one thy duties wait thee;
+         Let thy whole strength go to each;
+       Let no future dreams elate thee,
+         Learn thou first what these can teach.
+
+       One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)
+         Joys are sent thee here below;
+       Take them readily when given,
+         Ready, too, to let them go.
+
+       One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
+         Do not fear an armed band;
+       One will fade as others greet thee--
+         Shadows passing through the land.
+
+       Do not look at life's long sorrow;
+         See how small each moment's pain;
+       God will help thee for to-morrow,
+         So each day begin again.
+
+       Every hour that fleets so slowly
+         Has its task to do or bear;
+       Luminous the crown, and holy,
+         When each gem is set with care.
+
+       Do not linger with regretting,
+         Or for passing hours despond;
+       Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
+         Look too eagerly beyond.
+
+       Hours are golden links, God's token,
+         Reaching heaven; but one by one
+       Take them, lest the chain be broken
+         Ere the pilgrimage be done.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each line
+teaches.
+
+Name some great works that were done little by little.
+
+What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?
+
+Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall fall by
+little and little."
+
+What is the real or literal meaning of the word _gem_?
+
+Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has there.
+
+Explain the line--
+
+
+       "Let no future dreams elate thee."
+
+
+What is meant by "building castles in the air?"
+
+Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself what each
+line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an important moral
+lesson. Find out what that lesson is.
+
+Tell what you know of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_39_
+
+
+ca noe'
+sup' ple
+fi' brous
+res' in
+sin' ews
+tam' a rack
+ooz' ing
+bal' sam
+sol' i ta ry
+pli' ant
+fis' sure
+re sist' ance
+som' ber
+crev' ice
+re splen' dent
+
+
+
+THE BIRCH CANOE.
+
+
+           "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Growing by the rushing river,
+       Tall and stately in the valley!
+       I a light canoe will build me,
+       That shall float upon the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily!
+           Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!
+       Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,
+       For the summer time is coming,
+       And the sun is warm in heaven,
+       And you need no white-skin wrapper!"
+           Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
+       In the solitary forest,
+       When the birds were singing gayly,
+       In the Moon of Leaves were singing.
+           And the tree with all its branches
+       Rustled in the breeze of morning,
+       Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+       "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+           With his knife the tree he girdled;
+       Just beneath its lowest branches,
+       Just above the roots, he cut it,
+       Till the sap came oozing outward;
+       Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+       Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+       With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+       Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
+           "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+       Of your strong and pliant branches,
+       My canoe to make more steady,
+       Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+           Through the summit of the Cedar
+       Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+       Went a murmur of resistance;
+       But it whispered, bending downward,
+       "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+           Down he hewed the boughs of cedar
+       Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+       Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+       Like two bended bows together.
+           "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+       Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+       My canoe to bind together,
+       So to bind the ends together,
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Larch with all its fibers
+       Shivered in the air of morning,
+       Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+       Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
+       "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the earth he tore the fibers,
+       Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.
+       Closely sewed the bark together,
+       Bound it closely to the framework.
+           "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+       Of your balsam and your resin,
+       So to close the seams together
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+       Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+       Rattled like a shore with pebbles,
+       Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+       "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+           And he took the tears of balsam,
+       Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+       Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,
+       Made each crevice safe from water.
+           "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+       I will make a necklace of them,
+       Make a girdle for my beauty,
+       And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+           From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,
+       With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+       Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+       Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
+       Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+       "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the ground the quills he gathered,
+       All the little shining arrows,
+       Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+       With the juice of roots and berries;
+       Into his canoe he wrought them,
+       Round its waist a shining girdle.
+       Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+       On its breast two stars resplendent.
+           Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
+       In the valley, by the river,
+       In the bosom of the forest;
+       And the forest's life was in it,
+       All its mystery and its magic,
+       All the lightness of the birch tree,
+       All the toughness of the cedar,
+       All the larch's supple sinews;
+       And it floated on the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MOON OF LEAVES, month of May.
+
+SHEER, straight up and down.
+
+TAMARACK, the American larch tree.
+
+FISSURE, a narrow opening; a cleft.
+
+What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?
+
+Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put these to?
+
+What are the drops of balsam called? Why?
+
+NOTE.--"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest and most
+beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It is generally
+made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and so skillfully shaped
+and sewed together with the roots of the tamarack, that it is
+water-tight, and rides upon the water as light as a cork."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_40_
+
+
+pic' tures
+pal' ace
+four' teen
+fa' mous ly
+scul' lion
+re past'
+in hal' ing
+en chant' ed
+mat' tress
+char' coal
+land' scapes
+ar' chi tect
+
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+
+A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the care of the
+sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence, where he knew no
+one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as himself, who had lived
+in the same village, but who had gone to Florence to be scullion in the
+house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was for a good motive that little Peter
+desired to come to Florence: he wanted to be an artist, and he knew
+there was a school for artists there. When he had seen the town well,
+Peter stationed himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor
+of the cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a long time;
+but at length Thomas appeared.
+
+"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"
+
+"I am come to learn painting."
+
+"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is then sure
+not to die of hunger."
+
+"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied Peter.
+
+"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself ill every
+day, if I chose to do it."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have too much
+and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will bring the food;
+and we shall get on famously."
+
+"Very well," said Thomas.
+
+"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten nothing
+to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."
+
+Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept, and bade
+him wait there till he brought him some fragments that he was freely
+permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for Thomas was in high
+spirits, and little Peter had a famous appetite.
+
+"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the question is,
+how are you going to study?"
+
+"I shall study like all artists--with pencil and paper."
+
+"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and pencils?"
+
+"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is scullion at
+his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you are rich, it is just
+the same as if I was."
+
+Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken victuals, he
+had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait three years before he
+should receive wages. Peter did not mind. The garret walls were white.
+Thomas could give him charcoal, and so he set to draw on the walls with
+that; and after a little while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.
+
+With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were bought.
+Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures in the
+galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in the
+neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but enchanted with
+what he had seen, he crept back into the garret, where he was always
+sure to find his dinner hidden under the mattress, _to keep it warm,_ as
+Thomas said. Very soon the first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and
+Peter drew his best designs to ornament his friend's room.
+
+One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came with the
+architect to the very top of the house, and happened to enter the
+scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both Cardinal and architect
+were struck with the genius of the drawings. They thought they were
+executed by Thomas, and his Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas
+heard that the Cardinal had been in the garret, and had seen what he
+called Peter's daubs, he thought all was lost.
+
+"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him; and
+Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on his knees,
+and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"
+
+The Cardinal made him tell his story.
+
+"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he, smiling.
+
+But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at length a
+fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came the news that
+the monks of a distant convent had received and kept with them a boy of
+fourteen, who had come to ask permission to copy a painting of Raphael
+in the chapel of the convent. This boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal
+sent him as a pupil to one of the first artists in Rome.
+
+Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as brothers in
+one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One said of the other, "He
+is the greatest painter of our age." The other said of the first, "He is
+a model for evermore of a faithful friend."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA, a great Italian painter and architect. He was
+born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in Rome, in 1669.
+
+EMINENCE, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.
+
+GALLERIES, rooms or buildings where works of art are exhibited.
+
+VICTUALS (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human beings.
+
+FORTNIGHT (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is contracted from
+_fourteen nights._
+
+Locate the cities of _Rome_ and _Florence_.
+
+Give words that mean the opposite of the following:
+
+ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked, merry, bought,
+friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant, appeared, disgrace, famous,
+faithful, morning, enchanted.
+
+Recite the words--"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"--as
+Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a great _cardinal_ in
+favor of a poor destitute _boy_ whom he loved as a brother. He _felt_
+what he said.
+
+Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them, and tell
+wherein the humor lies.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.
+
+_Spanish Proverb._
+
+
+
+Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."_
+
+
+
+       A gift in need, though small indeed,
+       Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_41_
+
+
+vas' sal
+roy' al ly
+beg' gar y
+hom' age
+sen' ti nel
+dif' fer ence
+
+
+
+TO MY DOG BLANCO.[003]
+
+
+       My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,
+         A willing vassal at my feet,
+       Glad partner of my home and fare,
+         My shadow in the street.
+
+       I look into your great brown eyes,
+         Where love and loyal homage shine,
+       And wonder where the difference lies
+         Between your soul and mine!
+
+       For all the good that I have found
+         Within myself or human kind,
+       Hath royally informed and crowned
+         Your gentle heart and mind.
+
+       I scan the whole broad earth around
+         For that one heart which, leal and true,
+       Bears friendship without end or bound,
+         And find the prize in you.
+
+       I trust you as I trust the stars;
+         Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,
+       Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,
+         Can move you from my side!
+
+       As patient under injury
+         As any Christian saint of old,
+       As gentle as a lamb with me,
+         But with your brothers bold;
+
+       More playful than a frolic boy,
+         More watchful than a sentinel,
+       By day and night your constant joy
+         To guard and please me well.
+
+       I clasp your head upon my breast--
+         The while you whine and lick my hand--
+       And thus our friendship is confessed,
+         And thus we understand!
+
+       Ah, Blanco! did I worship God
+         As truly as you worship me,
+       Or follow where my Master trod
+         With your humility,--
+
+       Did I sit fondly at His feet,
+         As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,
+       And watch Him with a love as sweet,
+         My life would grow divine!
+
+
+_J.G. Holland_
+
+From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Footnote 003: Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's Sons.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEAL (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.
+
+DUNGEON (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison, commonly
+underground.
+
+Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal; glad
+partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.
+
+What duty does Blanco teach his master?
+
+Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.
+
+The three great divisions of time are _past, present, future._ Tell what
+time each of the following action-words expresses:
+
+found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has borne,
+crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_42_
+
+
+ab'bot
+clois'ter
+min'ster
+li'brary
+chron' i cle
+
+
+
+A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+
+Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk named Urban,
+who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent piety. He was a studious
+reader of the learned and sacred volumes in the convent library. One day
+he read in the Epistles of St. Peter the words, "One day is with the
+Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day;" and this
+saying seemed impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.
+
+Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the library
+into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird perched on the
+bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a nightingale. The bird did not
+move as the monk approached her, till he came quite close, and then she
+flew to another bough, and again another, as the monk pursued her. Still
+singing the same sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk,
+entranced by the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.
+
+At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every thing
+seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more beautiful,
+and older,--the buildings, the garden; and in the place of the low,
+humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three towers reared its
+head to the sky. This seemed very strange to the monk, indeed marvelous;
+but he walked on to the cloister gate and timidly rang the bell. A
+porter entirely unknown to him answered his summons, and drew back in
+amazement when he saw the monk.
+
+The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing with
+astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to have seen
+before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered the church; but
+all retreated when they saw the strange figure of the monk. The abbot
+only (but not his abbot) stopped, and stretching a crucifix before him,
+exclaimed, "In the name of Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And
+what dost thou seek here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"
+
+The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his eyes to the
+ground, and for the first time became aware that a long silvery beard
+descended from his chin over his girdle, to which was still suspended
+the key of the library. To the monks around, the stranger seemed some
+marvelous appearance; and, with a mixture of awe and admiration, they
+led him to the chair of the abbot. There he gave the key to a young
+monk, who opened the library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was
+written that three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and
+no one knew whither he had gone.
+
+"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk Urban,
+with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes, listening to thy
+notes, and yet three hundred years have passed away! Thou hast sung to
+me the song of eternity which I could never before learn. Now I know it;
+and, dust myself, I pray to God kneeling in the dust." With these words
+he sank to the ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of punctuation.
+
+Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare your work
+with the printed page.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness shorten
+life.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"_
+
+
+The older I grow--and I now stand upon the brink of eternity--the more
+comes back to me the sentence in the catechism which I learned when a
+child, and the fuller and deeper becomes its meaning: "What is the chief
+end of man? To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever."
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_43_
+
+
+dole
+man' na
+em' blem
+re leased'
+plumes
+breathe
+crim' son
+feath' ered
+soared
+dou' bly
+hom' i ly
+ser'a phim
+
+
+
+THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+
+
+       Up soared the lark into the air,
+       A shaft of song, a winged prayer,
+       As if a soul, released from pain,
+       Were flying back to heaven again.
+
+       St. Francis heard; it was to him
+       An emblem of the Seraphim;
+       The upward motion of the fire,
+       The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
+
+       Around Assisi's convent gate
+       The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
+       From moor and mere and darksome wood
+       Came flocking for their dole of food.
+
+       "O brother birds," St. Francis said,
+       "Ye come to me and ask for bread,
+       But not with bread alone to-day
+       Shall ye be fed and sent away.
+
+       "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds
+       With manna of celestial words;
+       Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
+       Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
+
+       "O, doubly are ye bound to praise
+       The great Creator in your lays;
+       He giveth you your plumes of down,
+       Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
+
+       "He giveth you your wings to fly
+       And breathe a purer air on high,
+       And careth for you everywhere,
+       Who for yourselves so little care!"
+
+       With flutter of swift wings and songs
+       Together rose the feathered throngs,
+       And singing scattered far apart;
+       Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
+
+       He knew not if the brotherhood
+       His homily had understood;
+       He only knew that to one ear
+       The meaning of his words was clear.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. FRANCIS PREACHING]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LAYS, songs.
+
+ASSISI ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St. Francis was
+born in 1182.
+
+What does "manna of celestial words" mean?
+
+What is the singular form of seraphim?
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Every word has its own spirit,
+         True or false, that never dies;
+       Every word man's lips have uttered
+         Echoes in God's skies.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_44_
+
+
+GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.
+
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sound the thrilling song;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Roll the hymn along.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let the heavens ring;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Welcome, new-born King.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Over the sea and land,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Chant the anthem grand.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let us all rejoice;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Lift each heart and voice.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Swell the hymn on high;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Sound it to the sky.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sing it, sinful earth,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         For the Savior's birth.
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+[Illustration: Artist _Hofmann_.--Caption: "Glory to God in the
+highest; and on earth peace to men of good will."]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_45_
+
+
+plied
+won' drous
+ex cite' ment
+com mo' tion
+vig' or
+fo' li age
+mar' vel ous
+com pas' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.[004]
+
+
+Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in the
+evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told of strange
+things that were to happen. They had lived in the Forest many, many
+years; but never had they seen such marvelous sights as were to be seen
+now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.
+
+"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who are not so
+tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things."
+
+"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars, "and the
+Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from
+heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon the hills."
+
+The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a tiny tree,
+so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a very beautiful
+little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses loved it very dearly.
+
+"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree; "and how
+I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very
+beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder whence it comes."
+
+"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels could make
+such sweet music."
+
+"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes, and the
+shepherds on the hills join in the song."
+
+The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about a Child
+that had been born. But further than this they did not understand. The
+strange and glorious song continued all the night.
+
+In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the same song
+about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with them, until every
+part of the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. They were clad
+all in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
+harps in their hands. Love, hope, joy and compassion beamed from their
+beautiful faces. The Angels came through the Forest to where the little
+Tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands,
+kissed its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had been
+born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon
+the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang the song of the
+Child.
+
+When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the little Tree.
+Night and day he watched so that no harm should come to it. Day by day
+it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it his choicest rays,
+heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds sang to it their
+prettiest songs.
+
+So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became the pride
+and glory of the Forest.
+
+One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest. "Have no
+fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the Master."
+
+And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its smooth
+trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and then turned and
+went away.
+
+[Illustration: _A. Bida._]
+
+Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested beneath the
+Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times He slept there and
+the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came with the Master to the
+Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the Tree, and talked with Him of
+things which the Tree never could understand. It heard them tell how the
+Master healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed blessings
+wherever He walked.
+
+But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face was pale
+and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed. The Tree heard
+Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning there was a sound of
+rude voices and a clashing of swords.
+
+[Illustration: _Hofmann._]
+
+Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree was hewn to
+the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and its soft, thick
+foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the Forest wept.
+
+The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw it no more.
+
+But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great King
+stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had seen that day
+a Cross raised on Calvary,--the Tree on which was nailed the Body of the
+dying Master.
+
+_Eugene Field._
+
+From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+[Footnote 004: Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_46_
+
+
+
+THE HOLY CITY.
+
+
+       Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;--
+       I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
+       I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang;--
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And then methought my dream was changed;--
+       The streets no longer rang
+       Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
+       The sun grew dark with mystery,
+       The morn was cold and chill,
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;--
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And once again the scene was changed--
+       New earth there seemed to be;
+       I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
+       The light of God was on its streets,
+       The gates were open wide,
+       And all who would might enter,
+       And no one was denied.
+       No need of moon or stars by night,
+       Nor sun to shine by day;
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,--
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_47_
+
+
+trea' son
+eu' lo gies
+de bat' ed
+phi los' o phy
+in ge nu' i ty
+ap pro' pri ate
+con' sum ma ted
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+
+
+Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was ordered to
+furnish the choicest dainties that money could procure. The first course
+consisted of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with
+appropriate sauces. This gave rise to much mirth and many witty remarks
+by the guests. The second course was also nothing but tongues, and so
+with the third and fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus
+demanded in an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and philosophy.
+By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried on,
+contracts executed, and marriages consummated. Nothing is equal to the
+tongue." The company applauded Aesop's wit, and good feeling was
+restored.
+
+"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of dining with
+me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow," said
+he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with the worst meat you can find." The
+next day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment and
+the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said
+Xanthus, "should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue? What
+wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in? Treasons,
+violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved upon, and
+communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of
+private friendships." The company were more than ever struck by Aesop's
+ingenuity, and they interceded for him with his master.
+
+_From "Aesop's Fables."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+XANTHUS, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the sixth century
+before Christ.
+
+Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they are formed
+in each case:
+
+dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily, copy, loaf,
+roof, half, valley, donkey.
+
+What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following sentence: "How
+should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst another?"
+
+Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he said in
+dispraise of it.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The tongue is
+a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the Father; and by
+it we curse men who are made after the likeness of God."
+
+_From "Epistle of St. James."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_48_
+
+
+ap' pe tite
+ha rangued'
+sus pend' ed
+min' strel sy
+
+
+
+THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+
+
+       A nightingale, that all day long
+       Had cheered the village with his song,
+       Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
+       Nor yet when eventide was ended,
+       Began to feel, as well he might,
+       The keen demands of appetite;
+       When, looking eagerly around,
+       He spied far off, upon the ground,
+       A something shining in the dark,
+       And knew the glowworm by his spark;
+       So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
+       He thought to put him in his crop.
+
+       The worm, aware of his intent,
+       Harangued him thus, right eloquent:
+       "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
+       "As much as I your minstrelsy,
+       You would abhor to do me wrong
+       As much as I to spoil your song:
+       For 'twas the self-same Power Divine
+       Taught you to sing and me to shine;
+       That you with music, I with light,
+       Might beautify and cheer the night."
+       The songster heard this short oration,
+       And, warbling out his approbation,
+       Released him, as my story tells,
+       And found a supper somewhere else.
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of appetite?"
+
+Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the bird? Study
+it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy with the printed
+page as to spelling, capitals and punctuation.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       I would not enter on my list of friends
+       (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
+       Yet wanting sensibility) the man
+       Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
+       An inadvertent step may crush the snail
+       That crawls at evening in the public path;
+       But he that has humanity, forewarned,
+       Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
+
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+
+       Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
+         Nor crush that helpless worm!
+       The frame thy wayward looks deride
+         Required a God to form.
+
+       The common Lord of all that move.
+         From whom thy being flowed,
+       A portion of His boundless love
+         On that poor worm bestowed.
+
+       Let them enjoy their little day,
+         Their humble bliss receive;
+       Oh! do not lightly take away
+         The life thou canst not give!
+
+
+_Thomas Gisborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_49_
+
+
+mar' gin
+pitch' er
+cup' board
+breathed
+di' a mond
+quiv' er ing
+
+
+
+JACK FROST.
+
+
+       Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
+       And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
+       So, through the valley, and over the height,
+         In silence I'll take my way.
+       I will not go on like that blustering train,
+       The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+       Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;
+         But I'll be as busy as they!"
+
+       Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;
+       He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+       In diamond beads; and over the breast
+         Of the quivering lake he spread
+       A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+       The glittering point of many a spear,
+       Which he hung on its margin, far and near,
+         Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+       He went to the windows of those who slept,
+       And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:
+       Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
+         By the morning light were seen
+       Most beautiful things!--there were flowers and trees;
+       There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
+       There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+         All pictured in silvery sheen!
+
+       But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+       He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+       That all had forgotten for him to prepare.--
+         "Now, just to set them a-thinking,
+       I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;
+       "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
+       And the glass of water they've left for me,
+       Shall '_tchick_,' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+
+_Hannah F. Gould._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CREST, top or summit.
+
+COAT OF MAIL, a garment of iron or steel worn by warriors in olden
+times.
+
+BEVIES, flocks or companies.
+
+SHEEN, brightness.
+
+TCHICK a combination of letters whose pronunciation is supposed to
+resemble the sound of breaking glass.
+
+What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?
+
+How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread over the
+lake? Why?
+
+What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of those who
+slept?"
+
+What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?
+
+Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work? Why does
+he work generally at night?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_50_
+
+
+re' al ize
+pen' du lum
+dil' i gent ly
+sig nif' i cance
+auc tion eer'
+per sist' ent ly
+in ex haust' i ble
+un der stood'
+hope' less ly
+nev er the less
+
+
+
+"GOING! GOING! GONE!"
+
+
+The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one of our
+large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room so crowded
+with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's face and uplifted
+hammer above the heads of the crowd.
+
+"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a sharp rap.
+
+I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with a new
+force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times before, with
+only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded solemn.
+
+"Going! Going! Gone!"
+
+"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;--"with time." This
+world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that we are buyers: we
+are, in fact, more like beggars; we have brought no money to exchange
+for precious minutes, hours, days, or years; they are given to us. There
+is no calling out of terms, no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but
+nevertheless, the time is "going! going! gone!"
+
+The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound, and the
+more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of the value of
+time.
+
+When we are young we think old people are preaching and prosing when
+they say so much about it,--when they declare so often that days, weeks,
+even years, are short. I can remember when a holiday, a whole day long,
+appeared to me an almost inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon,
+even, seemed an endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come
+seemed longer than does a whole year now.
+
+One needs to live many years before one learns how little time there is
+in a year,--how little, indeed, there will be even in the longest
+possible life,--how many things one will still be obliged to leave
+undone.
+
+But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize if you will
+try--if you will stop and think about it a little; and that is, how fast
+and how steadily the present time is slipping away. However long life
+may seem to you as you look forward to the whole of it, the present hour
+has only sixty minutes, and minute by minute, second by second, it is
+"going! going! gone!" If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is
+"gone" forever. Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time."
+It makes me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have
+wasted; how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.
+
+All the men and women who have made the world better, happier or wiser
+for their having lived in it, have done so by working diligently and
+persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one of these, when
+"looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw not the specter of his
+mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am so foolish as to think that all
+the preaching in the world can make anything look to young eyes as it
+looks to old eyes; not a bit of it.
+
+But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the minute,
+hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at the clock now
+and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of every minute, as it
+flies,--"Going! going! gone!"
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PROSING, talking in a dull way.
+
+In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics, use others
+that have the same general meaning:
+
+I heard these words _ringing_ out from a _room_ so _crowded_ with
+_people_ that I could _but_ just _see_ the man's _face._ How _fast_ and
+_steadily_ the present time is _slipping_ away!
+
+
+Punctuate the following:
+
+Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_51_
+
+
+yearn
+car' ol
+mus' ing
+stee' ple
+mag' ic al
+
+
+
+SEVEN TIMES TWO.
+
+
+       You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,
+         How many soever they be,
+       And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,
+         Come over, come over to me!
+
+       Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,
+         No magical sense conveys;
+       And bells have forgotten their old art of telling
+         The fortune of future days.
+
+       "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,
+         While a boy listened alone;
+       Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
+         All by himself on a stone.
+
+       Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
+         And mine, they are yet to be;
+       No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:
+         You leave the story to me.
+
+       The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,
+         And hangeth her hoods of snow;
+       She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:
+         Oh, children take long to grow!
+
+       I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,
+         Nor long summer bide so late;
+       And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,
+         For some things are ill to wait.
+
+       I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,
+         While dear hands are laid on my head,
+       "The child is a woman--the book may close over,
+         For all the lessons are said."
+
+       I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,
+         Not one, as he sits on the tree;
+       The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!
+         Such as I wish it to be.
+
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"TURN AGAIN, TURN AGAIN!" Reference is here made to Dick
+Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London to earn a
+living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord Mayor of that city.
+
+
+NOTE.--This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics, entitled
+"The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a woman's life. For
+the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see page 44 of the Fourth
+Reader. Read it in connection with this. "Seven Times Two" shows the
+girl standing at the entrance to maidenhood, books closed and lessons
+said, longing for the years to go faster to bring to her the happiness
+she imagines is waiting.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_52_
+
+
+man' i fold
+do mes' tic
+pet' tish ly
+in grat' i tude
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+
+It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long
+absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath
+which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change
+had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my
+youthful character. The world was altered, too; and as I stood at my
+mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless,
+happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of
+tenderness.
+
+But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance
+of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday--as
+if the blessed sound of her well-remembered voice was in my ear. The gay
+dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my
+mind that, had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed
+would have been gentle and refreshing.
+
+The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of it now
+pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who have parents to
+love them may learn to value them as they ought.
+
+My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so accustomed to
+her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as
+children usually are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently; but
+when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I
+began to believe she would always be spared to me; but they told me she
+would die.
+
+One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home discouraged
+and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was paler than usual,
+but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my
+return. Alas! when I look back through the lapse of thirteen years, I
+think my heart must have been stone not to have been melted by it. She
+requested me to go downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I
+pettishly asked her why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a
+look of mild reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a
+hundred years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?"
+
+I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly. Instead of
+smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I set the glass down
+very quickly, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to
+bed without bidding my mother good night; but when alone in my room, in
+darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her
+voice trembled when she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her
+chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they
+told me I must not waken her.
+
+I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my bed,
+resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I was for
+my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and, hurrying on
+my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber. She was dead! She never
+spoke more--never smiled upon me again; and when I touched the hand that
+used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it made me
+start.
+
+I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I
+then wished that I might die, and be buried with her; and, old as I now
+am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but
+have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot
+call her back; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of
+her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me
+will bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       "But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+       And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_53_
+
+
+chide
+be dewed'
+em balmed'
+be tide'
+lin' gered
+wor' shiped
+
+
+
+THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.
+
+
+       I love it, I love it; and who shall dare
+       To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?
+       I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;
+       I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.
+       'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;
+       Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
+       Would ye learn the spell?--a mother sat there!
+       And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
+
+       In Childhood's hour I lingered near
+       The hallowed seat with listening ear;
+       And gentle words that mother would give,
+       To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
+       She told me that shame would never betide,
+       With truth for my creed and God for my guide;
+       She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,
+       As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.
+
+       I sat and watched her many a day,
+       When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
+       And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,
+       And turned from her Bible to bless her child.
+       Years rolled on; but the last one sped--
+       My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:
+       I learned how much the heart can bear,
+       When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.
+
+       'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now
+       With quivering breath and throbbing brow:
+       'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;
+       And Memory flows with lava tide.
+       Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
+       While the scalding drops start down my cheek;
+       But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear
+       My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.
+
+_Eliza Cook._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPELL, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have magical power; a
+charm.
+
+HALLOWED, made holy.
+
+HOLLOWED, made a hole out of; made hollow. Use these two words
+in sentences of your own.
+
+What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"
+
+Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your imagination
+will furnish you with all needed details.
+
+Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the accented
+syllable of each:
+
+absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety, again, virtue,
+ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother, genuine, earliest, fatigued,
+business.
+
+The dictionary will aid you.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_54_
+
+
+crags
+break
+tongue
+thoughts
+ha' ven
+sail' or
+state' ly
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+       And I would that my tongue could utter
+         The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+       O well for the fisherman's boy,
+         That he shouts with his sister at play!
+       O well for the sailor lad,
+         That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+       And the stately ships go on
+         To the haven under the hill;
+       But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+         And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
+       But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+         Will never come back to me.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tennyson]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_55_
+
+
+barns
+deaf en ing
+i dol' a trous
+pon' der
+ca lum' ni ate
+Be at' i tudes
+
+
+
+GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+
+The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended to inspire
+the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It was given amidst
+fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and whatever else could fill
+the minds of the Jews with fear and wonder. Compelled, as it were, by
+the idolatrous acts of His chosen people, by their repeated rebellions,
+and their endless murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty
+Sovereign, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with awe and
+dread.
+
+It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love, was given
+to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the Beatitudes from
+which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders were heard; no angry
+flashes of lightning were visible. There was nothing forbidding in the
+voice, words, or appearance of the Divine Lawgiver. In the whole
+exterior of our Savior there was a something so sweet, so humble, so
+meek and captivating, that the people were filled with admiration and
+love.
+
+One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that Christ
+preached is the fact that He constantly called God our Father. How
+beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the Law of love! Listen
+to Him attentively, and ponder upon His words:
+
+"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by them:
+otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO is in
+heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy
+right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy FATHER WHO
+seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your enemies; do good to them
+that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you; that
+you may be the children of your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His
+sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the
+unjust.
+
+"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap,
+nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER feedeth them. Are not
+you of much more value than they?... If you, then, being evil, know how
+to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will
+forgive men their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also
+your offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your FATHER
+forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you pray: OUR FATHER
+Who art in heaven."
+
+From these and many other similar expressions found in the very first
+sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that it is the
+expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as our loving Father;
+and that, however unworthy we may be, we should look upon ourselves as
+His beloved children. There cannot be a possible doubt of this, since it
+is taught so positively by His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the
+Truth, and the Life."
+
+[Illustration: _Henry le Jeune._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_56_
+
+
+
+HAPPY OLD AGE.
+
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried;
+         "The few locks that are left you are gray;
+       You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
+         "I remembered that youth would fly fast,
+       And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
+         That I never might need them at last."
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
+         "And life must be hastening away;
+       You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;
+         "Let the cause thy attention engage;
+       In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
+         And He hath not forgotten my age."
+
+
+_Robert Southey._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of the
+important lessons it teaches?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_57_
+
+
+smit' ing
+el' o quence
+mes' mer ize
+ges' ture
+vin' e gar
+un dy' ing ly
+
+
+
+KIND WORDS.
+
+
+Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to
+be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had
+lost its way and come on earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the
+hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and putting for the while an angel's
+nature into us.
+
+Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In truth,
+there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems as they could
+almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely, soften the hard and
+angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long, loyal, and
+self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a foundation than a kind
+word.
+
+Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been made
+happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we are unable to
+explain! And happiness is a great power of holiness. Thus, kind words,
+by their power of producing happiness, have also a power of producing
+holiness, and so of winning men to God.
+
+If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious subjects, it is
+by voice and words that men mesmerize each other. Hence it is that the
+world is converted by the voice of the preacher. Hence it is that an
+angry word rankles longer in the heart than an angry gesture, nay, very
+often even longer than a blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power
+of kindness in general applies with an additional and peculiar force to
+kind words.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+From "Spiritual Conferences."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Explain: Kind words are the music of the world--An angel's song that had
+lost its way and come on earth--Smiting the hearts of men with sweetest
+wounds--Putting an angel's nature into us--Hard and angry hearts of
+men--An angry word rankles longer in the heart than even a blow.
+
+Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made you very
+happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,--to have kind words
+said to him, or for him to say them to another?
+
+Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or
+learning.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred
+barrels of vinegar.
+
+_St. Francis de Sales._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_58_
+
+
+
+KINDNESS IS THE WORD.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "What is the real good?"
+       I asked in musing mood.
+
+       Order, said the law court;
+       Knowledge, said the school;
+       Truth, said the wise man;
+       Pleasure, said the fool;
+       Love, said the maiden;
+       Beauty, said the page;
+       Freedom, said the dreamer;
+       Home, said the sage;
+       Fame, said the soldier;
+       Equity, said the seer;--
+
+       Spake my heart full sadly:
+       "The answer is not here."
+
+       Then within my bosom
+       Softly this I heard:
+       "Each heart holds the secret:
+       Kindness is the word."
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAGE, a wise man.
+
+SEER, one who foresees events; a prophet.
+
+EQUITY ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_59_
+
+
+va' cant
+joc' und
+pen' sive
+spright' ly
+sol' i tude
+daf' fo dils
+con tin' u ous
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+       I wandered lonely as a cloud
+         That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+       When all at once I saw a crowd,
+         A host, of golden daffodils,
+       Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+         Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+       Continuous as the stars that shine
+         And twinkle on the Milky Way,
+       They stretched in never-ending line
+         Along the margin of the bay:
+       Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+         Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+       The waves beside them danced; but they
+         Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
+       A poet could not but be gay
+         In such a jocund company.
+       I gazed,--and gazed,--but little thought
+         What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+       For oft, when on my couch I lie
+         In vacant or in pensive mood,
+       They flash upon that inward eye
+         Which is the bliss of solitude;
+       And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+         And dances with the daffodils.
+
+
+_William Wordsworth._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MILKY WAY, the belt of light seen at night in the heavens, and is
+composed of millions of stars.
+
+1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the poet compare
+his loneliness?
+
+What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the daffodils
+doing?
+
+What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe the picture
+contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.
+
+2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of daffodils there
+were? How would you tell it?
+
+How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does _margin_ mean?
+
+How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he say they
+were doing?
+
+3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the daffodils surpass
+the waves?
+
+What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?
+
+4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive mood?" "Inward
+eye?"
+
+How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?
+
+What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the heart of the
+poet?
+
+What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the beginning of the
+poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?
+
+Commit the poem to memory.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_60_
+
+
+hos' tile
+en dowed'
+tu' mult
+ac' o lyte
+ep' i taph
+grav' i ty
+com' bat ants
+pref' er ence
+a maz' ed ly
+ath let' ic
+Vi at' i cum
+in her' it ance
+cem' e ter y
+re tal' i ate
+un flinch' ing ly
+ir re sist' i ble
+un vi' o la ted
+con temp' tu ous ly
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.
+
+
+At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
+going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
+condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
+these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
+souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
+of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
+many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
+discharge this duty.
+
+The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
+altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
+Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
+at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
+sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
+an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
+
+"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
+admiration of the picture before him.
+
+"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
+this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
+glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
+forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
+courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
+Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
+covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
+
+"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
+Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
+must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
+wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
+
+"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
+folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
+reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
+expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
+lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
+low, thoroughfares.
+
+As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
+lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
+and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
+"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
+"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
+
+"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
+I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
+
+"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
+had a child like thee!"
+
+"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
+sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
+
+"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
+
+"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
+made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
+him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
+Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
+pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
+
+In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
+than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
+where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
+
+"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
+their leader.
+
+"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
+seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
+Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
+take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
+
+"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."
+
+"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
+youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
+done. So come, join us at once."
+
+"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
+
+"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
+carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
+not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
+I will put it by safe while we play."
+
+"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
+
+"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
+wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
+of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
+was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
+with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
+bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
+pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
+purpose.
+
+"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
+chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
+once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
+asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
+contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
+Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
+
+This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
+Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
+demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
+was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
+while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
+till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
+breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
+just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
+themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
+round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
+retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
+overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
+and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
+tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
+him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
+
+"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
+"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
+
+The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
+bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
+relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
+eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
+soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
+of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
+hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
+met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
+at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
+that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
+
+"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
+Christian."
+
+The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
+eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
+faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
+
+The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
+child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
+and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
+slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
+himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
+amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
+for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
+belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:
+
+
+
+       "Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
+         The mob profanely bade him to display;
+       He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
+         Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
+
+
+_Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."
+
+
+
+ADDLE, to become rotten, as eggs.
+
+TUNIC, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and confined at the
+waist by a girdle.
+
+SUPERNATURAL, = prefix _super_, meaning _above_ or _beyond,_ +
+_natural_.
+
+-ION, a suffix denoting _act, state, condition of_. Define
+_emotion, objection, dejection, conversion, submission, construction,
+admiration, persecution, observation, revolution, deliberation._
+
+Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of "Fabiola." Tell
+him how much you like the book, what you have read in it, and thank him
+for sending it.
+
+Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and tell what
+you like or dislike in each.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,
+         Kept murmuring under breath:
+       "Before temptation--sacrifice!
+         Before dishonor--death!"
+
+
+_Margaret J. Preston._
+
+
+
+       Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
+       Other men's failures can never save you;
+       Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
+       Stand like a hero, and battle till death.
+
+
+_George L. Taylor._
+
+
+
+       Heroes of old! I humbly lay
+         The laurel on your graves again;
+       Whatever men have done, men may--
+         The deeds you wrought are not in vain.
+
+
+_Austin Dobson._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_61_
+
+
+a jar'
+chal' ice
+a thwart'
+rap' tur ous
+sward
+ter' race
+jew' eled
+ci bo' ri um
+por' tal
+vil' lain
+au da' cious
+sac ri le' gious
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.
+
+
+       A summer night in Remy--strokes of the midnight bell,
+       Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,
+       Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,
+       A little village slumber'd,--locked in quiet dreams.
+
+       A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,
+       With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,
+       But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star
+       Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!
+
+       And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran
+       From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,
+       Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,
+       The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!
+
+       To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward,
+       (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;
+       By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,
+       Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.
+
+       Behold! a grassy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair,
+       And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.
+       Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,
+       Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!
+
+       O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!
+       Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,
+       Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright--
+       Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,
+       Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.
+       All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things
+       Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.
+
+       Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,--
+       The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts,
+       What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive
+       With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!
+
+       Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees
+       Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;
+       For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,
+       Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...
+
+       O little ones, who listen unto this legend old
+       (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),
+       From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,
+       Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.
+
+       He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare
+       A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;
+       Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,
+       Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.
+
+       "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,
+       Around My Heart shall hover your winged ministries,
+       And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come
+       To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"
+
+
+
+_Eleanor C. Donnelly._
+
+From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MERE, a waste place; a marsh.
+
+TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.
+
+WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use
+_golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does
+_revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as
+you can. Consult your dictionary.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_62_
+
+
+stalked
+ep'au lets
+be hind' hand
+se date'
+trudg' ing
+com pos' ed ly
+fid' dler
+strut' ted
+ap pro ba' tion
+re sumed'
+af firmed'
+dis a gree' a ble
+whith er so ev' er
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
+
+
+Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
+had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
+seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
+
+The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
+overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful
+birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom
+Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole class who were
+behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to
+attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
+moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
+mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
+this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
+Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some
+bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay
+his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a
+man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.
+
+"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
+come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a
+moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school,
+on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to
+find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the
+old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
+stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
+with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
+never heard."
+
+They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
+were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
+sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the
+new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay
+in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly
+in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal
+schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
+Mr. Toil.
+
+But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
+the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
+and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
+see him among the haymakers?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people
+say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
+
+They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
+fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
+they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes
+to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of
+old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair
+of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his
+hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
+looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
+the schoolroom.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very
+severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't
+want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making
+merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
+were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
+
+"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.
+Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and
+where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again,
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch
+rod.
+
+"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was nobody
+but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
+fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
+best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
+
+"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
+the looks of this fiddler."
+
+Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering along the
+highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant villages; and,
+whithersoever they went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil.
+
+He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he
+sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He
+made himself at home in every cottage, and, under one disguise or
+another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the schoolhouse."
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger; for,
+though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
+had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go
+back to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not
+remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there again was
+the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had been in company with
+Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
+
+When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began
+to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old
+schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as
+the face of his own dear mother.
+
+_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
+
+
+"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
+the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
+hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
+for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
+perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
+tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
+smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
+hand.
+
+From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
+School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
+margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Evil is wrought by want of thought,
+       As well as want of heart.
+
+
+_Hood._
+
+
+It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
+happiness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_63_
+
+
+su' macs
+char' coal
+of fi' cial
+fres' coes
+in i' tial
+rest' less ly
+
+
+
+IN SCHOOL DAYS
+
+
+       Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
+         A ragged beggar sunning;
+       Around it still the sumacs grow
+         And blackberry vines are running.
+
+       Within, the master's desk is seen,
+         Deep scarred by raps official;
+       The warping floor, the battered seats,
+         The jackknife's carved initial;
+
+       The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
+         Its door's worn sill, betraying
+       The feet that, creeping slow to school,
+         Went storming out to playing!
+
+       Long years ago a winter sun
+         Shone over it at setting;
+       Lit up its western window-panes,
+         And low eaves' icy fretting.
+
+       It touched the tangled golden curls,
+         And brown eyes full of grieving,
+       Of one who still her steps delayed
+         When all the school were leaving.
+
+       For near her stood the little boy
+         Her childish favor singled;
+       His cap pulled low upon a face
+         Where pride and shame were mingled.
+
+       Pushing with restless feet the snow
+         To right and left, he lingered;
+       As restlessly her tiny hands
+         The blue-checked apron fingered.
+
+       He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
+         The soft hand's light caressing,
+       And heard the tremble of her voice,
+         As if a fault confessing:
+
+       "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;
+         I hate to go above you,
+       Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,--
+         "Because, you see, I love you!"
+
+       Still memory to a gray-haired man
+         That sweet child-face is showing.
+       Dear girl! the grasses on her grave
+         Have forty years been growing!
+
+       He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
+         How few who pass above him
+       Lament their triumph and his loss,
+         Like her,--because they love him.
+
+
+_Whittier._
+
+
+From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: _John G. Whittier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_64_
+
+
+Mars
+so' lar (ler)
+Ve' nus
+plan' ets
+Mer' cu ry
+di am' e ter
+com' pass es
+sat' el lite
+tel' e scope
+grad' u al ly
+in' ter est ing
+cir cum' fer ence
+
+
+
+THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+
+"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys sat in the
+shade of a large tree.
+
+"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to recall
+one," said Frank.
+
+"Let me see. Well--perhaps--I think that the most wonderful story I have
+ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's family."
+
+"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard enough to
+puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."
+
+"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll try to tell
+you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't you--the great
+shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"
+
+"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the morning when
+I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes, then over the trees
+and houses; by evening it has traveled across the sky, when it sinks
+below the houses and trees, out of sight on the other side of the town."
+
+"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the sun is
+traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really we--we on
+this big ball of earth--who are moving. We are whirling around on the
+outer surface, rushing on at the rate--let me think--at the rate of more
+than one thousand miles a minute!"
+
+"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.
+
+"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball moves
+when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"
+
+"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe that this
+big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with all the cities,
+towns, and people whirling round and round faster than a ball from the
+mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that it stirs one inch,--this is
+much harder to believe than all that the fairies have ever told us."
+
+"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.
+
+"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and viewed the
+stars one night through a telescope. As I looked through this
+instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger than ever before. The
+earth is a planet, and there are besides our earth seven large planets
+and many small ones, which also whirl around the sun. Some of these
+planets are larger than our world. Some of them also move much faster.
+
+"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him. The one
+nearest to the sun is Mercury."
+
+"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.
+
+"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched to ashes;
+but if creatures live on that planet, God has given them a different
+nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what would be dreadful to us.
+
+"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen shining so
+bright after sunset; then she is called the evening star. Some of the
+time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen in the east; she is then
+called the morning star.
+
+"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the same time
+of the year. If you are watching her this evening before or after
+sundown, there is no use getting up early to-morrow to look for her
+again. For several weeks Venus remains an evening star, then gradually
+disappears. Two months later you may see her in the east--a bright
+morning star.
+
+"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from the sun. Now
+let us make a drawing of what we have been talking about.
+
+"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and make a dot on
+its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this circle eighty-eight
+days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to travel around the sun.
+Make another circle three and one-half inches in diameter and make a dot
+on it. This represents Venus. It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five
+days to journey around the sun.
+
+"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to us. The
+compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The path made
+represents the journey we take in three hundred sixty-five days.
+
+"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan. This circle
+must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is much farther from the
+sun than our earth is. It takes him six hundred eighty-seven days to
+make the trip around the sun. The other planets are too far away to be
+put in this plan."
+
+"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all--the moon!" said Philip.
+
+"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little ball. It is
+less than seven thousand miles around her, while our earth is
+twenty-five thousand miles around."
+
+"Is that a little ball, Frank?"
+
+"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what is called
+a satellite--that is, a servant or an attendant. She is a satellite of
+our earth. She keeps circling round and round our earth, while we go
+circling round and round the sun.
+
+"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round a field,
+and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see that the movements
+of the bird would be much quicker than mine."
+
+"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always looks so
+quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like lightning, why is it that
+she scarcely seems to move more than an inch in ten minutes?"
+
+"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that what to us
+seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You know how very fast
+the steam cars seem to go when one is quite near them, yet I have seen a
+train of cars far off which seemed to go so slowly that I could fancy it
+was painted on the sky."
+
+"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out these curious
+things about the sun and the stars--to know how large they are and how
+fast they go?" asked Philip.
+
+"That is something we shall understand when we are older," said Frank.
+"We must gain a little knowledge every day."
+
+"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked Philip.
+
+"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter has four,
+but we can see them only when we look through a telescope." replied
+Frank.
+
+"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear night,
+planets?" inquired Philip.
+
+"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars," said Frank.
+"A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its own. It shines just
+as the moon shines, because the sun gives it light."
+
+"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.
+
+"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus and Mars
+as a shining planet."
+
+"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for almost
+every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a diamond. Do these
+fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked Philip.
+
+"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed stars to show
+that they do not move like planets? The word _planet_ means to _wander._
+These fixed stars are suns themselves, which may have planets of their
+own. They are so very far away that we cannot know much about them,
+except that they shine of themselves just as our sun does.
+
+"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and satellites
+with which he is surrounded. We know that without his warm rays there
+would not be any flowers or birds or any living thing on the earth. So
+we can easily imagine that all other suns are shining in the same way
+for the worlds that surround them."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as directed
+in the lesson.
+
+Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the correct form
+of the action-word _draw_:
+
+
+My boys like to --.
+
+Yesterday they -- the picture of an old mill.
+
+They are now -- a picture of the solar system.
+
+The lines on the blackboard were -- by John.
+He -- well.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_65_
+
+
+dew' y
+clos'es
+ca ress'
+twined
+wreaths
+weath'er
+brook' let
+togeth'er
+
+
+
+WILL AND I
+
+
+       We roam the hills together,
+       In the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       And the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         Through the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Where the tinkling brooklet passes
+       Through the heart of dewy grasses,
+                 Will and I
+       Have heard the mock-bird singing,
+       And the field lark seen upspringing,
+         In his happy flight afar,
+         Like a tiny winged star--
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Amid cool forest closes,
+       We have plucked the wild wood-roses,
+                 Will and I;
+       And have twined, with tender duty,
+       Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty
+         Of the purest brows that shine
+         With a mother-love divine,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Ah! thus we roam together,
+       Through the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       While the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         O'er the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+
+_Paul H. Hayne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CLOSES, small inclosed fields.
+
+Write about what you and Will _saw, heard,_ and _did,_ as you roamed
+together over the hills, through the woods, along the brooklet, on a
+certain bright, clear day in early summer. You are a country boy and
+Will is your city cousin. If you begin your composition by saying, "It
+was a beautiful afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of
+the day in mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what _made_ the day
+beautiful,--such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In other
+paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order in which you
+saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did in the "closes" of
+the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild flowers. Conclude by
+telling what a pleasant surprise you gave mother on your return home;
+and how she surprised you two hungry boys during supper.
+
+In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of the poem as
+you can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_66_
+
+
+themes
+her' e sy
+ramp' ant
+a chieved'
+es cort ed
+po ta'toes
+trem' u lous
+lux u' ri ous
+cre du' li ty
+in cred' i ble
+phe nom' e non
+pre ma ture' ly
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.]
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
+gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she laid the cloth,
+assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in
+ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of
+potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's
+private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day)
+into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now
+two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their
+own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions, they danced
+about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while
+he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire,
+until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to
+be let out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+"And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas
+Day by half an hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this
+morning, mother!"
+
+"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least three feet
+of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his
+threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny
+Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and
+had his limb supported by an iron frame.
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+to the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the
+church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to
+remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men
+see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob compounded some hot mixture
+in a jug, and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes
+with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha
+dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at
+the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed
+spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
+turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was
+said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking
+slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;
+but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
+forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny
+Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the
+handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
+
+Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its
+tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal
+admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a
+sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
+with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish),
+they hadn't eaten it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the
+youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the
+eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs.
+Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear witnesses--to take the
+pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and
+stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
+the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A
+smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating
+house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
+next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas
+holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her
+mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been
+flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass,--two
+tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"
+
+Which all the family re[:e]choed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+_Charles Dickens._
+
+[Illustration: Portrait of Dickens.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DECLENSION, a falling downward.
+
+COPPER, a boiler made of copper.
+
+RALLIED, indulged in pleasant humor.
+
+UBIQUITOUS (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be everywhere at
+the same time.
+
+EKED OUT, added to; increased.
+
+BEDIGHT, bedecked; adorned.
+
+RE[:E]CHOED (reechoed): What is the mark placed over the second _e_ called,
+and what does it denote?
+
+
+NOTE.--"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken, is
+considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of the best
+Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very poor as to the
+goods of this world, but very rich in love, kindness, and contentment.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_67_
+
+
+
+WHICH SHALL IT BE?
+
+
+       Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
+       I looked at John, John looked at me;
+       And when I found that I must speak,
+       My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
+       "Tell me again what Robert said,"
+       And then I, listening, bent my head--
+       This is his letter: "I will give
+       A house and land while you shall live,
+       If in return from out your seven
+       One child to me for aye is given."
+
+       I looked at John's old garments worn;
+       I thought of all that he had borne
+       Of poverty, and work, and care,
+       Which I, though willing, could not share;
+       I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
+       Of seven little children's need,
+             And then of this.
+
+             "Come, John," said I,
+       "We'll choose among them as they lie
+       Asleep."  So, walking hand in hand,
+       Dear John and I surveyed our band:
+       First to the cradle lightly stepped,
+       Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
+       Softly the father stooped to lay
+       His rough hand down in loving way,
+       When dream or whisper made her stir,
+       And huskily he said: "Not her!"
+
+       We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
+       And one long ray of lamplight shed
+       Athwart the boyish faces there,
+       In sleep so pitiful and fair;
+       I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek
+       A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
+       "He's but a baby too," said I,
+       And kissed him as we hurried by.
+       Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
+       Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace--
+       "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
+       He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
+
+       Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son--
+       Turbulent, restless, idle one--
+       Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave
+       Bade us befriend him to the grave;
+       Only a mother's heart could be
+       Patient enough for such as he;
+       "And so," said John, "I would not dare
+       To take him from her bedside prayer."
+
+       Then stole we softly up above,
+       And knelt by Mary, child of love;
+       "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
+       I said to John. Quite silently
+       He lifted up a curl that lay
+       Across her cheek in wilful way,
+       And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"
+       The while my heart beat audibly.
+
+       Only one more, our eldest lad,
+       Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
+       So like his father. "No, John, no!
+       I cannot, will not, let him go."
+       And so we wrote in courteous way,
+       We could not give one child away;
+       And afterwards toil lighter seemed,
+       Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
+       Happy in truth that not one face
+       Was missed from its accustomed place,
+       Thankful to work for all the seven,
+       Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!
+
+
+_Anonymous_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell of the
+great affection of parents for their children. Even in the poorest and
+most numerous families, what parent could think of parting with a child
+for any sum of money?
+
+Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich man without
+children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell about the offer
+the rich man made. What a great temptation this was!
+
+The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's faces and
+asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the two youngest
+boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple. Why? Not the sweet
+child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son. Why? Not, for worlds, the
+oldest boy. Why?
+
+Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_68_
+
+
+Dor'o thy
+in her'it ance
+Cap pa do' ci a
+ob' sti na cy
+The oph' i lus
+ex e cu' tion ers
+
+
+
+ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR
+
+
+The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St. Cecilia, are
+familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt, their histories are
+well known also. Young as they were, they despised alike the pleasures
+and the flatteries of the world. They chose God alone as their portion
+and inheritance; and He has highly exalted them, and placed their names
+amongst those glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.
+
+St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born in the city
+of Caesarea, and was descended of a rich and noble family. While the last
+of the ten terrible persecutions, which for three hundred years steeped
+the Church in the blood of martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the
+faith of Christ, and, in consequence, was seized and carried before the
+Roman Prefect of the city.
+
+She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length, condemned to
+death. When the executioners were preparing to behead her, the Prefect
+said, "Now, at least, confess your folly, and pray to the immortal gods
+for pardon."
+
+"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and earth may
+pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when I reach the land
+whither I am going."
+
+"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most of the
+pagans, had very little notion of another world.
+
+"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells with his
+saints," replied St. Dorothy. "_There_ is neither night nor sorrow;
+_there_ is the river of life, and the brightness of eternal glory; and
+_there_ is a paradise of all delight, and flowers that shall never
+fade."
+
+"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who was
+listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if these things
+be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you shall have reached the
+land you speak of."
+
+Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered: "Theophilus, you
+shall have the sign you ask for." There was no time for more; the
+executioner placed her before the block, and, in another moment, with
+one blow, he struck off the head of the holy martyr.
+
+"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his friends, as
+they were about to leave the court; "but these Christians are not like
+other people." "Their obstinacy is altogether surprising," rejoined his
+friend; "death itself will never make them waver. But who is this,
+Theophilus?" he continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such
+singular beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden hair fell
+on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses, two white and two
+red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a fragrance that their like
+had never before been seen. He held them out to Theophilus. "These
+flowers are for you," said he; "will you not take them?" "And whence do
+you bring them, my boy?" asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied,
+"and they are the sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter
+time!" said Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as
+never blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made another; I,
+too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."
+
+Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the enraged
+Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded, he too poured
+forth his blood, and obtained the crown of martyrdom.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CAESAREA (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient city of Palestine. It
+is celebrated as being the scene of many events recorded in the New
+Testament.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.
+
+
+_A line from Lowell's "0de."_
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_69_
+
+
+
+TO A BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+       I've watched you now a full half hour
+       Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
+       And, little butterfly, indeed
+       I know not if you sleep or feed.
+       How motionless!--not frozen seas
+         More motionless!--and then
+       What joy awaits you, when the breeze
+       Hath found you out among the trees,
+         And calls you forth again!
+
+       This plot of orchard ground is ours;
+       My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
+       Here rest your wings when they are weary;
+       Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
+       Come often to us, fear no wrong;
+         Sit near us on the bough!
+       We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
+       And summer days, when we were young;
+       Sweet childish days, that were as long
+         As twenty days are now!
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SELF-POISED, balanced.
+
+What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the Holy of
+Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so supremely holy?
+
+Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are now?"
+
+Tell what you know of the author's life.
+
+Memorize the poem.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_70_
+
+
+re tort' ed
+quizzed
+in cred' i ble
+man u fac' ture
+sat' ire
+vi o lin' ist
+com pre hend'
+me lo' di ous ly
+hu' mor
+ex hib' it
+a chieve' ments
+for' ests
+
+
+
+THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.
+
+
+In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the table, it was
+said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an inkstand. What will the
+next thing be? It is wonderful!"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's extraordinary--that's what I
+always say," he exclaimed to the pen and to the other articles on the
+table that were near enough to hear. "It is wonderful what a number of
+things can come out of me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't
+myself know what will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip
+into me. One drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?
+
+"From me all the works of the poet go forth--all these living men, whom
+people can imagine they have met--all the deep feeling, the humor, the
+vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't understand how it is, for I am
+not acquainted with nature, but it certainly is in me. From me all
+things have gone forth, and from me proceed the troops of charming
+maidens, and of brave knights on prancing steeds, and all the lame and
+the blind, and I don't know what more--I assure you I don't think of
+anything."
+
+"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all; for if you
+did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the fluid. You give the
+fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what dwells in me, and what I
+would bring to the day. It is the pen that writes. No man doubts that;
+and, indeed, most people have about as much insight into poetry as an
+old inkstand."
+
+"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand. "You've hardly
+been in service a week, and are already half worn out. Do you fancy you
+are the poet? You are only a servant; and before you came I had many of
+your sorts, some of the goose family, and others of English manufacture.
+I know the quill as well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service,
+and I shall have many more when _he_ comes--the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should like
+to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of me."
+
+"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.
+
+Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a concert, where
+he had heard a famous violinist, with whose admirable performances he
+was quite enchanted. The player had drawn a wonderful wealth of tone
+from the instrument; sometimes it had sounded like tinkling water-drops,
+like rolling pearls, sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then
+again it went swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.
+
+The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though not
+only the strings sounded, but every part of the instrument.
+
+It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece was, the bow
+seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings, and it looked as
+though every one might do it. The violin seemed to sound of itself, and
+the bow to move of itself--those two appeared to do everything; and the
+audience forgot the master who guided them and breathed soul and spirit
+into them. The master was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and
+named him, and wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:
+
+"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of their
+achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly--the poet, the
+artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the general--we all do it.
+We are only the instruments which the Almighty uses: to Him alone be the
+honor! We have nothing of which we should be proud."
+
+Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form of a
+parable, which he called "The Master and the Instrument."
+
+"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand, when the
+two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud what I have
+written down?"
+
+"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That was a cut
+at you, because of your conceit. That you should not even have
+understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a cut from within
+me--surely I must know my own satire!"
+
+"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.
+
+"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.
+
+And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well; and it is
+a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good answer--a
+conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they slept upon it.
+But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up from within him, like the
+tones from the violin, falling like pearls, rushing like the storm-wind
+through the forests. He understood his own heart in these thoughts, and
+caught a ray from the Eternal Master. To _Him_ be all the honor!
+
+_Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIPKIN, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked clay.
+
+Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words _vivid,
+exhibit, comprehend_. Consult the dictionary.
+
+What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of science?"
+
+Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word _parable_. Relate one
+of our Lord's parables.
+
+By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned, form as
+many words as you can from the following: man, do, late, loud, art,
+room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden, famous, service,
+furnished.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_71_
+
+
+
+THE WIND AND THE MOON.
+
+
+       Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+              You stare in the air
+              Like a ghost in a chair,
+       Always looking what I am about,
+       I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+              So, deep on a heap
+              Of clouds, to sleep
+       Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,
+       Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+       He turned in his bed; she was there again!
+              On high in the sky,
+              With her one ghost eye,
+       The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+       Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+              "With my sledge and my wedge
+              I have knocked off her edge.
+       If only I blow right fierce and grim,
+       The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+       He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:
+              "One puff more's enough
+              To blow her to snuff!
+       One good puff more where the last was bred,
+       And  glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."
+
+       He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,
+              In the air nowhere
+              Was a moonbeam bare;
+       Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+       Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+       The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+              On down, in town,
+              Like a merry-mad clown,
+       He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,--
+       "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+       He flew in a rage--he danced and he blew;
+              But in vain was the pain
+              Of his bursting brain;
+       For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,
+       The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.
+
+       Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,
+              And shone on her throne
+              In the sky alone,
+       A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+       Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+       Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!
+              With my breath, good faith!
+              I blew her to death--
+       First blew her away right out of the sky,
+       Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+       But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;
+              For, high in the sky,
+              With her one white eye,
+       Motionless, miles above the air,
+       She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+_George MacDonald._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DOWN (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near the sea.
+
+GLIMMER, fainter.
+
+GLUM, dark, gloomy.
+
+What is a suffix? What does the suffix _less_ mean? Define _cloudless,
+matchless, motionless._
+
+What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_72_
+
+
+mi' ter
+can'on
+car' di nal
+dis course'
+di' a logue
+cour'te ous ly
+
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+
+       St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,
+       Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,
+       And being ever courteously inclined
+       To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
+       He fell into discourse with him, and thus
+       The dialogue they held comes down to us.
+
+       _Saint_.--Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
+       _Youth_.--To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
+       _St_.--And when you are one, what do you intend?
+       _Y_.--To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
+       _St_.--Suppose it so; what have you next in view?
+       _Y_.--That I may get to be a canon too.
+       _St_.--Well; and what then?
+       _Y_.--                       Why then, for aught I know,
+       I may be made a bishop.
+       _St_.--            Be it so,--
+                   What next?
+       _Y_.--             Why, cardinal's a high degree;
+       And yet my lot it possibly may be.
+       _St_.--Suppose it was; what then?
+       _Y_.--                             Why, who can say
+       But I've a chance of being pope one day?
+       _St_.--Well, having worn the miter and red hat,
+       And triple crown, what follows after that?
+
+       _Y_.--Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
+       Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
+       When I've enjoyed a dignity so high
+       As long as God shall please, then I must die.
+
+       _St_.--What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,
+       But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!
+       Take my advice--whatever may betide,
+       For that which _must be_, first of all provide;
+       Then think  of that which _may be_; and indeed,
+       When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,
+       But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
+       Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went to Rome in
+1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory," and where he died
+in 1595.
+
+TRIPLE CROWN, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy Father, the
+Pope.
+
+Use correctly in sentences the words _canon, cannon, canon._
+
+
+NOTE.--It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first six lines
+of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip and the Youth.
+
+The whole selection might be given from memory.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_73_
+
+
+mag' ic
+sta' mens
+de sert' ed
+pet' als
+pic' tures
+dis cour' aged
+liq' uid
+sat' is fied
+per se ver' ance
+
+
+
+THE WATER LILY.
+
+
+There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were
+not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great
+American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his
+father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a
+few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
+
+The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of
+work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He
+said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
+
+"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any fairies. I
+never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child,
+and never mind the fairies."
+
+"Very well, mother," said the boy.
+
+"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures," said his
+mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. "Why, child,
+pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't clothe a body, and a log of
+wood is far better to burn and warm a body."
+
+"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.
+
+"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy could only
+say, "I don't know, mother."
+
+"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things
+as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play."
+
+So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a
+little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was
+deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and
+the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and
+thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between
+the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue
+sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding
+over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at
+the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.
+
+And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, "I am sure
+there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these
+pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I
+know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could
+paint it, every one else would know it, too."
+
+But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with
+it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But
+he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing
+and said to the lily:
+
+"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a
+painter!"
+
+As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the
+cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown
+of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds
+before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a
+beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the
+lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest
+white.
+
+"Child, are you happy?" she asked.
+
+"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint and I
+cannot."
+
+"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.
+
+"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more."
+
+"But I will help you."
+
+"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."
+
+"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the fairy. "I
+know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I
+tell you. Do you promise to obey?"
+
+"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my heart."
+
+"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little key on the
+doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the
+trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the
+door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You
+must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day.
+On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will
+make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.
+
+"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you
+shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and
+that you shall become a truly great painter."
+
+"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy
+stood trembled for joy.
+
+"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the fairy.
+"But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even
+begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day
+will never fade till my promise is fulfilled."
+
+The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in
+his hand but the flower.
+
+He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the
+doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic
+palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break
+the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent
+nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed
+whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when
+the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of
+fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking
+on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.
+
+So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken
+the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with
+his magic palette.
+
+But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them.
+His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the
+real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her
+window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt
+whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his
+palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
+
+He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but
+in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full
+of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
+
+"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so
+much discouraged.
+
+"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the fairy.
+"My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the
+charm."
+
+He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a
+beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near
+it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word--"Hope."
+
+Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he went far,
+far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his
+pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
+
+One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city.
+He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted
+before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised
+them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a
+picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
+
+Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone
+with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the
+place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again
+standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of
+the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily
+was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered,
+and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked
+up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
+
+"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your magic gift?
+I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so
+that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it."
+
+"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did the artist
+desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is the scene of the
+picture placed? What time of the day and of the year does it show?
+
+Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about him?
+
+Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's outing.
+Write a composition on how the day was spent.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_74_
+
+
+
+A BUILDER'S LESSON.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "How shall I a habit break?"
+       As you did that habit make.
+       As you gathered, you must lose;
+       As you yielded, now refuse.
+       Thread by thread the strands we twist
+       Till they bind us, neck and wrist;
+       Thread by thread the patient hand
+       Must untwine, ere free we stand.
+       As we builded, stone by stone,
+       We must toil, unhelped, alone,
+       Till the wall is overthrown.
+
+       But remember, as we try,
+       Lighter every test goes by;
+       Wading in, the stream grows deep
+       Toward the center's downward sweep;
+       Backward turn, each step ashore
+       Shallower is than that before.
+
+       Ah, the precious years we waste
+       Leveling what we raised in haste:
+       Doing what must be undone
+       Ere content or love be won!
+       First, across the gulf we cast
+       Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
+       And habit builds the bridge at last!
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last it is so
+strong we cannot break it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_75_
+
+
+in ured'
+ru' di ments
+nine' ti eth
+ma tur' er
+ac' cu ra cy
+in ad vert' ence
+an' ec dotes
+e ner' vate
+in cor' po ra ted
+dig' ni fied
+in junc' tion
+pre var i ca' tion
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+
+Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of Washington
+were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who, by the death of
+her husband, while her children were young, became the sole conductress
+of their education. To the inquiry, what course she had pursued in
+rearing one so truly illustrious, she replied, "Only to require
+obedience, diligence, and truth."
+
+These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with the
+rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his future
+greatness.
+
+He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and to speak
+of his faults and omissions without prevarication or disguise. Hence
+arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt of deceit in others,
+which ever distinguished him. Once, by an inadvertence of his youth,
+considerable loss had been incurred, and of such a nature as to
+interfere with the plans of his mother. He came to her, frankly owning
+his error, and she replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes,
+"I had rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."
+
+She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak indulgence. He was
+inured to early rising, and never permitted to be idle. Sometimes he
+engaged in labors which the children of wealthy parents would now
+account severe, and thus acquired firmness of frame and a disregard of
+hardship.
+
+The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had been
+taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's concerns
+devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who surrounded him,
+that he was never known to be in a hurry, but found time for the
+transaction of the smallest affairs in the midst of the greatest and
+most conflicting duties.
+
+Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of his mother.
+His obedience to her commands, when a child, was cheerful and strict;
+and as he approached to maturer years, the expression of her slightest
+wish was law.
+
+At length, America having secured her independence, and the war being
+ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted the repose of
+home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his mother's blessing. The
+hero, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
+countrymen," came to lay his laurels at his mother's feet.
+
+This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year, to be
+respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief, Washington closed
+her eyes and laid her in the grave which she had selected for herself.
+
+We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious armies, the
+conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of the world, in the
+delightful attitude of an obedient and affectionate son. She, whom he
+honored with such filial reverence, said that "he had learned to command
+others by first learning to obey."
+
+Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of future
+eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and remember that
+they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they neglect the
+injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments, and forsake not the
+law of thy mother."
+
+
+[Illustration: _L.E. Fournier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CONDUCTRESS, a woman who leads or directs.
+
+The suffix _-ess_ is used to form feminine name-words.
+
+Tell what each of the following words means:
+
+
+
+ab' bess
+ac' tress
+duch' ess
+li' on ess
+count' ess
+po' et ess
+song' stress
+au' thor ess
+di rect' ress
+
+
+
+Use the following homonyms in sentences:
+
+
+air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore; vain, vein;
+vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here; fair, fare; sweet,
+suite; strait, straight.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_76_
+
+
+na' tal
+a main'
+toc' sin
+re count' ed
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.
+
+
+       'Tis splendid to have a record
+         So white and free from stain
+       That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
+         Though tested and tried amain;
+       That age to age forever
+         Repeats its story of love,
+       And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,
+         All other days above.
+
+       And this is Washington's glory,
+         A steadfast soul and true,
+       Who stood for his country's honor
+         When his country's days were few.
+       And now when its days are many,
+         And its flag of stars is flung
+       To the breeze in radiant glory,
+         His name is on every tongue.
+
+       Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
+         To be so great and strong,
+       That your memory is ever a tocsin
+         To rally the foes of wrong;
+       To live so proudly and purely,
+         That your people pause in their way,
+       And year by year, with banner and drum,
+         Keep the thought of your natal day.
+
+
+_Margaret E. Sangster._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_77_
+
+
+Brit' on (un)
+ant' lers
+wrin' kled
+vet' er an
+im mor' tal
+
+
+
+THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.
+
+
+       He lay upon his dying bed,
+         His eye was growing dim,
+       When, with a feeble voice, he called
+         His weeping son to him:
+       "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
+         "I bow to heaven's high will;
+       But quickly from yon antlers bring
+         The sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+       The sword was brought; the soldier's eye
+         Lit with a sudden flame;
+       And, as he grasped the ancient blade,
+         He murmured Warren's name;
+       Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,
+         But what is richer still,
+       I leave you, mark me, mark me well,
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,
+         I dared the Briton's band;
+       A captain raised his blade on me,
+         I tore it from his hand;
+       And while the glorious battle raged,
+         It lightened Freedom's will;
+       For, son, the God of Freedom blessed
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,--
+         A smile--and he was dead;
+       But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,
+         Upon that dying bed.
+       The son remains, the sword remains,
+         Its glory growing still,
+       And twenty millions bless the sire
+         And sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+
+_William R. Wallace._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_78_
+
+
+es' say
+buoy' ant
+in sip' id
+fe quent' ing
+scowl' ing ly
+sug ges' tion
+in tel' li gence
+sin' gu lar ly
+so lic' i tude
+com pet' i tor
+phi los' o pher
+ve' he ment ly
+tre men' dous ly
+ex pos tu la' tion
+ig no min' i ous ly
+
+
+
+THE MARTYR'S BOY.
+
+
+It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes
+forward with light and buoyant steps across the open court, towards the
+inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he
+reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with
+elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are
+well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and
+warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair
+naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual
+youth's garment, the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow
+spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind him, shows
+us that he is just returning home from school.
+
+While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother's
+embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for
+some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of
+his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets
+her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence,
+that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses
+him as follows:
+
+"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has
+happened to you on the way."
+
+"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all has been
+so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell you."
+
+A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a
+delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must. You know I am
+never happy if I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the
+day about myself. But, to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt
+whether I ought to tell you all."
+
+Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety,
+or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should
+seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied:
+
+"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may
+give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me
+to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?"
+
+"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that concerns you
+can be indifferent to me."
+
+"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting school appears
+to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I was crowned as the
+successful competitor in a declamation, which our good master Cassianus
+set us for our work during the morning hours; and this led, as you will
+hear, to some singular discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real
+philosopher should be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard
+anything so cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can they have
+to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming
+suggestions such a theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart
+glowed, and all my thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of
+the lessons you have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are
+before me. The son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my
+turn came to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the second, I
+saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending affectionately towards me, he
+said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my child, there are sharp ears listening.'"
+
+"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a Christian? I chose
+his school because it was in the highest repute for learning and
+morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these days of
+danger we are obliged to live as strangers in our own land. Certainly,
+had Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been
+deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"
+
+"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows vehemently
+applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes of Corvinus bent
+scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest anger."
+
+"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?"
+
+"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in the school.
+But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, he seems
+ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause of which I cannot
+understand."
+
+"Did he say aught to you, or do?"
+
+"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school
+into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence
+of our companions, and said, 'Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is
+the last time we meet _here_; but I have a long score to demand payment
+of from you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks
+at me as you spouted your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I
+caught expressions in it which you may live to rue, and that very soon.
+Before you leave us, I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your
+name let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of the style
+and tables. Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to
+humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"
+
+The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely
+breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my dear son?"
+
+"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my
+school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.
+'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have
+always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a
+cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for
+revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you
+avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which
+are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle
+round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had
+hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness
+attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not
+so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"
+
+The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body
+trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not
+tell the rest!"
+
+"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your father's
+memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal
+nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.
+What further said or did Corvinus?"
+
+The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and
+then proceeded:
+
+"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed
+your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token
+of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a
+furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a
+shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."
+
+He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:
+
+"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed
+bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name
+of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong
+enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant by the
+throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of
+applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against
+him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood
+so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."
+
+"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling
+matron.
+
+He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched
+forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive you, as I freely
+and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Cassianus came up at
+that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd
+quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now
+acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done;
+and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in
+soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call
+this a happy day?"
+
+_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.
+
+VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat,
+sheep or young calf, for writing on.
+
+THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.
+
+SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.
+
+SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.
+
+STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or
+tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the
+sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.
+
+CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands,
+and often loaded with lead or iron.
+
+"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by
+Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans,
+which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.
+
+CASSIANUS, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for
+Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice
+to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab
+him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.
+
+AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is pronounced
+_[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_,
+and used only in poetry, it is pronounced _[=a]_.
+
+Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly
+impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words
+a description of "The Martyr's Boy."
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_79_
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY.
+
+
+       Through the blue and frosty heavens
+         Christmas stars were shining bright;
+       Glistening lamps throughout the City
+         Almost matched their gleaming light;
+       While the winter snow was lying,
+       And the winter winds were sighing,
+         Long ago, one Christmas night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Rich and poor felt love and blessing
+         From the gracious season fall;
+       Joy and plenty in the cottage,
+         Peace and feasting in the hall;
+       And the voices of the children
+         Ringing clear above it all.
+
+       Yet one house was dim and darkened;
+         Gloom, and sickness, and despair,
+       Dwelling in the gilded chambers,
+         Creeping up the marble stair,
+       Even stilled the voice of mourning,--
+         For a child lay dying there.
+
+       Silken curtains fell around him,
+         Velvet carpets hushed the tread,
+       Many costly toys were lying
+         All unheeded by his bed;
+       And his tangled golden ringlets
+         Were on downy pillows spread.
+
+       The skill of all that mighty City
+         To save one little life was vain,--
+       One little thread from being broken,
+       One fatal word from being spoken;
+         Nay, his very mother's pain
+       And the mighty love within her
+         Could not give him health again.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Suddenly an unseen Presence
+         Checked those constant moaning cries,
+       Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,
+         Raised those blue and wondering eyes,
+       Fixed on some mysterious vision
+         With a startled, sweet surprise.
+
+       For a radiant angel hovered,
+         Smiling, o'er the little bed;
+       White his raiment; from his shoulders
+         Snowy dove-like pinions spread,
+       And a starlike light was shining
+         In a glory round his head.
+
+       While, with tender love, the angel,
+         Leaning o'er the little nest,
+       In his arms the sick child folding,
+         Laid him gently on his breast,
+       Sobs and wailings told the mother
+         That her darling was at rest.
+
+       So the angel, slowly rising,
+         Spread his wings, and through the air
+       Bore the child; and, while he held him
+         To his heart with loving care,
+       Placed a branch of crimson roses
+         Tenderly beside him there.
+
+       While the child, thus clinging, floated
+         Towards the mansions of the Blest,
+       Gazing from his shining guardian
+         To the flowers upon his breast,
+       Thus the angel spake, still smiling
+         On the little heavenly guest:
+
+       "Know, dear little one, that Heaven
+         Does no earthly thing disdain;
+       Man's poor joys find there an echo
+         Just as surely as his pain;
+       Love, on earth so feebly striving,
+         Lives divine in Heaven again.
+
+       "Once, in that great town below us,
+         In a poor and narrow street,
+       Dwelt a little sickly orphan;
+         Gentle aid, or pity sweet,
+       Never in life's rugged pathway
+         Guided his poor tottering feet.
+
+       "All the striving, anxious fore-thought
+         That should only come with age
+       Weighed upon his baby spirit,
+         Showed him soon life's sternest page;
+       Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow
+         Was his only heritage."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       "One bright day, with feeble footsteps
+         Slowly forth he tried to crawl
+       Through the crowded city's pathways,
+         Till he reached a garden-wall,
+       Where 'mid princely halls and mansions
+         Stood the lordliest of all.
+
+       "There were trees with giant branches,
+       Velvet glades where shadows hide;
+       There were sparkling fountains glancing,
+         Flowers, which in luxuriant pride
+       Even wafted breaths of perfume
+         To the child who stood outside.
+
+       "He against the gate of iron
+         Pressed his wan and wistful face,
+       Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure
+         At the glories of the place;
+       Never had his brightest day-dream
+         Shone with half such wondrous grace.
+
+       "You were playing in that garden,
+         Throwing blossoms in the air,
+       Laughing when the petals floated
+         Downwards on your golden hair;
+       And the fond eyes watching o'er you,
+       And the splendor spread before you,
+         Told a House's Hope was there.
+
+       "When your servants, tired of seeing
+         Such a face of want and woe,
+       Turning to the ragged orphan,
+         Gave him coin, and bade him go,
+       Down his cheeks so thin and wasted
+         Bitter tears began to flow.
+
+       "But that look of childish sorrow
+         On your tender child-heart fell,
+       And you plucked the reddest roses
+         From the tree you loved so well,
+       Passed them through the stern cold grating,
+         Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'
+
+       "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure
+         And the gentle voice he heard,
+       In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,
+         Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;
+       In his hand he took the flowers,
+         In his heart the loving word.
+
+       "So he crept to his poor garret;
+         Poor no more, but rich and bright;
+       For the holy dreams of childhood--
+         Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light--
+       Floated round the orphan's pillow
+         Through the starry summer night.
+
+       "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;
+         All too weak to rise he lay;
+       Did he dream that none spake harshly,--
+         All were strangely kind that day?
+       Surely then his treasured roses
+         Must have charmed all ills away.
+
+       "And he smiled, though they were fading;
+         One by one their leaves were shed;
+       'Such bright things could never perish,
+         They would bloom again,' he said.
+       When the next day's sun had risen
+         Child and flowers both were dead.
+
+       "Know, dear little one, our Father
+         Will no gentle deed disdain;
+       Love on the cold earth beginning
+         Lives divine in Heaven again;
+       While the angel hearts that beat there
+         Still all tender thoughts retain."
+
+       So the angel ceased, and gently
+         O'er his little burden leant;
+       While the child gazed from the shining,
+         Loving eyes that o'er him bent,
+       To the blooming roses by him.
+         Wondering what that mystery meant.
+
+       Thus the radiant angel answered,
+         And with tender meaning smiled:
+       "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,
+         Sin and the hard world defiled,
+       God has given me leave to seek you,--
+         I was once that little child!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       In the churchyard of that city
+         Rose a tomb of marble rare,
+       Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,
+         With her buds and blossoms fair,--
+       And a humble grave beside it,--
+         No one knew who rested there.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter_.
+
+
+[Illustration: _Kaulbach_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into a
+composition the length of which to be determined by your teacher. Use
+many of the words and forms of expression you find in the poem.
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY
+
+A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given a bunch
+of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers. Afterwards he came as
+a "radiant angel" to visit his dying friend, and in a spirit of
+gratitude bore him to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_80_
+
+
+al' ti tude
+as tound' ing
+ve loc' i ty
+vag' a bond
+mus tach' es
+hes i ta' ting ly
+par' a lyzed
+tre men' dous
+ex tra or' di na ry
+
+
+
+GLUCK'S VISITOR.
+
+
+It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day
+Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to
+little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody
+in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it
+was raining very hard. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and
+brown.
+
+"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask anybody to
+dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of mutton as this, it
+would do their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." Just
+as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy and
+dull, as though the knocker had been tied up. "It must be the wind,"
+said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock double knocks at our
+door."
+
+No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and what was
+particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to
+be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck put his head out the
+window to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen
+in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his
+cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes twinkled merrily through
+long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew
+on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed
+pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about
+four feet six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the
+same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. He
+wore an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very
+much too long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.
+
+Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his visitor that
+he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until the old gentleman
+turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught
+sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with its mouth
+and eyes very wide open indeed.
+
+"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_
+wet. His feather hung down between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail,
+dripping like an umbrella; and from the end of his mustaches the water
+was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill
+stream.
+
+"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I
+thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and there's
+your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the walls, with
+nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold. When he turned and saw
+the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing.
+
+"He does look _very_ wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for
+a quarter of an hour."
+
+As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind through the
+house that made the old chimney totter.
+
+"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that. How long may
+I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and sat himself
+down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the chimney, for it was much
+too high for the roof.
+
+"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the
+mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip,
+drip, dripping among the cinders, so that the fire fizzed and sputtered
+and began to look very black and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak;
+every fold in it ran like a gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor; "mayn't I
+take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but--really--sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't you give
+me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart.
+
+"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give you that,
+but no more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.
+
+Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came a
+tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck fitted the
+slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering
+an educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning
+fiercely to Gluck.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother, he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that instant,
+the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house."
+
+"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my
+gray hairs."
+
+"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you."
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen."
+
+"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no sooner
+touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after the
+rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner on
+the top of it.
+
+Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him
+out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he went after Hans
+and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled
+into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak was all
+wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one
+side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied, with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night, I'll call again."
+
+_John Ruskin._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NOTE.--"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection is
+taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in 1841, for the
+amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the finest story of its kind
+in the language.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_81_
+
+
+elf
+en cir' cled
+jerk
+hur' ri cane
+rein'deer
+min' i a ture
+tar' nished
+
+
+
+A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.
+
+
+       'Twas the  night  before  Christmas,  when  all through the house
+       Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:
+       The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+       In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
+       The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
+       While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+       And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+       Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+       When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
+       I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+       Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+       Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
+       The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
+       Gave the luster of midday to objects below;
+       When, what  to  my wondering eyes should appear
+       But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+       With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+       I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
+       More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
+       And he whistled, and shouted  and called them by name:
+       "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!
+       On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
+       To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
+       Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"
+       As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly
+       When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+       So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
+       With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;
+       And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
+       The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+       As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+       Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
+       He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+       And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+       A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+       And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
+       His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
+       His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+       His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
+       And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
+       The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+       And the smoke it  encircled his head like a wreath;
+       He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
+       That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
+       He was chubby and plump,--a right jolly old elf--
+       And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+       A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
+       Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+       He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+       And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+       And, laying his finger aside of his nose,
+       And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+       He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+       And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+       But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+       "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
+
+
+_Clement C. Moore._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_82_
+
+
+a chieved'
+es poused'
+thral' dom
+al li' ance
+ter rif' ic
+Del' a ware
+Com' mo dore
+re cip' i ents
+New' found land
+can non ad' ing
+par tic' i pa ted
+char ac ter is' tic
+
+
+
+COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+
+The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds. From the
+early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks of King George's
+proud ships with merciless fire, down to the glories achieved by
+Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with Spain, the story of our Navy
+is the pride and glory of our Republic. The glowing track of its
+victories extends around the world.
+
+Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds adorn the
+pages of our country's history, there is none more deserving of our
+gratitude and admiration than Commodore John Barry. His name and fame
+will live in the naval annals of our country as long as the history of
+America lasts.
+
+Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in County
+Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen he left home
+for a life on
+
+       "The sea, the sea, the open sea,
+       The blue, the fresh, the ever free."
+
+
+On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America. He spent
+his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way soon acquired a
+general and practical education. By fidelity to duty, he advanced so
+rapidly in his profession that at the age of twenty-five we find him in
+command of the _Black Prince,_ one of the finest merchant vessels then
+running between Philadelphia and London.
+
+When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and England, our
+gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship, and without delay or
+hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted country. Congress purchased
+a few vessels, had them fitted out for war, and placed the little fleet
+under the command of Captain Barry. His flagship was the _Lexington_,
+named after the first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at
+this time adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+_Lexington_ was the first to hoist this ensign of freedom.
+
+From the time of the fitting out of the _Lexington_ down to the time of
+the declaration of peace, which assured the liberation of the Colonies
+from the thraldom of Great Britain, Commodore Barry was constantly
+engaged on shore and afloat. Though he actually participated in upwards
+of twenty sea fights, always against a force superior to his own, he
+never once struck his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations
+ranged all the way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies,
+and as far east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories
+were hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men were
+publicly thanked by General Washington.
+
+During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was spending the
+winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our brave soldiers
+perishing for want of provisions, blankets, clothing and tents, an
+incident occurred which shows how supremely loyal and devoted Commodore
+Barry was to the American cause. The British troops were occupying
+Philadelphia. Lord Howe, their commander, offered our great sea fighter
+a bribe of fifty thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if
+he would abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I have
+engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither the value nor
+the command of the whole British fleet can seduce me from it."
+
+General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and daring and
+loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and safest man to be
+trusted with the important mission of carrying our commissioners to
+France to secure that alliance and assistance which we then so sorely
+needed.
+
+On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a British
+man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his ship, captain,
+and destination, he gave the following bold and characteristic reply:
+"This is the United States ship _Alliance_: Jack Barry, half Irishman
+and half Yankee, commander: who are you?" In the engagement that
+followed, Barry and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor
+that after a few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was
+forced to strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."
+
+This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of Commodore
+in the service of our Republic, continued at the head of our infant Navy
+till his death, which took place in Philadelphia, on the 13th of
+September, 1803. During life he was generous and charitable, and at his
+death made the children of the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia
+the chief recipients of his wealth. His remains repose in the little
+graveyard attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.
+
+Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St. Patrick," a
+society of which General Washington himself was a member, a magnificent
+monument was erected to the memory of Commodore Barry, in Independence
+Square, Philadelphia, under the shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle
+of American liberty. Miss Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece
+of the Commodore, had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the
+unveiling, which took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There are gallant hearts whose glory
+         Columbia loves to name,
+       Whose deeds shall live in story
+         And everlasting fame.
+       But never yet one braver
+         Our starry banner bore
+       Than saucy old Jack Barry,
+         The Irish Commodore.
+
+
+
+What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies compose it?
+What is the number of senators, and how are they chosen?
+
+Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul Jones?
+
+Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And Admiral
+Schley?
+
+What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?
+
+What does "never struck his flag" mean?
+
+Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.
+
+Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the selection.
+
+
+[Illustration: COMMODORE JOHN BARRY]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_83_
+
+
+sau' cy
+ig nored'
+rev' eled
+plain' tive
+dis traught'
+wea' ri some
+rol' lick ing
+mis' chie vous
+frec'kle-faced
+
+
+
+THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.
+
+
+       He was the boy of the house, you know,
+         A jolly and rollicking lad;
+       He was never tired, and never sick,
+         And nothing could make him sad.
+
+       Did some one urge that he make less noise,
+         He would say, with a saucy grin,
+       "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir--
+         I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       "There are two of twins--oh, it must be fun
+         To go double at everything:
+       To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,
+         To whistle by twos, and to sing!"
+
+       His laugh was something to make you glad,
+         So brimful was it of joy;
+       A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,
+         But it never troubled the boy.
+
+       You met him out in the garden path,
+         With the terrier at his heels;
+       You knew by the shout he hailed you with
+         How happy a youngster feels.
+
+       The maiden auntie was half distraught
+         At his tricks as the days went by;
+       "The most mischievous child in the world!"
+         She said, with a shrug and a sigh.
+
+       His father owned that her words were true,
+         And his mother declared each day
+       Was putting wrinkles into her face,
+         And was turning her brown hair gray.
+
+       But it never troubled the boy of the house;
+         He reveled in clatter and din,
+       And had only one regret in the world--
+         That he hadn't been born a twin.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There's nobody making a noise to-day,
+         There's nobody stamping the floor,
+       There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,
+         There's crape on the wide hall door.
+
+       The terrier's whining out in the sun--
+         "Where's my comrade?" he seems to say;
+       Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.
+         There's no frolic for you to-day.
+
+       The freckle-faced girl from the house next door
+         Is sobbing her young heart out;
+       Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget
+         To miss the laugh and the shout.
+
+       How strangely quiet the little form,
+         With the hands on the bosom crossed!
+       Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,
+         Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!
+
+       So solemn and still the big house seems--
+         No laughter, no racket, no din,
+       No starting shriek, no voice piping out,
+         "I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       There a man and a woman, pale with grief,
+         As the wearisome moments creep;
+       Oh! the loneliness touches everything--
+         The boy of the house is asleep.
+
+
+_Jean Blewett._
+
+From the Toronto _Globe_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_84_
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+COOK, ELIZA, was born in London, England, in the year 1817, and was
+  the most popular poetess of her day. When a young girl, she gave herself
+  so completely up to reading that her father threatened to burn her
+  books. She began to write at an early age, and contributed poems and
+  essays to various periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will
+  live. She died in 1889.
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM, is one of the most eminent and popular of all
+  English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother dying when he
+  was only six years old, the child was sent away from home to boarding
+  school, where he suffered so much from the cruelty of a bigger boy that
+  he was obliged to leave that school for another. At the completion of
+  his college course he expressed regrets that his education was not
+  received in a school where he could be taught his duty to God. "I have
+  been graduated," he writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the
+  gospel." His longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a
+  poet chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES, one of the greatest and most popular of the
+  novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard, persistent work he
+  raised himself from obscurity and poverty to fame and fortune. After
+  only two years of schooling he was obliged to go to work. His first job
+  was pasting labels on blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five
+  cents a day! He next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then
+  reporter for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from
+  a book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in 1867, he
+  lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is buried in
+  Westminster Abbey.
+
+DONNELLY, ELEANOR CECILIA, began to write verses when she was but
+  eight years old. Her early education was directed by her mother, a
+  gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been devoted to the cause
+  of Catholic truth and the elevation of Catholic literature. Besides
+  hundreds of charming stories and essays, she has published several
+  volumes of poems. Her writings on sacred subjects display a strong,
+  intelligent faith, and a tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos,
+  originality, grace of diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment,
+  and sublimity of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our
+  American poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city
+  of Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+  admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of every
+  Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor and glory of
+  Almighty God.
+
+GOULD, HANNAH F., an American poetess, has written many pleasant
+  poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King" have long been
+  favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year 1789, and died in 1865.
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL, was born in Salem, Mass., on July 4, 1804.
+  When still quite young he showed a great fondness for reading. At the
+  early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." At
+  college he was a classmate of Longfellow. Among his writings are a
+  number of stories for children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The
+  Snow-Image," "The Wonder Books," and some stories of American history.
+  His volumes of short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The
+  Scarlet Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+  Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of the
+  Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The Marble
+  Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in 1864, and is
+  buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a delicate and exquisite
+  humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use of language. His style may be
+  said to combine almost every excellence--elegance, simplicity, grace,
+  clearness and force.
+
+HAYNE, PAUL HAMILTON, an American poet, was born in South Carolina
+  in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of poems. His death
+  occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the American patriot, Isaac
+  Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in 1780, fell into the hands of
+  the British, and was hanged by them because he refused to join their
+  ranks and fight against his country.
+
+HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT, a popular American author who wrote under
+  the assumed name of _Timothy Titcomb,_ was born in Massachusetts in the
+  year 1819. He began life as a physician, but after a few years of
+  practice gave up his profession and went to Vicksburg, Miss., as
+  Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a number of novels and several
+  volumes of essays. In 1870 he became editor of _Scribner's Magazine._ He
+  died in 1881.
+
+HUNT, LEIGH, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an intimate
+  friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born near London,
+  England, in 1784, and died in 1859.
+
+JACKSON, HELEN HUNT, a noted American writer of prose and poetry,
+  and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the initials of her
+  name), was born in Massachusetts in the year 1831. She is the author of
+  many charming poems, short stories, and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk"
+  and "Bits of Travel." She lived some years in Colorado, where her life
+  brought to her notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she
+  wrote "A Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+  Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what "Uncle
+  Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in California in
+  1885.
+
+"MERCEDES" is the pen name of an able, zealous, and devoted Sister
+  of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has written several
+  excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools which have met the test of
+  successful production. Her "Wild Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a
+  volume of Poems and Dramas that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of
+  true poetry." A competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their
+  hues most delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+  enriched the columns of _The Missionary_ and other publications with
+  several true stories, in attractive prose, of edifying conversions
+  resulting from the missionary zeal of priest and teacher. Her graceful
+  pen is ever at the service of every cause tending to the glory of God
+  and the good of souls.
+
+MOORE, THOMAS, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland, in the year
+  1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His matchless "Melodies" are
+  the delight of all lovers of music, and are sung all over the world.
+  Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated them into the grand old Celtic
+  tongue. Moore is the greatest of Ireland's song-writers, and one of the
+  world's greatest. As a poet few have equaled him in the power to write
+  poetry which charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display
+  an exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts which
+  they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he spent the
+  later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In 1896, the Moore
+  Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his grave a monument
+  consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic cross.
+
+MOORE, CLEMENT C., poet and teacher, was born in New York in 1779.
+  In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary founded by his father,
+  who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of New
+  York. He died in 1863.
+
+MORRIS, GEORGE P., poet and journalist, wrote several popular
+  poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and ballads. He was born
+  in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died in New York in 1864.
+
+MCCARTHY, DENIS ALOYSIUS, poet, lecturer and journalist, was born
+  in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland, in the year 1871, and
+  made his elementary and intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers'
+  School of his native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+  published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round of
+  Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a distinguished critic
+  who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is soulful and sweet, and sings
+  itself into the heart of anyone who has a bit of sentiment in his
+  make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at present Associate Editor of the _Sacred
+  Heart Review_ of Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and
+  contributes poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various
+  papers and magazines.
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL JOHN HENRY, was born in London in 1801, and
+  studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a minister of the
+  Church of England, and rose rapidly in his profession. In 1845 he
+  abandoned the English ministry, renounced the errors of Protestantism,
+  and entered the Catholic Church, of which he remained till death a most
+  faithful, devoted, and zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was
+  made Rector of the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879
+  was raised to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+  writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will profit by
+  and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss and Gain" and
+  "Callista." The former is the story of a convert; the latter a tale of
+  the third century, in which the beautiful heroine and martyr, Callista,
+  is presented with a master's art. Newman is the greatest master of
+  English prose. In this field he holds the same rank that Shakespeare
+  does in English poetry. To his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English
+  essayist, pays the following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm
+  of Dr. Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+  analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the jumping of
+  one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters the room." This
+  great Prince of the Church died the death of the saints in the year
+  1890.
+
+O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE, patriot, author, poet and journalist, was
+  born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in County Meath, Ireland,
+  in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to England as agent of the Fenian
+  Brotherhood, an organization whose purpose was the freedom of Ireland
+  from English rule. In 1863 he joined the English army in order to sow
+  the seeds of revolution among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested,
+  tried for treason, and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted
+  to twenty years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to
+  Australia to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+  his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston _Pilot_ in 1874.
+  He is the author of "Songs from the Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and
+  Ballads," and of other works. He died in 1890. All through life the
+  voice and pen of Boyle O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his
+  native land, and his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his
+  character. In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+  monument.
+
+RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB, called the "Hoosier Poet," was born in
+  Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a strong sense
+  of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and goes to the heart. He
+  has written much in dialect. His home is in Indianapolis.
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN, one of the most famous of English authors, was born
+  in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He spent several years in
+  Italy in the study of art. He wrote many volumes of essays and lectures,
+  chiefly on matters connected with art and art criticism. In his writings
+  we find many beautiful pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and
+  such things. His "Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature,
+  established his reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He
+  died in 1900.
+
+SANGSTER, MRS. MARGARET E., editor and poet, was born in New
+  Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated in Vienna.
+  She has successfully edited such periodicals as _Hearth and Home,
+  Harpers' Young People, and Harpers' Bazaar,_ in which much of her prose
+  and poetry has appeared. She is at present (1909) the editor of _The
+  Woman's Home Companion._
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT, an eminent English poet and author, was born in
+  the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of ten. In 1792 he was
+  expelled from the Westminster School for writing an essay against
+  corporal punishment. He then entered one of the colleges of Oxford
+  University, where he became an intimate friend of Coleridge. While
+  residing at Lisbon he began a special study of Spanish and Portuguese
+  literature. In 1813 he was appointed poet-laureate of England, and in
+  1835 received a pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey,
+  Coleridge and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+  lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in their
+  writings described the scenery of that beautiful region.
+
+TENNYSON, ALFRED, is considered the greatest poet of his age, and
+  one of the great English poets of modern times. He was born in the year
+  1809, and educated at Cambridge University. In 1850 he gave to the world
+  "In Memoriam," his lament for the loss by death of his friend, Arthur H.
+  Hallam. In 1851 he succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His
+  poems, long and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King,"
+  "The Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+  These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of thought,
+  of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented by the entire
+  English-speaking world, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson
+  always loved the sea, the music of whose restless waves awakened an
+  answering echo in his heart.
+
+WALLACE, WILLIAM R., was born at Lexington, Ky., in the year 1819.
+  As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+WESTWOOD, THOMAS, an English poet, was born in the year 1814, and
+  died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one of which was
+  "Beads from a Rosary."
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN G., called the "Quaker Poet," was born in
+  Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and were poor.
+  When young he learned to make shoes, and with the money thus earned he
+  paid his way at school. He was a boy of nineteen when his first verses
+  were published. His poems were inspired by current events, and their
+  patriotic spirit gives them a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound"
+  is considered his greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he
+  never visited a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He
+  gave thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery struggle.
+  While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied in their
+  libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the slave. Of this he
+  wrote--
+         "Forego the dreams of lettered ease,
+         Put thou the scholar's promise by;
+         The rights of man are more than these."
+
+  Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.
+
+WISEMAN, CARDINAL NICHOLAS PATRICK, was born in the year 1802 in
+  Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there. His family returned to
+  Ireland, where he was educated. When he was sixteen he entered the
+  English College, Rome, and was ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was
+  appointed Coadjutor Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of
+  Westminster, and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a
+  profound scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is
+  the author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the _Dublin
+  Review._ He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church of the Catacombs,"
+  from which some selections have been taken for this Reader, is one of
+  the classics of our language. It was written in 1854.
+
+WOODWORTH, SAMUEL, editor and poet, was born in Massachusetts in
+  1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris, he founded the _New York
+  Mirror._ "The Old Oaken Bucket" is the best known of his poems.
+
+  For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken for this
+  book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the series.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
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+in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES.
+
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+
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+status under the laws that apply to them.
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #10811 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10811)
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: De La Salle Fifth Reader
+
+Author: Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10811]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+_DE LA SALLE SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+FIFTH READER
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901]
+
+
+
+(REVISED EDITION, 1922)
+
+BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE,
+POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y. LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+_2_ PREFACE
+
+_3_ INTRODUCTION
+
+_4_ SUGGESTIONS
+
+_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+_6_ DEFINITIONS
+
+_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE. _Mercedes_
+
+_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. _J.T. Trowbridge_
+
+_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. _Mara L. Pratt_
+
+_10_ HELPING MOTHER.
+
+_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+_12_ TWO LABORERS. _Thomas Carlyle_
+
+_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+_14_ THE BROOK SONG. _James Whitcomb Riley_
+
+_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN. _Rydingsvard_
+
+_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. _Mary Howitt_
+
+_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+_18_ SEPTEMBER. _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." _Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+_21_ MY BEADS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. _Thomas Moore_
+
+_23_ A LITTLE LADY. _Louisa M. Alcott_
+
+_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE. _Anon._
+
+_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. _Denis A. McCarthy_
+
+_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. _Cardinal Newman_
+
+_28_ LITTLE BELL. _Thomas Westwood_
+
+_29_ A MODEST WIT. _Selleck Osborne_
+
+_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. _George P. Morris_
+
+_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. _Samuel Woodworth_
+
+_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. _Pierre J. Hetzel_
+
+_34_ OUR HEROES. _Phoebe Cary_
+
+_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_36_ THE BROOK. _Tennyson_
+
+_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+_38_ ONE BY ONE. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE. _Longfellow_
+
+_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. _J.G. Holland_
+
+_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS. _Longfellow_
+
+_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. _Eugene Field_
+
+_46_ THE HOLY CITY.
+
+_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES. _Aesop_
+
+_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM. _William Cowper_
+
+_49_ JACK FROST. _Hannah F. Gould_
+
+_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. _Eliza Cook_
+
+_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! _Tennyson_
+
+_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. _Robert Southey_
+
+_57_ KIND WORDS. _Father Faber_
+
+_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_59_ DAFFODILS. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. _Eleanor C. Donnelly_
+
+_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+
+_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS _Whittier_
+
+_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+_65_ WILL AND I _Paul H. Hayne_
+
+_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'. _Charles Dickens_
+
+_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? _Anon_
+
+_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.
+
+_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. _George MacDonald_
+
+_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+_73_ THE WATER LILY. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. _Margaret E. Sangster_
+
+_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. _William R. Wallace_
+
+_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. _John Ruskin_
+
+_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. _Clement C. Moore_
+
+_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. _Jean Blewett_
+
+_84_ BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. _Leigh Hunt_"
+and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. _James Whitcomb Riley_" were originally shown in the
+list above, neither work appears in the text.)
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_2_
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series of Readers
+is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of our Catholic
+schools a set of books embodying the matter and methods best suited to
+their needs. The matter has been written or chosen with a view to
+interest and instruct, to cultivate a taste for the best literature, to
+build up a strong moral character and to imbue our children with an
+intelligent love of Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by
+the most experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.
+
+These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit thought and
+facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of this idea, class
+talks, word study, the structure of sentences, drills on certain correct
+forms of expression, the proper arrangement of ideas, explanation of
+phrases and literary expressions, oral and written reproductions of
+narrations and descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all
+receive the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years, acquire
+that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and that fluency in
+expressing their own, which are so essential to a good English
+education.
+
+In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition, the
+principle of order should in a great measure determine the value of the
+methods to be employed. In the acquisition of knowledge, the child
+instinctively follows the order of nature. This order is first,
+_observation_; second, _thought_; third, _expression_. It becomes the
+duty of the teacher, consequently, to lead the child to observe
+_accurately_, to think _clearly_, and to express his thoughts
+_correctly_. And text-books are useful only in so far as they supply the
+teacher with the material and the system best calculated to accomplish
+such results.
+
+It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers, having
+been planned in accordance with the principle just enunciated, will
+prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic schools.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_3_
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the preceding
+numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered the mechanical
+difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired a fairly good working
+vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read intelligently and with some
+degree of fluency and pleasure. Now is the time to lead him to acquire a
+taste for good reading. The selections have been drawn mainly from
+authors whose writings are distinguished for their moral and literary
+value, and whose style is sure to excite a lasting interest.
+
+In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and forming a basis
+for oral and written composition work, these selections will raise his
+ideas of right living, will quicken his imagination, will give him his
+first knowledge of many things, stimulate his powers of observation,
+enlarge his vocabulary, and correct and refine his mode of expression. A
+wholesome reading habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily,
+pleasantly and unconsciously formed.
+
+The following are some of the features of the book:
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.--This Guide is to be referred to again and
+again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught. Instruction in the
+vowel sounds is an excellent drill in articulation, while a knowledge of
+the diacritical marks enables the pupil to master these sounds for
+himself when consulting the dictionary.
+
+VARIETY OF MATTER.--In the volume will be found the best sentiments of
+the best writers. The pupil will find fables, nature studies, tales of
+travel and adventure, brave deeds from history and fiction, stories of
+loyalty and heroism, examples of sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and
+selections that teach industry, contentment, respect for authority,
+reverence for all things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to
+faith and Country.
+
+LANGUAGE STUDY.--If reading is to hold its proper place in the class
+room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere reading of the
+text. In its truest sense, reading is far more comprehensive. The
+teacher will question the pupil on what he has read, point out to him
+the beauties of thought and language, find out what hold the reading has
+taken upon his memory, how it has aroused his imagination, assisted his
+judgment, directed his will, and contributed to his fund of general
+information. To assist in this most important work is the object aimed
+at in the matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give
+fuller powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.
+
+RECITATIONS.--There are some selections marked for recitation. The
+public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness of manner,
+beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for subsequent
+elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a single poem or
+address based upon some heroic or historic event, recited before a class
+or a school, will often do more to build up a noble character and foster
+a love of history, than a full term of instruction by question and
+answer.
+
+POETRY.--The numerous poetic selections, some of which are partly
+analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the highest and
+purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of knowledge, and
+emphasize the teachings of some of the prose selections. Many of them
+have been written by American authors. Every American boy and girl
+should be acquainted with the works of poets who have done so much for
+the development of American literature and nationality.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and poetry
+enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their memory, suggests
+delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in possession of sentences of
+the best construction. The recitation of these expressive texts
+accustoms the children to speak with ease, grace and elegance."
+("Elements of Practical Pedagogy.")
+
+BIOGRAPHIES.--Young children enjoy literature for its own sake, and take
+little interest in the personality of the writer; but as they grow
+older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an interest in the
+writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are given at the close of
+the volume as helps in the study of the authors from whom selections are
+drawn, and to induce the pupils to read further.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_4_
+
+
+
+SUGGESTIONS
+
+
+WORD STUDY.--The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce correctly
+all the words of the selection he is preparing to read. He should know
+their ordinary meanings and the special meanings they may have in the
+text. He should be able to write them correctly from dictation and to
+use them in sentences of his own. He should examine if they are
+primitive, derivative, or compound; he should be able to name the
+prefixes and suffixes and show how the meanings of the original words
+are modified by their use. He should cultivate the habit of word
+mastery. What is read will not otherwise be understood. Without it there
+can be no good reading, speaking or writing.
+
+EXPRESSIVE READING.--There should be constant drill to secure correct
+pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis, and an agreeable
+tone of voice, without which there can be no expressive reading. This is
+a difficult task, and will take much time, trouble and practice; but it
+has far-reaching results. It enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays
+the foundation for a genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the
+reading lesson drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion comes
+largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be taught not only
+to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning clear to others. It is
+important that children be taught to acquire thought through the ear.
+
+CONCERT READING.--Reading in concert is generally of little value, and
+the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the children in getting
+thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an exercise in teaching
+reading it is ineffective and often positively harmful. A concert
+recitation to which special training has been given partakes of the
+nature of a hymn or a song, and then becomes an element of value. If
+occasionally there must be concert reading in the class room, it should
+always be preceded by individual mastery of the selection.
+
+POEMS.--In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be presented
+as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should first read it
+through, not stopping for note or comment. He should then read it again,
+part by part, stopping, for question, explanation and discussion.
+Lastly, the whole poem, should be read with suitable emotion, so that
+the final impression may be made by the author's own words. It is
+important that the pupil get the message which the author intended to
+give. In teaching a descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as
+possible, and thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative
+poem, the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by bringing
+out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All this will take
+time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied, is worth more than a
+volume carelessly read over. In reading poetry, be careful that the
+pupils, while giving the rhythm of the lines, do not fall into the
+singsong tone so common and so disagreeable.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.--Explanations should accompany every reading lesson,
+without which there can be no serious teaching of the vernacular. By
+their means the teacher enters into communication with his pupils; he
+gets them to speak, he corrects their errors, trains their reason, and
+forms their taste. It has been said that a teacher able to explain
+selections in prose and poetry "holds his class in the hollow of his
+hand." The teacher should insist that the pupil express himself clearly
+and correctly, not only during the reading lesson, but on every subject
+he has occasion to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout
+the day's recitations.
+
+REVIEWS.--As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak, frequent
+reviews should be held. They are necessary for the backward pupils and
+advantageous for the others. Have an informal talk with the children on
+what they have read, what they have learned, what they have liked, and
+what has interested them. Some important parts of the prose and poetry
+previously studied might, during this exercise, be re-read with profit.
+
+COMPOSITION.--Continue oral and written composition. The correct use of
+written language is best taught by selecting for compositions
+subject-matter that deeply interests the children. If persevered in,
+this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use of English. If the words
+of a selection that has been studied appear now and then in the
+children's conversation or writing, it should be a matter for praise;
+for this means that new words have been added to their vocabulary, and
+that the children have a new conception of beauty of thought and speech.
+
+See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly or
+careless habits should never be allowed in any written work.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize the
+pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future good
+resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of thought
+will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of the children
+who learn them by heart.
+
+THE DICTIONARY.--The use of the dictionary is a necessary part of
+education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use will double
+the value of study in connection with reading and language. Every
+Grammar School, High School and College should be supplied with several
+copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and every pupil taught how to
+consult it, and encouraged to do so. The dictionary should be the book
+of first and last and constant resort.
+
+USE OF THE LIBRARY.--The teacher should endeavor to create an interest
+in those books from which the selections in the Reader are taken, and in
+others of equal grade and quality. Encourage the children to take books
+from the library. Direct them in their choice. Encourage home reading.
+The reading of good books should be a part of regular school work;
+otherwise little or no true progress can be made in speaking and
+writing. The best way to learn to speak and write good English is to
+read good English.
+
+For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching Reading and
+Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and IV, Part IV, of
+"Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the Christian Brothers, and
+published by the La Salle Bureau of Supplies, 50 Second Street, New
+York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:
+
+"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle O'Reilly, Miss
+Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Mr.
+Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T.
+Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W. Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The
+Ladies' Home Journal; Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.; The Educational
+Publishing Co.; Little, Brown & Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy
+& Sons; The Hinds & Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne, Fields,
+Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers
+of the works of these authors, and to these gentlemen are tendered
+expressions of sincere thanks.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_5_
+
+
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+
+NOTE.--This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication, Webster's
+International Dictionary has been taken as authority.
+
+
+
+
+VOWELS
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)
+
+
+
+[=a]            as in gate--g[=a]te
+
+[^a]            as in care--c[^a]re
+
+[)a]            as in cat--c[)a]t
+
+[.a]            as in ask--[.a]sk
+
+[a.]  ([)o])    as in what--wh[a.]t
+
+[:a]            as in car--c[:a]r
+
+[a:]            as in all--[a:]ll
+
+ai  ([^a])      as in air--[^a]ir
+
+ai  ([=a])      as in aim--[=a]im
+
+au  ([:a])      as in aunt--[:a]unt
+
+[=e]            as in eve--[=e]ve
+
+[)e]            as in end--[)e]nd
+
+[~e]            as in her--h[~e]r
+
+[^e]            as in there--th[^e]re
+
+[e=]  ([=a])    as in they--th[e=]y
+
+ea  ([=e])      as in ear--[=e]ar
+
+ei  ([=e])      as in receive--rec[=e]ive
+
+[=i]            as in ice--[=i]ce
+
+[)i]            as in pin--p[)i]n
+
+[~i]  ([~e])    as in bird--b[~i]rd
+
+[:i]  ([=e])    as in police--pol[:i]ce
+
+i[e=]  ([=e])   as in chief--chi[=e]f
+
+[=o]            as in old--[=o]ld
+
+[^o]            as in lord--l[^o]rd
+
+[)o]            as in not--n[)o]t
+
+[.o]  ([)u])    as in son--s[.o]n
+
+[o.]  ([u.])    as in wolf--w[o.]lf
+
+[o:]  ([=oo])   as in do--d[o:]
+
+oa  ([=o])      as in boat--b[=o]at
+
+[=oo]  ([o:])   as in moon--m[=oo]n
+
+[)oo]  ([o.])   as in foot--f[)oo]t
+
+[=u]            as in pure--p[=u]re
+
+[)u]            as in cup--c[)u]p
+
+[^u]            as in burn--b[^u]rn
+
+[u.]  ([o.])    as in full--f[u.]ll
+
+[u:]            as in rude--r[u:]de
+
+ew  ([=u])      as in new
+
+[=y]  ([=i]     as in fly--fl[=y]
+
+[)y]  ([)i])    as in hymn--h[)y]mn
+
+[~y]  ([~e])    as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh
+
+
+
+CONSONANTS
+
+
+c   (s)        as in cent
+
+c   (k)        as in cat
+
+ce  (sh)       as in ocean
+
+ch  (k)        as in school
+
+ch  (sh)       as in machine
+
+ci  (sh)       as in gracious
+
+dg  (j)        as in edge
+
+ed  (d)        as in burned
+
+ed  (t)        as in baked
+
+f   (v)        as in of
+
+g   (hard)     as in get
+
+g   (j)        as in gem
+
+gh  (f)        as in laugh
+
+n   (ng)       as in ink
+
+ph  (f)        as in sulphur
+
+qu  (kw)       as in queen
+
+s   (z)        as in has
+
+s   (sh)       as in sure
+
+s   (zh)       as in pleasure
+
+ssi (sh)       as in passion
+
+si  (zh)       as in occasion
+
+ti  (sh)       as in nation
+
+wh  (hw)       as in when
+
+x   (z)        as in Xavier
+
+x   (ks)       as in tax
+
+x   (gz)       as in exist
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_6_
+
+
+
+DEFINITIONS
+
+
+LANGUAGE is the expression of thought by means of words.
+
+WORDS, with respect to their _origin_, are divided into _primitive_
+and _derivative_; and with respect to their _composition_, into _simple_
+and _compound_.
+
+A PRIMITIVE word is one that is not derived from another word.
+
+A DERIVATIVE word is one that is formed from another word by means
+of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other change.
+
+A SIMPLE word is one that consists of a single significant term.
+
+A COMPOUND word is one made up of two or more simple words.
+
+A SENTENCE is a combination of words which make complete sense.
+
+A SYLLABLE is a word or a part of a word pronounced by one effort
+of the voice.
+
+
+The DIAERESIS is the mark [..] placed over the second of two
+adjacent vowels, to denote that they are to be pronounced as distinct
+letters; as _REËCHO_.
+
+
+
+RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS
+
+
+The first word of every SENTENCE should begin with a capital.
+
+PROPER NAMES, and words derived from them, should begin with
+capitals.
+
+The first word of every LINE OF POETRY should begin with a capital.
+
+All names of God and all titles of the DEITY, as well as all
+pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with capitals.
+
+The words I and O should always be capitals.
+
+The first word of a DIRECT QUOTATION should begin with a capital.
+
+The names of the DAYS and of the MONTHS should begin with
+capitals; but not the names of the seasons.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_7_
+
+
+
+HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+
+
+       Glorious Patron! low before thee
+         Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!
+       And our voices blend in music,
+         Singing praises to thy name.
+           Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!
+           Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.
+
+       Lover of our Queen and Mother,
+         At her feet didst vow thy heart,
+       Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,
+         Thou didst choose the better part.
+           Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,
+           Pierce our souls with love's own dart.
+
+       Model of the Christian Teacher!
+         Patron of the Christian youth!
+       Lead us all to heights of glory,
+         As we strive in earnest ruth.
+           Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide us,
+           As we spread afar the Truth!
+
+       In this life of sin and sorrow,
+         Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,
+       In the hour of dark temptation,
+         Father! be our spirit's stay!
+           Take our hand and lead us homeward,
+           Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright Day!
+
+
+_Mercedes._
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE.]
+Founder of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, pointing out the way
+of salvation to the children of all nations.
+
+"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels, moulding and
+shaping the souls of youth for heaven." _Most Reverend Archbishop
+Keane, of Dubuque._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_8_
+
+
+due
+mien
+fri'ar
+pri'or
+Pa'los
+por'ter
+con'vent
+pre'cious
+grat'i tude
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.
+
+
+       Dreary and brown the night comes down,
+         Gloomy, without a star.
+       On Palos town the night comes down;
+       The day departs with stormy frown;
+         The sad sea moans afar.
+
+       A convent gate is near; 'tis late;
+         Tin-gling! the bell they ring.
+       They ring the bell, they ask for bread--
+       "Just for my child," the father said.
+         Kind hands the bread will bring.
+
+       White was his hair, his mien was fair,
+         His look was calm and great.
+       The porter ran and called a friar;
+       The friar made haste and told the prior;
+         The prior came to the gate.
+
+       He took them in, he gave them food;
+         The traveler's dreams he heard;
+       And fast the midnight moments flew.
+       And fast the good man's wonder grew,
+         And all his heart was stirred.
+
+       The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,
+         Forgetful of all sorrow,
+       Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.
+       The good man kissed him there, and said:
+         "You leave us not to-morrow!
+
+       "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;
+         This child shall be our own--
+       A precious care, while you prepare
+       Your business with the court, and bear
+         Your message to the throne."
+
+       And so his guest he comforted.
+         O wise, good prior! to you,
+       Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,
+       And helped him on his way, what praise
+         And gratitude are due!
+
+
+_J.T. Trowbridge._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Where is Palos? What is it noted for?
+
+Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?
+
+In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the traveler?
+Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called dreams? Did the
+dreams become facts? In what way?
+
+How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
+
+How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
+
+Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many
+Catholic names?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Press on! There's no such word as fail!
+       Push nobly on! The goal is near!
+       Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!
+       Look upward, onward,--never fear!
+
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_9_
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FERN.
+
+
+A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
+it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
+leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
+graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
+breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
+out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
+curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
+
+So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
+fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
+time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
+were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
+
+Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
+the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
+lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
+
+But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,
+when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments,
+a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the
+delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect
+and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its
+own beautiful valley.
+
+And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf
+home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it;
+and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think
+out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away
+with the fern in the bit of rock.
+
+Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth
+which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that
+none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is
+sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and
+lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years,
+and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his
+other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though
+silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men
+and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely
+traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid
+others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed,
+lend a hand to each and every one around us.
+
+_Mara L. Pratt._
+
+From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent
+mark where it belongs in each:
+
+outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds,
+centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the
+words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
+
+Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to
+be truly successful in life.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The child is father of the man;
+       And I could wish my days to be
+       Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+Truth alone makes life rich and great.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+       There is a tongue in every leaf--
+         A voice in every rill--
+       A voice that speaketh everywhere--
+       In flood and fire, through earth and air,
+         A tongue that's never still.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_10_
+
+
+blithe
+whistler
+mellow
+replied
+cheery
+skylark
+
+
+
+HELPING MOTHER.
+
+
+       As I went down the street to-day,
+         I saw a little lad
+       Whose face was just the kind of face
+         To make a person glad.
+       It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
+         So cheerful and so bright,
+       It made me think of apple-time.
+         And filled me with delight.
+
+       I saw him busy at his work,
+         While blithe as skylark's song
+       His merry, mellow whistle rang
+         The pleasant street along.
+       "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
+         I thought as I passed by;
+       "These busy, cheery, whistling boys
+         Make grand men by and by."
+
+       Just then a playmate came along,
+         And leaned across the gate--
+       A plan that promised lots of fun
+         And frolic to relate.
+       "The boys are waiting for us now,
+         So hurry up!" he cried;
+       My little whistler shook his head,
+         And "Can't come," he replied.
+
+       "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
+         What hinders?" asked the other.
+       "Why, don't you see," came the reply,
+         "I'm busy helping mother?
+       She's lots to do, and so I like
+         To help her all I can;
+       So I've no time for fun just now,"
+         Said this dear little man.
+
+       "I like to hear you talk like that,"
+         I told the little lad;
+       "Help mother all you can, and make
+         Her kind heart light and glad."
+       It does me good to think of him,
+         And know that there are others
+       Who, like this manly little boy,
+         Take hold and help their mothers.
+
+
+
+LANGUAGE WORK:
+
+
+Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like
+him?
+
+Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
+
+When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What
+kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_11_
+
+
+rid' dle
+brand'-new
+mys' ter y
+un rav' el
+like' ness es
+
+
+
+A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+
+Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took
+a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily
+singing his song.
+
+"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which
+you are working so hard belong to you?"
+
+"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am
+not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
+
+"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
+
+"Two dollars," said the laborer.
+
+"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
+
+"Yes; and have something left."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are
+for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and
+fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
+
+"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
+
+"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old
+parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now,
+that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards
+which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I
+spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This
+will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I
+maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
+
+The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man.
+Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me
+before?"
+
+"Never," said the laborer.
+
+"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in
+your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
+
+"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
+
+"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into
+his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand,
+stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who
+knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our
+Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The working men, whatever their task,
+         Who carve the stone, or bear the hod,
+       They wear upon their honest brows
+         The royal stamp and seal of God;
+       And worthier are their drops of sweat
+         Than diamonds in a coronet.
+
+       Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
+         Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
+       Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
+         Or plants a tree, is more than all.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+[Illustration: LABOR _Millet_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_12_
+
+
+con' script
+in dis pen' sa ble
+im' ple ment
+in de fea' si bly
+
+
+
+TWO LABORERS.
+
+
+Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
+earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
+man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
+notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
+scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
+tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
+man living manlike.
+
+Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
+pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
+so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
+wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
+so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
+indispensable,--for daily bread.
+
+A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
+the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
+Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
+revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
+they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
+endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
+only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
+heaven for us!
+
+If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
+glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
+freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
+else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
+
+Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
+and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
+toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
+than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
+thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
+depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
+break through.
+
+_Bacon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_13_
+
+
+gust
+thief
+mop' ing
+awk' ward
+pet' tish ly
+in dig' nant
+un bear' a ble
+med' dle some
+en light' ened
+in quis' i tive
+
+
+
+THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
+the top of the garden wall.
+
+"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
+is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
+hang _her_."
+
+"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.
+
+"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
+death of me?"
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
+I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
+
+"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
+and I might be managed much more easily."
+
+"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a
+pain in my side!"
+
+"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
+
+"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:--oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks
+she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is
+quite unbearable!"
+
+Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the
+first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular
+cause this morning?"
+
+"She chose to be very angry because I--I offended her," said the cat.
+
+"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
+
+"Oh, nothing worth telling,--a mere mistake of mine."
+
+Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was
+compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
+
+"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
+
+"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
+knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it,
+and it was rather nice, and--"
+
+"You finished it," hinted Growler.
+
+"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't
+come in. As it was, I left the head."
+
+"The head of what?" said Growler.
+
+"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
+
+"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
+
+"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
+
+"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the
+whole story, I only wonder she did _not_ hang you."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
+
+Mary -- here, and Susan and Agnes -- coming. They -- delayed on the road.
+Mother -- to come with them, but she and father -- obliged to wait till
+to-morrow.
+
+Puss said to Growler, "I -- not -- a drop of milk to-day, and -- not -- any
+yesterday."
+
+I -- my work well now. Yesterday I -- it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
+-- it perfectly.
+
+The boys -- their best, though they -- the game.
+
+John--now the boys he -- last week. He -- not -- them before.
+
+
+NOTE.--Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this
+selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils
+simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly
+natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or
+act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_14_
+
+
+scared
+swerve
+gur' gle
+rip' ples
+cur' rent
+mum' bling ly
+
+
+
+THE BROOK SONG.
+
+
+       Little brook! Little brook!
+       You have such a happy look--
+       Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook--
+       And your ripples, one and one,
+       Reach each other's hands and run
+       Like laughing little children in the sun!
+
+       Little brook, sing to me;
+       Sing about the bumblebee
+       That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
+       Because he wet the film
+       Of his wings, and had to swim,
+       While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
+
+       Little brook--sing a song
+       Of a leaf that sailed along
+       Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
+       And a dragon fly that lit
+       On the tilting rim of it,
+       And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
+
+       And sing--how oft in glee
+       Came a truant boy like me,
+       Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
+       Till the gurgle and refrain
+       Of your music in his brain
+       Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
+
+       Little brook--laugh and leap!
+       Do not let the dreamer weep:
+       Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
+       And then sing soft and low
+       Through his dreams of long ago--
+       Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
+
+
+_James Whitcomb Riley_.
+
+From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: BY THE BROOK]
+
+
+RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight
+covering.
+
+CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to _air,
+electricity_, etc.
+
+What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody,
+softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
+
+What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
+
+Insert _may_ or _can_ properly where you see a dash in the
+following: The boy said, "--I leave the room?" "Mother, I--climb the
+ladder;--I?"--a dog climb a tree?--I ask a favor?
+
+Copy the following words--they are often misspelled: loving, using,
+till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success,
+barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four,
+enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
+
+By means of the suffixes, _er, est, ness_, form three new words
+from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy,
+steady, lovely, gloomy.
+
+Example: From happy,--happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of
+_y_ to _i_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_15_
+
+
+rag'ged
+crin'kly
+rub'bish
+fil'tered
+protect'ed
+disor'derly
+disturbed'
+imme'diately
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+
+High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on
+the autumn wind's strong arms.
+
+"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down
+on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away
+immediately, because he had much to look after.
+
+That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was
+placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
+
+Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near
+being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
+
+It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the
+downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell,
+and filled the little pit it had made.
+
+The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay
+quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came,
+and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
+
+There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant
+could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near
+it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep
+into the cottage either.
+
+"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
+
+"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the
+smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
+
+And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it
+was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and
+told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
+tongue.
+
+Now there came a pair of ragged children, running--the smith's boy and
+girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after
+they were gone.
+
+"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall
+pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
+
+"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see
+what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know,
+when it grows bigger."
+
+And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up
+the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
+the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to
+make the place look better.
+
+"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you
+cannot think how in the way folks are!"
+
+"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very
+orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place
+she was so disturbed.
+
+But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned
+earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was
+several inches high.
+
+"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is
+getting!"
+
+"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant!
+Come and see it!" begged the girl.
+
+The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough
+bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
+
+The smith nodded to the children.
+
+"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an
+instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the
+little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+
+pet' als
+in' mates
+scrubbed
+fra' grant
+
+
+
+The children ran into the house.
+
+"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
+window!"
+
+The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
+that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
+
+"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
+the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
+
+"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
+dirty it is out in the yard!"
+
+Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
+cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
+the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
+
+"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
+so untidy here."
+
+She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
+she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
+smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
+every spot was white.
+
+It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
+the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
+strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
+ever before, he thought.
+
+"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
+greeting had been heard in here.
+
+"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
+for many years.
+
+The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
+children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
+mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
+
+A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
+stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
+
+In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
+see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
+yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
+
+She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
+through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
+they both smiled.
+
+"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
+
+Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
+was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
+there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
+the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
+
+The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
+flowers.
+
+"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
+
+The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
+carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
+fingers.
+
+Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
+over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
+sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
+head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
+sounded.
+
+In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
+more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
+much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
+
+But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
+but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
+flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
+blossom.
+
+"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
+husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
+at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
+children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
+for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
+
+When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
+flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
+waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
+lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
+
+
+From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvärd.
+
+Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
+Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
+plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
+would grow.
+
+_Abraham Lincoln._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_16_
+
+
+lux'u ry
+med'i cine
+a bun'dant
+wil'der ness
+
+
+
+THE USE OF FLOWERS.
+
+
+       God might have bade the earth bring forth
+         Enough for great and small,
+       The oak tree, and the cedar tree,
+         Without a flower at all.
+
+       He might have made enough, enough,
+         For every want of ours;
+       For luxury, medicine, and toil,
+         And yet have made no flowers.
+
+       The ore within the mountain mine
+         Requireth none to grow,
+       Nor doth it need the lotus flower
+         To make the river flow.
+
+       The clouds might give abundant rain,
+         The nightly dews might fall,
+       And the herb that keepeth life in man
+         Might yet have drunk them all.
+
+       Then wherefore, wherefore were they made
+         All dyed with rainbow light,
+       All fashioned with supremest grace,
+         Upspringing day and night--
+
+       Springing in valleys green and low,
+         And on the mountains high,
+       And in the silent wilderness,
+         Where no man passeth by?
+
+       Our outward life requires them not,
+         Then wherefore had they birth?
+       To minister delight to man,
+         To beautify the earth;
+
+       To whisper hope--to comfort man
+         Whene'er his faith is dim;
+       For whoso careth for the flowers
+         Will care much more for Him!
+
+
+_Mary Howitt._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf, copy,
+foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.
+
+Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following stanza:
+
+
+       In the country on every side
+         Where far and wide
+       Like a leopard's tawny hide
+         Stretches the plain
+       To the dry grass and drier grain
+       How welcome is the rain.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+         The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
+       Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+         And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+
+_Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_17_
+
+
+deigned
+in' va lid
+lone' li ness
+smoothed
+med'i cine
+be wil'dered
+gen' ius
+riv' et ed
+soul-sub du' ing
+
+
+
+PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+
+In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London, little Pierre,
+a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother.
+There was no bread in the house; and he had not tasted food all day. Yet
+he sat humming to keep up his spirits.
+
+Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could
+scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be
+so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good sweet orange; and yet he
+had not a penny in the world.
+
+The little song he was singing was his own,--one he had composed, both
+air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and,
+looking out, saw a man putting up a great poster with yellow letters,
+announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public.
+
+"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a
+moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a new hope. Running
+to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from a
+little box an old, stained paper, he gave one eager glance at his
+mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I
+am already worn out with company."
+
+"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says that if he
+can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep
+you a moment."
+
+"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I
+can never refuse children."
+
+Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand a little
+roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he walked straight
+up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come to see you, because my
+mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I
+thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little song at one of
+your grand concerts, some publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and
+so I could get food and medicine for my mother."
+
+The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately she
+was;--she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the
+air.
+
+"Did you compose it?" she asked,--"you, a child! And the words?--Would
+you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of
+thought.
+
+"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but I
+couldn't leave my mother."
+
+"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and
+here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here
+is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a
+seat near me."
+
+Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a
+little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid,
+telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt
+that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the
+glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling
+of silks, completely bewildered him. At last _she_ came; and the
+child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand
+lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship,
+would really sing his little song?
+
+Breathless he waited:--the band, the whole band, struck up a little
+plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how
+she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a
+bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the
+touching words of that little song.
+
+Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for
+money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and
+thousands had wept at his grief.
+
+The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid
+her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said:
+"Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this
+morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little
+song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."
+
+The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for
+Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the
+tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple
+prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice
+their affliction.
+
+The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and
+she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by
+her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his
+affection, was the little Pierre of former days,--now rich,
+accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.
+
+All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
+bounty to the widow and the fatherless!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIERRE (pe [^a]r'), Peter.
+
+MALIBRAN, a French singer and actress. She died in 1836, when only 28
+years old.
+
+What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?
+
+BREATHLESS = _breath_+_less_, without breath, out of breath;
+holding the breath on account of great interest.
+
+BREATHLESSLY, in a breathless manner. Use _breath, breathless,
+breathlessly,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming together in
+the following words and phrases:
+
+humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows; eyes
+sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.
+
+_St. Francis of Assisi._
+
+
+
+       Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
+         'Tis only noble to be good.
+       Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_18_
+
+
+
+SEPTEMBER.
+
+
+       The golden-rod is yellow;
+         The corn is turning brown;
+       The trees in apple orchards
+         With fruit are bending down.
+
+       The gentian's bluest fringes
+         Are curling in the sun;
+       In dusty pods the milkweed
+         Its hidden silk has spun.
+
+       The sedges flaunt their harvest
+         In every meadow nook;
+       And asters by the brookside
+         Make asters in the brook.
+
+       From dewy lanes at morning
+         The grapes' sweet odors rise;
+       At noon the roads all flutter
+         With yellow butterflies.
+
+       By all these lovely tokens
+         September days are here,
+       With summer's best of weather,
+         And autumn's best of cheer.
+
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+
+[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.]
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
+
+Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of cheer;
+sedges flaunt their harvest.
+
+How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?
+
+Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in the poem.
+Can you name any others?
+
+Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?
+
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_19_
+
+
+tat'ter
+wreathed
+Ken tuck' y
+de scend'ed
+re cess'
+home' stead
+en rap' tured
+Penn syl va' ni a
+
+
+
+"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."
+
+
+"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster, a resident
+of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a visit to his
+relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of Bardstown, Ky. One
+beautiful morning while the slaves were at work in the cornfield and the
+sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, first giving
+it a light red, then changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon
+a bench in front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and
+a sister.
+
+High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its sweet
+notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the thrush's mellow
+song could be heard. A number of small negro children were playing not
+far away. When Foster had finished the first verse of the song his
+sister took it from his hand and sang in a sweet, mellow voice:
+
+
+
+       The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;
+         'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
+       The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,
+         While the birds make music all the day.
+
+       The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
+         All merry, all happy, all bright;
+       By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+
+On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to a lower
+branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side and appeared to
+be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice of the young singer.
+When the last note died away upon the air, her fond brother sang in deep
+bass voice:
+
+
+       Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         Well sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+       A few more days for to tote the weary load,
+         No matter, 'twill never be light;
+       A few more days till we totter on the road--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little tots had
+placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees, while the old
+black women were peeping around the corner of the house. The faithful
+old house dog never took his eyes off the young singers. Everything was
+still; not even the stirring of the leaves seemed to break the wonderful
+silence.
+
+Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes, and sang
+in sweet accents:
+
+
+       They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon
+         On the meadow, the hill and the shore;
+       They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
+         On the bench by the old cabin door.
+
+       The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
+         With sorrow where all was delight:
+       The time has come when the darkies have to part--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+       The head must bow and the back will have to bend
+         Wherever the darkies may go;
+       A few more days and the trouble all will end
+         In the fields where the sugar cane grow.
+
+       Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+
+As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's cheeks; the
+children crept from their hiding place behind the trees, their faces
+wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their home in
+the thicket, while the old house dog still lay basking in the sun.
+
+
+_Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+
+Louisville _Courier-Journal._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_20_
+
+
+stew' ard
+se'quel
+Gal'i lee
+ab lu' tions
+in ter ces' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+
+In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us in his
+gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the Mother of
+Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the marriage." Mary was
+invited to be one of the honored guests because she was, no doubt, an
+intimate friend of the family. She preceded her Son to the wedding in
+order to lend her aid in the necessary preparations.
+
+Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He went as
+freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went pityingly to so
+many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary with his long fast and
+struggle in the desert, He was pleased to attend this merry wedding
+feast, and by this loving and kindly act to sanctify the bond of
+Marriage, which was to become in His Church one of the seven Sacraments.
+
+The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that greatly
+disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not calculated
+rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many guests.
+
+Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the confusion of
+the servants when they discovered that the wine vessels had become
+empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered, "They have no wine." "My
+hour is not yet come," He answered her, meaning that His time for
+working miracles had not yet arrived. He knew on the instant what the
+gentle heart of His Mother desired. His words sounded like a refusal of
+the request which Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue;
+but the sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.
+
+She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do
+ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close at hand six
+great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the custom in the
+East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh. These vessels
+"containing two or three measures apiece," were kept in readiness for
+the guests, who were required not only to wash their feet before
+touching the linen and drapery of the couches, but even during the meal
+frequently to purify their hands. Already there had been many of these
+ablutions performed, and the urns were being rapidly emptied.
+
+"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the servants.
+
+They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.
+
+"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the feast."
+
+And they carried it.
+
+When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not
+whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him: "Every man at
+first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that
+which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
+
+The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to give an
+agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table; but the
+latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a wondrous deed
+had been accomplished--that water had been changed into wine!
+
+Jesus had performed His first Miracle.
+
+From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we learn that
+Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God, whose
+intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a loving and
+motherly care over the smallest of our life's concerns.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FEAST _Veronese_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PRECEDED, went before in order of time. The prefix _pre_- means
+_before_. Tell what the following words mean:
+
+prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine, precaution,
+precursor, prefigure, prearrange.
+
+Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
+
+_Richard Crashaw._
+
+But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the
+Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His Name.
+
+
+_Gospel of St. John._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_21_
+
+
+dec' ades (dek' ads)
+di' a dem
+
+
+
+MY BEADS.
+
+
+       Sweet blessèd beads! I would not part
+           With one of you for richest gem
+           That gleams in kingly diadem:
+       Ye know the history of my heart.
+
+       For I have told you every grief
+           In all the days of twenty years,
+           And I have moistened you with tears,
+       And in your decades found relief.
+
+       Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,
+         And joys have died; but in my needs
+         Ye were my friends, my blessed beads!
+       And ye consoled me when I wailed.
+
+       For many and many a time, in grief,
+         My weary fingers wandered round
+         Thy circled chain, and always found
+       In some Hail Mary sweet relief.
+
+       How many a story you might tell
+         Of inner life, to all unknown;
+         I trusted you and you alone,
+       But ah! ye keep my secrets well.
+
+       Ye are the only chain I wear--
+         A sign that I am but the slave,
+         In life, in death, beyond the grave,
+       Of Jesus and His Mother fair.
+
+
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+From the following words make new words by means of the suffix -_ous_:
+joy, grace, grief, glory, desire, virtue, beauty, courage, disaster,
+harmony.
+
+(Consult the dictionary.)
+
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+
+       Mary,--our comfort and our hope,--
+         O, may that name be given
+       To be the last we sigh on earth,--
+         The first we breathe in heaven.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_22_
+
+
+
+THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+
+
+       The harp that once through Tara's halls
+         The soul of music shed,
+       Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
+         As if that soul were fled.
+       So sleeps the pride of former days,
+         So glory's thrill is o'er,
+       And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
+         Now feel that pulse no more.
+
+       No more to chiefs and ladies bright
+         The harp of Tara swells;
+       The chord alone that breaks at night
+         Its tale of ruin tells.
+       Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
+         The only throb she gives
+       Is when some heart indignant breaks,
+         To show that still She lives.
+
+
+_Thomas Moore._
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM MOORE]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_23_
+
+
+ma'am
+dis suade'
+re spect'a ble
+shuf' fled
+dan' ger ous
+grate' ful
+wist' ful ly
+mit' tens
+outstretched'
+res' cue
+un daunt' ed
+an' ti qua ted
+
+
+
+A LITTLE LADY.[001]
+
+
+Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice,
+I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She
+was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black,
+wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.
+
+Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are
+better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the
+faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old
+ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently
+waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and
+forgotten them.
+
+Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet
+in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry,
+that I might offer my help.
+
+At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to
+another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our
+coasting, unless we hurry."
+
+"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so
+bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a
+sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.
+
+"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking
+with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but
+had not the courage to try it.
+
+"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to
+do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her
+overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over
+the dangerous sheet of ice before her.
+
+"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little
+voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.
+
+"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get
+home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was
+worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.
+
+"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you
+might fall," said the child, offering her arm.
+
+"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've been having
+a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and I slip at every
+step."
+
+"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and can't tumble."
+
+So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the other girls
+to look after them and wish that we had done the little act of kindness,
+which now looked so lovely in another.
+
+"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child to the
+other.
+
+"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do lose some
+coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade her playmate from
+going to the rescue.
+
+Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day in real
+politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully supporting the
+old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big bag, the old socks, and
+the queer bonnet, both their faces lighted up with new respect and
+affection for their playmate.
+
+_Louisa M. Alcott._
+
+From "Little Women." Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DISSUADE, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by reasons
+given.
+
+ANTIQUATED, grown old; old-fashioned.
+
+Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands for.
+
+
+Use _their_ or _there_ properly in place of the blanks in
+the following sentences: The girls were on -- way
+to the Park. -- was an old lady at the crossing.
+Our home is --. Katy and Mary said --
+mother lived --.
+
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Count that day lost
+         Whose low descending sun,
+       Views from thy hands
+         No worthy action done.
+
+
+_Author unknown._
+
+
+
+What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+[Footnote 001: Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_24_
+
+
+
+WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Some love the glow of outward show,
+         Some love mere wealth and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+       What's all the gold that glitters cold,
+         When linked to hard or haughty feeling?
+       Whate'er we're told, the noble gold
+         Is truth of heart and manly dealing.
+
+       A lowly roof may give us proof
+         That lowly flowers are often fairest;
+       And trees whose bark is hard and dark
+         May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest.
+
+       There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor
+         As e'er adorned a loftier station;
+       And minds as just as those, we trust,
+         Whose claim is but of wealth's creation.
+
+       Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,
+         Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+What is meant by "haughty feeling"?
+
+What does the author say "the noble gold" is?
+
+Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word? Why?
+
+Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.
+
+Use _to, too, two,_ properly before each of the following words:
+
+hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.
+
+What virtues does the poem recommend?
+
+What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?
+
+What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?
+
+
+       The bird that sings on highest wing,
+         Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
+       And she that doth most sweetly sing,
+         Sings in the shade when all things rest.
+
+
+_Montgomery_.
+
+
+Name the two birds referred to.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_25_
+
+
+sears
+flecked
+de signed'
+strait'ened
+il lu'mined
+
+
+
+A SONG OF DUTY.
+
+
+       Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;
+         Life is flecked with shine and shower;
+       Now the tear of grieving flows,
+         Now we smile in happy hour;
+       Death awaits us, every one--
+         Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer--
+       Let us then, ere life be done,
+         Make the world a little brighter!
+
+       Burdens that our neighbors bear,
+         Easier let us try to make them;
+       Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,
+         Let us do our best to break them.
+       From the straitened hand and mind,
+         Let us loose the binding fetter,
+       Let us, as the Lord designed,
+         Make the world a little better!
+
+       Selfish brooding sears the soul,
+         Fills the mind with clouds of sorrow,
+       Darkens all the shining goal
+         Of the sun-illumined morrow;
+       Wherefore should our lives be spent
+         Daily growing blind and blinder--
+       Let us, as the Master meant,
+         Make the world a little kinder!
+
+
+_Denis A. McCarthy._
+
+From "Voices from Erin."
+
+Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_26_
+
+
+Sod' om
+spright' ly
+the o lo' gi an
+his' to ry
+To bi' as
+cre at' ed
+pro ceed' ed
+sep' a ra ted
+min' is ter
+Au gus' tine
+crit' i cise
+cat' e ehism
+de ter' mined
+As cen' sion
+Res ur rec' tion
+
+
+
+AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+
+"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to tell Maggie
+all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at school."
+
+"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at all to make
+Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."
+
+"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could find out
+_when_ the angels were created. Neither could our teacher tell me. And
+I'm told St. Augustine could only make a guess when they were created.
+
+"He thought the angels were created when God separated the light from
+the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure there are angels;
+that's the chief point."
+
+"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.
+
+"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I would
+know he must have a father and a mother, although I had never heard when
+he was born."
+
+"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.
+
+"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and they must
+have been created some time. Let me tell you some of the places where it
+is said in the Bible that angels have been seen, and where they spoke,
+too."
+
+"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if _she_ can find out
+some of those places herself. Here is the Bible."
+
+With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the history of Adam
+and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with a flaming sword was
+placed at the gate of Paradise.
+
+"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very sad."
+
+"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and beheld his
+young theologians with the holy Book before them. "They felt very sorry,
+indeed, but they were consoled when told that a Savior would come to
+redeem them."
+
+"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke about the
+angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the highest."
+
+"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was tempted,"
+proceeded the father.
+
+"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed James.
+
+"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip up her big
+brother, "but he is a bad one."
+
+"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His forty days'
+fast," insisted James.
+
+"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one _bad angel_
+tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister unto Him."
+
+"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry over some
+other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James, and give only
+the place and person in each case."
+
+"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who went to
+Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to steal money from
+the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a long journey."
+
+"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an _Archangel?_" inquired Maggie,
+still determined to surpass her brother.
+
+"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be Maggie's
+turn soon."
+
+"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels at the
+Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His Ascension."
+
+Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have till next
+Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all mine."
+
+"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "_your _angel is always with
+you, and James has his, too."
+
+"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the church,"
+said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse my coming in
+without knocking. They're in a great hurry."
+
+"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next Sunday. May
+your angels watch over you in the meantime."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ARCHANGEL ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.
+
+ARCHBISHOP ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.
+
+ARCH, as a prefix, means _chief_, and in nearly every case
+the _ch_ is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel, architect, and in
+one or two other words, the _ch = k._
+
+ARCH, as a suffix, is pronounced _[:a]rk_, and means _ruler;
+_ as monarch, a _sole ruler;_ one who _rules alone._
+
+Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are contractions. Write
+after each what it is a contraction of.
+
+EARTHWARD = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). _ward_ is here a suffix
+meaning _course, direction to, motion towards._ Add this SUFFIX
+to the end of each of the following words, and tell the meaning of
+each new word formed:
+
+up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.
+
+WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+                            The generous heart
+       Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_27_
+
+
+ebb' ing
+spon' sor
+judg' ments
+el' e ments
+tu' te lage
+
+
+
+MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+       My oldest friend, mine from the hour
+         When first I drew my breath;
+       My faithful friend, that shall be mine,
+         Unfailing, till my death.
+
+       Thou hast been ever at my side;
+         My Maker to thy trust
+       Consign'd my soul, what time He framed
+         The infant child of dust.
+
+       No beating heart in holy prayer,
+         No faith, inform'd aright,
+       Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,
+         Or Michael's conquering might.
+
+       Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,--
+         The dearest and the best,--
+       Has known my being as thou hast known,
+         And blest as thou hast blest.
+
+       Thou wast my sponsor at the font;
+         And thou, each budding year,
+       Didst whisper elements of truth
+         Into my childish ear.
+
+       And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,
+         My rebel spirit fell,
+       Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,
+         Yet bear each deed of Hell.
+
+       And then in turn, when judgments came.
+         And scared me back again,
+       Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe
+         And hallow every pain.
+
+       Oh! who of all thy toils and cares
+         Can tell the tale complete,
+       To place me under Mary's smile,
+         And Peter's royal feet!
+
+       And thou wilt hang above my bed,
+         When life is ebbing low;
+       Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,
+         The jealous, sleepless foe.
+
+       Mine, when I stand before my Judge;
+         And mine, if spared to stay
+       Within the golden furnace till
+         My sin is burn'd away.
+
+       And mine, O Brother of my soul,
+         When my release shall come;
+       Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,
+         Thy wings shall waft me home.
+
+
+_Cardinal Newman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: THE GUARDIAN ANGEL]
+
+
+Explain the following expressions:
+
+Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font;
+each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe
+the picture.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_28_
+
+
+quoth
+crooned
+frisked
+beech'-wood
+twain
+se'rene
+frol'icked
+wan'dering
+
+
+
+LITTLE BELL.
+
+
+       Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:
+       "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,
+           What's your name?" quoth he,--
+       "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,
+       Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"
+           "Little Bell," said she.
+
+       Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,
+       Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.
+           "Bonny bird," quoth she,
+       "Sing me your best song before I go,"
+       "Here's the very finest song I know,
+           Little Bell," said he.
+
+       And the blackbird piped: you never heard
+       Half so gay a song from any bird,--
+           Full of quips and wiles,
+       Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,
+       All for love of that sweet face below,
+           Dimpled o'er with smiles.
+
+       And the while the bonny bird did pour
+       His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine forth in happy overflow
+           From the blue, bright eyes.
+
+       Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade
+       Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,
+           And from out the tree
+       Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,
+       While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:
+           "Little Bell!" piped he.
+
+       Little Bell sat down amid the fern:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;
+           Bring me nuts," quoth she.
+       Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,--
+       Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,--
+           And adown the tree
+       Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
+       In the little lap dropped, one by one.
+       Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!
+           "Happy Bell!" pipes he.
+
+       Little Bell looked up and down the glade:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,
+           Come and share with me!"
+       Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,
+       Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!
+       Little Bell gave each his honest share;
+           Ah! the merry three!
+
+       And the while these woodland playmates twain
+       Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine out in happy overflow
+           From her blue, bright eyes.
+
+       By her snow-white cot at close of day
+       Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:
+           Very calm and clear
+       Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,
+       In blue heaven, an angel shape serene
+           Paused awhile to hear.
+
+       "What good child is this," the angel said,
+       "That, with happy heart, beside her bed
+           Prays so lovingly?"
+       Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,
+       Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,
+           "Bell, _dear_ Bell!" crooned he.
+
+       "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair
+       Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;
+           Child, thy bed shall be
+       Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,
+       Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,
+           Little Bell, for thee."
+
+
+_Thomas Westwood_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL
+
+croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.
+
+croon, to sing in a low tone.
+
+quips, quick, smart turns.
+
+piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or flute.
+
+In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose _Little
+Bell?_ Why are these marks used here?
+
+Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used. Tell what it
+denotes in each case.
+
+Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?
+
+In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid, slowly
+wandering" his way? Who is she?
+
+Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the blackbird to do?
+
+Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the bird sing
+so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the little childish
+heart below?"
+
+Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to do? Read
+the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What invitation did the
+squirrel receive from Little Bell?
+
+Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what you see
+there.
+
+Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.
+
+Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last stanza. What
+is their meaning?
+
+What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did he make
+such beautiful promises?
+
+Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem mean: quoth
+he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls of gold; bonny
+bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden woodlights; adown the tree;
+playmates twain; with folded palms; an angel shape; with angels' care;
+the bird did pour his full heart out freely; the sweetness did shine
+forth in happy overflow.
+
+Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the thought
+it contains.
+
+Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.
+
+What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this poem?
+
+Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,--
+
+       "He prayeth best who loveth best,
+       All things both great and small,"--
+
+is illustrated in the story of Little Bell.
+
+
+
+Write a composition on the story from the following hints: Where did
+Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what time of day? How old
+was she? How did she look? What companions did she meet? What did the
+three friends do? How did the little girl close the day?
+
+In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem as you
+can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       Prayer is the dew of faith,
+         Its raindrop, night and day,
+       That guards its vital power from death
+         When cherished hopes decay,
+       And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
+       A bright, perennial evergreen.
+
+       Good works, of faith the fruit,
+         Should ripen year by year,
+       Of health and soundness at the root
+         And evidence sincere.
+       Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
+       And make our faith no barren tree.
+
+
+_Lydia H. Sigourney._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_29_
+
+
+na'bob
+ap plaud'ed
+un as sum'ing
+sad' dler
+dif' fi dence
+sec' re ta ry
+ob scured'
+live' li hood
+su per cil' i ous
+
+
+
+A MODEST WIT.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       A supercilious nabob of the East--
+         Haughty,  being great--purse-proud,  being rich--
+       A governor, or general, at the least,
+         I have forgotten which--
+       Had in his family a humble youth,
+         Who went from England in his patron's suit,
+       An unassuming boy, in truth
+         A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
+
+       This youth had sense and spirit;
+         But yet with all his sense,
+         Excessive diffidence
+       Obscured his merit.
+
+       One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,
+         His honor, proudly free, severely merry,
+       Conceived it would be vastly fine
+         To crack a joke upon his secretary.
+
+       "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,
+         Did your good father gain a livelihood?"--
+       "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,
+         "And in his line was reckoned good."
+
+       "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,
+         Instead of teaching you to sew!
+       Pray, why did not your father make
+         A saddler, sir, of you?"
+
+       Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,
+       The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
+         At length, Modestus, bowing low,
+       Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),
+         "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
+       _Your_ father's trade!"
+
+       "_My_ father's _trade?_ Heavens! that's too bad!
+       My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?
+       My father, sir, did never stoop so low.
+       He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."
+
+       "Excuse the liberty I take,"
+         Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
+       "Pray, why did not your father make
+         A gentleman of you?"
+
+
+_Selleck Osborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+fain, gladly.
+
+archness, sly humor free from malice.
+
+suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of distinction;
+often written _suite_ (_sw[=e]t_).
+
+Write the plural forms of _boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary._
+
+Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
+
+He was an _unassuming_ boy, of decent _parts_ and good
+_repute_. His _diffidence obscured_ his merit.
+_Excuse_ the _liberty_ I take.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The rank is but the guinea's stamp,--
+       The man's the gold for a' that!
+
+
+_Burns._
+
+
+One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.
+
+_Goethe_ (_g[^u]' t[=e]_).
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_30_
+
+
+
+WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.[002]
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Woodman, spare that tree!
+         Touch not a single bough!
+       In youth it sheltered me,
+         And I'll protect it now.
+       'Twas my forefather's hand
+         That placed it near his cot;
+       There, woodman, let it stand,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not!
+
+       That old familiar tree,
+         Whose glory and renown
+       Are spread o'er land and sea--
+         And wouldst thou hew it down?
+       Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
+         Cut not its earth-bound ties;
+       Oh! spare that aged oak,
+         Now towering to the skies.
+
+       When but an idle boy,
+         I sought its grateful shade;
+       In all their gushing joy
+         Here, too, my sisters played.
+       My mother kissed me here;
+         My father pressed my hand;--
+       Forgive this foolish tear,
+         But let that old oak stand.
+
+       My heartstrings round thee cling,
+         Close as thy bark, old friend!
+       Here shall the wild bird sing,
+         And still thy branches bend.
+       Old tree! the storm still brave!
+         And, Woodman, leave the spot!
+       While I've a hand to save,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not.
+
+
+_George P. Morris,_
+
+
+[Footnote 002: NOTE.--Many trees in our country are landmarks, and are
+valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant trees and
+dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at Cambridge, Mass.,
+and it was under the shade of this venerable Elm that George Washington
+took command of the Continental army, July 3rd, 1775.
+
+There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs whole
+families of children passed much of their childhood. When one of these
+falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some honored citizen.
+
+Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of the
+truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited without
+being deeply moved.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_31_
+
+
+car' goes
+em bar' go
+im mor' tal ized
+prin' ci ple
+col' o nists
+rep re sen ta' tion
+de ri' sion
+pa' tri ot ism
+Phil a del' phi a
+
+
+
+THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+
+Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George III, King of
+England, claimed the right to tax the people of this country, though he
+did not permit them to take any part in framing the laws under which
+they lived.
+
+He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that they could
+not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were fighting for a
+principle,--that of no taxation without representation, and would not
+buy the tea. In New York and Philadelphia the people would not allow the
+vessels to land their cargoes.
+
+The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared they
+would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The ladies had a
+hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea, but they stood out
+nobly.
+
+Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of December 16,
+1773, a party of young Americans, painted and dressed like Indians,
+boarded the three vessels lying in the harbor, opened the chests, and
+emptied all the tea into the water. They then slipped away to their
+homes, and were never found out by the British. One of the leaders of
+these daring young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has
+been immortalized by Longfellow.
+
+When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the ocean, the
+anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong force of soldiers to
+Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This act only increased the spirit
+of patriotism that burned in the breasts of all Americans.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the origin of
+the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses, which our American
+boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and sing:
+
+
+
+       Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,
+       And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;
+       That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;
+       "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters."
+       Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee,
+       And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle"--these are facts--"Yankee doodle dandy;"
+       My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"
+
+       John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated;
+       But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.
+       Then Jonathan to pout began--he laid a strong embargo--
+       "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the cargo.
+       Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,
+       Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle--keep it up--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."
+
+       A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated,
+       And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops retreated.
+       Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his laughter;
+       "That tune," said he, "suits to a T--I'll sing it ever after!"
+       Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and brandy,
+       E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle dandy.
+       Yankee doodle,--ho-ha-he--Yankee doodle dandy,
+       We kept the tune, but not the tea--Yankee doodle dandy.
+
+       I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
+       Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"--what a pity!
+       With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty--
+       On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea party,
+       No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
+       And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle dandy?
+       Yankee doodle, firm and true--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a principle, "No
+taxation without representation." What did they mean by this? Name the
+thirteen original colonies.
+
+Are the last syllables of the words _principle_ and
+_principal_ pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences of your own.
+
+What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?
+
+Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words _colonists,
+insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts, tempts._
+
+Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo, negro, cargo,
+piano, calico, potato, embargo.
+
+How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room for all of
+it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of examples found in your
+Reader.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_32_
+
+
+scenes
+source
+seized
+re ceive'
+poised
+nec' tar
+re verts'
+Ju' pi ter
+cat' a ract
+ex' qui site
+in tru' sive ly
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.
+
+
+       How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
+         When fond recollection presents them to view!
+       The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
+         And every loved spot that my infancy knew;--
+       The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;
+         The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
+
+       The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
+         And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
+
+       That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;
+         For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
+       I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
+         The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
+       How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,
+         And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
+       Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
+         And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
+
+       How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
+         As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!
+       Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
+         Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.
+
+       And now, far removed from that loved habitation,
+         The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
+       As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,
+         And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well!
+
+
+_Samuel Woodworth._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what each
+describes. Use each to describe something else.
+
+Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and tell what
+word you would have used in the place of each had you tried to express
+its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the author's? Why?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_33_
+
+
+blouse
+receipt'ed
+coun' te nance
+ab sorbed'
+con trast' ed
+for' tu nate ly
+mir' a cle
+stock'-still
+good-hu' mored ly
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to
+the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman
+climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from
+the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it
+into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder, "What _are_ you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers'
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face lighted up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box with
+holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to the
+child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+_From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.
+
+In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and five that
+express commands or requests.
+
+What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The second?
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,
+         And I dream in the firelight's glow,
+       And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs
+         That I listened to long ago.
+       Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp
+         Like an echoing, answering cry,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+       For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
+         That this earth is a silly, strange place,
+       And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
+         And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
+       But I know he has found it far better to sing
+         Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_34_
+
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+OUR HEROES.
+
+
+       Here's a hand to the boy who has courage
+         To do what he knows to be right;
+       When he falls in the way of temptation
+         He has a hard battle to fight.
+       Who strives against self and his comrades
+         Will find a most powerful foe:
+       All honor to him if he conquers;
+         A cheer for the boy who says "No!"
+
+       There's many a battle fought daily
+         The world knows nothing about;
+       There's many a brave little soldier
+         Whose strength puts a legion to rout.
+       And he who fights sin single-handed
+         Is more of a hero, I say,
+       Than he who leads soldiers to battle,
+         And conquers by arms in the fray.
+
+       Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,
+         And do what you know to be right;
+       Stand firm by the colors of manhood,
+         And you will o'ercome in the fight.
+       "The right!" be your battle cry ever
+         In waging the warfare of life;
+       And God, who knows who are the heroes,
+         Will give you the strength for the strife.
+
+
+_Phoebe Cary._
+
+From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write sentences each containing one of the following words:
+
+I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for bringing back
+vanished smiles, for making one brave and courageous, light-hearted and
+happy, there is nothing like a good Confession.
+
+_Father Bearne, S.J._
+
+
+
+       Heroes must be more than driftwood
+       Floating on a waveless tide.
+
+       For right is right, since God is God;
+         And right the day must win;
+       To doubt would be disloyalty,
+         To falter would be sin.
+
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
+Faith.
+
+_St. Paul._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_35_
+
+
+troll
+cel' er y
+new' fan gled
+thatch
+chink' ing
+as par' a gus
+im mense'
+sauce' pan
+de mol' ish ing
+sa' vor y
+pat' terns
+ag' gra va ting
+
+
+
+THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.
+
+
+There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When it struck
+one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a saucepan off the
+fire, from which came a very savory smell.
+
+"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple dumplings will
+be too much done."
+
+"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by the wood;
+and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make haste, and have some
+apple dumpling."
+
+"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"
+
+"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench, in the
+shadow of the thatch.
+
+"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is this,
+mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he clapped his
+hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice, which frightened the
+children--"a miserable slave!"
+
+"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he meant.
+
+"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have been."
+
+"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought thou used to
+say, at the election time, that thou wast a free-born Briton."
+
+"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up rather
+sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell of the dinner,
+that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but it is certain that he
+walked into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens, and then took a
+tolerable share in demolishing the apple dumpling.
+
+When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife said to him,
+"I hope thou and thy master haven't had words to-day."
+
+"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of being at
+another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and 'Tom do that,'
+and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday morning till Saturday
+night. I was thinking as I walked over to Squire Morton's to ask for the
+turnip seed for master,--I was thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a
+poor workingman after all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't
+stand it."
+
+So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his wife
+thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was mistaken. He
+walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the border of a little
+tinkling stream, he sat down and began to brood over his grievances.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much pleasanter
+sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery trenches, and
+thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall
+before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see
+my family starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman."
+
+"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his great
+surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby, sitting
+composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,--green hat, green
+coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled
+very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.
+
+"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.
+
+"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost to the
+noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere
+stranger as thy master?'
+
+"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a slave?"
+
+"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak roughly.
+Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is bound to bear them."
+
+"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom, shortly.
+
+"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your difficulty.
+Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce, mind you--has a
+silver tail."
+
+"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide; "fishing
+for minnows and being one's own master would be much pleasanter than the
+sort of life I've been leading this many a day."
+
+"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do
+you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy in your freedom."
+So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream, full
+of joy and pride.
+
+He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity for
+bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer.
+
+The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows. But
+of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with
+silver tails. They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles
+as a hare; what a life they led him!
+
+They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought
+his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite
+out of the water, and dart down the stream again like little silver
+arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry. He came home
+late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in
+his pocket, each with a silver tail.
+
+"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed,
+"though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever,
+yet I certainly am free; no man can now order me about."
+
+This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to Saturday
+afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.
+
+After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities; and when he
+had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in all lights,
+praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to conceal his
+impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived to sell them all,
+and get exactly fourteen shillings for them, and no more.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself, "I've found
+out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing it,--that every one of
+those customers of yours was your master. Why! you were at the beck of
+every man, woman, and child that came near you;--obliged to be in a good
+temper, too, which was very aggravating."
+
+"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path. "I knew you
+were a man of sense; look you, you are all workingmen; and you must all
+please your customers. Your master was your customer; what he bought of
+you was your work. Well, you must let the work be such as will please
+the customer."
+
+"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking the
+fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman; and has he a
+master of his own? Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books, and
+manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he nearly
+ruined last year?"
+
+"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of patterns
+at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom. "Well, in a way
+of speaking, then, he works to please his masters, poor fellow! He is,
+as one may say, a fellow-servant, and plagued with very awkward masters.
+So I should not mind his being my master, and I think I'll go and tell
+him so."
+
+"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not been able
+to better yourself, and you have no objection now to dig up the
+asparagus bed."
+
+So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had earned, got
+his old master to take him back, and kept a profound secret his
+adventures with the man in green.
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you) has a
+silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis. Read the
+sentence aloud several times, _omitting_ the group in parenthesis. Now
+read the _whole_ sentence, keeping in mind the fact that the words in
+parenthesis are not at all important,--that they are merely thrown in by
+way of explanation. You notice that you have read the words in
+parenthesis in a _lower tone_ and _faster time._ Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but that
+makes no difference in the reading of them.
+
+The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page 243.
+Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the method.
+
+I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not wrong to
+say so) as the compositions read by my companions.
+
+Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against me.
+
+I felt that I was strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to the ground.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       "Work! and the clouds of care will fly;
+         Pale want will pass away.
+       Work! and the leprosy of crime
+         And tyrants must decay.
+       Leave the dead ages in their urns:
+         The present time be ours,
+       To grapple bravely with our lot,
+         And strew our path with flowers."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_36_
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+       I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+         I make a sudden sally,
+       And sparkle out among the fern,
+         To bicker down a valley.
+       By thirty hills I hurry down,
+         Or slip between the ridges,
+       By twenty thorps, a little town,
+         And half a hundred bridges.
+       Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I chatter over stony ways
+         In little sharps and trebles;
+       I bubble into eddying bays;
+         I babble on the pebbles.
+       With many a curve my banks I fret
+         By many a field and fallow.
+       And many a fairy foreland set
+         With willow-weed and mallow.
+       I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+         I slide by hazel covers,
+       I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+         That grow for happy lovers.
+       I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+         Among my skimming swallows;
+       I make the netted sunbeams dance
+         Against my sandy shallows.
+
+       I murmur under moon and stars
+         In brambly wildernesses;
+       I linger by my shingly bars;
+         I loiter round my cresses.
+       And out again I curve and flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HAUNTS, places of frequent resort.
+
+COOT and hern, water fowls that frequent lakes and other still
+waters.
+
+BICKER, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or water.
+
+THORP, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.
+
+SHARPS and trebles, terms in music. They are here used to
+describe the sound of the brook.
+
+EDDYING, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays" dangerous to the
+swimmer?
+
+FRETTED BANKS, banks worn away by the action of the water.
+
+FALLOW, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running into the sea
+or other water.
+
+MALLOW, a kind of plant.
+
+GLOOM, to shine obscurely.
+
+SHINGLY, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.
+
+BARS, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal in a river or
+harbor.
+
+CRESSES, certain plants which grow near the water. They are
+sometimes used as a salad.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_37_
+
+
+wits
+hale
+borne
+suit' ed
+prop' er ly
+sit u a' tion
+
+
+
+LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+
+Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as one of the
+wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat feeble, and the few
+locks that are left him are gray, he is still more hale and hearty than
+many a younger man.
+
+Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is fond of
+children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his pleasant talk, as
+they gather round his fireside or sit upon his knee.
+
+Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to find out
+what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead them to think.
+
+"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if I have a
+cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to proceed?"
+
+"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be sure," said
+Norman.
+
+"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose the cake has
+to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut off a very thin
+slice for you, and divide what is left between your brother and sister,
+will that be fair?"
+
+"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."
+
+"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice? Did I not
+cut it into three parts?"
+
+"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have been exactly
+the same size."
+
+"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three equal parts,
+it would have been quite fair?"
+
+"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to complain."
+
+"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send to a
+distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each a basket to
+carry?"
+
+"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might not be
+fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger than the
+others."
+
+"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think. But we will
+take care that the baskets are all of the same size."
+
+"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a basket."
+
+"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled with
+feathers?"
+
+"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the same weight,
+and all will be right."
+
+"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons is a
+strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little child?"
+
+"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things there are
+to think about."
+
+"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be equally borne,
+they must be suited to the strength of those who have to bear them."
+
+"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me, Grandpa, and
+I will try to answer it properly this time."
+
+"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig for me,
+and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be fair if I set
+them to work to try them, and choose the one who does his task in the
+quickest time?"
+
+"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"
+
+"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start together."
+
+"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"
+
+"Exactly the same."
+
+"And will each man have a good spade?"
+
+"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."
+
+"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other hard and
+stony."
+
+"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The ground
+shall be everywhere alike."
+
+"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if done as
+well as that of either of the other two, is the best man."
+
+"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it will be
+greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being thoughtful in
+little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely in important ones."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+In the words _suit_ (s[=u]t) and _soon_ (s[=oo]n), have the marked
+vowels the same sound?
+
+
+In the two statements,--
+
+
+       I give it to you because it's good;
+       Virtue brings its own reward;
+
+
+why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in the second?
+
+
+       Let your hands be honest and clean--
+       Let your conscience be honest and clean--
+
+
+Combine these two sentences by the word _and_; rewrite them, omitting
+all needless words.
+
+Compose two sentences, one having the action-word _learned_; the other
+the word _taught_.
+
+Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form of the
+action-word _bear_:
+
+
+As Christ -- His cross, so must we -- ours.
+Our cross must be --. "And -- His own
+cross, He went forth to Calvary."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_38_
+
+
+elate'
+despond'
+lu' mi nous
+pil' grim age
+
+
+
+ONE BY ONE.
+
+
+       One by one the sands are flowing,
+         One by one the moments fall;
+       Some are coming, some are going;
+         Do not strive to grasp them all.
+
+       One by one thy duties wait thee;
+         Let thy whole strength go to each;
+       Let no future dreams elate thee,
+         Learn thou first what these can teach.
+
+       One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)
+         Joys are sent thee here below;
+       Take them readily when given,
+         Ready, too, to let them go.
+
+       One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
+         Do not fear an armed band;
+       One will fade as others greet thee--
+         Shadows passing through the land.
+
+       Do not look at life's long sorrow;
+         See how small each moment's pain;
+       God will help thee for to-morrow,
+         So each day begin again.
+
+       Every hour that fleets so slowly
+         Has its task to do or bear;
+       Luminous the crown, and holy,
+         When each gem is set with care.
+
+       Do not linger with regretting,
+         Or for passing hours despond;
+       Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
+         Look too eagerly beyond.
+
+       Hours are golden links, God's token,
+         Reaching heaven; but one by one
+       Take them, lest the chain be broken
+         Ere the pilgrimage be done.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each line
+teaches.
+
+Name some great works that were done little by little.
+
+What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?
+
+Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall fall by
+little and little."
+
+What is the real or literal meaning of the word _gem_?
+
+Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has there.
+
+Explain the line--
+
+
+       "Let no future dreams elate thee."
+
+
+What is meant by "building castles in the air?"
+
+Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself what each
+line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an important moral
+lesson. Find out what that lesson is.
+
+Tell what you know of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_39_
+
+
+ca noe'
+sup' ple
+fi' brous
+res' in
+sin' ews
+tam' a rack
+ooz' ing
+bal' sam
+sol' i ta ry
+pli' ant
+fis' sure
+re sist' ance
+som' ber
+crev' ice
+re splen' dent
+
+
+
+THE BIRCH CANOE.
+
+
+           "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Growing by the rushing river,
+       Tall and stately in the valley!
+       I a light canoe will build me,
+       That shall float upon the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily!
+           Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!
+       Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,
+       For the summer time is coming,
+       And the sun is warm in heaven,
+       And you need no white-skin wrapper!"
+           Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
+       In the solitary forest,
+       When the birds were singing gayly,
+       In the Moon of Leaves were singing.
+           And the tree with all its branches
+       Rustled in the breeze of morning,
+       Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+       "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+           With his knife the tree he girdled;
+       Just beneath its lowest branches,
+       Just above the roots, he cut it,
+       Till the sap came oozing outward;
+       Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+       Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+       With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+       Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
+           "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+       Of your strong and pliant branches,
+       My canoe to make more steady,
+       Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+           Through the summit of the Cedar
+       Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+       Went a murmur of resistance;
+       But it whispered, bending downward,
+       "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+           Down he hewed the boughs of cedar
+       Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+       Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+       Like two bended bows together.
+           "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+       Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+       My canoe to bind together,
+       So to bind the ends together,
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Larch with all its fibers
+       Shivered in the air of morning,
+       Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+       Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
+       "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the earth he tore the fibers,
+       Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.
+       Closely sewed the bark together,
+       Bound it closely to the framework.
+           "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+       Of your balsam and your resin,
+       So to close the seams together
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+       Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+       Rattled like a shore with pebbles,
+       Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+       "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+           And he took the tears of balsam,
+       Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+       Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,
+       Made each crevice safe from water.
+           "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+       I will make a necklace of them,
+       Make a girdle for my beauty,
+       And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+           From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,
+       With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+       Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+       Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
+       Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+       "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the ground the quills he gathered,
+       All the little shining arrows,
+       Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+       With the juice of roots and berries;
+       Into his canoe he wrought them,
+       Round its waist a shining girdle.
+       Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+       On its breast two stars resplendent.
+           Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
+       In the valley, by the river,
+       In the bosom of the forest;
+       And the forest's life was in it,
+       All its mystery and its magic,
+       All the lightness of the birch tree,
+       All the toughness of the cedar,
+       All the larch's supple sinews;
+       And it floated on the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MOON OF LEAVES, month of May.
+
+SHEER, straight up and down.
+
+TAMARACK, the American larch tree.
+
+FISSURE, a narrow opening; a cleft.
+
+What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?
+
+Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put these to?
+
+What are the drops of balsam called? Why?
+
+NOTE.--"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest and most
+beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It is generally
+made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and so skillfully shaped
+and sewed together with the roots of the tamarack, that it is
+water-tight, and rides upon the water as light as a cork."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_40_
+
+
+pic' tures
+pal' ace
+four' teen
+fa' mous ly
+scul' lion
+re past'
+in hal' ing
+en chant' ed
+mat' tress
+char' coal
+land' scapes
+ar' chi tect
+
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+
+A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the care of the
+sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence, where he knew no
+one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as himself, who had lived
+in the same village, but who had gone to Florence to be scullion in the
+house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was for a good motive that little Peter
+desired to come to Florence: he wanted to be an artist, and he knew
+there was a school for artists there. When he had seen the town well,
+Peter stationed himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor
+of the cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a long time;
+but at length Thomas appeared.
+
+"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"
+
+"I am come to learn painting."
+
+"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is then sure
+not to die of hunger."
+
+"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied Peter.
+
+"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself ill every
+day, if I chose to do it."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have too much
+and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will bring the food;
+and we shall get on famously."
+
+"Very well," said Thomas.
+
+"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten nothing
+to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."
+
+Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept, and bade
+him wait there till he brought him some fragments that he was freely
+permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for Thomas was in high
+spirits, and little Peter had a famous appetite.
+
+"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the question is,
+how are you going to study?"
+
+"I shall study like all artists--with pencil and paper."
+
+"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and pencils?"
+
+"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is scullion at
+his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you are rich, it is just
+the same as if I was."
+
+Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken victuals, he
+had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait three years before he
+should receive wages. Peter did not mind. The garret walls were white.
+Thomas could give him charcoal, and so he set to draw on the walls with
+that; and after a little while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.
+
+With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were bought.
+Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures in the
+galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in the
+neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but enchanted with
+what he had seen, he crept back into the garret, where he was always
+sure to find his dinner hidden under the mattress, _to keep it warm,_ as
+Thomas said. Very soon the first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and
+Peter drew his best designs to ornament his friend's room.
+
+One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came with the
+architect to the very top of the house, and happened to enter the
+scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both Cardinal and architect
+were struck with the genius of the drawings. They thought they were
+executed by Thomas, and his Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas
+heard that the Cardinal had been in the garret, and had seen what he
+called Peter's daubs, he thought all was lost.
+
+"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him; and
+Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on his knees,
+and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"
+
+The Cardinal made him tell his story.
+
+"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he, smiling.
+
+But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at length a
+fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came the news that
+the monks of a distant convent had received and kept with them a boy of
+fourteen, who had come to ask permission to copy a painting of Raphael
+in the chapel of the convent. This boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal
+sent him as a pupil to one of the first artists in Rome.
+
+Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as brothers in
+one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One said of the other, "He
+is the greatest painter of our age." The other said of the first, "He is
+a model for evermore of a faithful friend."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA, a great Italian painter and architect. He was
+born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in Rome, in 1669.
+
+EMINENCE, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.
+
+GALLERIES, rooms or buildings where works of art are exhibited.
+
+VICTUALS (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human beings.
+
+FORTNIGHT (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is contracted from
+_fourteen nights._
+
+Locate the cities of _Rome_ and _Florence_.
+
+Give words that mean the opposite of the following:
+
+ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked, merry, bought,
+friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant, appeared, disgrace, famous,
+faithful, morning, enchanted.
+
+Recite the words--"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"--as
+Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a great _cardinal_ in
+favor of a poor destitute _boy_ whom he loved as a brother. He _felt_
+what he said.
+
+Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them, and tell
+wherein the humor lies.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.
+
+_Spanish Proverb._
+
+
+
+Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."_
+
+
+
+       A gift in need, though small indeed,
+       Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_41_
+
+
+vas' sal
+roy' al ly
+beg' gar y
+hom' age
+sen' ti nel
+dif' fer ence
+
+
+
+TO MY DOG BLANCO.[003]
+
+
+       My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,
+         A willing vassal at my feet,
+       Glad partner of my home and fare,
+         My shadow in the street.
+
+       I look into your great brown eyes,
+         Where love and loyal homage shine,
+       And wonder where the difference lies
+         Between your soul and mine!
+
+       For all the good that I have found
+         Within myself or human kind,
+       Hath royally informed and crowned
+         Your gentle heart and mind.
+
+       I scan the whole broad earth around
+         For that one heart which, leal and true,
+       Bears friendship without end or bound,
+         And find the prize in you.
+
+       I trust you as I trust the stars;
+         Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,
+       Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,
+         Can move you from my side!
+
+       As patient under injury
+         As any Christian saint of old,
+       As gentle as a lamb with me,
+         But with your brothers bold;
+
+       More playful than a frolic boy,
+         More watchful than a sentinel,
+       By day and night your constant joy
+         To guard and please me well.
+
+       I clasp your head upon my breast--
+         The while you whine and lick my hand--
+       And thus our friendship is confessed,
+         And thus we understand!
+
+       Ah, Blanco! did I worship God
+         As truly as you worship me,
+       Or follow where my Master trod
+         With your humility,--
+
+       Did I sit fondly at His feet,
+         As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,
+       And watch Him with a love as sweet,
+         My life would grow divine!
+
+
+_J.G. Holland_
+
+From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Footnote 003: Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's Sons.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEAL (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.
+
+DUNGEON (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison, commonly
+underground.
+
+Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal; glad
+partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.
+
+What duty does Blanco teach his master?
+
+Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.
+
+The three great divisions of time are _past, present, future._ Tell what
+time each of the following action-words expresses:
+
+found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has borne,
+crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_42_
+
+
+ab'bot
+clois'ter
+min'ster
+li'brary
+chron' i cle
+
+
+
+A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+
+Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk named Urban,
+who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent piety. He was a studious
+reader of the learned and sacred volumes in the convent library. One day
+he read in the Epistles of St. Peter the words, "One day is with the
+Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day;" and this
+saying seemed impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.
+
+Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the library
+into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird perched on the
+bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a nightingale. The bird did not
+move as the monk approached her, till he came quite close, and then she
+flew to another bough, and again another, as the monk pursued her. Still
+singing the same sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk,
+entranced by the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.
+
+At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every thing
+seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more beautiful,
+and older,--the buildings, the garden; and in the place of the low,
+humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three towers reared its
+head to the sky. This seemed very strange to the monk, indeed marvelous;
+but he walked on to the cloister gate and timidly rang the bell. A
+porter entirely unknown to him answered his summons, and drew back in
+amazement when he saw the monk.
+
+The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing with
+astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to have seen
+before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered the church; but
+all retreated when they saw the strange figure of the monk. The abbot
+only (but not his abbot) stopped, and stretching a crucifix before him,
+exclaimed, "In the name of Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And
+what dost thou seek here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"
+
+The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his eyes to the
+ground, and for the first time became aware that a long silvery beard
+descended from his chin over his girdle, to which was still suspended
+the key of the library. To the monks around, the stranger seemed some
+marvelous appearance; and, with a mixture of awe and admiration, they
+led him to the chair of the abbot. There he gave the key to a young
+monk, who opened the library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was
+written that three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and
+no one knew whither he had gone.
+
+"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk Urban,
+with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes, listening to thy
+notes, and yet three hundred years have passed away! Thou hast sung to
+me the song of eternity which I could never before learn. Now I know it;
+and, dust myself, I pray to God kneeling in the dust." With these words
+he sank to the ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of punctuation.
+
+Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare your work
+with the printed page.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness shorten
+life.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"_
+
+
+The older I grow--and I now stand upon the brink of eternity--the more
+comes back to me the sentence in the catechism which I learned when a
+child, and the fuller and deeper becomes its meaning: "What is the chief
+end of man? To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever."
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_43_
+
+
+dole
+man' na
+em' blem
+re leased'
+plumes
+breathe
+crim' son
+feath' ered
+soared
+dou' bly
+hom' i ly
+ser'a phim
+
+
+
+THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+
+
+       Up soared the lark into the air,
+       A shaft of song, a wingèd prayer,
+       As if a soul, released from pain,
+       Were flying back to heaven again.
+
+       St. Francis heard; it was to him
+       An emblem of the Seraphim;
+       The upward motion of the fire,
+       The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
+
+       Around Assisi's convent gate
+       The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
+       From moor and mere and darksome wood
+       Came flocking for their dole of food.
+
+       "O brother birds," St. Francis said,
+       "Ye come to me and ask for bread,
+       But not with bread alone to-day
+       Shall ye be fed and sent away.
+
+       "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds
+       With manna of celestial words;
+       Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
+       Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
+
+       "O, doubly are ye bound to praise
+       The great Creator in your lays;
+       He giveth you your plumes of down,
+       Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
+
+       "He giveth you your wings to fly
+       And breathe a purer air on high,
+       And careth for you everywhere,
+       Who for yourselves so little care!"
+
+       With flutter of swift wings and songs
+       Together rose the feathered throngs,
+       And singing scattered far apart;
+       Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
+
+       He knew not if the brotherhood
+       His homily had understood;
+       He only knew that to one ear
+       The meaning of his words was clear.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. FRANCIS PREACHING]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LAYS, songs.
+
+ASSISI ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St. Francis was
+born in 1182.
+
+What does "manna of celestial words" mean?
+
+What is the singular form of seraphim?
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Every word has its own spirit,
+         True or false, that never dies;
+       Every word man's lips have uttered
+         Echoes in God's skies.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_44_
+
+
+GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.
+
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sound the thrilling song;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Roll the hymn along.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let the heavens ring;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Welcome, new-born King.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Over the sea and land,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Chant the anthem grand.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let us all rejoice;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Lift each heart and voice.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Swell the hymn on high;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Sound it to the sky.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sing it, sinful earth,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         For the Savior's birth.
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+[Illustration: Artist _Hofmann_.--Caption: "Glory to God in the
+highest; and on earth peace to men of good will."]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_45_
+
+
+plied
+won' drous
+ex cite' ment
+com mo' tion
+vig' or
+fo' li age
+mar' vel ous
+com pas' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.[004]
+
+
+Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in the
+evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told of strange
+things that were to happen. They had lived in the Forest many, many
+years; but never had they seen such marvelous sights as were to be seen
+now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.
+
+"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who are not so
+tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things."
+
+"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars, "and the
+Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from
+heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon the hills."
+
+The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a tiny tree,
+so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a very beautiful
+little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses loved it very dearly.
+
+"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree; "and how
+I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very
+beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder whence it comes."
+
+"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels could make
+such sweet music."
+
+"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes, and the
+shepherds on the hills join in the song."
+
+The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about a Child
+that had been born. But further than this they did not understand. The
+strange and glorious song continued all the night.
+
+In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the same song
+about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with them, until every
+part of the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. They were clad
+all in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
+harps in their hands. Love, hope, joy and compassion beamed from their
+beautiful faces. The Angels came through the Forest to where the little
+Tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands,
+kissed its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had been
+born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon
+the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang the song of the
+Child.
+
+When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the little Tree.
+Night and day he watched so that no harm should come to it. Day by day
+it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it his choicest rays,
+heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds sang to it their
+prettiest songs.
+
+So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became the pride
+and glory of the Forest.
+
+One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest. "Have no
+fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the Master."
+
+And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its smooth
+trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and then turned and
+went away.
+
+[Illustration: _A. Bida._]
+
+Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested beneath the
+Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times He slept there and
+the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came with the Master to the
+Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the Tree, and talked with Him of
+things which the Tree never could understand. It heard them tell how the
+Master healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed blessings
+wherever He walked.
+
+But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face was pale
+and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed. The Tree heard
+Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning there was a sound of
+rude voices and a clashing of swords.
+
+[Illustration: _Hofmann._]
+
+Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree was hewn to
+the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and its soft, thick
+foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the Forest wept.
+
+The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw it no more.
+
+But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great King
+stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had seen that day
+a Cross raised on Calvary,--the Tree on which was nailed the Body of the
+dying Master.
+
+_Eugene Field._
+
+From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+[Footnote 004: Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_46_
+
+
+
+THE HOLY CITY.
+
+
+       Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;--
+       I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
+       I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang;--
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And then methought my dream was changed;--
+       The streets no longer rang
+       Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
+       The sun grew dark with mystery,
+       The morn was cold and chill,
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;--
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And once again the scene was changed--
+       New earth there seemed to be;
+       I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
+       The light of God was on its streets,
+       The gates were open wide,
+       And all who would might enter,
+       And no one was denied.
+       No need of moon or stars by night,
+       Nor sun to shine by day;
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,--
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_47_
+
+
+trea' son
+eu' lo gies
+de bat' ed
+phi los' o phy
+in ge nu' i ty
+ap pro' pri ate
+con' sum ma ted
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+
+
+Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was ordered to
+furnish the choicest dainties that money could procure. The first course
+consisted of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with
+appropriate sauces. This gave rise to much mirth and many witty remarks
+by the guests. The second course was also nothing but tongues, and so
+with the third and fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus
+demanded in an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and philosophy.
+By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried on,
+contracts executed, and marriages consummated. Nothing is equal to the
+tongue." The company applauded Aesop's wit, and good feeling was
+restored.
+
+"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of dining with
+me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow," said
+he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with the worst meat you can find." The
+next day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment and
+the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said
+Xanthus, "should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue? What
+wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in? Treasons,
+violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved upon, and
+communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of
+private friendships." The company were more than ever struck by Aesop's
+ingenuity, and they interceded for him with his master.
+
+_From "Aesop's Fables."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+XANTHUS, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the sixth century
+before Christ.
+
+Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they are formed
+in each case:
+
+dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily, copy, loaf,
+roof, half, valley, donkey.
+
+What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following sentence: "How
+should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst another?"
+
+Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he said in
+dispraise of it.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The tongue is
+a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the Father; and by
+it we curse men who are made after the likeness of God."
+
+_From "Epistle of St. James."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_48_
+
+
+ap' pe tite
+ha rangued'
+sus pend' ed
+min' strel sy
+
+
+
+THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+
+
+       A nightingale, that all day long
+       Had cheered the village with his song,
+       Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
+       Nor yet when eventide was ended,
+       Began to feel, as well he might,
+       The keen demands of appetite;
+       When, looking eagerly around,
+       He spied far off, upon the ground,
+       A something shining in the dark,
+       And knew the glowworm by his spark;
+       So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
+       He thought to put him in his crop.
+
+       The worm, aware of his intent,
+       Harangued him thus, right eloquent:
+       "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
+       "As much as I your minstrelsy,
+       You would abhor to do me wrong
+       As much as I to spoil your song:
+       For 'twas the self-same Power Divine
+       Taught you to sing and me to shine;
+       That you with music, I with light,
+       Might beautify and cheer the night."
+       The songster heard this short oration,
+       And, warbling out his approbation,
+       Released him, as my story tells,
+       And found a supper somewhere else.
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of appetite?"
+
+Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the bird? Study
+it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy with the printed
+page as to spelling, capitals and punctuation.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       I would not enter on my list of friends
+       (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
+       Yet wanting sensibility) the man
+       Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
+       An inadvertent step may crush the snail
+       That crawls at evening in the public path;
+       But he that has humanity, forewarned,
+       Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
+
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+
+       Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
+         Nor crush that helpless worm!
+       The frame thy wayward looks deride
+         Required a God to form.
+
+       The common Lord of all that move.
+         From whom thy being flowed,
+       A portion of His boundless love
+         On that poor worm bestowed.
+
+       Let them enjoy their little day,
+         Their humble bliss receive;
+       Oh! do not lightly take away
+         The life thou canst not give!
+
+
+_Thomas Gisborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_49_
+
+
+mar' gin
+pitch' er
+cup' board
+breathed
+di' a mond
+quiv' er ing
+
+
+
+JACK FROST.
+
+
+       Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
+       And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
+       So, through the valley, and over the height,
+         In silence I'll take my way.
+       I will not go on like that blustering train,
+       The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+       Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;
+         But I'll be as busy as they!"
+
+       Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;
+       He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+       In diamond beads; and over the breast
+         Of the quivering lake he spread
+       A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+       The glittering point of many a spear,
+       Which he hung on its margin, far and near,
+         Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+       He went to the windows of those who slept,
+       And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:
+       Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
+         By the morning light were seen
+       Most beautiful things!--there were flowers and trees;
+       There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
+       There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+         All pictured in silvery sheen!
+
+       But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+       He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+       That all had forgotten for him to prepare.--
+         "Now, just to set them a-thinking,
+       I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;
+       "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
+       And the glass of water they've left for me,
+       Shall '_tchick_,' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+
+_Hannah F. Gould._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CREST, top or summit.
+
+COAT OF MAIL, a garment of iron or steel worn by warriors in olden
+times.
+
+BEVIES, flocks or companies.
+
+SHEEN, brightness.
+
+TCHICK a combination of letters whose pronunciation is supposed to
+resemble the sound of breaking glass.
+
+What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?
+
+How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread over the
+lake? Why?
+
+What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of those who
+slept?"
+
+What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?
+
+Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work? Why does
+he work generally at night?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_50_
+
+
+re' al ize
+pen' du lum
+dil' i gent ly
+sig nif' i cance
+auc tion eer'
+per sist' ent ly
+in ex haust' i ble
+un der stood'
+hope' less ly
+nev er the less
+
+
+
+"GOING! GOING! GONE!"
+
+
+The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one of our
+large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room so crowded
+with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's face and uplifted
+hammer above the heads of the crowd.
+
+"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a sharp rap.
+
+I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with a new
+force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times before, with
+only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded solemn.
+
+"Going! Going! Gone!"
+
+"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;--"with time." This
+world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that we are buyers: we
+are, in fact, more like beggars; we have brought no money to exchange
+for precious minutes, hours, days, or years; they are given to us. There
+is no calling out of terms, no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but
+nevertheless, the time is "going! going! gone!"
+
+The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound, and the
+more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of the value of
+time.
+
+When we are young we think old people are preaching and prosing when
+they say so much about it,--when they declare so often that days, weeks,
+even years, are short. I can remember when a holiday, a whole day long,
+appeared to me an almost inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon,
+even, seemed an endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come
+seemed longer than does a whole year now.
+
+One needs to live many years before one learns how little time there is
+in a year,--how little, indeed, there will be even in the longest
+possible life,--how many things one will still be obliged to leave
+undone.
+
+But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize if you will
+try--if you will stop and think about it a little; and that is, how fast
+and how steadily the present time is slipping away. However long life
+may seem to you as you look forward to the whole of it, the present hour
+has only sixty minutes, and minute by minute, second by second, it is
+"going! going! gone!" If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is
+"gone" forever. Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time."
+It makes me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have
+wasted; how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.
+
+All the men and women who have made the world better, happier or wiser
+for their having lived in it, have done so by working diligently and
+persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one of these, when
+"looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw not the specter of his
+mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am so foolish as to think that all
+the preaching in the world can make anything look to young eyes as it
+looks to old eyes; not a bit of it.
+
+But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the minute,
+hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at the clock now
+and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of every minute, as it
+flies,--"Going! going! gone!"
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PROSING, talking in a dull way.
+
+In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics, use others
+that have the same general meaning:
+
+I heard these words _ringing_ out from a _room_ so _crowded_ with
+_people_ that I could _but_ just _see_ the man's _face._ How _fast_ and
+_steadily_ the present time is _slipping_ away!
+
+
+Punctuate the following:
+
+Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_51_
+
+
+yearn
+car' ol
+mus' ing
+stee' ple
+mag' ic al
+
+
+
+SEVEN TIMES TWO.
+
+
+       You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,
+         How many soever they be,
+       And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,
+         Come over, come over to me!
+
+       Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,
+         No magical sense conveys;
+       And bells have forgotten their old art of telling
+         The fortune of future days.
+
+       "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,
+         While a boy listened alone;
+       Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
+         All by himself on a stone.
+
+       Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
+         And mine, they are yet to be;
+       No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:
+         You leave the story to me.
+
+       The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,
+         And hangeth her hoods of snow;
+       She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:
+         Oh, children take long to grow!
+
+       I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,
+         Nor long summer bide so late;
+       And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,
+         For some things are ill to wait.
+
+       I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,
+         While dear hands are laid on my head,
+       "The child is a woman--the book may close over,
+         For all the lessons are said."
+
+       I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,
+         Not one, as he sits on the tree;
+       The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!
+         Such as I wish it to be.
+
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"TURN AGAIN, TURN AGAIN!" Reference is here made to Dick
+Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London to earn a
+living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord Mayor of that city.
+
+
+NOTE.--This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics, entitled
+"The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a woman's life. For
+the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see page 44 of the Fourth
+Reader. Read it in connection with this. "Seven Times Two" shows the
+girl standing at the entrance to maidenhood, books closed and lessons
+said, longing for the years to go faster to bring to her the happiness
+she imagines is waiting.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_52_
+
+
+man' i fold
+do mes' tic
+pet' tish ly
+in grat' i tude
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+
+It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long
+absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath
+which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change
+had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my
+youthful character. The world was altered, too; and as I stood at my
+mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless,
+happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of
+tenderness.
+
+But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance
+of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday--as
+if the blessed sound of her well-remembered voice was in my ear. The gay
+dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my
+mind that, had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed
+would have been gentle and refreshing.
+
+The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of it now
+pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who have parents to
+love them may learn to value them as they ought.
+
+My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so accustomed to
+her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as
+children usually are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently; but
+when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I
+began to believe she would always be spared to me; but they told me she
+would die.
+
+One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home discouraged
+and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was paler than usual,
+but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my
+return. Alas! when I look back through the lapse of thirteen years, I
+think my heart must have been stone not to have been melted by it. She
+requested me to go downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I
+pettishly asked her why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a
+look of mild reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a
+hundred years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?"
+
+I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly. Instead of
+smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I set the glass down
+very quickly, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to
+bed without bidding my mother good night; but when alone in my room, in
+darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her
+voice trembled when she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her
+chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they
+told me I must not waken her.
+
+I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my bed,
+resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I was for
+my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and, hurrying on
+my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber. She was dead! She never
+spoke more--never smiled upon me again; and when I touched the hand that
+used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it made me
+start.
+
+I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I
+then wished that I might die, and be buried with her; and, old as I now
+am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but
+have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot
+call her back; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of
+her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me
+will bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       "But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+       And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_53_
+
+
+chide
+be dewed'
+em balmed'
+be tide'
+lin' gered
+wor' shiped
+
+
+
+THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.
+
+
+       I love it, I love it; and who shall dare
+       To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?
+       I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;
+       I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.
+       'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;
+       Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
+       Would ye learn the spell?--a mother sat there!
+       And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
+
+       In Childhood's hour I lingered near
+       The hallowed seat with listening ear;
+       And gentle words that mother would give,
+       To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
+       She told me that shame would never betide,
+       With truth for my creed and God for my guide;
+       She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,
+       As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.
+
+       I sat and watched her many a day,
+       When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
+       And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,
+       And turned from her Bible to bless her child.
+       Years rolled on; but the last one sped--
+       My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:
+       I learned how much the heart can bear,
+       When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.
+
+       'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now
+       With quivering breath and throbbing brow:
+       'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;
+       And Memory flows with lava tide.
+       Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
+       While the scalding drops start down my cheek;
+       But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear
+       My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.
+
+_Eliza Cook._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPELL, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have magical power; a
+charm.
+
+HALLOWED, made holy.
+
+HOLLOWED, made a hole out of; made hollow. Use these two words
+in sentences of your own.
+
+What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"
+
+Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your imagination
+will furnish you with all needed details.
+
+Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the accented
+syllable of each:
+
+absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety, again, virtue,
+ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother, genuine, earliest, fatigued,
+business.
+
+The dictionary will aid you.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_54_
+
+
+crags
+break
+tongue
+thoughts
+ha' ven
+sail' or
+state' ly
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+       And I would that my tongue could utter
+         The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+       O well for the fisherman's boy,
+         That he shouts with his sister at play!
+       O well for the sailor lad,
+         That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+       And the stately ships go on
+         To the haven under the hill;
+       But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+         And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
+       But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+         Will never come back to me.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tennyson]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_55_
+
+
+barns
+deaf en ing
+i dol' a trous
+pon' der
+ca lum' ni ate
+Be at' i tudes
+
+
+
+GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+
+The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended to inspire
+the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It was given amidst
+fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and whatever else could fill
+the minds of the Jews with fear and wonder. Compelled, as it were, by
+the idolatrous acts of His chosen people, by their repeated rebellions,
+and their endless murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty
+Sovereign, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with awe and
+dread.
+
+It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love, was given
+to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the Beatitudes from
+which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders were heard; no angry
+flashes of lightning were visible. There was nothing forbidding in the
+voice, words, or appearance of the Divine Lawgiver. In the whole
+exterior of our Savior there was a something so sweet, so humble, so
+meek and captivating, that the people were filled with admiration and
+love.
+
+One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that Christ
+preached is the fact that He constantly called God our Father. How
+beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the Law of love! Listen
+to Him attentively, and ponder upon His words:
+
+"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by them:
+otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO is in
+heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy
+right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy FATHER WHO
+seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your enemies; do good to them
+that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you; that
+you may be the children of your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His
+sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the
+unjust.
+
+"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap,
+nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER feedeth them. Are not
+you of much more value than they?... If you, then, being evil, know how
+to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will
+forgive men their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also
+your offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your FATHER
+forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you pray: OUR FATHER
+Who art in heaven."
+
+From these and many other similar expressions found in the very first
+sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that it is the
+expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as our loving Father;
+and that, however unworthy we may be, we should look upon ourselves as
+His beloved children. There cannot be a possible doubt of this, since it
+is taught so positively by His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the
+Truth, and the Life."
+
+[Illustration: _Henry le Jeune._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_56_
+
+
+
+HAPPY OLD AGE.
+
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried;
+         "The few locks that are left you are gray;
+       You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
+         "I remembered that youth would fly fast,
+       And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
+         That I never might need them at last."
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
+         "And life must be hastening away;
+       You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;
+         "Let the cause thy attention engage;
+       In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
+         And He hath not forgotten my age."
+
+
+_Robert Southey._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of the
+important lessons it teaches?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_57_
+
+
+smit' ing
+el' o quence
+mes' mer ize
+ges' ture
+vin' e gar
+un dy' ing ly
+
+
+
+KIND WORDS.
+
+
+Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to
+be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had
+lost its way and come on earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the
+hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and putting for the while an angel's
+nature into us.
+
+Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In truth,
+there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems as they could
+almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely, soften the hard and
+angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long, loyal, and
+self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a foundation than a kind
+word.
+
+Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been made
+happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we are unable to
+explain! And happiness is a great power of holiness. Thus, kind words,
+by their power of producing happiness, have also a power of producing
+holiness, and so of winning men to God.
+
+If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious subjects, it is
+by voice and words that men mesmerize each other. Hence it is that the
+world is converted by the voice of the preacher. Hence it is that an
+angry word rankles longer in the heart than an angry gesture, nay, very
+often even longer than a blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power
+of kindness in general applies with an additional and peculiar force to
+kind words.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+From "Spiritual Conferences."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Explain: Kind words are the music of the world--An angel's song that had
+lost its way and come on earth--Smiting the hearts of men with sweetest
+wounds--Putting an angel's nature into us--Hard and angry hearts of
+men--An angry word rankles longer in the heart than even a blow.
+
+Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made you very
+happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,--to have kind words
+said to him, or for him to say them to another?
+
+Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or
+learning.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred
+barrels of vinegar.
+
+_St. Francis de Sales._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_58_
+
+
+
+KINDNESS IS THE WORD.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "What is the real good?"
+       I asked in musing mood.
+
+       Order, said the law court;
+       Knowledge, said the school;
+       Truth, said the wise man;
+       Pleasure, said the fool;
+       Love, said the maiden;
+       Beauty, said the page;
+       Freedom, said the dreamer;
+       Home, said the sage;
+       Fame, said the soldier;
+       Equity, said the seer;--
+
+       Spake my heart full sadly:
+       "The answer is not here."
+
+       Then within my bosom
+       Softly this I heard:
+       "Each heart holds the secret:
+       Kindness is the word."
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAGE, a wise man.
+
+SEER, one who foresees events; a prophet.
+
+EQUITY ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_59_
+
+
+va' cant
+joc' und
+pen' sive
+spright' ly
+sol' i tude
+daf' fo dils
+con tin' u ous
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+       I wandered lonely as a cloud
+         That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+       When all at once I saw a crowd,
+         A host, of golden daffodils,
+       Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+         Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+       Continuous as the stars that shine
+         And twinkle on the Milky Way,
+       They stretched in never-ending line
+         Along the margin of the bay:
+       Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+         Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+       The waves beside them danced; but they
+         Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
+       A poet could not but be gay
+         In such a jocund company.
+       I gazed,--and gazed,--but little thought
+         What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+       For oft, when on my couch I lie
+         In vacant or in pensive mood,
+       They flash upon that inward eye
+         Which is the bliss of solitude;
+       And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+         And dances with the daffodils.
+
+
+_William Wordsworth._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MILKY WAY, the belt of light seen at night in the heavens, and is
+composed of millions of stars.
+
+1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the poet compare
+his loneliness?
+
+What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the daffodils
+doing?
+
+What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe the picture
+contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.
+
+2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of daffodils there
+were? How would you tell it?
+
+How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does _margin_ mean?
+
+How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he say they
+were doing?
+
+3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the daffodils surpass
+the waves?
+
+What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?
+
+4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive mood?" "Inward
+eye?"
+
+How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?
+
+What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the heart of the
+poet?
+
+What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the beginning of the
+poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?
+
+Commit the poem to memory.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_60_
+
+
+hos' tile
+en dowed'
+tu' mult
+ac' o lyte
+ep' i taph
+grav' i ty
+com' bat ants
+pref' er ence
+a maz' ed ly
+ath let' ic
+Vi at' i cum
+in her' it ance
+cem' e ter y
+re tal' i ate
+un flinch' ing ly
+ir re sist' i ble
+un vi' o la ted
+con temp' tu ous ly
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.
+
+
+At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
+going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
+condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
+these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
+souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
+of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
+many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
+discharge this duty.
+
+The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
+altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
+Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
+at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
+sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
+an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
+
+"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
+admiration of the picture before him.
+
+"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
+this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
+glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
+forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
+courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
+Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
+covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
+
+"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
+Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
+must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
+wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
+
+"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
+folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
+reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
+expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
+lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
+low, thoroughfares.
+
+As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
+lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
+and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
+"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
+"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
+
+"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
+I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
+
+"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
+had a child like thee!"
+
+"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
+sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
+
+"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
+
+"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
+made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
+him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
+Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
+pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
+
+In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
+than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
+where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
+
+"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
+their leader.
+
+"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
+seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
+Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
+take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
+
+"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."
+
+"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
+youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
+done. So come, join us at once."
+
+"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
+
+"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
+carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
+not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
+I will put it by safe while we play."
+
+"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
+
+"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
+wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
+of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
+was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
+with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
+bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
+pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
+purpose.
+
+"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
+chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
+once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
+asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
+contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
+Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
+
+This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
+Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
+demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
+was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
+while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
+till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
+breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
+just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
+themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
+round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
+retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
+overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
+and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
+tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
+him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
+
+"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
+"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
+
+The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
+bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
+relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
+eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
+soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
+of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
+hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
+met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
+at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
+that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
+
+"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
+Christian."
+
+The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
+eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
+faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
+
+The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
+child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
+and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
+slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
+himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
+amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
+for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
+belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:
+
+
+
+       "Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
+         The mob profanely bade him to display;
+       He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
+         Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
+
+
+_Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."
+
+
+
+ADDLE, to become rotten, as eggs.
+
+TUNIC, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and confined at the
+waist by a girdle.
+
+SUPERNATURAL, = prefix _super_, meaning _above_ or _beyond,_ +
+_natural_.
+
+-ION, a suffix denoting _act, state, condition of_. Define
+_emotion, objection, dejection, conversion, submission, construction,
+admiration, persecution, observation, revolution, deliberation._
+
+Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of "Fabiola." Tell
+him how much you like the book, what you have read in it, and thank him
+for sending it.
+
+Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and tell what
+you like or dislike in each.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,
+         Kept murmuring under breath:
+       "Before temptation--sacrifice!
+         Before dishonor--death!"
+
+
+_Margaret J. Preston._
+
+
+
+       Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
+       Other men's failures can never save you;
+       Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
+       Stand like a hero, and battle till death.
+
+
+_George L. Taylor._
+
+
+
+       Heroes of old! I humbly lay
+         The laurel on your graves again;
+       Whatever men have done, men may--
+         The deeds you wrought are not in vain.
+
+
+_Austin Dobson._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_61_
+
+
+a jar'
+chal' ice
+a thwart'
+rap' tur ous
+sward
+ter' race
+jew' eled
+ci bo' ri um
+por' tal
+vil' lain
+au da' cious
+sac ri le' gious
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.
+
+
+       A summer night in Remy--strokes of the midnight bell,
+       Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,
+       Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,
+       A little village slumber'd,--locked in quiet dreams.
+
+       A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,
+       With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,
+       But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star
+       Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!
+
+       And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran
+       From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,
+       Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,
+       The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!
+
+       To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward,
+       (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;
+       By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,
+       Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.
+
+       Behold! a grassy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair,
+       And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.
+       Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,
+       Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!
+
+       O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!
+       Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,
+       Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright--
+       Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,
+       Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.
+       All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things
+       Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.
+
+       Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,--
+       The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts,
+       What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive
+       With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!
+
+       Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees
+       Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;
+       For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,
+       Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...
+
+       O little ones, who listen unto this legend old
+       (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),
+       From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,
+       Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.
+
+       He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare
+       A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;
+       Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,
+       Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.
+
+       "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,
+       Around My Heart shall hover your wingèd ministries,
+       And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come
+       To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"
+
+
+
+_Eleanor C. Donnelly._
+
+From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MERE, a waste place; a marsh.
+
+TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.
+
+WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use
+_golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does
+_revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as
+you can. Consult your dictionary.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_62_
+
+
+stalked
+ep'au lets
+be hind' hand
+se date'
+trudg' ing
+com pos' ed ly
+fid' dler
+strut' ted
+ap pro ba' tion
+re sumed'
+af firmed'
+dis a gree' a ble
+whith er so ev' er
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
+
+
+Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
+had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
+seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
+
+The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
+overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful
+birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom
+Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole class who were
+behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to
+attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
+moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
+mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
+this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
+Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some
+bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay
+his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a
+man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.
+
+"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
+come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a
+moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school,
+on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to
+find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the
+old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
+stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
+with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
+never heard."
+
+They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
+were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
+sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the
+new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay
+in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly
+in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal
+schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
+Mr. Toil.
+
+But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
+the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
+and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
+see him among the haymakers?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people
+say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
+
+They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
+fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
+they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes
+to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of
+old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair
+of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his
+hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
+looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
+the schoolroom.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very
+severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't
+want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making
+merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
+were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
+
+"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.
+Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and
+where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again,
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch
+rod.
+
+"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was nobody
+but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
+fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
+best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
+
+"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
+the looks of this fiddler."
+
+Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering along the
+highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant villages; and,
+whithersoever they went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil.
+
+He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he
+sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He
+made himself at home in every cottage, and, under one disguise or
+another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the schoolhouse."
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger; for,
+though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
+had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go
+back to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not
+remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there again was
+the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had been in company with
+Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
+
+When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began
+to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old
+schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as
+the face of his own dear mother.
+
+_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
+
+
+"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
+the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
+hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
+for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
+perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
+tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
+smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
+hand.
+
+From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
+School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
+margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Evil is wrought by want of thought,
+       As well as want of heart.
+
+
+_Hood._
+
+
+It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
+happiness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_63_
+
+
+su' macs
+char' coal
+of fi' cial
+fres' coes
+in i' tial
+rest' less ly
+
+
+
+IN SCHOOL DAYS
+
+
+       Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
+         A ragged beggar sunning;
+       Around it still the sumacs grow
+         And blackberry vines are running.
+
+       Within, the master's desk is seen,
+         Deep scarred by raps official;
+       The warping floor, the battered seats,
+         The jackknife's carved initial;
+
+       The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
+         Its door's worn sill, betraying
+       The feet that, creeping slow to school,
+         Went storming out to playing!
+
+       Long years ago a winter sun
+         Shone over it at setting;
+       Lit up its western window-panes,
+         And low eaves' icy fretting.
+
+       It touched the tangled golden curls,
+         And brown eyes full of grieving,
+       Of one who still her steps delayed
+         When all the school were leaving.
+
+       For near her stood the little boy
+         Her childish favor singled;
+       His cap pulled low upon a face
+         Where pride and shame were mingled.
+
+       Pushing with restless feet the snow
+         To right and left, he lingered;
+       As restlessly her tiny hands
+         The blue-checked apron fingered.
+
+       He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
+         The soft hand's light caressing,
+       And heard the tremble of her voice,
+         As if a fault confessing:
+
+       "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;
+         I hate to go above you,
+       Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,--
+         "Because, you see, I love you!"
+
+       Still memory to a gray-haired man
+         That sweet child-face is showing.
+       Dear girl! the grasses on her grave
+         Have forty years been growing!
+
+       He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
+         How few who pass above him
+       Lament their triumph and his loss,
+         Like her,--because they love him.
+
+
+_Whittier._
+
+
+From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: _John G. Whittier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_64_
+
+
+Mars
+so' lar (ler)
+Ve' nus
+plan' ets
+Mer' cu ry
+di am' e ter
+com' pass es
+sat' el lite
+tel' e scope
+grad' u al ly
+in' ter est ing
+cir cum' fer ence
+
+
+
+THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+
+"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys sat in the
+shade of a large tree.
+
+"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to recall
+one," said Frank.
+
+"Let me see. Well--perhaps--I think that the most wonderful story I have
+ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's family."
+
+"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard enough to
+puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."
+
+"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll try to tell
+you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't you--the great
+shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"
+
+"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the morning when
+I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes, then over the trees
+and houses; by evening it has traveled across the sky, when it sinks
+below the houses and trees, out of sight on the other side of the town."
+
+"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the sun is
+traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really we--we on
+this big ball of earth--who are moving. We are whirling around on the
+outer surface, rushing on at the rate--let me think--at the rate of more
+than one thousand miles a minute!"
+
+"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.
+
+"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball moves
+when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"
+
+"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe that this
+big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with all the cities,
+towns, and people whirling round and round faster than a ball from the
+mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that it stirs one inch,--this is
+much harder to believe than all that the fairies have ever told us."
+
+"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.
+
+"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and viewed the
+stars one night through a telescope. As I looked through this
+instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger than ever before. The
+earth is a planet, and there are besides our earth seven large planets
+and many small ones, which also whirl around the sun. Some of these
+planets are larger than our world. Some of them also move much faster.
+
+"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him. The one
+nearest to the sun is Mercury."
+
+"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.
+
+"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched to ashes;
+but if creatures live on that planet, God has given them a different
+nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what would be dreadful to us.
+
+"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen shining so
+bright after sunset; then she is called the evening star. Some of the
+time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen in the east; she is then
+called the morning star.
+
+"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the same time
+of the year. If you are watching her this evening before or after
+sundown, there is no use getting up early to-morrow to look for her
+again. For several weeks Venus remains an evening star, then gradually
+disappears. Two months later you may see her in the east--a bright
+morning star.
+
+"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from the sun. Now
+let us make a drawing of what we have been talking about.
+
+"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and make a dot on
+its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this circle eighty-eight
+days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to travel around the sun.
+Make another circle three and one-half inches in diameter and make a dot
+on it. This represents Venus. It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five
+days to journey around the sun.
+
+"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to us. The
+compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The path made
+represents the journey we take in three hundred sixty-five days.
+
+"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan. This circle
+must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is much farther from the
+sun than our earth is. It takes him six hundred eighty-seven days to
+make the trip around the sun. The other planets are too far away to be
+put in this plan."
+
+"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all--the moon!" said Philip.
+
+"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little ball. It is
+less than seven thousand miles around her, while our earth is
+twenty-five thousand miles around."
+
+"Is that a little ball, Frank?"
+
+"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what is called
+a satellite--that is, a servant or an attendant. She is a satellite of
+our earth. She keeps circling round and round our earth, while we go
+circling round and round the sun.
+
+"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round a field,
+and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see that the movements
+of the bird would be much quicker than mine."
+
+"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always looks so
+quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like lightning, why is it that
+she scarcely seems to move more than an inch in ten minutes?"
+
+"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that what to us
+seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You know how very fast
+the steam cars seem to go when one is quite near them, yet I have seen a
+train of cars far off which seemed to go so slowly that I could fancy it
+was painted on the sky."
+
+"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out these curious
+things about the sun and the stars--to know how large they are and how
+fast they go?" asked Philip.
+
+"That is something we shall understand when we are older," said Frank.
+"We must gain a little knowledge every day."
+
+"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked Philip.
+
+"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter has four,
+but we can see them only when we look through a telescope." replied
+Frank.
+
+"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear night,
+planets?" inquired Philip.
+
+"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars," said Frank.
+"A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its own. It shines just
+as the moon shines, because the sun gives it light."
+
+"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.
+
+"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus and Mars
+as a shining planet."
+
+"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for almost
+every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a diamond. Do these
+fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked Philip.
+
+"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed stars to show
+that they do not move like planets? The word _planet_ means to _wander._
+These fixed stars are suns themselves, which may have planets of their
+own. They are so very far away that we cannot know much about them,
+except that they shine of themselves just as our sun does.
+
+"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and satellites
+with which he is surrounded. We know that without his warm rays there
+would not be any flowers or birds or any living thing on the earth. So
+we can easily imagine that all other suns are shining in the same way
+for the worlds that surround them."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as directed
+in the lesson.
+
+Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the correct form
+of the action-word _draw_:
+
+
+My boys like to --.
+
+Yesterday they -- the picture of an old mill.
+
+They are now -- a picture of the solar system.
+
+The lines on the blackboard were -- by John.
+He -- well.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_65_
+
+
+dew' y
+clos'es
+ca ress'
+twined
+wreaths
+weath'er
+brook' let
+togeth'er
+
+
+
+WILL AND I
+
+
+       We roam the hills together,
+       In the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       And the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         Through the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Where the tinkling brooklet passes
+       Through the heart of dewy grasses,
+                 Will and I
+       Have heard the mock-bird singing,
+       And the field lark seen upspringing,
+         In his happy flight afar,
+         Like a tiny winged star--
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Amid cool forest closes,
+       We have plucked the wild wood-roses,
+                 Will and I;
+       And have twined, with tender duty,
+       Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty
+         Of the purest brows that shine
+         With a mother-love divine,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Ah! thus we roam together,
+       Through the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       While the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         O'er the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+
+_Paul H. Hayne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CLOSES, small inclosed fields.
+
+Write about what you and Will _saw, heard,_ and _did,_ as you roamed
+together over the hills, through the woods, along the brooklet, on a
+certain bright, clear day in early summer. You are a country boy and
+Will is your city cousin. If you begin your composition by saying, "It
+was a beautiful afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of
+the day in mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what _made_ the day
+beautiful,--such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In other
+paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order in which you
+saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did in the "closes" of
+the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild flowers. Conclude by
+telling what a pleasant surprise you gave mother on your return home;
+and how she surprised you two hungry boys during supper.
+
+In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of the poem as
+you can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_66_
+
+
+themes
+her' e sy
+ramp' ant
+a chieved'
+es cort ed
+po ta'toes
+trem' u lous
+lux u' ri ous
+cre du' li ty
+in cred' i ble
+phe nom' e non
+pre ma ture' ly
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.]
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
+gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she laid the cloth,
+assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in
+ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of
+potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's
+private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day)
+into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now
+two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their
+own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions, they danced
+about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while
+he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire,
+until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to
+be let out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+"And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas
+Day by half an hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this
+morning, mother!"
+
+"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least three feet
+of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his
+threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny
+Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and
+had his limb supported by an iron frame.
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+to the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the
+church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to
+remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men
+see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob compounded some hot mixture
+in a jug, and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes
+with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha
+dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at
+the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed
+spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
+turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was
+said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking
+slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;
+but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
+forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny
+Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the
+handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
+
+Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its
+tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal
+admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a
+sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
+with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish),
+they hadn't eaten it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the
+youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the
+eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs.
+Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear witnesses--to take the
+pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and
+stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
+the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A
+smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating
+house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
+next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas
+holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her
+mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been
+flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass,--two
+tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"
+
+Which all the family re[:e]choed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+_Charles Dickens._
+
+[Illustration: Portrait of Dickens.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DECLENSION, a falling downward.
+
+COPPER, a boiler made of copper.
+
+RALLIED, indulged in pleasant humor.
+
+UBIQUITOUS (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be everywhere at
+the same time.
+
+EKED OUT, added to; increased.
+
+BEDIGHT, bedecked; adorned.
+
+RE[:E]CHOED (reëchoed): What is the mark placed over the second _ë_ called,
+and what does it denote?
+
+
+NOTE.--"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken, is
+considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of the best
+Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very poor as to the
+goods of this world, but very rich in love, kindness, and contentment.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_67_
+
+
+
+WHICH SHALL IT BE?
+
+
+       Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
+       I looked at John, John looked at me;
+       And when I found that I must speak,
+       My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
+       "Tell me again what Robert said,"
+       And then I, listening, bent my head--
+       This is his letter: "I will give
+       A house and land while you shall live,
+       If in return from out your seven
+       One child to me for aye is given."
+
+       I looked at John's old garments worn;
+       I thought of all that he had borne
+       Of poverty, and work, and care,
+       Which I, though willing, could not share;
+       I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
+       Of seven little children's need,
+             And then of this.
+
+             "Come, John," said I,
+       "We'll choose among them as they lie
+       Asleep."  So, walking hand in hand,
+       Dear John and I surveyed our band:
+       First to the cradle lightly stepped,
+       Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
+       Softly the father stooped to lay
+       His rough hand down in loving way,
+       When dream or whisper made her stir,
+       And huskily he said: "Not her!"
+
+       We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
+       And one long ray of lamplight shed
+       Athwart the boyish faces there,
+       In sleep so pitiful and fair;
+       I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek
+       A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
+       "He's but a baby too," said I,
+       And kissed him as we hurried by.
+       Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
+       Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace--
+       "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
+       He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
+
+       Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son--
+       Turbulent, restless, idle one--
+       Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave
+       Bade us befriend him to the grave;
+       Only a mother's heart could be
+       Patient enough for such as he;
+       "And so," said John, "I would not dare
+       To take him from her bedside prayer."
+
+       Then stole we softly up above,
+       And knelt by Mary, child of love;
+       "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
+       I said to John. Quite silently
+       He lifted up a curl that lay
+       Across her cheek in wilful way,
+       And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"
+       The while my heart beat audibly.
+
+       Only one more, our eldest lad,
+       Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
+       So like his father. "No, John, no!
+       I cannot, will not, let him go."
+       And so we wrote in courteous way,
+       We could not give one child away;
+       And afterwards toil lighter seemed,
+       Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
+       Happy in truth that not one face
+       Was missed from its accustomed place,
+       Thankful to work for all the seven,
+       Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!
+
+
+_Anonymous_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell of the
+great affection of parents for their children. Even in the poorest and
+most numerous families, what parent could think of parting with a child
+for any sum of money?
+
+Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich man without
+children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell about the offer
+the rich man made. What a great temptation this was!
+
+The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's faces and
+asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the two youngest
+boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple. Why? Not the sweet
+child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son. Why? Not, for worlds, the
+oldest boy. Why?
+
+Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_68_
+
+
+Dor'o thy
+in her'it ance
+Cap pa do' ci a
+ob' sti na cy
+The oph' i lus
+ex e cu' tion ers
+
+
+
+ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR
+
+
+The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St. Cecilia, are
+familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt, their histories are
+well known also. Young as they were, they despised alike the pleasures
+and the flatteries of the world. They chose God alone as their portion
+and inheritance; and He has highly exalted them, and placed their names
+amongst those glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.
+
+St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born in the city
+of Cæsarea, and was descended of a rich and noble family. While the last
+of the ten terrible persecutions, which for three hundred years steeped
+the Church in the blood of martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the
+faith of Christ, and, in consequence, was seized and carried before the
+Roman Prefect of the city.
+
+She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length, condemned to
+death. When the executioners were preparing to behead her, the Prefect
+said, "Now, at least, confess your folly, and pray to the immortal gods
+for pardon."
+
+"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and earth may
+pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when I reach the land
+whither I am going."
+
+"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most of the
+pagans, had very little notion of another world.
+
+"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells with his
+saints," replied St. Dorothy. "_There_ is neither night nor sorrow;
+_there_ is the river of life, and the brightness of eternal glory; and
+_there_ is a paradise of all delight, and flowers that shall never
+fade."
+
+"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who was
+listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if these things
+be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you shall have reached the
+land you speak of."
+
+Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered: "Theophilus, you
+shall have the sign you ask for." There was no time for more; the
+executioner placed her before the block, and, in another moment, with
+one blow, he struck off the head of the holy martyr.
+
+"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his friends, as
+they were about to leave the court; "but these Christians are not like
+other people." "Their obstinacy is altogether surprising," rejoined his
+friend; "death itself will never make them waver. But who is this,
+Theophilus?" he continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such
+singular beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden hair fell
+on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses, two white and two
+red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a fragrance that their like
+had never before been seen. He held them out to Theophilus. "These
+flowers are for you," said he; "will you not take them?" "And whence do
+you bring them, my boy?" asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied,
+"and they are the sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter
+time!" said Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as
+never blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made another; I,
+too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."
+
+Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the enraged
+Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded, he too poured
+forth his blood, and obtained the crown of martyrdom.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CÆSAREA (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient city of Palestine. It
+is celebrated as being the scene of many events recorded in the New
+Testament.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.
+
+
+_A line from Lowell's "0de."_
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_69_
+
+
+
+TO A BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+       I've watched you now a full half hour
+       Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
+       And, little butterfly, indeed
+       I know not if you sleep or feed.
+       How motionless!--not frozen seas
+         More motionless!--and then
+       What joy awaits you, when the breeze
+       Hath found you out among the trees,
+         And calls you forth again!
+
+       This plot of orchard ground is ours;
+       My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
+       Here rest your wings when they are weary;
+       Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
+       Come often to us, fear no wrong;
+         Sit near us on the bough!
+       We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
+       And summer days, when we were young;
+       Sweet childish days, that were as long
+         As twenty days are now!
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SELF-POISED, balanced.
+
+What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the Holy of
+Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so supremely holy?
+
+Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are now?"
+
+Tell what you know of the author's life.
+
+Memorize the poem.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_70_
+
+
+re tort' ed
+quizzed
+in cred' i ble
+man u fac' ture
+sat' ire
+vi o lin' ist
+com pre hend'
+me lo' di ous ly
+hu' mor
+ex hib' it
+a chieve' ments
+for' ests
+
+
+
+THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.
+
+
+In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the table, it was
+said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an inkstand. What will the
+next thing be? It is wonderful!"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's extraordinary--that's what I
+always say," he exclaimed to the pen and to the other articles on the
+table that were near enough to hear. "It is wonderful what a number of
+things can come out of me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't
+myself know what will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip
+into me. One drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?
+
+"From me all the works of the poet go forth--all these living men, whom
+people can imagine they have met--all the deep feeling, the humor, the
+vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't understand how it is, for I am
+not acquainted with nature, but it certainly is in me. From me all
+things have gone forth, and from me proceed the troops of charming
+maidens, and of brave knights on prancing steeds, and all the lame and
+the blind, and I don't know what more--I assure you I don't think of
+anything."
+
+"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all; for if you
+did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the fluid. You give the
+fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what dwells in me, and what I
+would bring to the day. It is the pen that writes. No man doubts that;
+and, indeed, most people have about as much insight into poetry as an
+old inkstand."
+
+"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand. "You've hardly
+been in service a week, and are already half worn out. Do you fancy you
+are the poet? You are only a servant; and before you came I had many of
+your sorts, some of the goose family, and others of English manufacture.
+I know the quill as well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service,
+and I shall have many more when _he_ comes--the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should like
+to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of me."
+
+"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.
+
+Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a concert, where
+he had heard a famous violinist, with whose admirable performances he
+was quite enchanted. The player had drawn a wonderful wealth of tone
+from the instrument; sometimes it had sounded like tinkling water-drops,
+like rolling pearls, sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then
+again it went swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.
+
+The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though not
+only the strings sounded, but every part of the instrument.
+
+It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece was, the bow
+seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings, and it looked as
+though every one might do it. The violin seemed to sound of itself, and
+the bow to move of itself--those two appeared to do everything; and the
+audience forgot the master who guided them and breathed soul and spirit
+into them. The master was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and
+named him, and wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:
+
+"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of their
+achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly--the poet, the
+artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the general--we all do it.
+We are only the instruments which the Almighty uses: to Him alone be the
+honor! We have nothing of which we should be proud."
+
+Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form of a
+parable, which he called "The Master and the Instrument."
+
+"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand, when the
+two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud what I have
+written down?"
+
+"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That was a cut
+at you, because of your conceit. That you should not even have
+understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a cut from within
+me--surely I must know my own satire!"
+
+"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.
+
+"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.
+
+And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well; and it is
+a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good answer--a
+conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they slept upon it.
+But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up from within him, like the
+tones from the violin, falling like pearls, rushing like the storm-wind
+through the forests. He understood his own heart in these thoughts, and
+caught a ray from the Eternal Master. To _Him_ be all the honor!
+
+_Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIPKIN, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked clay.
+
+Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words _vivid,
+exhibit, comprehend_. Consult the dictionary.
+
+What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of science?"
+
+Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word _parable_. Relate one
+of our Lord's parables.
+
+By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned, form as
+many words as you can from the following: man, do, late, loud, art,
+room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden, famous, service,
+furnished.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_71_
+
+
+
+THE WIND AND THE MOON.
+
+
+       Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+              You stare in the air
+              Like a ghost in a chair,
+       Always looking what I am about,
+       I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+              So, deep on a heap
+              Of clouds, to sleep
+       Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,
+       Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+       He turned in his bed; she was there again!
+              On high in the sky,
+              With her one ghost eye,
+       The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+       Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+              "With my sledge and my wedge
+              I have knocked off her edge.
+       If only I blow right fierce and grim,
+       The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+       He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:
+              "One puff more's enough
+              To blow her to snuff!
+       One good puff more where the last was bred,
+       And  glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."
+
+       He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,
+              In the air nowhere
+              Was a moonbeam bare;
+       Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+       Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+       The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+              On down, in town,
+              Like a merry-mad clown,
+       He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,--
+       "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+       He flew in a rage--he danced and he blew;
+              But in vain was the pain
+              Of his bursting brain;
+       For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,
+       The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.
+
+       Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,
+              And shone on her throne
+              In the sky alone,
+       A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+       Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+       Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!
+              With my breath, good faith!
+              I blew her to death--
+       First blew her away right out of the sky,
+       Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+       But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;
+              For, high in the sky,
+              With her one white eye,
+       Motionless, miles above the air,
+       She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+_George MacDonald._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DOWN (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near the sea.
+
+GLIMMER, fainter.
+
+GLUM, dark, gloomy.
+
+What is a suffix? What does the suffix _less_ mean? Define _cloudless,
+matchless, motionless._
+
+What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_72_
+
+
+mi' ter
+can'on
+car' di nal
+dis course'
+di' a logue
+cour'te ous ly
+
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+
+       St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,
+       Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,
+       And being ever courteously inclined
+       To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
+       He fell into discourse with him, and thus
+       The dialogue they held comes down to us.
+
+       _Saint_.--Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
+       _Youth_.--To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
+       _St_.--And when you are one, what do you intend?
+       _Y_.--To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
+       _St_.--Suppose it so; what have you next in view?
+       _Y_.--That I may get to be a canon too.
+       _St_.--Well; and what then?
+       _Y_.--                       Why then, for aught I know,
+       I may be made a bishop.
+       _St_.--            Be it so,--
+                   What next?
+       _Y_.--             Why, cardinal's a high degree;
+       And yet my lot it possibly may be.
+       _St_.--Suppose it was; what then?
+       _Y_.--                             Why, who can say
+       But I've a chance of being pope one day?
+       _St_.--Well, having worn the miter and red hat,
+       And triple crown, what follows after that?
+
+       _Y_.--Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
+       Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
+       When I've enjoyed a dignity so high
+       As long as God shall please, then I must die.
+
+       _St_.--What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,
+       But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!
+       Take my advice--whatever may betide,
+       For that which _must be_, first of all provide;
+       Then think  of that which _may be_; and indeed,
+       When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,
+       But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
+       Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went to Rome in
+1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory," and where he died
+in 1595.
+
+TRIPLE CROWN, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy Father, the
+Pope.
+
+Use correctly in sentences the words _canon, cannon, cañon._
+
+
+NOTE.--It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first six lines
+of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip and the Youth.
+
+The whole selection might be given from memory.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_73_
+
+
+mag' ic
+sta' mens
+de sert' ed
+pet' als
+pic' tures
+dis cour' aged
+liq' uid
+sat' is fied
+per se ver' ance
+
+
+
+THE WATER LILY.
+
+
+There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were
+not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great
+American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his
+father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a
+few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
+
+The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of
+work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He
+said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
+
+"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any fairies. I
+never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child,
+and never mind the fairies."
+
+"Very well, mother," said the boy.
+
+"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures," said his
+mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. "Why, child,
+pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't clothe a body, and a log of
+wood is far better to burn and warm a body."
+
+"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.
+
+"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy could only
+say, "I don't know, mother."
+
+"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things
+as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play."
+
+So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a
+little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was
+deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and
+the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and
+thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between
+the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue
+sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding
+over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at
+the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.
+
+And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, "I am sure
+there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these
+pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I
+know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could
+paint it, every one else would know it, too."
+
+But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with
+it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But
+he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing
+and said to the lily:
+
+"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a
+painter!"
+
+As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the
+cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown
+of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds
+before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a
+beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the
+lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest
+white.
+
+"Child, are you happy?" she asked.
+
+"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint and I
+cannot."
+
+"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.
+
+"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more."
+
+"But I will help you."
+
+"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."
+
+"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the fairy. "I
+know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I
+tell you. Do you promise to obey?"
+
+"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my heart."
+
+"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little key on the
+doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the
+trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the
+door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You
+must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day.
+On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will
+make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.
+
+"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you
+shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and
+that you shall become a truly great painter."
+
+"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy
+stood trembled for joy.
+
+"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the fairy.
+"But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even
+begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day
+will never fade till my promise is fulfilled."
+
+The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in
+his hand but the flower.
+
+He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the
+doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic
+palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break
+the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent
+nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed
+whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when
+the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of
+fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking
+on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.
+
+So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken
+the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with
+his magic palette.
+
+But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them.
+His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the
+real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her
+window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt
+whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his
+palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
+
+He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but
+in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full
+of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
+
+"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so
+much discouraged.
+
+"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the fairy.
+"My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the
+charm."
+
+He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a
+beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near
+it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word--"Hope."
+
+Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he went far,
+far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his
+pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
+
+One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city.
+He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted
+before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised
+them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a
+picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
+
+Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone
+with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the
+place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again
+standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of
+the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily
+was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered,
+and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked
+up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
+
+"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your magic gift?
+I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so
+that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it."
+
+"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did the artist
+desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is the scene of the
+picture placed? What time of the day and of the year does it show?
+
+Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about him?
+
+Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's outing.
+Write a composition on how the day was spent.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_74_
+
+
+
+A BUILDER'S LESSON.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "How shall I a habit break?"
+       As you did that habit make.
+       As you gathered, you must lose;
+       As you yielded, now refuse.
+       Thread by thread the strands we twist
+       Till they bind us, neck and wrist;
+       Thread by thread the patient hand
+       Must untwine, ere free we stand.
+       As we builded, stone by stone,
+       We must toil, unhelped, alone,
+       Till the wall is overthrown.
+
+       But remember, as we try,
+       Lighter every test goes by;
+       Wading in, the stream grows deep
+       Toward the center's downward sweep;
+       Backward turn, each step ashore
+       Shallower is than that before.
+
+       Ah, the precious years we waste
+       Leveling what we raised in haste:
+       Doing what must be undone
+       Ere content or love be won!
+       First, across the gulf we cast
+       Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
+       And habit builds the bridge at last!
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last it is so
+strong we cannot break it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_75_
+
+
+in ured'
+ru' di ments
+nine' ti eth
+ma tur' er
+ac' cu ra cy
+in ad vert' ence
+an' ec dotes
+e ner' vate
+in cor' po ra ted
+dig' ni fied
+in junc' tion
+pre var i ca' tion
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+
+Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of Washington
+were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who, by the death of
+her husband, while her children were young, became the sole conductress
+of their education. To the inquiry, what course she had pursued in
+rearing one so truly illustrious, she replied, "Only to require
+obedience, diligence, and truth."
+
+These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with the
+rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his future
+greatness.
+
+He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and to speak
+of his faults and omissions without prevarication or disguise. Hence
+arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt of deceit in others,
+which ever distinguished him. Once, by an inadvertence of his youth,
+considerable loss had been incurred, and of such a nature as to
+interfere with the plans of his mother. He came to her, frankly owning
+his error, and she replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes,
+"I had rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."
+
+She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak indulgence. He was
+inured to early rising, and never permitted to be idle. Sometimes he
+engaged in labors which the children of wealthy parents would now
+account severe, and thus acquired firmness of frame and a disregard of
+hardship.
+
+The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had been
+taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's concerns
+devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who surrounded him,
+that he was never known to be in a hurry, but found time for the
+transaction of the smallest affairs in the midst of the greatest and
+most conflicting duties.
+
+Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of his mother.
+His obedience to her commands, when a child, was cheerful and strict;
+and as he approached to maturer years, the expression of her slightest
+wish was law.
+
+At length, America having secured her independence, and the war being
+ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted the repose of
+home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his mother's blessing. The
+hero, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
+countrymen," came to lay his laurels at his mother's feet.
+
+This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year, to be
+respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief, Washington closed
+her eyes and laid her in the grave which she had selected for herself.
+
+We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious armies, the
+conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of the world, in the
+delightful attitude of an obedient and affectionate son. She, whom he
+honored with such filial reverence, said that "he had learned to command
+others by first learning to obey."
+
+Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of future
+eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and remember that
+they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they neglect the
+injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments, and forsake not the
+law of thy mother."
+
+
+[Illustration: _L.E. Fournier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CONDUCTRESS, a woman who leads or directs.
+
+The suffix _-ess_ is used to form feminine name-words.
+
+Tell what each of the following words means:
+
+
+
+ab' bess
+ac' tress
+duch' ess
+li' on ess
+count' ess
+po' et ess
+song' stress
+au' thor ess
+di rect' ress
+
+
+
+Use the following homonyms in sentences:
+
+
+air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore; vain, vein;
+vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here; fair, fare; sweet,
+suite; strait, straight.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_76_
+
+
+na' tal
+a main'
+toc' sin
+re count' ed
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.
+
+
+       'Tis splendid to have a record
+         So white and free from stain
+       That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
+         Though tested and tried amain;
+       That age to age forever
+         Repeats its story of love,
+       And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,
+         All other days above.
+
+       And this is Washington's glory,
+         A steadfast soul and true,
+       Who stood for his country's honor
+         When his country's days were few.
+       And now when its days are many,
+         And its flag of stars is flung
+       To the breeze in radiant glory,
+         His name is on every tongue.
+
+       Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
+         To be so great and strong,
+       That your memory is ever a tocsin
+         To rally the foes of wrong;
+       To live so proudly and purely,
+         That your people pause in their way,
+       And year by year, with banner and drum,
+         Keep the thought of your natal day.
+
+
+_Margaret E. Sangster._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_77_
+
+
+Brit' on (un)
+ant' lers
+wrin' kled
+vet' er an
+im mor' tal
+
+
+
+THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.
+
+
+       He lay upon his dying bed,
+         His eye was growing dim,
+       When, with a feeble voice, he called
+         His weeping son to him:
+       "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
+         "I bow to heaven's high will;
+       But quickly from yon antlers bring
+         The sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+       The sword was brought; the soldier's eye
+         Lit with a sudden flame;
+       And, as he grasped the ancient blade,
+         He murmured Warren's name;
+       Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,
+         But what is richer still,
+       I leave you, mark me, mark me well,
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,
+         I dared the Briton's band;
+       A captain raised his blade on me,
+         I tore it from his hand;
+       And while the glorious battle raged,
+         It lightened Freedom's will;
+       For, son, the God of Freedom blessed
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,--
+         A smile--and he was dead;
+       But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,
+         Upon that dying bed.
+       The son remains, the sword remains,
+         Its glory growing still,
+       And twenty millions bless the sire
+         And sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+
+_William R. Wallace._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_78_
+
+
+es' say
+buoy' ant
+in sip' id
+fe quent' ing
+scowl' ing ly
+sug ges' tion
+in tel' li gence
+sin' gu lar ly
+so lic' i tude
+com pet' i tor
+phi los' o pher
+ve' he ment ly
+tre men' dous ly
+ex pos tu la' tion
+ig no min' i ous ly
+
+
+
+THE MARTYR'S BOY.
+
+
+It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes
+forward with light and buoyant steps across the open court, towards the
+inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he
+reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with
+elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are
+well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and
+warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair
+naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual
+youth's garment, the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow
+spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind him, shows
+us that he is just returning home from school.
+
+While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother's
+embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for
+some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of
+his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets
+her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence,
+that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses
+him as follows:
+
+"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has
+happened to you on the way."
+
+"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all has been
+so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell you."
+
+A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a
+delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must. You know I am
+never happy if I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the
+day about myself. But, to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt
+whether I ought to tell you all."
+
+Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety,
+or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should
+seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied:
+
+"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may
+give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me
+to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?"
+
+"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that concerns you
+can be indifferent to me."
+
+"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting school appears
+to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I was crowned as the
+successful competitor in a declamation, which our good master Cassianus
+set us for our work during the morning hours; and this led, as you will
+hear, to some singular discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real
+philosopher should be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard
+anything so cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can they have
+to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming
+suggestions such a theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart
+glowed, and all my thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of
+the lessons you have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are
+before me. The son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my
+turn came to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the second, I
+saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending affectionately towards me, he
+said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my child, there are sharp ears listening.'"
+
+"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a Christian? I chose
+his school because it was in the highest repute for learning and
+morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these days of
+danger we are obliged to live as strangers in our own land. Certainly,
+had Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been
+deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"
+
+"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows vehemently
+applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes of Corvinus bent
+scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest anger."
+
+"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?"
+
+"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in the school.
+But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, he seems
+ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause of which I cannot
+understand."
+
+"Did he say aught to you, or do?"
+
+"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school
+into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence
+of our companions, and said, 'Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is
+the last time we meet _here_; but I have a long score to demand payment
+of from you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks
+at me as you spouted your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I
+caught expressions in it which you may live to rue, and that very soon.
+Before you leave us, I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your
+name let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of the style
+and tables. Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to
+humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"
+
+The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely
+breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my dear son?"
+
+"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my
+school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.
+'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have
+always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a
+cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for
+revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you
+avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which
+are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle
+round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had
+hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness
+attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not
+so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"
+
+The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body
+trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not
+tell the rest!"
+
+"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your father's
+memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal
+nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.
+What further said or did Corvinus?"
+
+The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and
+then proceeded:
+
+"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed
+your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token
+of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a
+furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a
+shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."
+
+He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:
+
+"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed
+bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name
+of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong
+enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant by the
+throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of
+applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against
+him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood
+so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."
+
+"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling
+matron.
+
+He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched
+forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive you, as I freely
+and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Cassianus came up at
+that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd
+quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now
+acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done;
+and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in
+soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call
+this a happy day?"
+
+_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.
+
+VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat,
+sheep or young calf, for writing on.
+
+THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.
+
+SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.
+
+SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.
+
+STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or
+tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the
+sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.
+
+CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands,
+and often loaded with lead or iron.
+
+"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by
+Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans,
+which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.
+
+CASSIANUS, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for
+Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice
+to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab
+him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.
+
+AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is pronounced
+_[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_,
+and used only in poetry, it is pronounced _[=a]_.
+
+Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly
+impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words
+a description of "The Martyr's Boy."
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_79_
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY.
+
+
+       Through the blue and frosty heavens
+         Christmas stars were shining bright;
+       Glistening lamps throughout the City
+         Almost matched their gleaming light;
+       While the winter snow was lying,
+       And the winter winds were sighing,
+         Long ago, one Christmas night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Rich and poor felt love and blessing
+         From the gracious season fall;
+       Joy and plenty in the cottage,
+         Peace and feasting in the hall;
+       And the voices of the children
+         Ringing clear above it all.
+
+       Yet one house was dim and darkened;
+         Gloom, and sickness, and despair,
+       Dwelling in the gilded chambers,
+         Creeping up the marble stair,
+       Even stilled the voice of mourning,--
+         For a child lay dying there.
+
+       Silken curtains fell around him,
+         Velvet carpets hushed the tread,
+       Many costly toys were lying
+         All unheeded by his bed;
+       And his tangled golden ringlets
+         Were on downy pillows spread.
+
+       The skill of all that mighty City
+         To save one little life was vain,--
+       One little thread from being broken,
+       One fatal word from being spoken;
+         Nay, his very mother's pain
+       And the mighty love within her
+         Could not give him health again.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Suddenly an unseen Presence
+         Checked those constant moaning cries,
+       Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,
+         Raised those blue and wondering eyes,
+       Fixed on some mysterious vision
+         With a startled, sweet surprise.
+
+       For a radiant angel hovered,
+         Smiling, o'er the little bed;
+       White his raiment; from his shoulders
+         Snowy dove-like pinions spread,
+       And a starlike light was shining
+         In a glory round his head.
+
+       While, with tender love, the angel,
+         Leaning o'er the little nest,
+       In his arms the sick child folding,
+         Laid him gently on his breast,
+       Sobs and wailings told the mother
+         That her darling was at rest.
+
+       So the angel, slowly rising,
+         Spread his wings, and through the air
+       Bore the child; and, while he held him
+         To his heart with loving care,
+       Placed a branch of crimson roses
+         Tenderly beside him there.
+
+       While the child, thus clinging, floated
+         Towards the mansions of the Blest,
+       Gazing from his shining guardian
+         To the flowers upon his breast,
+       Thus the angel spake, still smiling
+         On the little heavenly guest:
+
+       "Know, dear little one, that Heaven
+         Does no earthly thing disdain;
+       Man's poor joys find there an echo
+         Just as surely as his pain;
+       Love, on earth so feebly striving,
+         Lives divine in Heaven again.
+
+       "Once, in that great town below us,
+         In a poor and narrow street,
+       Dwelt a little sickly orphan;
+         Gentle aid, or pity sweet,
+       Never in life's rugged pathway
+         Guided his poor tottering feet.
+
+       "All the striving, anxious fore-thought
+         That should only come with age
+       Weighed upon his baby spirit,
+         Showed him soon life's sternest page;
+       Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow
+         Was his only heritage."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       "One bright day, with feeble footsteps
+         Slowly forth he tried to crawl
+       Through the crowded city's pathways,
+         Till he reached a garden-wall,
+       Where 'mid princely halls and mansions
+         Stood the lordliest of all.
+
+       "There were trees with giant branches,
+       Velvet glades where shadows hide;
+       There were sparkling fountains glancing,
+         Flowers, which in luxuriant pride
+       Even wafted breaths of perfume
+         To the child who stood outside.
+
+       "He against the gate of iron
+         Pressed his wan and wistful face,
+       Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure
+         At the glories of the place;
+       Never had his brightest day-dream
+         Shone with half such wondrous grace.
+
+       "You were playing in that garden,
+         Throwing blossoms in the air,
+       Laughing when the petals floated
+         Downwards on your golden hair;
+       And the fond eyes watching o'er you,
+       And the splendor spread before you,
+         Told a House's Hope was there.
+
+       "When your servants, tired of seeing
+         Such a face of want and woe,
+       Turning to the ragged orphan,
+         Gave him coin, and bade him go,
+       Down his cheeks so thin and wasted
+         Bitter tears began to flow.
+
+       "But that look of childish sorrow
+         On your tender child-heart fell,
+       And you plucked the reddest roses
+         From the tree you loved so well,
+       Passed them through the stern cold grating,
+         Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'
+
+       "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure
+         And the gentle voice he heard,
+       In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,
+         Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;
+       In his hand he took the flowers,
+         In his heart the loving word.
+
+       "So he crept to his poor garret;
+         Poor no more, but rich and bright;
+       For the holy dreams of childhood--
+         Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light--
+       Floated round the orphan's pillow
+         Through the starry summer night.
+
+       "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;
+         All too weak to rise he lay;
+       Did he dream that none spake harshly,--
+         All were strangely kind that day?
+       Surely then his treasured roses
+         Must have charmed all ills away.
+
+       "And he smiled, though they were fading;
+         One by one their leaves were shed;
+       'Such bright things could never perish,
+         They would bloom again,' he said.
+       When the next day's sun had risen
+         Child and flowers both were dead.
+
+       "Know, dear little one, our Father
+         Will no gentle deed disdain;
+       Love on the cold earth beginning
+         Lives divine in Heaven again;
+       While the angel hearts that beat there
+         Still all tender thoughts retain."
+
+       So the angel ceased, and gently
+         O'er his little burden leant;
+       While the child gazed from the shining,
+         Loving eyes that o'er him bent,
+       To the blooming roses by him.
+         Wondering what that mystery meant.
+
+       Thus the radiant angel answered,
+         And with tender meaning smiled:
+       "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,
+         Sin and the hard world defiled,
+       God has given me leave to seek you,--
+         I was once that little child!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       In the churchyard of that city
+         Rose a tomb of marble rare,
+       Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,
+         With her buds and blossoms fair,--
+       And a humble grave beside it,--
+         No one knew who rested there.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter_.
+
+
+[Illustration: _Kaulbach_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into a
+composition the length of which to be determined by your teacher. Use
+many of the words and forms of expression you find in the poem.
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY
+
+A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given a bunch
+of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers. Afterwards he came as
+a "radiant angel" to visit his dying friend, and in a spirit of
+gratitude bore him to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_80_
+
+
+al' ti tude
+as tound' ing
+ve loc' i ty
+vag' a bond
+mus tach' es
+hes i ta' ting ly
+par' a lyzed
+tre men' dous
+ex tra or' di na ry
+
+
+
+GLUCK'S VISITOR.
+
+
+It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day
+Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to
+little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody
+in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it
+was raining very hard. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and
+brown.
+
+"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask anybody to
+dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of mutton as this, it
+would do their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." Just
+as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy and
+dull, as though the knocker had been tied up. "It must be the wind,"
+said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock double knocks at our
+door."
+
+No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and what was
+particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to
+be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck put his head out the
+window to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen
+in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his
+cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes twinkled merrily through
+long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew
+on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed
+pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about
+four feet six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the
+same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. He
+wore an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very
+much too long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.
+
+Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his visitor that
+he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until the old gentleman
+turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught
+sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with its mouth
+and eyes very wide open indeed.
+
+"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_
+wet. His feather hung down between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail,
+dripping like an umbrella; and from the end of his mustaches the water
+was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill
+stream.
+
+"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I
+thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and there's
+your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the walls, with
+nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold. When he turned and saw
+the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing.
+
+"He does look _very_ wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for
+a quarter of an hour."
+
+As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind through the
+house that made the old chimney totter.
+
+"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that. How long may
+I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and sat himself
+down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the chimney, for it was much
+too high for the roof.
+
+"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the
+mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip,
+drip, dripping among the cinders, so that the fire fizzed and sputtered
+and began to look very black and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak;
+every fold in it ran like a gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor; "mayn't I
+take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but--really--sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't you give
+me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart.
+
+"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give you that,
+but no more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.
+
+Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came a
+tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck fitted the
+slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering
+an educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning
+fiercely to Gluck.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother, he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that instant,
+the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house."
+
+"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my
+gray hairs."
+
+"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you."
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen."
+
+"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no sooner
+touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after the
+rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner on
+the top of it.
+
+Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him
+out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he went after Hans
+and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled
+into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak was all
+wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one
+side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied, with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night, I'll call again."
+
+_John Ruskin._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NOTE.--"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection is
+taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in 1841, for the
+amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the finest story of its kind
+in the language.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_81_
+
+
+elf
+en cir' cled
+jerk
+hur' ri cane
+rein'deer
+min' i a ture
+tar' nished
+
+
+
+A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.
+
+
+       'Twas the  night  before  Christmas,  when  all through the house
+       Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:
+       The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+       In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
+       The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
+       While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+       And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+       Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+       When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
+       I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+       Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+       Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
+       The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
+       Gave the luster of midday to objects below;
+       When, what  to  my wondering eyes should appear
+       But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+       With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+       I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
+       More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
+       And he whistled, and shouted  and called them by name:
+       "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!
+       On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
+       To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
+       Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"
+       As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly
+       When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+       So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
+       With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;
+       And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
+       The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+       As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+       Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
+       He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+       And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+       A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+       And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
+       His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
+       His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+       His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
+       And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
+       The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+       And the smoke it  encircled his head like a wreath;
+       He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
+       That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
+       He was chubby and plump,--a right jolly old elf--
+       And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+       A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
+       Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+       He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+       And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+       And, laying his finger aside of his nose,
+       And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+       He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+       And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+       But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+       "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
+
+
+_Clement C. Moore._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_82_
+
+
+a chieved'
+es poused'
+thral' dom
+al li' ance
+ter rif' ic
+Del' a ware
+Com' mo dore
+re cip' i ents
+New' found land
+can non ad' ing
+par tic' i pa ted
+char ac ter is' tic
+
+
+
+COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+
+The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds. From the
+early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks of King George's
+proud ships with merciless fire, down to the glories achieved by
+Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with Spain, the story of our Navy
+is the pride and glory of our Republic. The glowing track of its
+victories extends around the world.
+
+Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds adorn the
+pages of our country's history, there is none more deserving of our
+gratitude and admiration than Commodore John Barry. His name and fame
+will live in the naval annals of our country as long as the history of
+America lasts.
+
+Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in County
+Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen he left home
+for a life on
+
+       "The sea, the sea, the open sea,
+       The blue, the fresh, the ever free."
+
+
+On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America. He spent
+his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way soon acquired a
+general and practical education. By fidelity to duty, he advanced so
+rapidly in his profession that at the age of twenty-five we find him in
+command of the _Black Prince,_ one of the finest merchant vessels then
+running between Philadelphia and London.
+
+When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and England, our
+gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship, and without delay or
+hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted country. Congress purchased
+a few vessels, had them fitted out for war, and placed the little fleet
+under the command of Captain Barry. His flagship was the _Lexington_,
+named after the first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at
+this time adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+_Lexington_ was the first to hoist this ensign of freedom.
+
+From the time of the fitting out of the _Lexington_ down to the time of
+the declaration of peace, which assured the liberation of the Colonies
+from the thraldom of Great Britain, Commodore Barry was constantly
+engaged on shore and afloat. Though he actually participated in upwards
+of twenty sea fights, always against a force superior to his own, he
+never once struck his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations
+ranged all the way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies,
+and as far east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories
+were hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men were
+publicly thanked by General Washington.
+
+During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was spending the
+winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our brave soldiers
+perishing for want of provisions, blankets, clothing and tents, an
+incident occurred which shows how supremely loyal and devoted Commodore
+Barry was to the American cause. The British troops were occupying
+Philadelphia. Lord Howe, their commander, offered our great sea fighter
+a bribe of fifty thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if
+he would abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I have
+engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither the value nor
+the command of the whole British fleet can seduce me from it."
+
+General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and daring and
+loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and safest man to be
+trusted with the important mission of carrying our commissioners to
+France to secure that alliance and assistance which we then so sorely
+needed.
+
+On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a British
+man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his ship, captain,
+and destination, he gave the following bold and characteristic reply:
+"This is the United States ship _Alliance_: Jack Barry, half Irishman
+and half Yankee, commander: who are you?" In the engagement that
+followed, Barry and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor
+that after a few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was
+forced to strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."
+
+This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of Commodore
+in the service of our Republic, continued at the head of our infant Navy
+till his death, which took place in Philadelphia, on the 13th of
+September, 1803. During life he was generous and charitable, and at his
+death made the children of the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia
+the chief recipients of his wealth. His remains repose in the little
+graveyard attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.
+
+Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St. Patrick," a
+society of which General Washington himself was a member, a magnificent
+monument was erected to the memory of Commodore Barry, in Independence
+Square, Philadelphia, under the shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle
+of American liberty. Miss Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece
+of the Commodore, had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the
+unveiling, which took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There are gallant hearts whose glory
+         Columbia loves to name,
+       Whose deeds shall live in story
+         And everlasting fame.
+       But never yet one braver
+         Our starry banner bore
+       Than saucy old Jack Barry,
+         The Irish Commodore.
+
+
+
+What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies compose it?
+What is the number of senators, and how are they chosen?
+
+Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul Jones?
+
+Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And Admiral
+Schley?
+
+What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?
+
+What does "never struck his flag" mean?
+
+Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.
+
+Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the selection.
+
+
+[Illustration: COMMODORE JOHN BARRY]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_83_
+
+
+sau' cy
+ig nored'
+rev' eled
+plain' tive
+dis traught'
+wea' ri some
+rol' lick ing
+mis' chie vous
+frec'kle-faced
+
+
+
+THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.
+
+
+       He was the boy of the house, you know,
+         A jolly and rollicking lad;
+       He was never tired, and never sick,
+         And nothing could make him sad.
+
+       Did some one urge that he make less noise,
+         He would say, with a saucy grin,
+       "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir--
+         I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       "There are two of twins--oh, it must be fun
+         To go double at everything:
+       To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,
+         To whistle by twos, and to sing!"
+
+       His laugh was something to make you glad,
+         So brimful was it of joy;
+       A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,
+         But it never troubled the boy.
+
+       You met him out in the garden path,
+         With the terrier at his heels;
+       You knew by the shout he hailed you with
+         How happy a youngster feels.
+
+       The maiden auntie was half distraught
+         At his tricks as the days went by;
+       "The most mischievous child in the world!"
+         She said, with a shrug and a sigh.
+
+       His father owned that her words were true,
+         And his mother declared each day
+       Was putting wrinkles into her face,
+         And was turning her brown hair gray.
+
+       But it never troubled the boy of the house;
+         He reveled in clatter and din,
+       And had only one regret in the world--
+         That he hadn't been born a twin.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There's nobody making a noise to-day,
+         There's nobody stamping the floor,
+       There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,
+         There's crape on the wide hall door.
+
+       The terrier's whining out in the sun--
+         "Where's my comrade?" he seems to say;
+       Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.
+         There's no frolic for you to-day.
+
+       The freckle-faced girl from the house next door
+         Is sobbing her young heart out;
+       Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget
+         To miss the laugh and the shout.
+
+       How strangely quiet the little form,
+         With the hands on the bosom crossed!
+       Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,
+         Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!
+
+       So solemn and still the big house seems--
+         No laughter, no racket, no din,
+       No starting shriek, no voice piping out,
+         "I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       There a man and a woman, pale with grief,
+         As the wearisome moments creep;
+       Oh! the loneliness touches everything--
+         The boy of the house is asleep.
+
+
+_Jean Blewett._
+
+From the Toronto _Globe_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_84_
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+COOK, ELIZA, was born in London, England, in the year 1817, and was
+  the most popular poetess of her day. When a young girl, she gave herself
+  so completely up to reading that her father threatened to burn her
+  books. She began to write at an early age, and contributed poems and
+  essays to various periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will
+  live. She died in 1889.
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM, is one of the most eminent and popular of all
+  English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother dying when he
+  was only six years old, the child was sent away from home to boarding
+  school, where he suffered so much from the cruelty of a bigger boy that
+  he was obliged to leave that school for another. At the completion of
+  his college course he expressed regrets that his education was not
+  received in a school where he could be taught his duty to God. "I have
+  been graduated," he writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the
+  gospel." His longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a
+  poet chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES, one of the greatest and most popular of the
+  novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard, persistent work he
+  raised himself from obscurity and poverty to fame and fortune. After
+  only two years of schooling he was obliged to go to work. His first job
+  was pasting labels on blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five
+  cents a day! He next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then
+  reporter for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from
+  a book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in 1867, he
+  lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is buried in
+  Westminster Abbey.
+
+DONNELLY, ELEANOR CECILIA, began to write verses when she was but
+  eight years old. Her early education was directed by her mother, a
+  gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been devoted to the cause
+  of Catholic truth and the elevation of Catholic literature. Besides
+  hundreds of charming stories and essays, she has published several
+  volumes of poems. Her writings on sacred subjects display a strong,
+  intelligent faith, and a tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos,
+  originality, grace of diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment,
+  and sublimity of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our
+  American poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city
+  of Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+  admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of every
+  Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor and glory of
+  Almighty God.
+
+GOULD, HANNAH F., an American poetess, has written many pleasant
+  poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King" have long been
+  favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year 1789, and died in 1865.
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL, was born in Salem, Mass., on July 4, 1804.
+  When still quite young he showed a great fondness for reading. At the
+  early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." At
+  college he was a classmate of Longfellow. Among his writings are a
+  number of stories for children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The
+  Snow-Image," "The Wonder Books," and some stories of American history.
+  His volumes of short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The
+  Scarlet Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+  Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of the
+  Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The Marble
+  Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in 1864, and is
+  buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a delicate and exquisite
+  humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use of language. His style may be
+  said to combine almost every excellence--elegance, simplicity, grace,
+  clearness and force.
+
+HAYNE, PAUL HAMILTON, an American poet, was born in South Carolina
+  in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of poems. His death
+  occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the American patriot, Isaac
+  Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in 1780, fell into the hands of
+  the British, and was hanged by them because he refused to join their
+  ranks and fight against his country.
+
+HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT, a popular American author who wrote under
+  the assumed name of _Timothy Titcomb,_ was born in Massachusetts in the
+  year 1819. He began life as a physician, but after a few years of
+  practice gave up his profession and went to Vicksburg, Miss., as
+  Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a number of novels and several
+  volumes of essays. In 1870 he became editor of _Scribner's Magazine._ He
+  died in 1881.
+
+HUNT, LEIGH, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an intimate
+  friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born near London,
+  England, in 1784, and died in 1859.
+
+JACKSON, HELEN HUNT, a noted American writer of prose and poetry,
+  and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the initials of her
+  name), was born in Massachusetts in the year 1831. She is the author of
+  many charming poems, short stories, and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk"
+  and "Bits of Travel." She lived some years in Colorado, where her life
+  brought to her notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she
+  wrote "A Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+  Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what "Uncle
+  Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in California in
+  1885.
+
+"MERCEDES" is the pen name of an able, zealous, and devoted Sister
+  of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has written several
+  excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools which have met the test of
+  successful production. Her "Wild Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a
+  volume of Poems and Dramas that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of
+  true poetry." A competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their
+  hues most delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+  enriched the columns of _The Missionary_ and other publications with
+  several true stories, in attractive prose, of edifying conversions
+  resulting from the missionary zeal of priest and teacher. Her graceful
+  pen is ever at the service of every cause tending to the glory of God
+  and the good of souls.
+
+MOORE, THOMAS, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland, in the year
+  1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His matchless "Melodies" are
+  the delight of all lovers of music, and are sung all over the world.
+  Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated them into the grand old Celtic
+  tongue. Moore is the greatest of Ireland's song-writers, and one of the
+  world's greatest. As a poet few have equaled him in the power to write
+  poetry which charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display
+  an exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts which
+  they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he spent the
+  later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In 1896, the Moore
+  Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his grave a monument
+  consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic cross.
+
+MOORE, CLEMENT C., poet and teacher, was born in New York in 1779.
+  In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary founded by his father,
+  who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of New
+  York. He died in 1863.
+
+MORRIS, GEORGE P., poet and journalist, wrote several popular
+  poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and ballads. He was born
+  in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died in New York in 1864.
+
+MCCARTHY, DENIS ALOYSIUS, poet, lecturer and journalist, was born
+  in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland, in the year 1871, and
+  made his elementary and intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers'
+  School of his native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+  published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round of
+  Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a distinguished critic
+  who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is soulful and sweet, and sings
+  itself into the heart of anyone who has a bit of sentiment in his
+  make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at present Associate Editor of the _Sacred
+  Heart Review_ of Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and
+  contributes poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various
+  papers and magazines.
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL JOHN HENRY, was born in London in 1801, and
+  studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a minister of the
+  Church of England, and rose rapidly in his profession. In 1845 he
+  abandoned the English ministry, renounced the errors of Protestantism,
+  and entered the Catholic Church, of which he remained till death a most
+  faithful, devoted, and zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was
+  made Rector of the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879
+  was raised to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+  writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will profit by
+  and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss and Gain" and
+  "Callista." The former is the story of a convert; the latter a tale of
+  the third century, in which the beautiful heroine and martyr, Callista,
+  is presented with a master's art. Newman is the greatest master of
+  English prose. In this field he holds the same rank that Shakespeare
+  does in English poetry. To his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English
+  essayist, pays the following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm
+  of Dr. Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+  analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the jumping of
+  one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters the room." This
+  great Prince of the Church died the death of the saints in the year
+  1890.
+
+O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE, patriot, author, poet and journalist, was
+  born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in County Meath, Ireland,
+  in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to England as agent of the Fenian
+  Brotherhood, an organization whose purpose was the freedom of Ireland
+  from English rule. In 1863 he joined the English army in order to sow
+  the seeds of revolution among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested,
+  tried for treason, and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted
+  to twenty years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to
+  Australia to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+  his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston _Pilot_ in 1874.
+  He is the author of "Songs from the Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and
+  Ballads," and of other works. He died in 1890. All through life the
+  voice and pen of Boyle O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his
+  native land, and his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his
+  character. In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+  monument.
+
+RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB, called the "Hoosier Poet," was born in
+  Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a strong sense
+  of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and goes to the heart. He
+  has written much in dialect. His home is in Indianapolis.
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN, one of the most famous of English authors, was born
+  in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He spent several years in
+  Italy in the study of art. He wrote many volumes of essays and lectures,
+  chiefly on matters connected with art and art criticism. In his writings
+  we find many beautiful pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and
+  such things. His "Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature,
+  established his reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He
+  died in 1900.
+
+SANGSTER, MRS. MARGARET E., editor and poet, was born in New
+  Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated in Vienna.
+  She has successfully edited such periodicals as _Hearth and Home,
+  Harpers' Young People, and Harpers' Bazaar,_ in which much of her prose
+  and poetry has appeared. She is at present (1909) the editor of _The
+  Woman's Home Companion._
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT, an eminent English poet and author, was born in
+  the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of ten. In 1792 he was
+  expelled from the Westminster School for writing an essay against
+  corporal punishment. He then entered one of the colleges of Oxford
+  University, where he became an intimate friend of Coleridge. While
+  residing at Lisbon he began a special study of Spanish and Portuguese
+  literature. In 1813 he was appointed poet-laureate of England, and in
+  1835 received a pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey,
+  Coleridge and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+  lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in their
+  writings described the scenery of that beautiful region.
+
+TENNYSON, ALFRED, is considered the greatest poet of his age, and
+  one of the great English poets of modern times. He was born in the year
+  1809, and educated at Cambridge University. In 1850 he gave to the world
+  "In Memoriam," his lament for the loss by death of his friend, Arthur H.
+  Hallam. In 1851 he succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His
+  poems, long and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King,"
+  "The Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+  These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of thought,
+  of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented by the entire
+  English-speaking world, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson
+  always loved the sea, the music of whose restless waves awakened an
+  answering echo in his heart.
+
+WALLACE, WILLIAM R., was born at Lexington, Ky., in the year 1819.
+  As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+WESTWOOD, THOMAS, an English poet, was born in the year 1814, and
+  died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one of which was
+  "Beads from a Rosary."
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN G., called the "Quaker Poet," was born in
+  Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and were poor.
+  When young he learned to make shoes, and with the money thus earned he
+  paid his way at school. He was a boy of nineteen when his first verses
+  were published. His poems were inspired by current events, and their
+  patriotic spirit gives them a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound"
+  is considered his greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he
+  never visited a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He
+  gave thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery struggle.
+  While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied in their
+  libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the slave. Of this he
+  wrote--
+         "Forego the dreams of lettered ease,
+         Put thou the scholar's promise by;
+         The rights of man are more than these."
+
+  Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.
+
+WISEMAN, CARDINAL NICHOLAS PATRICK, was born in the year 1802 in
+  Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there. His family returned to
+  Ireland, where he was educated. When he was sixteen he entered the
+  English College, Rome, and was ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was
+  appointed Coadjutor Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of
+  Westminster, and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a
+  profound scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is
+  the author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the _Dublin
+  Review._ He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church of the Catacombs,"
+  from which some selections have been taken for this Reader, is one of
+  the classics of our language. It was written in 1854.
+
+WOODWORTH, SAMUEL, editor and poet, was born in Massachusetts in
+  1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris, he founded the _New York
+  Mirror._ "The Old Oaken Bucket" is the best known of his poems.
+
+  For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken for this
+  book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the series.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of DE LA SALLE SERIES FIFTH
+READER, by THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS.</title>
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: De La Salle Fifth Reader
+
+Author: Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10811]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<table width="80%" summary="Bookspace" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td><br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2><i>DE LA SALLE SERIES</i></h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>FIFTH READER</h2>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/001.gif" alt=
+"WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901" border="0"></div>
+<h5>WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>(REVISED EDITION, 1922)</h2>
+<h5>BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS,<br>
+ ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE, POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y.<br>
+ LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="CONTENTS_1"></a>
+<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h4><a href="#_2_">_2_ PREFACE</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_3_">_3_ INTRODUCTION</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_4_">_4_ SUGGESTIONS</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_5_">_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_6_">_6_ DEFINITIONS</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_7_">_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+<i>Mercedes</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_8_">_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. <i>J.T.
+Trowbridge</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_9_">_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. <i>Mara L.
+Pratt</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_10_">_10_ HELPING MOTHER.</a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_2"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_11_">_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_12_">_12_ TWO LABORERS. <i>Thomas
+Carlyle</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_13_">_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_14_">_14_ THE BROOK SONG. <i>James Whitcomb
+Riley</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_15_">_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+<i>Rydingsvard</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_16_">_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. <i>Mary
+Howitt</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_17_">_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_18_">_18_ SEPTEMBER. <i>Helen Hunt
+Jackson</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_19_">_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." <i>Mrs. T.A.
+Sherrard</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_20_">_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.</a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_3"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_21_">_21_ MY BEADS. <i>Father Ryan</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_22_">_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+<i>Thomas Moore</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_23_">_23_ A LITTLE LADY. <i>Louisa M.
+Alcott</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_24_">_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+<i>Anon.</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_25_">_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. <i>Denis A.
+McCarthy</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_26_">_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_27_">_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. <i>Cardinal
+Newman</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_28_">_28_ LITTLE BELL. <i>Thomas
+Westwood</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_29_">_28_ A MODEST WIT. <i>Selleck
+Osborne</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_30_">_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. <i>George P.
+Morris</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_4"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_31_">_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_32_">_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. <i>Samuel
+Woodworth</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_33_">_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. <i>Pierre J.
+Hetzel</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_34_">_34_ OUR HEROES. <i>Phoebe Cary</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_35_">_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. <i>Jean
+Ingelow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_36_">_36_ THE BROOK. <i>Tennyson</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_37_">_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_38_">_38_ ONE BY ONE. <i>Adelaide A.
+Procter</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_39_">_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE.
+<i>Longfellow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_40_">_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.</a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_5"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_41_">_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. <i>J.G.
+Holland</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_42_">_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_43_">_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+<i>Longfellow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_44_">_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. <i>Father
+Ryan</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_45_">_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. <i>Eugene
+Field</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_46_">_46_ THE HOLY CITY.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_47_">_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+<i>Aesop</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_48_">_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+<i>William Cowper</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_49_">_49_ JACK FROST. <i>Hannah F.
+Gould</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_50_">_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" <i>Helen Hunt
+Jackson</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_6"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_51_">_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. <i>Jean
+Ingelow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_52_">_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_53_">_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. <i>Eliza
+Cook</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_54_">_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+<i>Tennyson</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_55_">_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_56_">_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. <i>Robert
+Southey</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_57_">_57_ KIND WORDS. <i>Father Faber</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_58_">_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. <i>John Boyle
+O'Reilly</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_59_">_59_ DAFFODILS. <i>William
+Wordsworth</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_60_">_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. <i>Cardinal
+Wiseman</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_7"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_61_">_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. <i>Eleanor
+C. Donnelly</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_62_">_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. <i>Nathaniel
+Hawthorne</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_63_">_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS <i>Whittier</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_64_">_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_65_">_65_ WILL AND I <i>Paul H. Hayne</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_66_">_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+<i>Charles Dickens</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_67_">_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? <i>Anon</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_68_">_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_69_">_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. <i>William
+Wordsworth</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_70_">_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. <i>Hans
+Christian Andersen</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_8"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_71_">_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. <i>George
+MacDonald</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_72_">_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_73_">_73_ THE WATER LILY. <i>Jean
+Ingelow</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_74_">_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. <i>John Boyle
+O'Reilly</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_75_">_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_76_">_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. <i>Margaret E.
+Sangster</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_77_">_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. <i>William R.
+Wallace</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_78_">_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. <i>Cardinal
+Wiseman</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_79_">_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. <i>Adelaide A.
+Procter</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_80_">_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. <i>John
+Ruskin</i></a></h4>
+<a name="CONTENTS_9"></a>
+<h4><a href="#_81_">_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. <i>Clement C.
+Moore</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_82_">_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.</a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_83_">_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. <i>Jean
+Blewett</i></a></h4>
+<h4><a href="#_84_">_84_ BIOGRAPHIES</a></h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. <i>Leigh
+Hunt</i>" and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. <i>James Whitcomb Riley</i>" were
+originally shown in the list above, neither work appears in the
+text.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_2_"></a>
+<h1>_2_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">PREFACE</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series
+of Readers is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of
+our Catholic schools a set of books embodying the matter and
+methods best suited to their needs. The matter has been written
+or chosen with a view to interest and instruct, to cultivate a
+taste for the best literature, to build up a strong moral
+character and to imbue our children with an intelligent love of
+Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by the most
+experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.</p>
+<p>These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit
+thought and facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of
+this idea, class talks, word study, the structure of sentences,
+drills on certain correct forms of expression, the proper
+arrangement of ideas, explanation of phrases and literary
+expressions, oral and written reproductions of narrations and
+descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all receive
+the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years,
+acquire that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and
+that fluency in expressing their own, which are so essential to a
+good English education.</p>
+<p>In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition,
+the principle of order should in a great measure determine the
+value of the methods to be employed. In the acquisition of
+knowledge, the child instinctively follows the order of nature.
+This order is first, <i>observation</i>; second, <i>thought</i>;
+third, <i>expression</i>. It becomes the duty of the teacher,
+consequently, to lead the child to observe <i>accurately</i>, to
+think <i>clearly</i>, and to express his thoughts
+<i>correctly</i>. And text-books are useful only in so far as
+they supply the teacher with the material and the system best
+calculated to accomplish such results.</p>
+<p>It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers,
+having been planned in accordance with the principle just
+enunciated, will prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic
+schools.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_3_"></a>
+<h1>_3_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">INTRODUCTION</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the
+preceding numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered
+the mechanical difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired
+a fairly good working vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read
+intelligently and with some degree of fluency and pleasure. Now
+is the time to lead him to acquire a taste for good reading. The
+selections have been drawn mainly from authors whose writings are
+distinguished for their moral and literary value, and whose style
+is sure to excite a lasting interest.</p>
+<p>In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and
+forming a basis for oral and written composition work, these
+selections will raise his ideas of right living, will quicken his
+imagination, will give him his first knowledge of many things,
+stimulate his powers of observation, enlarge his vocabulary, and
+correct and refine his mode of expression. A wholesome reading
+habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily, pleasantly and
+unconsciously formed.</p>
+<p>The following are some of the features of the book:</p>
+<p>GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.-This Guide is to be referred to again
+and again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught.
+Instruction in the vowel sounds is an excellent drill in
+articulation, while a knowledge of the diacritical marks enables
+the pupil to master these sounds for himself when consulting the
+dictionary.</p>
+<p>VARIETY OF MATTER.-In the volume will be found the best
+sentiments of the best writers. The pupil will find fables,
+nature studies, tales of travel and adventure, brave deeds from
+history and fiction, stories of loyalty and heroism, examples of
+sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and selections that teach
+industry, contentment, respect for authority, reverence for all
+things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to faith and
+Country.</p>
+<p>LANGUAGE STUDY.-If reading is to hold its proper place in the
+class room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere
+reading of the text. In its truest sense, reading is far more
+comprehensive. The teacher will question the pupil on what he has
+read, point out to him the beauties of thought and language, find
+out what hold the reading has taken upon his memory, how it has
+aroused his imagination, assisted his judgment, directed his
+will, and contributed to his fund of general information. To
+assist in this most important work is the object aimed at in the
+matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give fuller
+powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.</p>
+<p>RECITATIONS.-There are some selections marked for recitation.
+The public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness
+of manner, beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for
+subsequent elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a
+single poem or address based upon some heroic or historic event,
+recited before a class or a school, will often do more to build
+up a noble character and foster a love of history, than a full
+term of instruction by question and answer.</p>
+<p>POETRY.-The numerous poetic selections, some of which are
+partly analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the
+highest and purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of
+knowledge, and emphasize the teachings of some of the prose
+selections. Many of them have been written by American authors.
+Every American boy and girl should be acquainted with the works
+of poets who have done so much for the development of American
+literature and nationality.</p>
+<p>MEMORY GEMS.-"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and
+poetry enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their
+memory, suggests delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in
+possession of sentences of the best construction. The recitation
+of these expressive texts accustoms the children to speak with
+ease, grace and elegance." ("Elements of Practical
+Pedagogy.")</p>
+<p>BIOGRAPHIES.-Young children enjoy literature for its own sake,
+and take little interest in the personality of the writer; but as
+they grow older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an
+interest in the writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are
+given at the close of the volume as helps in the study of the
+authors from whom selections are drawn, and to induce the pupils
+to read further.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_4_"></a>
+<h1>_4_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">SUGGESTIONS</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>WORD STUDY.-The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce
+correctly all the words of the selection he is preparing to read.
+He should know their ordinary meanings and the special meanings
+they may have in the text. He should be able to write them
+correctly from dictation and to use them in sentences of his own.
+He should examine if they are primitive, derivative, or compound;
+he should be able to name the prefixes and suffixes and show how
+the meanings of the original words are modified by their use. He
+should cultivate the habit of word mastery. What is read will not
+otherwise be understood. Without it there can be no good reading,
+speaking or writing.</p>
+<p>EXPRESSIVE READING.-There should be constant drill to secure
+correct pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis,
+and an agreeable tone of voice, without which there can be no
+expressive reading. This is a difficult task, and will take much
+time, trouble and practice; but it has far-reaching results. It
+enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays the foundation for a
+genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the reading lesson
+drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion
+comes largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be
+taught not only to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning
+clear to others. It is important that children be taught to
+acquire thought through the ear.</p>
+<p>CONCERT READING.-Reading in concert is generally of little
+value, and the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the
+children in getting thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an
+exercise in teaching reading it is ineffective and often
+positively harmful. A concert recitation to which special
+training has been given partakes of the nature of a hymn or a
+song, and then becomes an element of value. If occasionally there
+must be concert reading in the class room, it should always be
+preceded by individual mastery of the selection.</p>
+<p>POEMS.-In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be
+presented as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should
+first read it through, not stopping for note or comment. He
+should then read it again, part by part, stopping, for question,
+explanation and discussion. Lastly, the whole poem, should be
+read with suitable emotion, so that the final impression may be
+made by the author's own words. It is important that the pupil
+get the message which the author intended to give. In teaching a
+descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as possible, and
+thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative poem,
+the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by
+bringing out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All
+this will take time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied,
+is worth more than a volume carelessly read over. In reading
+poetry, be careful that the pupils, while giving the rhythm of
+the lines, do not fall into the singsong tone so common and so
+disagreeable.</p>
+<p>EXPLANATIONS.-Explanations should accompany every reading
+lesson, without which there can be no serious teaching of the
+vernacular. By their means the teacher enters into communication
+with his pupils; he gets them to speak, he corrects their errors,
+trains their reason, and forms their taste. It has been said that
+a teacher able to explain selections in prose and poetry "holds
+his class in the hollow of his hand." The teacher should insist
+that the pupil express himself clearly and correctly, not only
+during the reading lesson, but on every subject he has occasion
+to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout the day's
+recitations.</p>
+<p>REVIEWS.-As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak,
+frequent reviews should be held. They are necessary for the
+backward pupils and advantageous for the others. Have an informal
+talk with the children on what they have read, what they have
+learned, what they have liked, and what has interested them. Some
+important parts of the prose and poetry previously studied might,
+during this exercise, be re-read with profit.</p>
+<p>COMPOSITION.-Continue oral and written composition. The
+correct use of written language is best taught by selecting for
+compositions subject-matter that deeply interests the children.
+If persevered in, this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use
+of English. If the words of a selection that has been studied
+appear now and then in the children's conversation or writing, it
+should be a matter for praise; for this means that new words have
+been added to their vocabulary, and that the children have a new
+conception of beauty of thought and speech.</p>
+<p>See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly
+or careless habits should never be allowed in any written
+work.</p>
+<p>MEMORY GEMS.-Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize
+the pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future
+good resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of
+thought will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of
+the children who learn them by heart.</p>
+<p>THE DICTIONARY.-The use of the dictionary is a necessary part
+of education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use
+will double the value of study in connection with reading and
+language. Every Grammar School, High School and College should be
+supplied with several copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and
+every pupil taught how to consult it, and encouraged to do so.
+The dictionary should be the book of first and last and constant
+resort.</p>
+<p>USE OF THE LIBRARY.-The teacher should endeavor to create an
+interest in those books from which the selections in the Reader
+are taken, and in others of equal grade and quality. Encourage
+the children to take books from the library. Direct them in their
+choice. Encourage home reading. The reading of good books should
+be a part of regular school work; otherwise little or no true
+progress can be made in speaking and writing. The best way to
+learn to speak and write good English is to read good
+English.</p>
+<p>For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching
+Reading and Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and
+IV, Part IV, of "Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the
+Christian Brothers, and published by the La Salle Bureau of
+Supplies, 50 Second Street, New York.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:</p>
+<p>"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle
+O'Reilly, Miss Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs.
+Margaret E. Sangster, Mr. Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb
+Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T. Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W.
+Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The Ladies' Home Journal;
+Lothrop, Lee &amp; Shepard Co.; The Educational Publishing Co.;
+Little, Brown &amp; Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy &amp;
+Sons; The Hinds &amp; Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.</p>
+<p>The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne,
+Fields, Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used
+by permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton,
+Mifflin &amp; Co., publishers of the works of these authors, and
+to these gentlemen are tendered expressions of sincere
+thanks.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_5_"></a>
+<h1>_5_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication,
+Webster's International Dictionary has been taken as
+authority.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>VOWELS</h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)</p>
+[=a] as in gate--g[=a]te<br>
+<br>
+ [^a] as in care--c[^a]re<br>
+<br>
+ [)a] as in cat--c[)a]t<br>
+<br>
+ [.a] as in ask--[.a]sk<br>
+<br>
+ [a.] ([)o]) as in what--wh[a.]t<br>
+<br>
+ [:a] as in car--c[:a]r<br>
+<br>
+ [a:] as in all--[a:]ll<br>
+<br>
+ ai ([^a]) as in air--[^a]ir<br>
+<br>
+ ai ([=a]) as in aim--[=a]im<br>
+<br>
+ au ([:a]) as in aunt--[:a]unt<br>
+<br>
+ [=e] as in eve--[=e]ve<br>
+<br>
+ [)e] as in end--[)e]nd<br>
+<br>
+ [~e] as in her--h[~e]r<br>
+<br>
+ [^e] as in there--th[^e]re<br>
+<br>
+ [e=] ([=a]) as in they--th[e=]y<br>
+<br>
+ ea ([=e]) as in ear--[=e]ar<br>
+<br>
+ ei ([=e]) as in receive--rec[=e]ive<br>
+<br>
+ [=i] as in ice--[=i]ce<br>
+<br>
+ [)i] as in pin--p[)i]n<br>
+<br>
+ [~i] ([~e]) as in bird--b[~i]rd<br>
+<br>
+ [:i] ([=e]) as in police--pol[:i]ce<br>
+<br>
+ i[e=] ([=e]) as in chief--chi[=e]f<br>
+<br>
+ [=o] as in old--[=o]ld<br>
+<br>
+ [^o] as in lord--l[^o]rd<br>
+<br>
+ [)o] as in not--n[)o]t<br>
+<br>
+ [.o] ([)u]) as in son--s[.o]n<br>
+<br>
+ [o.] ([u.]) as in wolf--w[o.]lf<br>
+<br>
+ [o:] ([=oo]) as in do--d[o:]<br>
+<br>
+ oa ([=o]) as in boat--b[=o]at<br>
+<br>
+ [=oo] ([o:]) as in moon--m[=oo]n<br>
+<br>
+ [)oo] ([o.]) as in foot--f[)oo]t<br>
+<br>
+ [=u] as in pure--p[=u]re<br>
+<br>
+ [)u] as in cup--c[)u]p<br>
+<br>
+ [^u] as in burn--b[^u]rn<br>
+<br>
+ [u.] ([o.]) as in full--f[u.]ll<br>
+<br>
+ [u:] as in rude--r[u:]de<br>
+<br>
+ ew ([=u]) as in new<br>
+<br>
+ [=y] ([=i] as in fly--fl[=y]<br>
+<br>
+ [)y] ([)i]) as in hymn--h[)y]mn<br>
+<br>
+ [~y] ([~e]) as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>CONSONANTS</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+ c (s) as in cent<br>
+<br>
+ c (k) as in cat<br>
+<br>
+ ce (sh) as in ocean<br>
+<br>
+ ch (k) as in school<br>
+<br>
+ ch (sh) as in machine<br>
+<br>
+ ci (sh) as in gracious<br>
+<br>
+ dg (j) as in edge<br>
+<br>
+ ed (d) as in burned<br>
+<br>
+ ed (t) as in baked<br>
+<br>
+ f (v) as in of<br>
+<br>
+ g (hard) as in get<br>
+<br>
+ g (j) as in gem<br>
+<br>
+ gh (f) as in laugh<br>
+<br>
+ n (ng) as in ink<br>
+<br>
+ ph (f) as in sulphur<br>
+<br>
+ qu (kw) as in queen<br>
+<br>
+ s (z) as in has<br>
+<br>
+ s (sh) as in sure<br>
+<br>
+ s (zh) as in pleasure<br>
+<br>
+ ssi (sh) as in passion<br>
+<br>
+ si (zh) as in occasion<br>
+<br>
+ ti (sh) as in nation<br>
+<br>
+ wh (hw) as in when<br>
+<br>
+ x (z) as in Xavier<br>
+<br>
+ x (ks) as in tax<br>
+<br>
+ x (gz) as in exist<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_6_"></a>
+<h1>_6_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">DEFINITIONS</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Language</b> is the expression of thought by means of
+words.</p>
+<p><b>Words</b>, with respect to their <i>origin</i>, are divided
+into <i>primitive</i> and <i>derivative</i>; and with respect to
+their <i>composition</i>, into <i>simple</i> and
+<i>compound</i>.</p>
+<p>A <b>primitive</b> word is one that is not derived from
+another word.</p>
+<p>A <b>derivative</b> word is one that is formed from another
+word by means of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other
+change.</p>
+<p>A <b>simple</b> word is one that consists of a single
+significant term.</p>
+<p>A <b>compound</b> word is one made up of two or more simple
+words.</p>
+<p>A <b>sentence</b> is a combination of words which make
+complete sense.</p>
+<p>A <b>syllable</b> is a word or a part of a word pronounced by
+one effort of the voice.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>The <b>diaeresis</b> is the mark (<sup><b>..</b></sup>) placed
+over the second of two adjacent vowels, to denote that they are
+to be pronounced as distinct letters; as
+<i>re<b>&euml;</b>cho</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3>RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS</h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The first word of every <b>sentence</b> should begin with a
+capital.</p>
+<p><b>Proper names,</b> and words derived from them, should begin
+with capitals.</p>
+<p>The first word of every <b>line of poetry</b> should begin
+with a capital.</p>
+<p>All names of God and all titles of the <b>Deity</b>, as well
+as all pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with
+capitals.</p>
+<p>The words <b>I</b> and <b>O</b> should always be capitals.</p>
+<p>The first word of a <b>direct quotation</b> should begin with
+a capital.</p>
+<p>The names of the <b>days</b> and of the <b>months</b> should
+begin with capitals; but not the names of the seasons.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_7_"></a>
+<h1>_7_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Glorious Patron! low before thee<br>
+ <span class="c4">Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!</span><br>
+ And our voices blend in music,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Singing praises to thy name.</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Lover of our Queen and Mother,<br>
+ <span class="c4">At her feet didst vow thy heart,</span><br>
+ Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thou didst choose the better part.</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Pierce our souls with love's own
+dart.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Model of the Christian Teacher!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Patron of the Christian youth!</span><br>
+ Lead us all to heights of glory,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As we strive in earnest ruth.</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide
+us,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">As we spread afar the Truth!</span><br>
+<br>
+ In this life of sin and sorrow,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,</span><br>
+ In the hour of dark temptation,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Father! be our spirit's stay!</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Take our hand and lead us homeward,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright
+Day!</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p><i>Mercedes.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/018.gif" width="321" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE. Founder of the Brothers of the
+Christian Schools, pointing out the way of salvation to the
+children of all nations.</p>
+<p>"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels,
+moulding and shaping the souls of youth for heaven." <i>Most
+Reverend Archbishop Keane, of Dubuque.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_8_"></a>
+<h1>_8_</h1>
+</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>due</td>
+<td>mien</td>
+<td>fri'ar</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pri'or</td>
+<td>Pa'los</td>
+<td>por'ter</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>con'vent</td>
+<td>pre'cious</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Dreary and brown the night comes down,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gloomy, without a star.</span><br>
+ On Palos town the night comes down;<br>
+ The day departs with stormy frown;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sad sea moans afar.</span><br>
+<br>
+ A convent gate is near; 'tis late;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Tin-gling! the bell they ring.</span><br>
+ They ring the bell, they ask for bread-<br>
+ "Just for my child," the father said.<br>
+ <span class="c4">Kind hands the bread will bring.</span><br>
+<br>
+ White was his hair, his mien was fair,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His look was calm and great.</span><br>
+ The porter ran and called a friar;<br>
+ The friar made haste and told the prior;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The prior came to the gate.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He took them in, he gave them food;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The traveler's dreams he heard;</span><br>
+ And fast the midnight moments flew.<br>
+ And fast the good man's wonder grew,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And all his heart was stirred.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Forgetful of all sorrow,</span><br>
+ Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.<br>
+ The good man kissed him there, and said:<br>
+ <span class="c4">"You leave us not to-morrow!</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;<br>
+ <span class="c4">This child shall be our own-</span><br>
+ A precious care, while you prepare<br>
+ Your business with the court, and bear<br>
+ <span class="c4">Your message to the throne."</span><br>
+<br>
+ And so his guest he comforted.<br>
+ <span class="c4">O wise, good prior! to you,</span><br>
+ Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,<br>
+ And helped him on his way, what praise<br>
+ <span class="c4">And gratitude are due!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>J.T. Trowbridge.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>By permission of the author.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Where is Palos? What is it noted for?</p>
+<p>Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?</p>
+<p>In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the
+traveler? Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called
+dreams? Did the dreams become facts? In what way?</p>
+<p>How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?</p>
+<p>How did the Queen of Spain assist him?</p>
+<p>Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so
+many Catholic names?</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Press on! There's no such word as fail!<br>
+ Push nobly on! The goal is near!<br>
+ Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!<br>
+ Look upward, onward,-never fear!<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/020.gif" width="297" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_9_"></a>
+<h1>_9_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">THE LITTLE FERN.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more
+beautiful than it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a
+dainty little fern leaf. All around the tiny plant were many
+others, but none of them so graceful and delicate as this one I
+tell you of. Every day the cheery breezes sought out their
+playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and out, playing
+hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little
+fern curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for
+company.</p>
+<p>So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the
+sweet wild fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But-for this
+was a very long time ago-a great change took place in the earth;
+and rocks and soil were upturned, and the rivers found new
+channels to flow in.</p>
+<p>Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered
+up with the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as
+well never have lived as to have been hidden away where none
+could see it.</p>
+<p>But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years
+afterwards, when all that clay had become stone, and had broken
+into many fragments, a very wise and learned man found the bit of
+rock upon which was all the delicate tracery of the little fern
+leaf, with outline just as perfect and lovely as when, long, long
+ago it had swayed to the breezes in its own beautiful valley.</p>
+<p>And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the
+fern leaf home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all
+could admire it; and where, if they were thoughtful and clever
+enough, they could think out the story for themselves and find
+the lesson which was hidden away with the fern in the bit of
+rock.</p>
+<p>Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only
+a truth which it will do every one of us good to remember; and
+that is, that none of the beauty in this fair world around us,
+nor anything that is sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and
+lives, will ever be useless and lost. For, as the little fern
+leaf lay hidden away for years and years, and yet finally was
+found by the wise man and given a place with his other rare and
+precious possessions where it could still, though silently, aid
+those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men and women
+who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely traits
+of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able
+to aid others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by
+word and deed, lend a hand to each and every one around us.</p>
+<p><i>Mara L. Pratt.</i></p>
+<p>From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing
+Co.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Break up the following words into their syllables, and place
+the accent mark where it belongs in each:</p>
+<p>outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character,
+hundreds, centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the
+correct use of the words in original sentences. The dictionary
+will help you in the work.</p>
+<p>Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a
+girl to be truly successful in life.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The child is father of the man;<br>
+ And I could wish my days to be<br>
+ Bound each to each by natural piety.<br>
+
+<p><i>Wordsworth</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>Truth alone makes life rich and great.</p>
+<p><i>Emerson</i>.</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>There is a tongue in every leaf-<br>
+ <span class="c4">A voice in every rill-</span><br>
+ A voice that speaketh everywhere-<br>
+ In flood and fire, through earth and air,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A tongue that's never still.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Anon</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_10_"></a>
+<h1>_10_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>blithe</td>
+<td>whistler</td>
+<td>mellow</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>replied</td>
+<td>cheery</td>
+<td>skylark</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_1">HELPING MOTHER.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>As I went down the street to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I saw a little lad</span><br>
+ Whose face was just the kind of face<br>
+ <span class="c4">To make a person glad.</span><br>
+ It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So cheerful and so bright,</span><br>
+ It made me think of apple-time.<br>
+ <span class="c4">And filled me with delight.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I saw him busy at his work,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While blithe as skylark's song</span><br>
+ His merry, mellow whistle rang<br>
+ <span class="c4">The pleasant street along.</span><br>
+ "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"<br>
+ <span class="c4">I thought as I passed by;</span><br>
+ "These busy, cheery, whistling boys<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make grand men by and by."</span><br>
+<br>
+ Just then a playmate came along,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And leaned across the gate-</span><br>
+ A plan that promised lots of fun<br>
+ <span class="c4">And frolic to relate.</span><br>
+ "The boys are waiting for us now,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So hurry up!" he cried;</span><br>
+ My little whistler shook his head,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And "Can't come," he replied.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?<br>
+ <span class="c4">What hinders?" asked the other.</span><br>
+ "Why, don't you see," came the reply,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I'm busy helping mother?</span><br>
+ She's lots to do, and so I like<br>
+ <span class="c4">To help her all I can;</span><br>
+ So I've no time for fun just now,"<br>
+ <span class="c4">Said this dear little man.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I like to hear you talk like that,"<br>
+ <span class="c4">I told the little lad;</span><br>
+ "Help mother all you can, and make<br>
+ <span class="c4">Her kind heart light and glad."</span><br>
+ It does me good to think of him,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And know that there are others</span><br>
+ Who, like this manly little boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Take hold and help their mothers.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>LANGUAGE WORK:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any
+boy like him?</p>
+<p>Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.</p>
+<p>When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much
+fun? What kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_11_"></a>
+<h1>_11_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>rid' dle</td>
+<td>brand'-new</td>
+<td>mys' ter y</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>un rav' el</td>
+<td>like' ness es</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">A CONTENTED WORKMAN.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old
+Fritz," took a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by
+the wayside cheerily singing his song.</p>
+<p>"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this
+land on which you are working so hard belong to you?"</p>
+<p>"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the
+king; "I am not so rich as that; I plow for wages."</p>
+<p>"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.</p>
+<p>"Two dollars," said the laborer.</p>
+<p>"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with
+that?"</p>
+<p>"Yes; and have something left."</p>
+<p>"How is that?"</p>
+<p>The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty
+cents are for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts,
+fifty I lend, and fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."</p>
+<p>"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the
+king.</p>
+<p>"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two
+old parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help;
+and now, that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is
+my debt, towards which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty
+cents, which I lend, I spend for my children, that they may
+receive Christian instruction. This will come handy to me and my
+wife when we get old. With the last fifty I maintain two sick
+sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."</p>
+<p>The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken,
+old man. Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you
+ever seen me before?"</p>
+<p>"Never," said the laborer.</p>
+<p>"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and
+carry in your pocket fifty of my likenesses."</p>
+<p>"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the
+laborer.</p>
+<p>"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his
+hand into his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces
+into his hand, stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the
+astonished laborer, who knew not what was coming, "The coin is
+good, for it also comes from our Lord God, and I am his
+paymaster. I bid you good-day."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The working men, whatever their task,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Who carve the stone, or bear the
+hod,</span><br>
+ They wear upon their honest brows<br>
+ <span class="c4">The royal stamp and seal of God;</span><br>
+ And worthier are their drops of sweat<br>
+ <span class="c4">Than diamonds in a coronet.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;</span><br>
+ Who sows a field, or trains a flower,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or plants a tree, is more than all.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Whittier</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/028.gif" width="530" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>LABOR <i>Millet</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_12_"></a>
+<h1>_12_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>con' script</td>
+<td>in dis pen' sa ble</td>
+<td>im' ple ment</td>
+<td>in de fea' si bly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">TWO LABORERS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman,
+that with earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth,
+and makes her man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked,
+coarse, wherein, notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue,
+indefeasibly royal, as of the scepter of this planet. Venerable,
+too, is the rugged face, all weather tanned, besoiled, with its
+rude intelligence; for it is the face of a man living
+manlike.</p>
+<p>Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because
+I must pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For
+us was thy back so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and
+fingers so deformed. Thou wert our conscript on whom the lot fell
+and, fighting our battles, wert so marred. Yet toil on, toil on;
+... thou toilest for the altogether indispensable,-for daily
+bread.</p>
+<p>A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen
+toiling for the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but
+the bread of life. Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring
+towards inward harmony; revealing this, by act or word, through
+all his outward endeavors, be they high or low? Highest of all,
+when his outward and his inward endeavor are one; when we can
+name him artist; not earthly craftsman only, but inspired
+thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers heaven for
+us!</p>
+<p>If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not
+the high and glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have
+light and guidance, freedom, immortality?-these two, in all their
+degrees, I honor; all else is chaff and dust, which let the wind
+blow whither it listeth.</p>
+<p>Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both
+dignities united; and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest
+of man's wants, is also toiling inwardly for the highest.
+Sublimer in this world know I nothing than a peasant saint. Such
+a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself; thou wilt see the
+splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest depths of earth
+like a light shining in great darkness.</p>
+<p><i>Thomas Carlyle.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and
+the great break through.</p>
+<p><i>Bacon</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_13_"></a>
+<h1>_13_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>gust</td>
+<td>thief</td>
+<td>mop' ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>awk' ward</td>
+<td>pet' tish ly</td>
+<td>in dig' nant</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>un bear' a ble</td>
+<td>med' dle some</td>
+<td>en light' ened</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td> </td>
+<td>in quis' i tive</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE GRUMBLING PUSS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat
+moping on the top of the garden wall.</p>
+<p>"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way,
+"Our cook is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily
+some one would hang <i>her</i>."</p>
+<p>"Why, what <i>is</i> the matter?" repeated Growler.</p>
+<p>"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened
+to be the death of me?"</p>
+<p>"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it
+about?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants
+complain of it. I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."</p>
+<p>"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to
+hang; you and I might be managed much more easily."</p>
+<p>"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat;
+"and such a pain in my side!"</p>
+<p>"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"</p>
+<p>"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:-oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she
+breaks she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me.
+Really, it is quite unbearable!"</p>
+<p>Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn,
+after the first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was
+there no particular cause this morning?"</p>
+<p>"She chose to be very angry because I-I offended her," said
+the cat.</p>
+<p>"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.</p>
+<p>"Oh, nothing worth telling,-a mere mistake of mine."</p>
+<p>Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that
+she was compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my
+breakfast."</p>
+<p>"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.</p>
+<p>"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a
+mouse, and knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it
+was, I smelt it, and it was rather nice, and-"</p>
+<p>"You finished it," hinted Growler.</p>
+<p>"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome
+cook hadn't come in. As it was, I left the head."</p>
+<p>"The head of what?" said Growler.</p>
+<p>"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.</p>
+<p>"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.</p>
+<p>"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for
+dinner."</p>
+<p>"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've
+heard the whole story, I only wonder she did <i>not</i> hang
+you."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete
+sentences:</p>
+<p>Mary - here, and Susan and Agnes - coming. They - delayed on
+the road. Mother - to come with them, but she and father -
+obliged to wait till to-morrow.</p>
+<p>Puss said to Growler, "I - not - a drop of milk to-day, and -
+not - any yesterday."</p>
+<p>I - my work well now. Yesterday I - it fairly well. To-morrow
+I shall - it perfectly.</p>
+<p>The boys - their best, though they - the game.</p>
+<p>John-now the boys he - last week. He - not - them before.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts
+of this selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the
+other pupils simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and
+in a perfectly natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting
+exercise. To play or act the story of a selection helps to
+develop the imagination.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_14_"></a>
+<h1>_14_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>scared</td>
+<td>swerve</td>
+<td>gur' gle</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>rip' ples</td>
+<td>cur' rent</td>
+<td>mum' bling ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE BROOK SONG.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Little brook! Little brook!<br>
+ You have such a happy look-<br>
+ Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook-<br>
+ And your ripples, one and one,<br>
+ Reach each other's hands and run<br>
+ Like laughing little children in the sun!<br>
+<br>
+ Little brook, sing to me;<br>
+ Sing about the bumblebee<br>
+ That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,<br>
+ Because he wet the film<br>
+ Of his wings, and had to swim,<br>
+ While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.<br>
+<br>
+ Little brook-sing a song<br>
+ Of a leaf that sailed along<br>
+ Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and
+strong,<br>
+ And a dragon fly that lit<br>
+ On the tilting rim of it,<br>
+ And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.<br>
+<br>
+ And sing-how oft in glee<br>
+ Came a truant boy like me,<br>
+ Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,<br>
+ Till the gurgle and refrain<br>
+ Of your music in his brain<br>
+ Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.<br>
+<br>
+ Little brook-laugh and leap!<br>
+ Do not let the dreamer weep:<br>
+ Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest
+sleep;<br>
+ And then sing soft and low<br>
+ Through his dreams of long ago-<br>
+ Sing back to him the rest he used to know!<br>
+
+<p><i>James Whitcomb Riley</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/036.gif" width="310" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>BY THE BROOK</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>ripples</b>, little curling waves <b>film</b>, a thin skin
+or slight covering.</p>
+<p><b>current</b>, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to
+<i>air, electricity</i>, etc.</p>
+<p>What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting
+melody, softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to
+him as pain?</p>
+<p>What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.</p>
+<p>Insert <i>may</i> or <i>can</i> properly where you see a dash
+in the following: The boy said, "-I leave the room?" "Mother,
+I-climb the ladder;-I?"-a dog climb a tree?-I ask a favor?</p>
+<p>Copy the following words-they are often misspelled: loving,
+using, till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme,
+success, barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy,
+hurried, forty-four, enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense,
+exhaust.</p>
+<p>By means of the suffixes, <i>er, est, ness</i>, form three new
+words from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively,
+greedy, steady, lovely, gloomy.</p>
+<p>Example: From happy,-happier, happiest, happiness. Note the
+change of <i>y</i> to <i>i</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_15_"></a>
+<h1>_15_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>rag'ged</td>
+<td>crin'kly</td>
+<td>rub'bish</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fil'tered</td>
+<td>protect'ed</td>
+<td>disor'derly</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>disturbed'</td>
+<td>imme'diately</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.</a></h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>I.</h2>
+<br>
+
+<p>High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the
+seed-down, borne on the autumn wind's strong arms.</p>
+<p>"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and
+put it down on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then
+he flew away immediately, because he had much to look after.</p>
+<p>That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where
+it was placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.</p>
+<p>Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed
+came near being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was,
+protected it.</p>
+<p>It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and
+pressed the downy seed into the earth. When the foot was
+withdrawn, the earth fell, and filled the little pit it had
+made.</p>
+<p>The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the
+seed lay quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When
+the spring came, and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out
+of the earth.</p>
+<p>There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The
+tiny plant could not see very far around, because rubbish and
+brush-heaps lay near it, and the little window was so gray and
+dusty that it could not peep into the cottage either.</p>
+<p>"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.</p>
+<p>"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near.
+"Why, the smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who
+wore me out."</p>
+<p>And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on
+there, and it was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe
+knew it all well, and told a whole lot in a few minutes, because
+she had such a well-hung tongue.</p>
+<p>Now there came a pair of ragged children, running-the smith's
+boy and girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the
+shoe said, after they were gone.</p>
+<p>"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now,
+I shall pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the
+root's heart.</p>
+<p>"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do
+you not see what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have
+lovely flowers, I know, when it grows bigger."</p>
+<p>And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick
+and dug up the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed
+field. Then they threw the shoe and the sweepings a little way
+off, because they thought to make the place look better.</p>
+<p>"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had
+gone, "you cannot think how in the way folks are!"</p>
+<p>"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be
+very orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in
+another place she was so disturbed.</p>
+<p>But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the
+upturned earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days
+the plant was several inches high.</p>
+<p>"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how
+beautiful it is getting!"</p>
+<p>"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a
+pretty plant! Come and see it!" begged the girl.</p>
+<p>The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the
+little rough bit of soil which lay between the piles of
+sweepings.</p>
+<p>The smith nodded to the children.</p>
+<p>"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and
+stopped an instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but
+thought of the little green spot, with the lovely plant in the
+midst of it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h2>II.</h2>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>pet' als</td>
+<td>in' mates</td>
+<td>scrubbed</td>
+<td>fra' grant</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>The children ran into the house.</p>
+<p>"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right
+by the window!"</p>
+<p>The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick
+with dust that she could not do so. She wiped off a little
+spot.</p>
+<p>"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window
+looked beside the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole
+window.</p>
+<p>"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how
+dreadfully dirty it is out in the yard!"</p>
+<p>Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very
+light in the cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children
+and at the rubbish in the room, and the blood rushed over her
+pale cheeks.</p>
+<p>"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed
+that it was so untidy here."</p>
+<p>She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that
+was done, she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard
+that her hands smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she
+did not stop until every spot was white.</p>
+<p>It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat
+mending the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It
+looked so strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him
+was brighter than ever before, he thought.</p>
+<p>"Go-God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such
+a greeting had been heard in here.</p>
+<p>"God's peace!" answered she; "wel-welcome home!" She had not
+said this for many years.</p>
+<p>The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it
+the two children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked
+out on the mound where the little plant stood. After a few
+minutes he went out.</p>
+<p>A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that
+he would stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the
+little dress.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the
+window to see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He
+was out in the yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.</p>
+<p>She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He
+glanced in through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he
+nodded back, and they both smiled.</p>
+<p>"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.</p>
+<p>Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every
+evening. It was green and lovely round the little cottage, and
+outside the window there was a whole flower-bed, with many
+blossoms; but in the midst stood the little plant the autumn wind
+had brought thither.</p>
+<p>The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked
+about the flowers.</p>
+<p>"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful
+of all," said the girl.</p>
+<p>"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.</p>
+<p>The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand,
+but very carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with
+his thick, coarse fingers.</p>
+<p>Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound
+floated out over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the
+eventide, just as the sun sank behind the tree-tops in the
+forest. And every one bowed the head, because it was Saturday
+evening, and it was a sacred voice that sounded.</p>
+<p>In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates
+slumbered, more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's
+toils, but also much, much happier. And round about, all was calm
+and peaceful.</p>
+<p>But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,-and
+it bore but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the
+little flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the
+beautiful, fragrant blossom.</p>
+<p>"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife,
+turning to her husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the
+flower. The wife looked at the husband, and he looked at her, and
+then their eyes rested on both children; then their eyes grew
+dim, but became immediately bright again, for the tears were not
+of sorrow, but of happiness.</p>
+<p>When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the
+temple, the flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its
+mission; but on the waves of song its perfume floated upwards.
+And in the sweet fragrance lay a warm thanksgiving from the
+little seed-down.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss
+Rydingsv&auml;rd.</p>
+<p>Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee
+&amp; Shepard Co.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<p>I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I
+have always plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place
+wherever a flower would grow.</p>
+<p><i>Abraham Lincoln.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_16_"></a>
+<h1>_16_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>lux'u ry</td>
+<td>med'i cine</td>
+<td>a bun'dant</td>
+<td>wil'der ness</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE USE OF FLOWERS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>God might have bade the earth bring forth<br>
+ <span class="c4">Enough for great and small,</span><br>
+ The oak tree, and the cedar tree,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Without a flower at all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He might have made enough, enough,<br>
+ <span class="c4">For every want of ours;</span><br>
+ For luxury, medicine, and toil,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And yet have made no flowers.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The ore within the mountain mine<br>
+ <span class="c4">Requireth none to grow,</span><br>
+ Nor doth it need the lotus flower<br>
+ <span class="c4">To make the river flow.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The clouds might give abundant rain,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The nightly dews might fall,</span><br>
+ And the herb that keepeth life in man<br>
+ <span class="c4">Might yet have drunk them all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then wherefore, wherefore were they made<br>
+ <span class="c4">All dyed with rainbow light,</span><br>
+ All fashioned with supremest grace,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Upspringing day and night-</span><br>
+<br>
+ Springing in valleys green and low,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And on the mountains high,</span><br>
+ And in the silent wilderness,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where no man passeth by?</span><br>
+<br>
+ Our outward life requires them not,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then wherefore had they birth?</span><br>
+ To minister delight to man,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To beautify the earth;</span><br>
+<br>
+ To whisper hope-to comfort man<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whene'er his faith is dim;</span><br>
+ For whoso careth for the flowers<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will care much more for Him!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Mary Howitt.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf,
+copy, foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.</p>
+<p>Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following
+stanza:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>In the country on every side<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where far and wide</span><br>
+ Like a leopard's tawny hide<br>
+ <span class="c4">Stretches the plain</span><br>
+ To the dry grass and drier grain<br>
+ How welcome is the rain.<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br>
+ <span class="c4">The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean
+bear;</span><br>
+ Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And waste its sweetness on the desert
+air.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_17_"></a>
+<h1>_17_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>deigned</td>
+<td>in' va lid</td>
+<td>lone' li ness</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>smoothed</td>
+<td>med'i cine</td>
+<td>be wil'dered</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>gen' ius</td>
+<td>riv' et ed</td>
+<td>soul-sub du' ing</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London,
+little Pierre, a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the
+bedside of his sick mother. There was no bread in the house; and
+he had not tasted food all day. Yet he sat humming to keep up his
+spirits.</p>
+<p>Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and
+he could scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that
+nothing would be so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good
+sweet orange; and yet he had not a penny in the world.</p>
+<p>The little song he was singing was his own,-one he had
+composed, both air and words; for the child was a genius. He went
+to the window, and, looking out, saw a man putting up a great
+poster with yellow letters, announcing that Madame Malibran would
+sing that night in public.</p>
+<p>"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then,
+pausing a moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a
+new hope. Running to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow
+curls, and, taking from a little box an old, stained paper, he
+gave one eager glance at his mother, who slept, and ran speedily
+from the house.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<p>"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her
+servant. "I am already worn out with company."</p>
+<p>"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says
+that if he can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry,
+and he will not keep you a moment."</p>
+<p>"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a
+smile; "I can never refuse children."</p>
+<p>Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand
+a little roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he
+walked straight up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come
+to see you, because my mother is very sick, and we are too poor
+to get food and medicine. I thought that, perhaps, if you would
+only sing my little song at one of your grand concerts, some
+publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and so I could get food
+and medicine for my mother."</p>
+<p>The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately
+she was;-she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly
+hummed the air.</p>
+<p>"Did you compose it?" she asked,-"you, a child! And the
+words?-Would you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a
+few moments of thought.</p>
+<p>"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but
+I couldn't leave my mother."</p>
+<p>"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the
+evening; and here is a crown, with which you may go and get food
+and medicine. Here is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and
+that will admit you to a seat near me."</p>
+<p>Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges,
+and many a little luxury besides, and carried them home to the
+poor invalid, telling her, not without tears, of his good
+fortune.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<p>When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert
+hall, he felt that never in his life had he been in so grand a
+place. The music, the glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing
+of diamonds and the rustling of silks, completely bewildered him.
+At last <i>she</i> came; and the child sat with his eyes riveted
+on her face. Could it be that the grand lady, glittering with
+jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship, would really sing
+his little song?</p>
+<p>Breathless he waited:-the band, the whole band, struck up a
+little plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for
+joy! And oh, how she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so
+soul-subduing. Many a bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a
+heart was moved, by the touching words of that little song.</p>
+<p>Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared
+he for money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his
+little song, and thousands had wept at his grief.</p>
+<p>The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame
+Malibran. She laid her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to
+the sick woman, said: "Your little boy, madam, has brought you a
+fortune. I was offered, this morning, by the first publisher in
+London, a large sum for his little song. Madam, thank God that
+your son has a gift from heaven."</p>
+<p>The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As
+for Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and
+the tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a
+simple prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had
+deigned to notice their affliction.</p>
+<p>The memory of that prayer made the singer even more
+tender-hearted; and she now went about doing good. And on her
+early death, he who stood by her bed, and smoothed her pillow,
+and lightened her last moments by his affection, was the little
+Pierre of former days,-now rich, accomplished, and one of the
+most talented composers of the day.</p>
+<p>All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations,
+send down bounty to the widow and the fatherless!</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Pierre</b> (pe [^a]r'), Peter.</p>
+<p><b>Malibran</b>, a French singer and actress. She died in
+1836, when only 28 years old.</p>
+<p>What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?</p>
+<p><b>breathless</b> = <i>breath</i>+<i>less</i>, without breath,
+out of breath; holding the breath on account of great
+interest.</p>
+<p><b>breathlessly</b>, in a breathless manner. Use <i>breath,
+breathless, breathlessly,</i> in sentences of your own.</p>
+<p>Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming
+together in the following words and phrases:</p>
+<p>humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows;
+eyes sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<p>A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.</p>
+<p><i>St. Francis of Assisi.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Howe'er it be, it seems to me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">'Tis only noble to be good.</span><br>
+ Kind hearts are more than coronets,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And simple faith than Norman blood.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_18_"></a>
+<h1>_18_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">SEPTEMBER.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The golden-rod is yellow;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The corn is turning brown;</span><br>
+ The trees in apple orchards<br>
+ <span class="c4">With fruit are bending down.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The gentian's bluest fringes<br>
+ <span class="c4">Are curling in the sun;</span><br>
+ In dusty pods the milkweed<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its hidden silk has spun.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The sedges flaunt their harvest<br>
+ <span class="c4">In every meadow nook;</span><br>
+ And asters by the brookside<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make asters in the brook.</span><br>
+<br>
+ From dewy lanes at morning<br>
+ <span class="c4">The grapes' sweet odors rise;</span><br>
+ At noon the roads all flutter<br>
+ <span class="c4">With yellow butterflies.</span><br>
+<br>
+ By all these lovely tokens<br>
+ <span class="c4">September days are here,</span><br>
+ With summer's best of weather,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And autumn's best of cheer.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Helen Hunt Jackson.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.]</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/053.gif" width="383" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.</p>
+<p>Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of
+cheer; sedges flaunt their harvest.</p>
+<p>How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?</p>
+<p>Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in
+the poem. Can you name any others?</p>
+<p>Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_19_"></a>
+<h1>_19_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>tat'ter</td>
+<td>wreathed</td>
+<td>Ken tuck' y</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>de scend'ed</td>
+<td>re cess'</td>
+<td>home' stead</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>en rap' tured</td>
+<td>Penn syl va' ni a</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster,
+a resident of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a
+visit to his relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of
+Bardstown, Ky. One beautiful morning while the slaves were at
+work in the cornfield and the sun was shining with a mighty
+splendor on the waving grass, first giving it a light red, then
+changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon a bench in
+front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and a
+sister.</p>
+<p>High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its
+sweet notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the
+thrush's mellow song could be heard. A number of small negro
+children were playing not far away. When Foster had finished the
+first verse of the song his sister took it from his hand and sang
+in a sweet, mellow voice:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;<br>
+ <span class="c4">'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;</span><br>
+ The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While the birds make music all the
+day.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,<br>
+ <span class="c4">All merry, all happy, all bright;</span><br>
+ By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then, my old Kentucky home, good
+night.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to
+a lower branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side
+and appeared to be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice
+of the young singer. When the last note died away upon the air,
+her fond brother sang in deep bass voice:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Well sing one song for the old Kentucky
+home,</span><br>
+ For our old Kentucky home far away.<br>
+<br>
+ A few more days for to tote the weary load,<br>
+ <span class="c4">No matter, 'twill never be light;</span><br>
+ A few more days till we totter on the road-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then, my old Kentucky home, good
+night.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little
+tots had placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees,
+while the old black women were peeping around the corner of the
+house. The faithful old house dog never took his eyes off the
+young singers. Everything was still; not even the stirring of the
+leaves seemed to break the wonderful silence.</p>
+<p>Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes,
+and sang in sweet accents:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon<br>
+ <span class="c4">On the meadow, the hill and the
+shore;</span><br>
+ They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,<br>
+ <span class="c4">On the bench by the old cabin door.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With sorrow where all was delight:</span><br>
+ The time has come when the darkies have to part-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Then, my old Kentucky home, good
+night.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The head must bow and the back will have to bend<br>
+ <span class="c4">Wherever the darkies may go;</span><br>
+ A few more days and the trouble all will end<br>
+ <span class="c4">In the fields where the sugar cane
+grow.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky
+home,</span><br>
+ For our old Kentucky home far away.<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's
+cheeks; the children crept from their hiding place behind the
+trees, their faces wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the
+thrush sought their home in the thicket, while the old house dog
+still lay basking in the sun.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><i>Mrs. T.A. Sherrard</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Louisville <i>Courier-Journal.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_20_"></a>
+<h1>_20_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>stew' ard</td>
+<td>se'quel</td>
+<td>Gal'i lee</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ab lu' tions</td>
+<td>in ter ces' sion</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_2">THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us
+in his gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and
+the Mother of Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the
+marriage." Mary was invited to be one of the honored guests
+because she was, no doubt, an intimate friend of the family. She
+preceded her Son to the wedding in order to lend her aid in the
+necessary preparations.</p>
+<p>Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He
+went as freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went
+pityingly to so many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary
+with his long fast and struggle in the desert, He was pleased to
+attend this merry wedding feast, and by this loving and kindly
+act to sanctify the bond of Marriage, which was to become in His
+Church one of the seven Sacraments.</p>
+<p>The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that
+greatly disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not
+calculated rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many
+guests.</p>
+<p>Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the
+confusion of the servants when they discovered that the wine
+vessels had become empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered,
+"They have no wine." "My hour is not yet come," He answered her,
+meaning that His time for working miracles had not yet arrived.
+He knew on the instant what the gentle heart of His Mother
+desired. His words sounded like a refusal of the request which
+Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue; but the
+sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.</p>
+<p>She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to
+you, do ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close
+at hand six great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the
+custom in the East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh.
+These vessels "containing two or three measures apiece," were
+kept in readiness for the guests, who were required not only to
+wash their feet before touching the linen and drapery of the
+couches, but even during the meal frequently to purify their
+hands. Already there had been many of these ablutions performed,
+and the urns were being rapidly emptied.</p>
+<p>"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the
+servants.</p>
+<p>They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.</p>
+<p>"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the
+feast."</p>
+<p>And they carried it.</p>
+<p>When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and
+knew not whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him:
+"Every man at first setteth forth good wine, and when men have
+well drunk then that which is worse; but thou hast kept the good
+wine until now."</p>
+<p>The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to
+give an agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table;
+but the latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a
+wondrous deed had been accomplished-that water had been changed
+into wine!</p>
+<p>Jesus had performed His first Miracle.</p>
+<p>From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we
+learn that Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God,
+whose intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a
+loving and motherly care over the smallest of our life's
+concerns.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/058.gif" width="600" height=
+"270" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>THE FEAST <i>Veronese</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>preceded</b>, went before in order of time. The prefix
+<i>pre</i>- means <i>before</i>. Tell what the following words
+mean:</p>
+<p>prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine,
+precaution, precursor, prefigure, prearrange.</p>
+<p>Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>The conscious water saw its God and blushed.</p>
+<p><i>Richard Crashaw.</i></p>
+<p>But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the
+Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in
+His Name.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><i>Gospel of St. John.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_21_"></a>
+<h1>_21_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>dec' ades (dek' ads)</td>
+<td>di' a dem</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">MY BEADS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Sweet bless&egrave;d beads! I would not part<br>
+ <span class="c5">With one of you for richest gem</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">That gleams in kingly diadem:</span><br>
+ Ye know the history of my heart.<br>
+<br>
+ For I have told you every grief<br>
+ <span class="c5">In all the days of twenty years,</span><br>
+ <span class="c5">And I have moistened you with tears,</span><br>
+ And in your decades found relief.<br>
+<br>
+ Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And joys have died; but in my needs</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Ye were my friends, my blessed
+beads!</span><br>
+ And ye consoled me when I wailed.<br>
+<br>
+ For many and many a time, in grief,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My weary fingers wandered round</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy circled chain, and always found</span><br>
+ In some Hail Mary sweet relief.<br>
+<br>
+ How many a story you might tell<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of inner life, to all unknown;</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">I trusted you and you alone,</span><br>
+ But ah! ye keep my secrets well.<br>
+<br>
+ Ye are the only chain I wear-<br>
+ <span class="c4">A sign that I am but the slave,</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">In life, in death, beyond the grave,</span><br>
+ Of Jesus and His Mother fair.<br>
+
+<p><i>Father Ryan.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>"Father Ryan's Poems."<br>
+ Published by P. J. Kenedy &amp; Sons, New York.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>From the following words make new words by means of the
+suffix <b><i>-ous</i></b>: joy, grace, grief, glory, desire,
+virtue, beauty, courage, disaster, harmony.</p>
+<p>(Consult the dictionary.)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Mary,-our comfort and our hope,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">O, may that name be given</span><br>
+ To be the last we sigh on earth,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The first we breathe in heaven.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_22_"></a>
+<h1>_22_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S
+HALLS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The harp that once through Tara's halls<br>
+ <span class="c4">The soul of music shed,</span><br>
+ Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As if that soul were fled.</span><br>
+ So sleeps the pride of former days,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So glory's thrill is o'er,</span><br>
+ And hearts, that once beat high for praise,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now feel that pulse no more.</span><br>
+<br>
+ No more to chiefs and ladies bright<br>
+ <span class="c4">The harp of Tara swells;</span><br>
+ The chord alone that breaks at night<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its tale of ruin tells.</span><br>
+ Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The only throb she gives</span><br>
+ Is when some heart indignant breaks,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To show that still She lives.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Thomas Moore.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<img src="images/063.gif" width="335" height="430" alt="" border=
+"0">
+<p>TOM MOORE</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_23_"></a>
+<h1>_23_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ma'am</td>
+<td>dis suade'</td>
+<td>re spect'a ble</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>shuf' fled</td>
+<td>dan' ger ous</td>
+<td>grate' ful</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>wist' ful ly</td>
+<td>mit' tens</td>
+<td>outstretched'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>res' cue</td>
+<td>un daunt' ed</td>
+<td>an' ti qua ted</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a name="FNanchor001"></a><a href="#CONTENTS_3">A LITTLE
+LADY.</a><a href="#Footnote_001"><sup>[001]</sup></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered
+with ice, I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly
+picking her way. She was one of the poor but respectable old
+ladies who dress in rusty black, wear old-fashioned bonnets, and
+carry big bags.</p>
+<p>Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those
+who are better bred treat them with respect. They find something
+touching in the faded suits, the withered faces, and the
+knowledge that these lonely old ladies have lost youth, friends,
+and often fortune, and are patiently waiting to be called away
+from a world that seems to have passed by and forgotten them.</p>
+<p>Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little
+black bonnet in front, expecting every minute to see it go down,
+and trying to hurry, that I might offer my help.</p>
+<p>At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard
+one say to another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and
+we shall lose our coasting, unless we hurry."</p>
+<p>"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I
+should feel so bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child,
+whose eyes, full of a sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old
+lady.</p>
+<p>"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen
+walking with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind
+thing to do, but had not the courage to try it.</p>
+<p>"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and
+I'm going to do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running
+by me, I saw her overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing,
+looking wistfully over the dangerous sheet of ice before her.</p>
+<p>"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the
+kind little voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully
+out-stretched.</p>
+<p>"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I
+must get home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful
+smile, which was worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.</p>
+<p>"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm
+afraid you might fall," said the child, offering her arm.</p>
+<p>"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've
+been having a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and
+I slip at every step."</p>
+<p>"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and
+can't tumble."</p>
+<p>So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the
+other girls to look after them and wish that we had done the
+little act of kindness, which now looked so lovely in
+another.</p>
+<p>"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child
+to the other.</p>
+<p>"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do
+lose some coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade
+her playmate from going to the rescue.</p>
+<p>Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day
+in real politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully
+supporting the old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big
+bag, the old socks, and the queer bonnet, both their faces
+lighted up with new respect and affection for their playmate.</p>
+<p><i>Louisa M. Alcott.</i></p>
+<p>From "Little Women." Little, Brown &amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>dissuade</b>, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by
+reasons given.</p>
+<p><b>antiquated</b>, grown old; old-fashioned.</p>
+<p>Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands
+for.</p>
+<p><br>
+ Use <i>their</i> or <i>there</i> properly in place of the blanks
+in<br>
+ the following sentences: The girls were on - way<br>
+ to the Park. - was an old lady at the crossing.<br>
+ Our home is -. Katy and Mary said -<br>
+ mother lived -.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Count that day lost<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose low descending sun,</span><br>
+ Views from thy hands<br>
+ <span class="c4">No worthy action done.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Author unknown.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.</p>
+<p><i>Emerson</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_001"></a><a href=
+"#FNanchor001">[001]</a></p>
+<p>Copyrighted by Little, Brown &amp; Company.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_24_"></a>
+<h1>_24_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Some love the glow of outward show,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Some love mere wealth and try to win
+it;</span><br>
+ The house to me may lowly be<br>
+ <span class="c4">If I but like the people in it.</span><br>
+<br>
+ What's all the gold that glitters cold,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When linked to hard or haughty
+feeling?</span><br>
+ Whate'er we're told, the noble gold<br>
+ <span class="c4">Is truth of heart and manly dealing.</span><br>
+<br>
+ A lowly roof may give us proof<br>
+ <span class="c4">That lowly flowers are often
+fairest;</span><br>
+ And trees whose bark is hard and dark<br>
+ <span class="c4">May yield us fruit and bloom the
+rarest.</span><br>
+<br>
+ There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor<br>
+ <span class="c4">As e'er adorned a loftier station;</span><br>
+ And minds as just as those, we trust,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose claim is but of wealth's
+creation.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Mere fashion's smile, and try to win
+it;</span><br>
+ The house to me may lowly be<br>
+ <span class="c4">If I but like the people in it.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Anon</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>What is meant by "haughty feeling"?</p>
+<p>What does the author say "the noble gold" is?</p>
+<p>Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word?
+Why?</p>
+<p>Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.</p>
+<p>Use <i>to, too, two,</i> properly before each of the following
+words:</p>
+<p>hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.</p>
+<p>What virtues does the poem recommend?</p>
+<p>What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?</p>
+<p>What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The bird that sings on highest wing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Builds on the ground her lowly nest;</span><br>
+ And she that doth most sweetly sing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sings in the shade when all things
+rest.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Montgomery</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Name the two birds referred to.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_25_"></a>
+<h1>_25_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>sears</td>
+<td>flecked</td>
+<td>de signed'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>strait'ened</td>
+<td>il lu'mined</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">A SONG OF DUTY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Life is flecked with shine and
+shower;</span><br>
+ Now the tear of grieving flows,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now we smile in happy hour;</span><br>
+ Death awaits us, every one-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer-</span><br>
+ Let us then, ere life be done,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make the world a little brighter!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Burdens that our neighbors bear,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Easier let us try to make them;</span><br>
+ Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let us do our best to break them.</span><br>
+ From the straitened hand and mind,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let us loose the binding fetter,</span><br>
+ Let us, as the Lord designed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make the world a little better!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Selfish brooding sears the soul,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Fills the mind with clouds of
+sorrow,</span><br>
+ Darkens all the shining goal<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of the sun-illumined morrow;</span><br>
+ Wherefore should our lives be spent<br>
+ <span class="c4">Daily growing blind and blinder-</span><br>
+ Let us, as the Master meant,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Make the world a little kinder!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Denis A. McCarthy.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Voices from Erin."</p>
+<p>Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_26_"></a>
+<h1>_26_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>the o lo' gi an</td>
+<td>his' to ry</td>
+<td>To bi' as</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>cre at' ed</td>
+<td>pro ceed' ed</td>
+<td>sep' a ra ted</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>min' is ter</td>
+<td>Au gus' tine</td>
+<td>crit' i cise</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>cat' e ehism</td>
+<td>de ter' mined</td>
+<td>As cen' sion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td> </td>
+<td>Res ur rec' tion</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to
+tell Maggie all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at
+school."</p>
+<p>"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at
+all to make Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."</p>
+<p>"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could
+find out <i>when</i> the angels were created. Neither could our
+teacher tell me. And I'm told St. Augustine could only make a
+guess when they were created.</p>
+<p>"He thought the angels were created when God separated the
+light from the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure
+there are angels; that's the chief point."</p>
+<p>"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.</p>
+<p>"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I
+would know he must have a father and a mother, although I had
+never heard when he was born."</p>
+<p>"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.</p>
+<p>"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and
+they must have been created some time. Let me tell you some of
+the places where it is said in the Bible that angels have been
+seen, and where they spoke, too."</p>
+<p>"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if <i>she</i>
+can find out some of those places herself. Here is the
+Bible."</p>
+<p>With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the
+history of Adam and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with
+a flaming sword was placed at the gate of Paradise.</p>
+<p>"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very
+sad."</p>
+<p>"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and
+beheld his young theologians with the holy Book before them.
+"They felt very sorry, indeed, but they were consoled when told
+that a Savior would come to redeem them."</p>
+<p>"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke
+about the angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the
+highest."</p>
+<p>"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was
+tempted," proceeded the father.</p>
+<p>"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed
+James.</p>
+<p>"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip
+up her big brother, "but he is a bad one."</p>
+<p>"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His
+forty days' fast," insisted James.</p>
+<p>"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one <i>bad
+angel</i> tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister
+unto Him."</p>
+<p>"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry
+over some other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James,
+and give only the place and person in each case."</p>
+<p>"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who
+went to Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to
+steal money from the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a
+long journey."</p>
+<p>"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an <i>Archangel?</i>"
+inquired Maggie, still determined to surpass her brother.</p>
+<p>"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be
+Maggie's turn soon."</p>
+<p>"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels
+at the Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His
+Ascension."</p>
+<p>Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have
+till next Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all
+mine."</p>
+<p>"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "<i>your</i> angel
+is always with you, and James has his, too."</p>
+<p>"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the
+church," said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse
+my coming in without knocking. They're in a great hurry."</p>
+<p>"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next
+Sunday. May your angels watch over you in the meantime."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>archangel</b> ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.</p>
+<p><b>archbishop</b> ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.</p>
+<p><b>arch</b>, as a prefix, means <i>chief</i>, and in nearly
+every case the <i>ch</i> is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel,
+architect, and in one or two other words, the <i>ch = k.</i></p>
+<p><b>arch</b>, as a suffix, is pronounced <i>[:a]rk</i>, and
+means <i>ruler;</i> as monarch, a <i>sole ruler;</i> one who
+<i>rules alone.</i></p>
+<p>Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are
+contractions. Write after each what it is a contraction of.</p>
+<p><b>earthward</b> = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). <i>ward</i> is here
+a suffix meaning <i>course, direction to, motion towards.</i> Add
+this <b>suffix</b> to the end of each of the following words, and
+tell the meaning of each new word formed:</p>
+<p>up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.</p>
+<p><b>What</b> word is the opposite in meaning of each of these
+new words?</p>
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td><span class="c6">The generous heart</span><br>
+ Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.<br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_27_"></a>
+<h1>_27_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ebb' ing</td>
+<td>spon' sor</td>
+<td>judg' ments</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>el' e ments</td>
+<td>tu' te lage</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>My oldest friend, mine from the hour<br>
+ <span class="c4">When first I drew my breath;</span><br>
+ My faithful friend, that shall be mine,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Unfailing, till my death.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Thou hast been ever at my side;<br>
+ <span class="c4">My Maker to thy trust</span><br>
+ Consign'd my soul, what time He framed<br>
+ <span class="c4">The infant child of dust.</span><br>
+<br>
+ No beating heart in holy prayer,<br>
+ <span class="c4">No faith, inform'd aright,</span><br>
+ Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or Michael's conquering might.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The dearest and the best,-</span><br>
+ Has known my being as thou hast known,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And blest as thou hast blest.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Thou wast my sponsor at the font;<br>
+ <span class="c4">And thou, each budding year,</span><br>
+ Didst whisper elements of truth<br>
+ <span class="c4">Into my childish ear.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My rebel spirit fell,</span><br>
+ Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Yet bear each deed of Hell.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And then in turn, when judgments came.<br>
+ <span class="c4">And scared me back again,</span><br>
+ Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe<br>
+ <span class="c4">And hallow every pain.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Oh! who of all thy toils and cares<br>
+ <span class="c4">Can tell the tale complete,</span><br>
+ To place me under Mary's smile,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And Peter's royal feet!</span><br>
+<br>
+ And thou wilt hang above my bed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When life is ebbing low;</span><br>
+ Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The jealous, sleepless foe.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Mine, when I stand before my Judge;<br>
+ <span class="c4">And mine, if spared to stay</span><br>
+ Within the golden furnace till<br>
+ <span class="c4">My sin is burn'd away.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And mine, O Brother of my soul,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When my release shall come;</span><br>
+ Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy wings shall waft me home.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Cardinal Newman.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/074.gif" width="330" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>THE GUARDIAN ANGEL</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Explain the following expressions:</p>
+<p>Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at
+the font; each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal
+feet. Describe the picture.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_28_"></a>
+<h1>_28_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>quoth</td>
+<td>crooned</td>
+<td>frisked</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>beech'-wood</td>
+<td>twain</td>
+<td>se'rene</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>frol'icked</td>
+<td>wan'dering</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">LITTLE BELL.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td><br>
+ Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:<br>
+ "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,<br>
+ <span class="c5">What's your name?" quoth he,-</span><br>
+ "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,<br>
+ Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Little Bell," said she.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,<br>
+ Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Bonny bird," quoth she,</span><br>
+ "Sing me your best song before I go,"<br>
+ "Here's the very finest song I know,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Little Bell," said he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the blackbird piped: you never heard<br>
+ Half so gay a song from any bird,-<br>
+ <span class="c5">Full of quips and wiles,</span><br>
+ Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,<br>
+ All for love of that sweet face below,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Dimpled o'er with smiles.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the while the bonny bird did pour<br>
+ His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,<br>
+ <span class="c5">'Neath the morning skies,</span><br>
+ In the little childish heart below<br>
+ All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,<br>
+ And shine forth in happy overflow<br>
+ <span class="c5">From the blue, bright eyes.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade<br>
+ Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,<br>
+ <span class="c5">And from out the tree</span><br>
+ Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,<br>
+ While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Little Bell!" piped he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Little Bell sat down amid the fern:<br>
+ "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;<br>
+ <span class="c5">Bring me nuts," quoth she.</span><br>
+ Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,-<br>
+ Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,-<br>
+ <span class="c5">And adown the tree</span><br>
+ Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,<br>
+ In the little lap dropped, one by one.<br>
+ Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Happy Bell!" pipes he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Little Bell looked up and down the glade:<br>
+ "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Come and share with me!"</span><br>
+ Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,<br>
+ Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!<br>
+ Little Bell gave each his honest share;<br>
+ <span class="c5">Ah! the merry three!</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the while these woodland playmates twain<br>
+ Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,<br>
+ <span class="c5">'Neath the morning skies,</span><br>
+ In the little childish heart below<br>
+ All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,<br>
+ And shine out in happy overflow<br>
+ <span class="c5">From her blue, bright eyes.</span><br>
+<br>
+ By her snow-white cot at close of day<br>
+ Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:<br>
+ <span class="c5">Very calm and clear</span><br>
+ Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,<br>
+ In blue heaven, an angel shape serene<br>
+ <span class="c5">Paused awhile to hear.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "What good child is this," the angel said,<br>
+ "That, with happy heart, beside her bed<br>
+ <span class="c5">Prays so lovingly?"</span><br>
+ Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,<br>
+ Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Bell, <i>dear</i> Bell!" crooned
+he.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair<br>
+ Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;<br>
+ <span class="c5">Child, thy bed shall be</span><br>
+ Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,<br>
+ Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,<br>
+ <span class="c5">Little Bell, for thee."</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Thomas Westwood</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/079.gif" width="433" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL</p>
+<p>croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.</p>
+<p>croon, to sing in a low tone.</p>
+<p>quips, quick, smart turns.</p>
+<p>piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or
+flute.</p>
+<p>In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose
+<i>Little Bell?</i> Why are these marks used here?</p>
+<p>Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used.
+Tell what it denotes in each case.</p>
+<p>Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?</p>
+<p>In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid,
+slowly wandering" his way? Who is she?</p>
+<p>Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the
+blackbird to do?</p>
+<p>Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the
+bird sing so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the
+little childish heart below?"</p>
+<p>Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to
+do? Read the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What
+invitation did the squirrel receive from Little Bell?</p>
+<p>Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what
+you see there.</p>
+<p>Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.</p>
+<p>Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last
+stanza. What is their meaning?</p>
+<p>What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did
+he make such beautiful promises?</p>
+<p>Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem
+mean: quoth he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls
+of gold; bonny bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden
+woodlights; adown the tree; playmates twain; with folded palms;
+an angel shape; with angels' care; the bird did pour his full
+heart out freely; the sweetness did shine forth in happy
+overflow.</p>
+<p>Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the
+thought it contains.</p>
+<p>Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.</p>
+<p>What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this
+poem?</p>
+<p>Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,- "He
+prayeth best who loveth best,<br>
+ All things both great and small,"- is illustrated in the story
+of Little Bell.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Write a composition on the story from the following hints:
+Where did Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what
+time of day? How old was she? How did she look? What companions
+did she meet? What did the three friends do? How did the little
+girl close the day?</p>
+<p>In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem
+as you can.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Prayer is the dew of faith,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its raindrop, night and day,</span><br>
+ That guards its vital power from death<br>
+ <span class="c4">When cherished hopes decay,</span><br>
+ And keeps it mid this changeful scene,<br>
+ A bright, perennial evergreen.<br>
+<br>
+ Good works, of faith the fruit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Should ripen year by year,</span><br>
+ Of health and soundness at the root<br>
+ <span class="c4">And evidence sincere.</span><br>
+ Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free<br>
+ And make our faith no barren tree.<br>
+
+<p><i>Lydia H. Sigourney.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_29_"></a>
+<h1>_29_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>na'bob</td>
+<td>ap plaud'ed</td>
+<td>un as sum'ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sad' dler</td>
+<td>dif' fi dence</td>
+<td>sec' re ta ry</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ob scured'</td>
+<td>live' li hood</td>
+<td>su per cil' i ous</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">A MODEST WIT.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A supercilious nabob of the East-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Haughty,  being great-purse-proud,  being
+rich-</span><br>
+ A governor, or general, at the least,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I have forgotten which---</span><br>
+ Had in his family a humble youth,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Who went from England in his patron's
+suit,</span><br>
+ An unassuming boy, in truth<br>
+ <span class="c4">A lad of decent parts, and good
+repute.</span><br>
+<br>
+ This youth had sense and spirit;<br>
+ <span class="c4">But yet with all his sense,</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Excessive diffidence</span><br>
+ Obscured his merit.<br>
+<br>
+ One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His honor, proudly free, severely
+merry,</span><br>
+ Conceived it would be vastly fine<br>
+ <span class="c4">To crack a joke upon his secretary.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Did your good father gain a
+livelihood?"-</span><br>
+ "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"And in his line was reckoned good."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Instead of teaching you to sew!</span><br>
+ Pray, why did not your father make<br>
+ <span class="c4">A saddler, sir, of you?"</span><br>
+<br>
+ Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,<br>
+ The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.<br>
+ <span class="c4">At length, Modestus, bowing low,</span><br>
+ Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Sir, by your leave, I fain would
+know</span><br>
+ <i>Your</i> father's trade!"<br>
+<br>
+ "<i>My</i> father's <i>trade?</i> Heavens! that's too bad!<br>
+ My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?<br>
+ My father, sir, did never stoop so low.<br>
+ He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."<br>
+<br>
+ "Excuse the liberty I take,"<br>
+ <span class="c4">Modestus said, with archness on his
+brow,</span><br>
+ "Pray, why did not your father make<br>
+ <span class="c4">A gentleman of you?"</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Selleck Osborne.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>fain, gladly.</p>
+<p>archness, sly humor free from malice.</p>
+<p>suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of
+distinction; often written <i>suite</i> (<i>sw[=e]t</i>).</p>
+<p>Write the plural forms of <i>boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary.</i></p>
+<p>Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in
+italics:</p>
+<p>He was an <i>unassuming</i> boy, of decent <i>parts</i> and
+good <i>repute</i>. His <i>diffidence obscured</i> his merit.
+<i>Excuse</i> the <i>liberty</i> I take.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The rank is but the guinea's stamp,-<br>
+ The man's the gold for a' that!<br>
+
+<p><i>Burns.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.</p>
+<p><i>Goethe</i> (g[^u]' t[=e]).</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_30_"></a>
+<h1>_30_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="FNanchor002"></a>
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_3">WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.</a><a href=
+"#Footnote_002"><sup>[002]</sup></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Woodman, spare that tree!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Touch not a single bough!</span><br>
+ In youth it sheltered me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And I'll protect it now.</span><br>
+ 'Twas my forefather's hand<br>
+ <span class="c4">That placed it near his cot;</span><br>
+ There, woodman, let it stand,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy ax shall harm it not!</span><br>
+<br>
+ That old familiar tree,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose glory and renown</span><br>
+ Are spread o'er land and sea---<br>
+ <span class="c4">And wouldst thou hew it down?</span><br>
+ Woodman, forbear thy stroke!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Cut not its earth-bound ties;</span><br>
+ Oh! spare that aged oak,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now towering to the skies.</span><br>
+<br>
+ When but an idle boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I sought its grateful shade;</span><br>
+ In all their gushing joy<br>
+ <span class="c4">Here, too, my sisters played.</span><br>
+ My mother kissed me here;<br>
+ <span class="c4">My father pressed my hand;-</span><br>
+ Forgive this foolish tear,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But let that old oak stand.</span><br>
+<br>
+ My heartstrings round thee cling,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Close as thy bark, old friend!</span><br>
+ Here shall the wild bird sing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And still thy branches bend.</span><br>
+ Old tree! the storm still brave!<br>
+ <span class="c4">And, Woodman, leave the spot!</span><br>
+ While I've a hand to save,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Thy ax shall harm it not.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>George P. Morris,</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+ <a name="Footnote_002"></a><a href="#FNanchor002">[002]</a>
+<blockquote>NOTE.-Many trees in our country are landmarks, and
+are valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant
+trees and dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at
+Cambridge, Mass., and it was under the shade of this venerable
+Elm that George Washington took command of the Continental army,
+July 3rd, 1775.<br>
+<br>
+ There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs
+whole families of children passed much of their childhood. When
+one of these falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some
+honored citizen.<br>
+<br>
+ Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of
+the truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited
+without being deeply moved.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_31_"></a>
+<h1>_31_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>car' goes</td>
+<td>em bar' go</td>
+<td>im mor' tal ized</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>prin' ci ple</td>
+<td>col' o nists</td>
+<td>rep re sen ta' tion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>de ri' sion</td>
+<td>pa' tri ot ism</td>
+<td>Phil a del' phi a</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George
+III, King of England, claimed the right to tax the people of this
+country, though he did not permit them to take any part in
+framing the laws under which they lived.</p>
+<p>He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that
+they could not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were
+fighting for a principle,-that of no taxation without
+representation, and would not buy the tea. In New York and
+Philadelphia the people would not allow the vessels to land their
+cargoes.</p>
+<p>The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared
+they would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The
+ladies had a hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea,
+but they stood out nobly.</p>
+<p>Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of
+December 16, 1773, a party of young Americans, painted and
+dressed like Indians, boarded the three vessels lying in the
+harbor, opened the chests, and emptied all the tea into the
+water. They then slipped away to their homes, and were never
+found out by the British. One of the leaders of these daring
+young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has been
+immortalized by Longfellow.</p>
+<p>When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the
+ocean, the anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong
+force of soldiers to Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This
+act only increased the spirit of patriotism that burned in the
+breasts of all Americans.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/088.gif" width="298" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the
+origin of the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses,
+which our American boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and
+sing:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,<br>
+ And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;<br>
+ That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;<br>
+ "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and
+daughters."<br>
+ Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a
+grandee,<br>
+ And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."<br>
+ "Yankee doodle"-these are facts-"Yankee doodle dandy;"<br>
+ My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"<br>
+<br>
+ John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties
+rated;<br>
+ But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.<br>
+ Then Jonathan to pout began-he laid a strong embargo-<br>
+ "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the
+cargo.<br>
+ Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,<br>
+ Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle
+dandy."<br>
+ "Yankee doodle-keep it up-Yankee doodle dandy-<br>
+ I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."<br>
+<br>
+ A long war then they had, in which John was at last
+defeated,<br>
+ And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops
+retreated.<br>
+ Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his
+laughter;<br>
+ "That tune," said he, "suits to a T-I'll sing it ever
+after!"<br>
+ Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and
+brandy,<br>
+ E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle
+dandy.<br>
+ Yankee doodle,-ho-ha-he-Yankee doodle dandy,<br>
+ We kept the tune, but not the tea-Yankee doodle dandy.<br>
+<br>
+ I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,<br>
+ Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"-what a pity!<br>
+ With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty-<br>
+ On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea
+party,<br>
+ No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them
+handy,<br>
+ And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle
+dandy?<br>
+ Yankee doodle, firm and true-Yankee doodle dandy-<br>
+ Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a
+principle, "No taxation without representation." What did they
+mean by this? Name the thirteen original colonies.</p>
+<p>Are the last syllables of the words <i>principle</i> and
+<i>principal</i>pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences
+of your own.</p>
+<p>What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?</p>
+<p>Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words
+<i>colonists, insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts,
+tempts.</i></p>
+<p>Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo,
+negro, cargo, piano, calico, potato, embargo.</p>
+<p>How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room
+for all of it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of
+examples found in your Reader.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_32_"></a>
+<h1>_32_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>scenes</td>
+<td>source</td>
+<td>seized</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re ceive'</td>
+<td>poised</td>
+<td>nec' tar</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re verts'</td>
+<td>Ju' pi ter</td>
+<td>cat' a ract</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ex' qui site</td>
+<td>in tru' sive ly</td>
+<td> </td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When fond recollection presents them to
+view!</span><br>
+ The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And every loved spot that my infancy
+knew;-</span><br>
+ The wide-spreading pond,and the mill that stood by it;<br>
+ <span class="c4">The bridge, and the rock where the cataract
+fell;</span><br>
+<br>
+ The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the
+well:</span><br>
+ The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the
+well.</span><br>
+<br>
+ That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;<br>
+ <span class="c4">For often, at noon, when returned from the
+field,</span><br>
+ I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The purest and sweetest that nature can
+yield.</span><br>
+ How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it
+fell;</span><br>
+ Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And dripping with coolness, it rose from the
+well:</span><br>
+ The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The moss-covered bucket arose from the
+well.</span><br>
+<br>
+ How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my
+lips!</span><br>
+ Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter
+sips.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And now, far removed from that loved habitation,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The tear of regret will intrusively
+swell,</span><br>
+ As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the
+well:</span><br>
+ The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the
+well!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Samuel Woodworth.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/092.gif" width="336" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what
+each describes. Use each to describe something else.</p>
+<p>Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and
+tell what word you would have used in the place of each had you
+tried to express its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the
+author's? Why?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_33_"></a>
+<h1>_33_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>blouse</td>
+<td>receipt'ed</td>
+<td>coun' te nance</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ab sorbed'</td>
+<td>con trast' ed</td>
+<td>for' tu nate ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>mir' a cle</td>
+<td>stock'-still</td>
+<td>good-hu' mored ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a
+little cake which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a
+child whose appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat
+only by amusing him. He thought that such a pretty loaf might
+tempt even the sick. While he waited for his change, a little boy
+six or eight years old, in poor but perfectly clean clothes,
+entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to the baker's wife,
+"mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman climbed upon the
+counter (this happened in a country town), took from the shelf of
+four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it into
+the arms of the little boy.</p>
+<p>My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful
+face of the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round,
+open countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the
+greatest care.</p>
+<p>"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.</p>
+<p>The little boy's eyes grew sad.</p>
+<p>"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin
+blouse; "but mother told me to say that she would come and speak
+to you about it to-morrow."</p>
+<p>"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home,
+child."</p>
+<p>"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.</p>
+<p>My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his
+purchase into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the
+child with the big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home,
+standing stock-still behind him.</p>
+<p>"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the
+child, whom she also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you
+like the bread?"</p>
+<p>"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.</p>
+<p>"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you
+wait any longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and
+you will get a scolding."</p>
+<p>The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his
+attention.</p>
+<p>The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap
+on the shoulder, "What <i>are</i> you thinking about?" said
+she.</p>
+<p>"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"</p>
+<p>"There is no singing," said she.</p>
+<p>"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek,
+queek!"</p>
+<p>My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear
+nothing, unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests
+in bakers' houses.</p>
+<p>"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or
+perhaps the bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"</p>
+<p>"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are
+crickets. They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the
+oven, and they like to see the fire."</p>
+<p>"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face
+lighted up.</p>
+<p>"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I
+would like it very much if you would give me a cricket."</p>
+<p>"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the
+world would you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would
+gladly give you all there are in the house, to get rid of them,
+they run about so."</p>
+<p>"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the
+child, clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They
+say that crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we
+had one at home, mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry
+any more."</p>
+<p>"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no
+longer help joining in the conversation.</p>
+<p>"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow.
+"Father is dead, and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay
+them all."</p>
+<p>My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into
+his arms, and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the
+baker's wife, who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had
+gone into the bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put
+them into a box with holes in the cover, so that they might
+breathe. She gave the box to the child, who went away perfectly
+happy.</p>
+<p>When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each
+other a good squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they
+both together. Then she took down her account book, and, finding
+the page where the mother's charges were written, made a great
+dash all down the page, and then wrote at the bottom, "Paid."</p>
+<p>Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all
+the money in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum
+that day, and had begged the good wife to send it at once to the
+mother of the little cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a
+note, in which he told her she had a son who would one day be her
+joy and pride.</p>
+<p>They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to
+make haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and
+his little short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he
+reached home, he found his mother, for the first time in many
+weeks, with her eyes raised from her work, and a smile of peace
+and happiness upon her lips.</p>
+<p>The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little
+black things which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he
+was mistaken. Without the crickets, and his good little heart,
+would this happy change have taken place in his mother's
+fortunes?</p>
+<p><i>From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<p>Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.</p>
+<p>In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and
+five that express commands or requests.</p>
+<p>What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The
+second?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And I dream in the firelight's glow,</span><br>
+ And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs<br>
+ <span class="c4">That I listened to long ago.</span><br>
+ Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp<br>
+ <span class="c4">Like an echoing, answering cry,-</span><br>
+ Little we care for the outside world,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My friend the cricket, and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That this earth is a silly, strange
+place,</span><br>
+ And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And perhaps he's been passed in the
+race.</span><br>
+ But I know he has found it far better to sing<br>
+ <span class="c4">Than to talk of ill luck and to
+sigh,-</span><br>
+ Little we care for the outside world,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My friend the cricket, and I.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_34_"></a>
+<h1>_34_</h1>
+<br>
+
+<p>For Recitation:</p>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">OUR HEROES.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Here's a hand to the boy who has courage<br>
+ <span class="c4">To do what he knows to be right;</span><br>
+ When he falls in the way of temptation<br>
+ <span class="c4">He has a hard battle to fight.</span><br>
+ Who strives against self and his comrades<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will find a most powerful foe:</span><br>
+ All honor to him if he conquers;<br>
+ <span class="c4">A cheer for the boy who says "No!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ There's many a battle fought daily<br>
+ <span class="c4">The world knows nothing about;</span><br>
+ There's many a brave little soldier<br>
+ <span class="c4">Whose strength puts a legion to
+rout.</span><br>
+ And he who fights sin single-handed<br>
+ <span class="c4">Is more of a hero, I say,</span><br>
+ Than he who leads soldiers to battle,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And conquers by arms in the fray.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And do what you know to be right;</span><br>
+ Stand firm by the colors of manhood,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And you will o'ercome in the fight.</span><br>
+ "The right!" be your battle cry ever<br>
+ <span class="c4">In waging the warfare of life;</span><br>
+ And God, who knows who are the heroes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will give you the strength for the
+strife.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Phoebe Cary.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin
+&amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Write sentences each containing one of the following
+words:</p>
+<p>I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<p>For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for
+bringing back vanished smiles, for making one brave and
+courageous, light-hearted and happy, there is nothing like a good
+Confession.</p>
+<p><i>Father Bearne, S.J.</i></p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Heroes must be more than driftwood<br>
+ Floating on a waveless tide.<br>
+<br>
+ For right is right, since God is God;<br>
+ <span class="c4">And right the day must win;</span><br>
+ To doubt would be disloyalty,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To falter would be sin.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Father Faber.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have
+kept the Faith.</p>
+<p><i>St. Paul.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_35_"></a>
+<h1>_35_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>troll</td>
+<td>cel' er y</td>
+<td>new' fan gled</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>thatch</td>
+<td>chink' ing</td>
+<td>as par' a gus&lt;&lt;/td&gt;</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>im mense'</td>
+<td>sauce' pan</td>
+<td>de mol' ish ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sa' vor y</td>
+<td>pat' terns</td>
+<td>ag' gra va ting</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When
+it struck one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a
+saucepan off the fire, from which came a very savory smell.</p>
+<p>"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple
+dumplings will be too much done."</p>
+<p>"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by
+the wood; and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make
+haste, and have some apple dumpling."</p>
+<p>"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"</p>
+<p>"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench,
+in the shadow of the thatch.</p>
+<p>"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the
+matter?"</p>
+<p>"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is
+this, mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he
+clapped his hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice,
+which frightened the children-"a miserable slave!"</p>
+<p>"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he
+meant.</p>
+<p>"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have
+been."</p>
+<p>"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought
+thou used to say, at the election time, that thou wast a
+free-born Briton."</p>
+<p>"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up
+rather sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell
+of the dinner, that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but
+it is certain that he walked into the house, ate plenty of pork
+and greens, and then took a tolerable share in demolishing the
+apple dumpling.</p>
+<p>When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife
+said to him, "I hope thou and thy master haven't had words
+to-day."</p>
+<p>"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of
+being at another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and
+'Tom do that,' and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday
+morning till Saturday night. I was thinking as I walked over to
+Squire Morton's to ask for the turnip seed for master,-I was
+thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a poor workingman after
+all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't stand it."</p>
+<p>So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his
+wife thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was
+mistaken. He walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the
+border of a little tinkling stream, he sat down and began to
+brood over his grievances.</p>
+<p>"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much
+pleasanter sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery
+trenches, and thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's
+back, and a hot wall before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable
+slave. I must either work or see my family starve; a very hard
+lot it is to be a workingman."</p>
+<p>"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his
+great surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby,
+sitting composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,-green
+hat, green coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes,
+and they twinkled very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.</p>
+<p>"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther
+off.</p>
+<p>"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost
+to the noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation
+acknowledges a mere stranger as thy master?'</p>
+<p>"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a
+slave?"</p>
+<p>"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak
+roughly. Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is
+bound to bear them."</p>
+<p>"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom,
+shortly.</p>
+<p>"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your
+difficulty. Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce,
+mind you-has a silver tail."</p>
+<p>"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide;
+"fishing for minnows and being one's own master would be much
+pleasanter than the sort of life I've been leading this many a
+day."</p>
+<p>"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good
+may it do you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy
+in your freedom." So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the
+brink of the stream, full of joy and pride.</p>
+<p>He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity
+for bettering himself, and should not work for him any
+longer.</p>
+<p>The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of
+minnows. But of all the minnows in the world, never were any so
+nimble as those with silver tails. They were very shy, too, and
+had as many turns and doubles as a hare; what a life they led
+him!</p>
+<p>They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he
+thought his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they
+would leap quite out of the water, and dart down the stream again
+like little silver arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet,
+and hungry. He came home late in the evening, wearied and
+footsore, with only three minnows in his pocket, each with a
+silver tail.</p>
+<p>"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his
+bed, "though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work
+harder than ever, yet I certainly am free; no man can now order
+me about."</p>
+<p>This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to
+Saturday afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.</p>
+<p>After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities;
+and when he had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in
+all lights, praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to
+conceal his impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived
+to sell them all, and get exactly fourteen shillings for them,
+and no more.</p>
+<p>"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself,
+"I've found out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing
+it,-that every one of those customers of yours was your master.
+Why! you were at the beck of every man, woman, and child that
+came near you;-obliged to be in a good temper, too, which was
+very aggravating."</p>
+<p>"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path.
+"I knew you were a man of sense; look you, you are all
+workingmen; and you must all please your customers. Your master
+was your customer; what he bought of you was your work. Well, you
+must let the work be such as will please the customer."</p>
+<p>"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking
+the fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman;
+and has he a master of his own? Nonsense!"</p>
+<p>"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books,
+and manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he
+nearly ruined last year?"</p>
+<p>"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of
+patterns at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom.
+"Well, in a way of speaking, then, he works to please his
+masters, poor fellow! He is, as one may say, a fellow-servant,
+and plagued with very awkward masters. So I should not mind his
+being my master, and I think I'll go and tell him so."</p>
+<p>"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not
+been able to better yourself, and you have no objection now to
+dig up the asparagus bed."</p>
+<p>So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had
+earned, got his old master to take him back, and kept a profound
+secret his adventures with the man in green.</p>
+<p><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/105.gif" width="357" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you)
+has a silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis.
+Read the sentence aloud several times, <i>omitting</i> the group
+in parenthesis. Now read the <i>whole</i> sentence, keeping in
+mind the fact that the words in parenthesis are not at all
+important,-that they are merely thrown in by way of explanation.
+You notice that you have read the words in parenthesis in a
+<i>lower tone</i> and <i>faster time.</i> Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but
+that makes no difference in the reading of them.</p>
+<p>The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page
+243. Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the
+method.</p>
+<p>I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not
+wrong to say so) as the compositions read by my companions.</p>
+<p>Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against
+me.</p>
+<p>I felt that I was strong enough-my rising anger made me so-to
+seize my unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to
+the ground.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"Work! and the clouds of care will fly;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Pale want will pass away.</span><br>
+ Work! and the leprosy of crime<br>
+ <span class="c4">And tyrants must decay.</span><br>
+ Leave the dead ages in their urns:<br>
+ <span class="c4">The present time be ours,</span><br>
+ To grapple bravely with our lot,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And strew our path with flowers."</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_36_"></a>
+<h1>_36_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BROOK.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I come from haunts of coot and hern,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I make a sudden sally,</span><br>
+ And sparkle out among the fern,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To bicker down a valley.</span><br>
+ By thirty hills I hurry down,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or slip between the ridges,</span><br>
+ By twenty thorps, a little town,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And half a hundred bridges.</span><br>
+ Till last by Philip's farm I flow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To join the brimming river;</span><br>
+ For men may come, and men may go,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I go on forever.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I chatter over stony ways<br>
+ <span class="c4">In little sharps and trebles;</span><br>
+ I bubble into eddying bays;<br>
+ <span class="c4">I babble on the pebbles.</span><br>
+ With many a curve my banks I fret<br>
+ <span class="c4">By many a field and fallow.</span><br>
+ And many a fairy foreland set<br>
+ <span class="c4">With willow-weed and mallow.</span><br>
+ I chatter, chatter, as I flow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To join the brimming river;</span><br>
+ For men may come, and men may go,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I go on forever.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I steal by lawns and grassy plots,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I slide by hazel covers,</span><br>
+ I move the sweet forget-me-nots<br>
+ <span class="c4">That grow for happy lovers.</span><br>
+ I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Among my skimming swallows;</span><br>
+ I make the netted sunbeams dance<br>
+ <span class="c4">Against my sandy shallows.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I murmur under moon and stars<br>
+ <span class="c4">In brambly wildernesses;</span><br>
+ I linger by my shingly bars;<br>
+ <span class="c4">I loiter round my cresses.</span><br>
+ And out again I curve and flow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To join the brimming river;</span><br>
+ For men may come, and men may go,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I go on forever.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/110.gif" width="353" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>haunts</b>, places of frequent resort.</p>
+<p><b>coot</b> and <b>hern</b>, water fowls that frequent lakes
+and other still waters.</p>
+<p><b>bicker</b>, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or
+water.</p>
+<p><b>thorp</b>, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.</p>
+<p><b>sharps</b> and <b>trebles</b>, terms in music. They are
+here used to describe the sound of the brook.</p>
+<p><b>eddying</b>, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays"
+dangerous to the swimmer?</p>
+<p><b>fretted banks</b>, banks worn away by the action of the
+water.</p>
+<p><b>fallow</b>, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running
+into the sea or other water.</p>
+<p><b>mallow</b>, a kind of plant.</p>
+<p><b>gloom</b>, to shine obscurely.</p>
+<p><b>shingly</b>, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.</p>
+<p><b>bars</b>, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal
+in a river or harbor.</p>
+<p><b>cresses</b>, certain plants which grow near the water. They
+are sometimes used as a salad.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_37_"></a>
+<h1>_37_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>wits</td>
+<td>hale</td>
+<td>borne</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>suit' ed</td>
+<td>prop' er ly</td>
+<td>sit u a' tion</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">LEARNING TO THINK.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as
+one of the wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat
+feeble, and the few locks that are left him are gray, he is still
+more hale and hearty than many a younger man.</p>
+<p>Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is
+fond of children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his
+pleasant talk, as they gather round his fireside or sit upon his
+knee.</p>
+<p>Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to
+find out what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead
+them to think.</p>
+<p>"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if
+I have a cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to
+proceed?"</p>
+<p>"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be
+sure," said Norman.</p>
+<p>"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose
+the cake has to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut
+off a very thin slice for you, and divide what is left between
+your brother and sister, will that be fair?"</p>
+<p>"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."</p>
+<p>"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice?
+Did I not cut it into three parts?"</p>
+<p>"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have
+been exactly the same size."</p>
+<p>"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three
+equal parts, it would have been quite fair?"</p>
+<p>"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to
+complain."</p>
+<p>"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send
+to a distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each
+a basket to carry?"</p>
+<p>"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might
+not be fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger
+than the others."</p>
+<p>"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think.
+But we will take care that the baskets are all of the same
+size."</p>
+<p>"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a
+basket."</p>
+<p>"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled
+with feathers?"</p>
+<p>"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the
+same weight, and all will be right."</p>
+<p>"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons
+is a strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little
+child?"</p>
+<p>"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things
+there are to think about."</p>
+<p>"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be
+equally borne, they must be suited to the strength of those who
+have to bear them."</p>
+<p>"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me,
+Grandpa, and I will try to answer it properly this time."</p>
+<p>"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig
+for me, and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be
+fair if I set them to work to try them, and choose the one who
+does his task in the quickest time?"</p>
+<p>"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"</p>
+<p>"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start
+together."</p>
+<p>"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"</p>
+<p>"Exactly the same."</p>
+<p>"And will each man have a good spade?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."</p>
+<p>"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other
+hard and stony."</p>
+<p>"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The
+ground shall be everywhere alike."</p>
+<p>"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if
+done as well as that of either of the other two, is the best
+man."</p>
+<p>"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it
+will be greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being
+thoughtful in little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely
+in important ones."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the words <i>suit</i> (s[=u]t) and <i>soon</i> (s[=oo]n),
+have the marked vowels the same sound?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the two statements,-</p>
+I give it to you because it's good;<br>
+ Virtue brings its own reward;<br>
+
+<p>why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in
+the second?</p>
+Let your hands be honest and clean-<br>
+ Let your conscience be honest and clean-<br>
+
+<p>Combine these two sentences by the word <i>and</i>; rewrite
+them, omitting all needless words.</p>
+<p>Compose two sentences, one having the action-word
+<i>learned</i>; the other the word <i>taught</i>.</p>
+<p>Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form
+of the action-word <i>bear</i>:</p>
+As Christ - His cross, so must we - ours.<br>
+ Our cross must be -. "And - His own<br>
+ cross, He went forth to Calvary."<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_38_"></a>
+<h1>_38_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>elate'</td>
+<td>despond'</td>
+<td>lu' mi nous</td>
+<td>pil' grim age</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">ONE BY ONE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>One by one the sands are flowing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">One by one the moments fall;</span><br>
+ Some are coming, some are going;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Do not strive to grasp them all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ One by one thy duties wait thee;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let thy whole strength go to each;</span><br>
+ Let no future dreams elate thee,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Learn thou first what these can
+teach.</span><br>
+<br>
+ One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)<br>
+ <span class="c4">Joys are sent thee here below;</span><br>
+ Take them readily when given,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Ready, too, to let them go.</span><br>
+<br>
+ One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Do not fear an armed band;</span><br>
+ One will fade as others greet thee-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Shadows passing through the land.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Do not look at life's long sorrow;<br>
+ <span class="c4">See how small each moment's pain;</span><br>
+ God will help thee for to-morrow,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So each day begin again.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Every hour that fleets so slowly<br>
+ <span class="c4">Has its task to do or bear;</span><br>
+ Luminous the crown, and holy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">When each gem is set with care.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Do not linger with regretting,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Or for passing hours despond;</span><br>
+ Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Look too eagerly beyond.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Hours are golden links, God's token,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Reaching heaven; but one by one</span><br>
+ Take them, lest the chain be broken<br>
+ <span class="c4">Ere the pilgrimage be done.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each
+line teaches.</p>
+<p>Name some great works that were done little by little.</p>
+<p>What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?</p>
+<p>Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall
+fall by little and little."</p>
+<p>What is the real or literal meaning of the word
+<i>gem</i>?</p>
+<p>Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has
+there.</p>
+<p>Explain the line-</p>
+"Let no future dreams elate thee."<br>
+
+<p>What is meant by "building castles in the air?"</p>
+<p>Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself
+what each line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an
+important moral lesson. Find out what that lesson is.</p>
+<p>Tell what you know of the author.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_39_"></a>
+<h1>_39_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ca noe'</td>
+<td>sup' ple</td>
+<td>fi' brous</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>res' in</td>
+<td>sin' ews</td>
+<td>tam' a rack</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ooz' ing</td>
+<td>bal' sam</td>
+<td>sol' i ta ry</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pli' ant</td>
+<td>fis' sure</td>
+<td>re sist' ance</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>som' ber</td>
+<td>crev' ice</td>
+<td>re splen' dent</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">THE BIRCH CANOE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td><span class="c5">"Give me of your bark, O Birch
+Tree!</span><br>
+ Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!<br>
+ Growing by the rushing river,<br>
+ Tall and stately in the valley!<br>
+ I a light canoe will build me,<br>
+ That shall float upon the river,<br>
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,<br>
+ Like a yellow water lily!<br>
+ <span class="c5">Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!</span><br>
+ Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,<br>
+ For the summer time is coming,<br>
+ And the sun is warm in heaven,<br>
+ And you need no white-skin wrapper!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">Thus aloud cried Hiawatha</span><br>
+ In the solitary forest,<br>
+ When the birds were singing gayly,<br>
+ In the Moon of Leaves were singing.<br>
+ <span class="c5">And the tree with all its branches</span><br>
+ Rustled in the breeze of morning,<br>
+ Saying, with a sigh of patience,<br>
+ "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">With his knife the tree he girdled;</span><br>
+ Just beneath its lowest branches,<br>
+ Just above the roots, he cut it,<br>
+ Till the sap came oozing outward;<br>
+ Down the trunk, from top to bottom,<br>
+ Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,<br>
+ With a wooden wedge he raised it,<br>
+ Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!</span><br>
+ Of your strong and pliant branches,<br>
+ My canoe to make more steady,<br>
+ Make more strong and firm beneath me!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">Through the summit of the Cedar</span><br>
+ Went a sound, a cry of horror,<br>
+ Went a murmur of resistance;<br>
+ But it whispered, bending downward,<br>
+ "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">Down he hewed the boughs of cedar</span><br>
+ Shaped them straightway to a framework,<br>
+ Like two bows he formed and shaped them,<br>
+ Like two bended bows together.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!</span><br>
+ Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!<br>
+ My canoe to bind together,<br>
+ So to bind the ends together,<br>
+ That the water may not enter,<br>
+ That the river may not wet me!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">And the Larch with all its fibers</span><br>
+ Shivered in the air of morning,<br>
+ Touched his forehead with its tassels,<br>
+ Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,<br>
+ "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">From the earth he tore the fibers,</span><br>
+ Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.<br>
+ Closely sewed the bark together,<br>
+ Bound it closely to the framework.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!</span><br>
+ Of your balsam and your resin,<br>
+ So to close the seams together<br>
+ That the water may not enter,<br>
+ That the river may not wet me!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,</span><br>
+ Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,<br>
+ Rattled like a shore with pebbles,<br>
+ Answered wailing, answered weeping,<br>
+ "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">And he took the tears of balsam,</span><br>
+ Took the resin of the Fir Tree,<br>
+ Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,<br>
+ Made each crevice safe from water.<br>
+ <span class="c5">"Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!</span><br>
+ I will make a necklace of them,<br>
+ Make a girdle for my beauty,<br>
+ And two stars to deck her bosom!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,</span><br>
+ With his sleepy eyes looked at him,<br>
+ Shot his shining quills, like arrows,<br>
+ Saying, with a drowsy murmur,<br>
+ Through the tangle of his whiskers,<br>
+ "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"<br>
+ <span class="c5">From the ground the quills he
+gathered,</span><br>
+ All the little shining arrows,<br>
+ Stained them red and blue and yellow,<br>
+ With the juice of roots and berries;<br>
+ Into his canoe he wrought them,<br>
+ Round its waist a shining girdle.<br>
+ Round its bows a gleaming necklace,<br>
+ On its breast two stars resplendent.<br>
+ <span class="c5">Thus the Birch Canoe was builded</span><br>
+ In the valley, by the river,<br>
+ In the bosom of the forest;<br>
+ And the forest's life was in it,<br>
+ All its mystery and its magic,<br>
+ All the lightness of the birch tree,<br>
+ All the toughness of the cedar,<br>
+ All the larch's supple sinews;<br>
+ And it floated on the river,<br>
+ Like a yellow leaf in autumn,<br>
+ Like a yellow water lily.<br>
+
+<p><i>Longfellow.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/122.gif" width="314" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Moon of Leaves</b>, month of May.</p>
+<p><b>sheer</b>, straight up and down.</p>
+<p><b>Tamarack</b>, the American larch tree.</p>
+<p><b>fissure</b>, a narrow opening; a cleft.</p>
+<p>What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?</p>
+<p>Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put
+these to?</p>
+<p>What are the drops of balsam called? Why?</p>
+<p>NOTE.-"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest
+and most beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It
+is generally made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and
+so skillfully shaped and sewed together with the roots of the
+tamarack, that it is water-tight, and rides upon the water as
+light as a cork."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_40_"></a>
+<h1>_40_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>pic' tures</td>
+<td>pal' ace</td>
+<td>four' teen</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fa' mous ly</td>
+<td>scul' lion</td>
+<td>re past'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in hal' ing</td>
+<td>en chant' ed</td>
+<td>mat' tress</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>char' coal</td>
+<td>land' scapes</td>
+<td>ar' chi tect</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_4">PETER OF CORTONA.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the
+care of the sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence,
+where he knew no one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as
+himself, who had lived in the same village, but who had gone to
+Florence to be scullion in the house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was
+for a good motive that little Peter desired to come to Florence:
+he wanted to be an artist, and he knew there was a school for
+artists there. When he had seen the town well, Peter stationed
+himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor of the
+cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a
+long time; but at length Thomas appeared.</p>
+<p>"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"</p>
+<p>"I am come to learn painting."</p>
+<p>"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is
+then sure not to die of hunger."</p>
+<p>"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied
+Peter.</p>
+<p>"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself
+ill every day, if I chose to do it."</p>
+<p>"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have
+too much and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will
+bring the food; and we shall get on famously."</p>
+<p>"Very well," said Thomas.</p>
+<p>"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten
+nothing to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."</p>
+<p>Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept,
+and bade him wait there till he brought him some fragments that
+he was freely permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for
+Thomas was in high spirits, and little Peter had a famous
+appetite.</p>
+<p>"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the
+question is, how are you going to study?"</p>
+<p>"I shall study like all artists-with pencil and paper."</p>
+<p>"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and
+pencils?"</p>
+<p>"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is
+scullion at his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you
+are rich, it is just the same as if I was."</p>
+<p>Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken
+victuals, he had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait
+three years before he should receive wages. Peter did not mind.
+The garret walls were white. Thomas could give him charcoal, and
+so he set to draw on the walls with that; and after a little
+while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.</p>
+<p>With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were
+bought. Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures
+in the galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in
+the neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but
+enchanted with what he had seen, he crept back into the garret,
+where he was always sure to find his dinner hidden under the
+mattress, <i>to keep it warm,</i> as Thomas said. Very soon the
+first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and Peter drew his best
+designs to ornament his friend's room.</p>
+<p>One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came
+with the architect to the very top of the house, and happened to
+enter the scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both
+Cardinal and architect were struck with the genius of the
+drawings. They thought they were executed by Thomas, and his
+Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas heard that the Cardinal
+had been in the garret, and had seen what he called Peter's
+daubs, he thought all was lost.</p>
+<p>"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him;
+and Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on
+his knees, and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor
+Peter?"</p>
+<p>The Cardinal made him tell his story.</p>
+<p>"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he,
+smiling.</p>
+<p>But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at
+length a fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came
+the news that the monks of a distant convent had received and
+kept with them a boy of fourteen, who had come to ask permission
+to copy a painting of Raphael in the chapel of the convent. This
+boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal sent him as a pupil to one
+of the first artists in Rome.</p>
+<p>Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as
+brothers in one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One
+said of the other, "He is the greatest painter of our age." The
+other said of the first, "He is a model for evermore of a
+faithful friend."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Peter of Cortona</b>, a great Italian painter and
+architect. He was born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in
+Rome, in 1669.</p>
+<p><b>Eminence</b>, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.</p>
+<p><b>galleries</b>, rooms or buildings where works of art are
+exhibited.</p>
+<p><b>victuals</b> (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human
+beings.</p>
+<p><b>fortnight</b> (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is
+contracted from <i>fourteen nights.</i></p>
+<p>Locate the cities of <i>Rome</i> and <i>Florence</i>.</p>
+<p>Give words that mean the opposite of the following:</p>
+<p>ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked,
+merry, bought, friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant,
+appeared, disgrace, famous, faithful, morning, enchanted.</p>
+<p>Recite the words-"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor
+Peter?"-as Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a
+great <i>cardinal</i> in favor of a poor destitute <i>boy</i>
+whom he loved as a brother. He <i>felt</i> what he said.</p>
+<p>Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them,
+and tell wherein the humor lies.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.<br>
+ <i>Spanish Proverb.</i></p>
+<p>Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.<br>
+ <i>From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."</i></p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A gift in need, though small indeed,<br>
+ Is large as earth and rich as heaven.<br>
+
+<p><i>Whittier</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_41_"></a>
+<h1>_41_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>vas' sal</td>
+<td>roy' al ly</td>
+<td>beg' gar y</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>hom' age</td>
+<td>sen' ti nel</td>
+<td>dif' fer ence</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="FNanchor003"></a>
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">TO MY DOG BLANCO.</a><a href=
+"#Footnote_003"><sup>[003]</sup></a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A willing vassal at my feet,</span><br>
+ Glad partner of my home and fare,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My shadow in the street.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I look into your great brown eyes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where love and loyal homage shine,</span><br>
+ And wonder where the difference lies<br>
+ <span class="c4">Between your soul and mine!</span><br>
+<br>
+ For all the good that I have found<br>
+ <span class="c4">Within myself or human kind,</span><br>
+ Hath royally informed and crowned<br>
+ <span class="c4">Your gentle heart and mind.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I scan the whole broad earth around<br>
+ <span class="c4">For that one heart which, leal and
+true,</span><br>
+ Bears friendship without end or bound,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And find the prize in you.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I trust you as I trust the stars;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,</span><br>
+ Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Can move you from my side!</span><br>
+<br>
+ As patient under injury<br>
+ <span class="c4">As any Christian saint of old,</span><br>
+ As gentle as a lamb with me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But with your brothers bold;</span><br>
+<br>
+ More playful than a frolic boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">More watchful than a sentinel,</span><br>
+ By day and night your constant joy<br>
+ <span class="c4">To guard and please me well.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I clasp your head upon my breast-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The while you whine and lick my
+hand-</span><br>
+ And thus our friendship is confessed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And thus we understand!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Ah, Blanco! did I worship God<br>
+ <span class="c4">As truly as you worship me,</span><br>
+ Or follow where my Master trod<br>
+ <span class="c4">With your humility,-</span><br>
+<br>
+ Did I sit fondly at His feet,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,</span><br>
+ And watch Him with a love as sweet,<br>
+ <span class="c4">My life would grow divine!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>J.G. Holland</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/129.gif" width="348" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<a name="Footnote_003"></a><a href="#FNanchor003">[003]</a>
+<blockquote>Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's
+Sons.</blockquote>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>leal</b> (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.</p>
+<p><b>dungeon</b> (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison,
+commonly underground.</p>
+<p>Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal;
+glad partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.</p>
+<p>What duty does Blanco teach his master?</p>
+<p>Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.</p>
+<p>The three great divisions of time are <i>past, present,
+future.</i> Tell what time each of the following action-words
+expresses:</p>
+<p>found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has
+borne, crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_42_"></a>
+<h1>_42_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ab'bot</td>
+<td>clois'ter</td>
+<td>min'ster</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>li'brary</td>
+<td>chron' i cle</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">A STORY OF A MONK.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk
+named Urban, who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent
+piety. He was a studious reader of the learned and sacred volumes
+in the convent library. One day he read in the Epistles of St.
+Peter the words, "One day is with the Lord as a thousand years,
+and a thousand years as one day;" and this saying seemed
+impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.</p>
+<p>Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the
+library into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird
+perched on the bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a
+nightingale. The bird did not move as the monk approached her,
+till he came quite close, and then she flew to another bough, and
+again another, as the monk pursued her. Still singing the same
+sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk, entranced by
+the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.</p>
+<p>At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every
+thing seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more
+beautiful, and older,-the buildings, the garden; and in the place
+of the low, humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three
+towers reared its head to the sky. This seemed very strange to
+the monk, indeed marvelous; but he walked on to the cloister gate
+and timidly rang the bell. A porter entirely unknown to him
+answered his summons, and drew back in amazement when he saw the
+monk.</p>
+<p>The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing
+with astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to
+have seen before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered
+the church; but all retreated when they saw the strange figure of
+the monk. The abbot only (but not his abbot) stopped, and
+stretching a crucifix before him, exclaimed, "In the name of
+Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And what dost thou seek
+here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"</p>
+<p>The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his
+eyes to the ground, and for the first time became aware that a
+long silvery beard descended from his chin over his girdle, to
+which was still suspended the key of the library. To the monks
+around, the stranger seemed some marvelous appearance; and, with
+a mixture of awe and admiration, they led him to the chair of the
+abbot. There he gave the key to a young monk, who opened the
+library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was written that
+three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and no
+one knew whither he had gone.</p>
+<p>"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk
+Urban, with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes,
+listening to thy notes, and yet three hundred years have passed
+away! Thou hast sung to me the song of eternity which I could
+never before learn. Now I know it; and, dust myself, I pray to
+God kneeling in the dust." With these words he sank to the
+ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of
+punctuation.</p>
+<p>Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare
+your work with the printed page.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness
+shorten life.</p>
+<p><i>From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>The older I grow-and I now stand upon the brink of
+eternity-the more comes back to me the sentence in the catechism
+which I learned when a child, and the fuller and deeper becomes
+its meaning: "What is the chief end of man? To glorify God, and
+to enjoy Him forever."</p>
+<p><i>Thomas Carlyle.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_43_"></a>
+<h1>_43_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>dole</td>
+<td>man' na</td>
+<td>em' blem</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re leased'</td>
+<td>plumes</td>
+<td>breathe</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>crim' son</td>
+<td>feath' ered</td>
+<td>soared</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>dou' bly</td>
+<td>hom' i ly</td>
+<td>ser'a phim</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Up soared the lark into the air,<br>
+ A shaft of song, a wing&egrave;d prayer,<br>
+ As if a soul, released from pain,<br>
+ Were flying back to heaven again.<br>
+<br>
+ St. Francis heard; it was to him<br>
+ An emblem of the Seraphim;<br>
+ The upward motion of the fire,<br>
+ The light, the heat, the heart's desire.<br>
+<br>
+ Around Assisi's convent gate<br>
+ The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,<br>
+ From moor and mere and darksome wood<br>
+ Came flocking for their dole of food.<br>
+<br>
+ "O brother birds," St. Francis said,<br>
+ "Ye come to me and ask for bread,<br>
+ But not with bread alone to-day<br>
+ Shall ye be fed and sent away.<br>
+<br>
+ "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds<br>
+ With manna of celestial words;<br>
+ Not mine, though mine they seem to be,<br>
+ Not mine, though they be spoken through me.<br>
+<br>
+ "O, doubly are ye bound to praise<br>
+ The great Creator in your lays;<br>
+ He giveth you your plumes of down,<br>
+ Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.<br>
+<br>
+ "He giveth you your wings to fly<br>
+ And breathe a purer air on high,<br>
+ And careth for you everywhere,<br>
+ Who for yourselves so little care!"<br>
+<br>
+ With flutter of swift wings and songs<br>
+ Together rose the feathered throngs,<br>
+ And singing scattered far apart;<br>
+ Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.<br>
+<br>
+ He knew not if the brotherhood<br>
+ His homily had understood;<br>
+ He only knew that to one ear<br>
+ The meaning of his words was clear.<br>
+
+<p><i>Longfellow.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin
+&amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/136.gif" width="327" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>ST. FRANCIS PREACHING</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>lays</b>, songs.</p>
+<p><b>Assisi</b> ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St.
+Francis was born in 1182.</p>
+<p>What does "manna of celestial words" mean?</p>
+<p>What is the singular form of seraphim?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Every word has its own spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">True or false, that never dies;</span><br>
+ Every word man's lips have uttered<br>
+ <span class="c4">Echoes in God's skies.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_44_"></a>
+<h1>_44_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sound the thrilling song;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Roll the hymn along.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let the heavens ring;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Welcome, new-born King.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Over the sea and land,</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Chant the anthem grand.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Let us all rejoice;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lift each heart and voice.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Swell the hymn on high;</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sound it to the sky.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Gloria in excelsis!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sing it, sinful earth,</span><br>
+ In excelsis Deo!<br>
+ <span class="c4">For the Savior's birth.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Father Ryan.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy &amp; Sons,
+New York.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/138.gif" width="309" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Hofmann</i>.--"Glory to God in the highest; and on earth
+peace to men of good will."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_45_"></a>
+<h1>_45_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>plied</td>
+<td>won' drous</td>
+<td>ex cite' ment</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com mo' tion</td>
+<td>vig' or</td>
+<td>fo' li age</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>mar' vel ous</td>
+<td>com pas' sion</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="FNanchor004"></a>
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.</a><a href=
+"#Footnote_004"><sup>[004]</sup></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in
+the evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told
+of strange things that were to happen. They had lived in the
+Forest many, many years; but never had they seen such marvelous
+sights as were to be seen now in the sky, and upon the hills, and
+in the distant village.</p>
+<p>"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who
+are not so tall as you can behold none of these wonderful
+things."</p>
+<p>"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars,
+"and the Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk
+down from heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon
+the hills."</p>
+<p>The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a
+tiny tree, so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a
+very beautiful little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses
+loved it very dearly.</p>
+<p>"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree;
+"and how I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds!
+It must be very beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder
+whence it comes."</p>
+<p>"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels
+could make such sweet music."</p>
+<p>"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes,
+and the shepherds on the hills join in the song."</p>
+<p>The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about
+a Child that had been born. But further than this they did not
+understand. The strange and glorious song continued all the
+night.</p>
+<p>In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the
+same song about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with
+them, until every part of the woods rang with echoes of that
+wondrous song. They were clad all in white, and there were crowns
+upon their fair heads, and golden harps in their hands. Love,
+hope, joy and compassion beamed from their beautiful faces. The
+Angels came through the Forest to where the little Tree stood,
+and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands, kissed
+its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had
+been born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and
+hung upon the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang
+the song of the Child.</p>
+<p>When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the
+little Tree. Night and day he watched so that no harm should come
+to it. Day by day it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it
+his choicest rays, heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and
+the winds sang to it their prettiest songs.</p>
+<p>So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became
+the pride and glory of the Forest.</p>
+<p>One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest.
+"Have no fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the
+Master."</p>
+<p>And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its
+smooth trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and
+then turned and went away.</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/142.gif" width="297" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>A.Bida.</i></p>
+<p>Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested
+beneath the Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times
+He slept there and the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came
+with the Master to the Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the
+Tree, and talked with Him of things which the Tree never could
+understand. It heard them tell how the Master healed the sick and
+raised the dead and bestowed blessings wherever He walked.</p>
+<p>But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face
+was pale and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed.
+The Tree heard Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning
+there was a sound of rude voices and a clashing of swords.</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/143.gif" width="321" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Hofmann.</i></p>
+<p>Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree
+was hewn to the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and
+its soft, thick foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the
+Forest wept.</p>
+<p>The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw
+it no more.</p>
+<p>But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great
+King stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had
+seen that day a Cross raised on Calvary,-the Tree on which was
+nailed the Body of the dying Master.</p>
+<p><i>Eugene Field.</i></p>
+<p>From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_004"></a><a href=
+"#FNanchor004">[004]</a></p>
+<blockquote>Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.</blockquote>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_46_"></a>
+<h1>_46_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE HOLY CITY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;-<br>
+ I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;<br>
+ I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang<br>
+ Methought the voice of Angels<br>
+ From Heaven in answer rang;-<br>
+ Methought the voice of Angels<br>
+ From Heaven in answer rang.<br>
+ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing<br>
+ Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!<br>
+<br>
+ And then methought my dream was changed;-<br>
+ The streets no longer rang<br>
+ Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.<br>
+ The sun grew dark with mystery,<br>
+ The morn was cold and chill,<br>
+ As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;-<br>
+ As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.<br>
+ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing<br>
+ Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!<br>
+<br>
+ And once again the scene was changed-<br>
+ New earth there seemed to be;<br>
+ I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;<br>
+ The light of God was on its streets,<br>
+ The gates were open wide,<br>
+ And all who would might enter,<br>
+ And no one was denied.<br>
+ No need of moon or stars by night,<br>
+ Nor sun to shine by day;<br>
+ It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,-<br>
+ It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.<br>
+ Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,<br>
+ Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_47_"></a>
+<h1>_47_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>trea' son</td>
+<td>eu' lo gies</td>
+<td>de bat' ed</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>phi los' o phy</td>
+<td>in ge nu' i ty</td>
+<td>ap pro' pri ate</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>con' sum ma ted</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE FEAST OF TONGUES.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was
+ordered to furnish the choicest dainties that money could
+procure. The first course consisted of tongues, cooked in
+different ways and served with appropriate sauces. This gave rise
+to much mirth and many witty remarks by the guests. The second
+course was also nothing but tongues, and so with the third and
+fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus demanded in
+an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and
+philosophy. By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce
+carried on, contracts executed, and marriages consummated.
+Nothing is equal to the tongue." The company applauded Aesop's
+wit, and good feeling was restored.</p>
+<p>"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of
+dining with me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the
+feast; to-morrow," said he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with
+the worst meat you can find." The next day the guests assembled
+as before, and to their astonishment and the anger of Xanthus
+nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said Xanthus,
+"should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue?
+What wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in?
+Treasons, violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved
+upon, and communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires,
+cities, and of private friendships." The company were more than
+ever struck by Aesop's ingenuity, and they interceded for him
+with his master.</p>
+<p><i>From "Aesop's Fables."</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Xanthus</b>, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the
+sixth century before Christ.</p>
+<p>Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they
+are formed in each case:</p>
+<p>dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily,
+copy, loaf, roof, half, valley, donkey.</p>
+<p>What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following
+sentence: "How should tongues be the best of meat one day and the
+worst another?"</p>
+<p>Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he
+said in dispraise of it.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The
+tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the
+Father; and by it we curse men who are made after the likeness of
+God."</p>
+<p><i>From "Epistle of St. James."</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_48_"></a>
+<h1>_48_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ap' pe tite</td>
+<td>ha rangued'</td>
+<td>sus pend' ed</td>
+<td>min' strel sy</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE
+GLOWWORM.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A nightingale, that all day long<br>
+ Had cheered the village with his song,<br>
+ Nor yet at eve his note suspended,<br>
+ Nor yet when eventide was ended,<br>
+ Began to feel, as well he might,<br>
+ The keen demands of appetite;<br>
+ When, looking eagerly around,<br>
+ He spied far off, upon the ground,<br>
+ A something shining in the dark,<br>
+ And knew the glowworm by his spark;<br>
+ So, stooping down from hawthorn top,<br>
+ He thought to put him in his crop.<br>
+<br>
+ The worm, aware of his intent,<br>
+ Harangued him thus, right eloquent:<br>
+ "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,<br>
+ "As much as I your minstrelsy,<br>
+ You would abhor to do me wrong<br>
+ As much as I to spoil your song:<br>
+ For 'twas the self-same Power Divine<br>
+ Taught you to sing and me to shine;<br>
+ That you with music, I with light,<br>
+ Might beautify and cheer the night."<br>
+ The songster heard this short oration,<br>
+ And, warbling out his approbation,<br>
+ Released him, as my story tells,<br>
+ And found a supper somewhere else.<br>
+ <i>William Cowper.</i><br>
+<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of
+appetite?"</p>
+<p>Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the
+bird? Study it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy
+with the printed page as to spelling, capitals and
+punctuation.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I would not enter on my list of friends<br>
+ (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,<br>
+ Yet wanting sensibility) the man<br>
+ Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.<br>
+ An inadvertent step may crush the snail<br>
+ That crawls at evening in the public path;<br>
+ But he that has humanity, forewarned,<br>
+ Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.<br>
+
+<p><i>William Cowper.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c7">
+<br>
+<br>
+ Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nor crush that helpless worm!</span><br>
+ The frame thy wayward looks deride<br>
+ <span class="c4">Required a God to form.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The common Lord of all that move.<br>
+ <span class="c4">From whom thy being flowed,</span><br>
+ A portion of His boundless love<br>
+ <span class="c4">On that poor worm bestowed.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Let them enjoy their little day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Their humble bliss receive;</span><br>
+ Oh! do not lightly take away<br>
+ <span class="c4">The life thou canst not give!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Thomas Gisborne.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_49_"></a>
+<h1>_49_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>mar' gin</td>
+<td>pitch' er</td>
+<td>cup' board</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>breathed</td>
+<td>di' a mond</td>
+<td>quiv' er ing</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">JACK FROST.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,<br>
+ And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;<br>
+ So, through the valley, and over the height,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In silence I'll take my way.</span><br>
+ I will not go on like that blustering train,<br>
+ The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,<br>
+ Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;<br>
+ <span class="c4">But I'll be as busy as they!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;<br>
+ He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed<br>
+ In diamond beads; and over the breast<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of the quivering lake he spread</span><br>
+ A coat of mail, that it need not fear<br>
+ The glittering point of many a spear,<br>
+ Which he hung on its margin, far and near,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where a rock could rear its head.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He went to the windows of those who slept,<br>
+ And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:<br>
+ Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,<br>
+ <span class="c4">By the morning light were seen</span><br>
+ Most beautiful things!-there were flowers and trees;<br>
+ There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;<br>
+ There were cities with temples and towers; and these<br>
+ <span class="c4">All pictured in silvery sheen!</span><br>
+<br>
+ But he did one thing that was hardly fair;<br>
+ He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there<br>
+ That all had forgotten for him to prepare.-<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Now, just to set them a-thinking,</span><br>
+ I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;<br>
+ "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;<br>
+ And the glass of water they've left for me,<br>
+ Shall '<i>tchick</i>,' to tell them I'm drinking."<br>
+
+<p><i>Hannah F. Gould.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>crest</b>, top or summit.</p>
+<p><b>coat of mail</b>, a garment of iron or steel worn by
+warriors in olden times.</p>
+<p><b>bevies</b>, flocks or companies.</p>
+<p><b>sheen</b>, brightness.</p>
+<p><b>tchick</b> a combination of letters whose pronunciation is
+supposed to resemble the sound of breaking glass.</p>
+<p>What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?</p>
+<p>How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread
+over the lake? Why?</p>
+<p>What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of
+those who slept?"</p>
+<p>What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?</p>
+<p>Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work?
+Why does he work generally at night?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_50_"></a>
+<h1>_50_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>re' al ize</td>
+<td>pen' du lum</td>
+<td>dil' i gent ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sig nif' i cance</td>
+<td>auc tion eer'</td>
+<td>per sist' ent ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in ex haust' i ble</td>
+<td>un der stood'</td>
+<td>hope' less ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>nev er the less</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_5">"GOING! GOING! GONE!"</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one
+of our large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room
+so crowded with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's
+face and uplifted hammer above the heads of the crowd.</p>
+<p>"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a
+sharp rap.</p>
+<p>I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with
+a new force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times
+before, with only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded
+solemn.</p>
+<p>"Going! Going! Gone!"</p>
+<p>"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;-"with
+time." This world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that
+we are buyers: we are, in fact, more like beggars; we have
+brought no money to exchange for precious minutes, hours, days,
+or years; they are given to us. There is no calling out of terms,
+no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but nevertheless, the time is
+"going! going! gone!"</p>
+<p>The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound,
+and the more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of
+the value of time.</p>
+<p>When we are young we think old people are preaching and
+prosing when they say so much about it,-when they declare so
+often that days, weeks, even years, are short. I can remember
+when a holiday, a whole day long, appeared to me an almost
+inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon, even, seemed an
+endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come seemed
+longer than does a whole year now.</p>
+<p>One needs to live many years before one learns how little time
+there is in a year,-how little, indeed, there will be even in the
+longest possible life,-how many things one will still be obliged
+to leave undone.</p>
+<p>But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize
+if you will try-if you will stop and think about it a little; and
+that is, how fast and how steadily the present time is slipping
+away. However long life may seem to you as you look forward to
+the whole of it, the present hour has only sixty minutes, and
+minute by minute, second by second, it is "going! going! gone!"
+If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is "gone" forever.
+Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time." It makes
+me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have wasted;
+how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.</p>
+<p>All the men and women who have made the world better, happier
+or wiser for their having lived in it, have done so by working
+diligently and persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one
+of these, when "looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw
+not the specter of his mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am
+so foolish as to think that all the preaching in the world can
+make anything look to young eyes as it looks to old eyes; not a
+bit of it.</p>
+<p>But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the
+minute, hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at
+the clock now and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of
+every minute, as it flies,-"Going! going! gone!"</p>
+<p><i>Helen Hunt Jackson.</i></p>
+<p>From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>prosing</b>, talking in a dull way.</p>
+<p>In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics,
+use others that have the same general meaning:</p>
+<p>I heard these words <i>ringing</i> out from a <i>room</i> so
+<i>crowded</i> with <i>people</i> that I could <i>but</i> just
+<i>see</i> the man's <i>face.</i> How <i>fast</i> and
+<i>steadily</i> the present time is <i>slipping</i> away!</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Punctuate the following:</p>
+<p>Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_51_"></a>
+<h1>_51_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>yearn</td>
+<td>car' ol</td>
+<td>mus' ing</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>stee' ple</td>
+<td>mag' ic al</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">SEVEN TIMES TWO.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">How many soever they be,</span><br>
+ And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Come over, come over to me!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,<br>
+ <span class="c4">No magical sense conveys;</span><br>
+ And bells have forgotten their old art of telling<br>
+ <span class="c4">The fortune of future days.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While a boy listened alone;</span><br>
+ Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily<br>
+ <span class="c4">All by himself on a stone.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And mine, they are yet to be;</span><br>
+ No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:<br>
+ <span class="c4">You leave the story to me.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And hangeth her hoods of snow;</span><br>
+ She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:<br>
+ <span class="c4">Oh, children take long to grow!</span><br>
+<br>
+ I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nor long summer bide so late;</span><br>
+ And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,<br>
+ <span class="c4">For some things are ill to wait.</span><br>
+<br>
+ I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,<br>
+ <span class="c4">While dear hands are laid on my
+head,</span><br>
+ "The child is a woman-the book may close over,<br>
+ <span class="c4">For all the lessons are said."</span><br>
+<br>
+ I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Not one, as he sits on the tree;</span><br>
+ The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Such as I wish it to be.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>"Turn again, turn again!"</b> Reference is here made to
+Dick Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London
+to earn a living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord
+Mayor of that city.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics,
+entitled "The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a
+woman's life. For the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see
+page 44 of the Fourth Reader. Read it in connection with this.
+"Seven Times Two" shows the girl standing at the entrance to
+maidenhood, books closed and lessons said, longing for the years
+to go faster to bring to her the happiness she imagines is
+waiting.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/156.gif" width="339" height=
+"423" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_52_"></a>
+<h1>_52_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>man' i fold</td>
+<td>do mes' tic</td>
+<td>pet' tish ly</td>
+<td>in grat' i tude</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a
+long absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred
+mound beneath which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful
+period, a great change had come over me. My childish years had
+passed away, and with them my youthful character. The world was
+altered, too; and as I stood at my mother's grave, I could hardly
+realize that I was the same thoughtless, happy creature, whose
+cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of tenderness.</p>
+<p>But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the
+remembrance of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen
+her but yesterday-as if the blessed sound of her well-remembered
+voice was in my ear. The gay dreams of my infancy and childhood
+were brought back so distinctly to my mind that, had it not been
+for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed would have been
+gentle and refreshing.</p>
+<p>The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of
+it now pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who
+have parents to love them may learn to value them as they
+ought.</p>
+<p>My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so
+accustomed to her pale face and weak voice, that I was not
+frightened at them, as children usually are. At first, it is
+true, I sobbed violently; but when, day after day, I returned
+from school, and found her the same, I began to believe she would
+always be spared to me; but they told me she would die.</p>
+<p>One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home
+discouraged and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was
+paler than usual, but she met me with the same affectionate smile
+that always welcomed my return. Alas! when I look back through
+the lapse of thirteen years, I think my heart must have been
+stone not to have been melted by it. She requested me to go
+downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I pettishly asked her
+why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a look of mild
+reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a hundred
+years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of water
+for her poor, sick mother?"</p>
+<p>I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly.
+Instead of smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I
+set the glass down very quickly, and left the room. After playing
+a short time, I went to bed without bidding my mother good night;
+but when alone in my room, in darkness and silence, I remembered
+how pale she looked, and how her voice trembled when she said,
+"Will not my daughter bring a glass of water for her poor, sick
+mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her chamber to ask
+forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they told me
+I must not waken her.</p>
+<p>I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my
+bed, resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry
+I was for my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke,
+and, hurrying on my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber.
+She was dead! She never spoke more-never smiled upon me again;
+and when I touched the hand that used to rest upon my head in
+blessing, it was so cold that it made me start.</p>
+<p>I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my
+heart. I then wished that I might die, and be buried with her;
+and, old as I now am, I would give worlds, were they mine to
+give, could my mother but have lived to tell me she forgave my
+childish ingratitude. But I cannot call her back; and when I
+stand by her grave, and whenever I think of her manifold
+kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me will
+bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"But O for the touch of a vanished hand,<br>
+ And the sound of a voice that is still!"<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_53_"></a>
+<h1>_53_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>chide</td>
+<td>be dewed'</td>
+<td>em balmed'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>be tide'</td>
+<td>lin' gered</td>
+<td>wor' shiped</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I love it, I love it; and who shall dare<br>
+ To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?<br>
+ I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;<br>
+ I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.<br>
+ 'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;<br>
+ Not a tie will break, not a link will start.<br>
+ Would ye learn the spell?-a mother sat there!<br>
+ And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.<br>
+<br>
+ In Childhood's hour I lingered near<br>
+ The hallowed seat with listening ear;<br>
+ And gentle words that mother would give,<br>
+ To fit me to die, and teach me to live.<br>
+ She told me that shame would never betide,<br>
+ With truth for my creed and God for my guide;<br>
+ She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,<br>
+ As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.<br>
+<br>
+ I sat and watched her many a day,<br>
+ When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;<br>
+ And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,<br>
+ And turned from her Bible to bless her child.<br>
+ Years rolled on; but the last one sped-<br>
+ My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:<br>
+ I learned how much the heart can bear,<br>
+ When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.<br>
+<br>
+ 'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now<br>
+ With quivering breath and throbbing brow:<br>
+ 'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;<br>
+ And Memory flows with lava tide.<br>
+ Say it is folly, and deem me weak,<br>
+ While the scalding drops start down my cheek;<br>
+ But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear<br>
+ My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.<br>
+
+<p><i>Eliza Cook.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>spell</b>, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have
+magical power; a charm.</p>
+<p><b>hallowed</b>, made holy. <b>hollowed</b>, made a hole out
+of; made hollow. Use these two words in sentences of your
+own.</p>
+<p>What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"</p>
+<p>Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your
+imagination will furnish you with all needed details.</p>
+<p>Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the
+accented syllable of each:</p>
+<p>absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety,
+again, virtue, ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother,
+genuine, earliest, fatigued, business.</p>
+<p>The dictionary will aid you.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_54_"></a>
+<h1>_54_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>crags</td>
+<td>break</td>
+<td>tongue</td>
+<td>thoughts</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ha' ven</td>
+<td>sail' or</td>
+<td>state' ly</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Break, break, break,<br>
+ <span class="c4">On thy cold gray stones, O sea!</span><br>
+ And I would that my tongue could utter<br>
+ <span class="c4">The thoughts that arise in me.</span><br>
+<br>
+ O well for the fisherman's boy,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That he shouts with his sister at
+play!</span><br>
+ O well for the sailor lad,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That he sings in his boat on the
+bay!</span><br>
+<br>
+ And the stately ships go on<br>
+ <span class="c4">To the haven under the hill;</span><br>
+ But O for the touch of a vanished hand,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And the sound of a voice that is
+still!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Break, break, break,<br>
+ <span class="c4">At the foot of thy crags, O sea!</span><br>
+ But the tender grace of a day that is dead<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will never come back to me.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Tennyson</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/163.gif" width="304" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>Tennyson</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_55_"></a>
+<h1>_55_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>barns</td>
+<td>deaf en ing</td>
+<td>i dol' a trous</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pon' der</td>
+<td>ca lum' ni ate</td>
+<td>Be at' i tudes</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">GOD IS OUR FATHER.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended
+to inspire the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It
+was given amidst fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and
+whatever else could fill the minds of the Jews with fear and
+wonder. Compelled, as it were, by the idolatrous acts of His
+chosen people, by their repeated rebellions, and their endless
+murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty Sovereign,
+the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with
+awe and dread.</p>
+<p>It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love,
+was given to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the
+Beatitudes from which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders
+were heard; no angry flashes of lightning were visible. There was
+nothing forbidding in the voice, words, or appearance of the
+Divine Lawgiver. In the whole exterior of our Savior there was a
+something so sweet, so humble, so meek and captivating, that the
+people were filled with admiration and love.</p>
+<p>One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that
+Christ preached is the fact that He constantly called God our
+Father. How beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the
+Law of love! Listen to Him attentively, and ponder upon His
+words:</p>
+<p>"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen
+by them: otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand
+know what thy right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret,
+and thy FATHER WHO seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your
+enemies; do good to them that hate you; and pray for them that
+persecute and calumniate you; that you may be the children of
+your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His sun to rise upon the
+good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust.</p>
+<p>"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do
+they reap, nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER
+feedeth them. Are not you of much more value than they?... If
+you, then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your
+children, how much more will your FATHER WHO is in heaven give
+good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will forgive men
+their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also your
+offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your
+FATHER forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you
+pray: OUR FATHER Who art in heaven."</p>
+<p>From these and many other similar expressions found in the
+very first sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that
+it is the expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as
+our loving Father; and that, however unworthy we may be, we
+should look upon ourselves as His beloved children. There cannot
+be a possible doubt of this, since it is taught so positively by
+His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the Truth, and the
+Life."</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/165.gif" width="600" height=
+"420" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Henry le Jeune.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_56_"></a>
+<h1>_56_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">HAPPY OLD AGE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"You are old, Father William," the young man cried;<br>
+ <span class="c4">"The few locks that are left you are
+gray;</span><br>
+ You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now, tell me the reason, I pray."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I remembered that youth would fly
+fast,</span><br>
+ And abused not my health and my vigor at first,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That I never might need them at
+last."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"And life must be hastening away;</span><br>
+ You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Now, tell me the reason, I pray."</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Let the cause thy attention engage;</span><br>
+ In the days of my youth I remembered my God!<br>
+ <span class="c4">And He hath not forgotten my age."</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Robert Southey.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of
+the important lessons it teaches?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_57_"></a>
+<h1>_57_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>smit' ing</td>
+<td>el' o quence</td>
+<td>mes' mer ize</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ges' ture</td>
+<td>vin' e gar</td>
+<td>un dy' ing ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">KIND WORDS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which
+seems to be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's
+song, which had lost its way and come on earth, and sang on
+undyingly, smiting the hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and
+putting for the while an angel's nature into us.</p>
+<p>Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In
+truth, there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems
+as they could almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely,
+soften the hard and angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long,
+loyal, and self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a
+foundation than a kind word.</p>
+<p>Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been
+made happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we
+are unable to explain! And happiness is a great power of
+holiness. Thus, kind words, by their power of producing
+happiness, have also a power of producing holiness, and so of
+winning men to God.</p>
+<p>If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious
+subjects, it is by voice and words that men mesmerize each other.
+Hence it is that the world is converted by the voice of the
+preacher. Hence it is that an angry word rankles longer in the
+heart than an angry gesture, nay, very often even longer than a
+blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power of kindness in
+general applies with an additional and peculiar force to kind
+words.</p>
+<p><i>Father Faber.</i></p>
+<p>From "Spiritual Conferences."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Explain: Kind words are the music of the world-An angel's song
+that had lost its way and come on earth-Smiting the hearts of men
+with sweetest wounds-Putting an angel's nature into us-Hard and
+angry hearts of men-An angry word rankles longer in the heart
+than even a blow.</p>
+<p>Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made
+you very happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,-to have
+kind words said to him, or for him to say them to another?</p>
+<p>Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal,
+eloquence, or learning.</p>
+<p><i>Father Faber.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a
+hundred barrels of vinegar.</p>
+<p><i>St. Francis de Sales.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_58_"></a>
+<h1>_58_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">KINDNESS IS THE WORD.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="35%"> </td>
+<td width="65%">"What is the real good?"<br>
+ I asked in musing mood.<br>
+<br>
+ Order, said the law court;<br>
+ Knowledge, said the school;<br>
+ Truth, said the wise man;<br>
+ Pleasure, said the fool;<br>
+ Love, said the maiden;<br>
+ Beauty, said the page;<br>
+ Freedom, said the dreamer;<br>
+ Home, said the sage;<br>
+ Fame, said the soldier;<br>
+ Equity, said the seer;-<br>
+<br>
+ Spake my heart full sadly:<br>
+ "The answer is not here."<br>
+<br>
+ Then within my bosom<br>
+ Softly this I heard:<br>
+ "Each heart holds the secret:<br>
+ Kindness is the word."<br>
+
+<p><i>John Boyle O'Reilly.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>sage</b>, a wise man.</p>
+<p><b>seer</b>, one who foresees events; a prophet.</p>
+<p><b>equity</b> ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_59_"></a>
+<h1>_59_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>va' cant</td>
+<td>joc' und</td>
+<td>pen' sive</td>
+<td>spright' ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>sol' i tude</td>
+<td>daf' fo dils</td>
+<td>con tin' u ous</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">DAFFODILS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I wandered lonely as a cloud<br>
+ <span class="c4">That floats on high o'er vales and
+hills,</span><br>
+ When all at once I saw a crowd,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A host, of golden daffodils,</span><br>
+ Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Fluttering and dancing in the
+breeze.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Continuous as the stars that shine<br>
+ <span class="c4">And twinkle on the Milky Way,</span><br>
+ They stretched in never-ending line<br>
+ <span class="c4">Along the margin of the bay:</span><br>
+ Ten thousand saw I at a glance,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Tossing their heads in sprightly
+dance.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The waves beside them danced; but they<br>
+ <span class="c4">Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:</span><br>
+ A poet could not but be gay<br>
+ <span class="c4">In such a jocund company.</span><br>
+ I gazed,-and gazed,-but little thought<br>
+ <span class="c4">What wealth the show to me had
+brought:</span><br>
+<br>
+ For oft, when on my couch I lie<br>
+ <span class="c4">In vacant or in pensive mood,</span><br>
+ They flash upon that inward eye<br>
+ <span class="c4">Which is the bliss of solitude;</span><br>
+ And then my heart with pleasure fills,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And dances with the daffodils.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>William Wordsworth.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Milky Way</b>, the belt of light seen at night in the
+heavens, and is composed of millions of stars.</p>
+<p>1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the
+poet compare his loneliness?</p>
+<p>What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the
+daffodils doing?</p>
+<p>What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe
+the picture contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.</p>
+<p>2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of
+daffodils there were? How would you tell it?</p>
+<p>How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does
+<i>margin</i> mean?</p>
+<p>How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he
+say they were doing?</p>
+<p>3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the
+daffodils surpass the waves?</p>
+<p>What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?</p>
+<p>4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive
+mood?" "Inward eye?"</p>
+<p>How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?</p>
+<p>What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the
+heart of the poet?</p>
+<p>What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the
+beginning of the poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?</p>
+<p>Commit the poem to memory.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/171.gif" width="285" height=
+"411" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_60_"></a>
+<h1>_60_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>hos' tile</td>
+<td>en dowed'</td>
+<td>tu' mult</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ac' o lyte</td>
+<td>ep' i taph</td>
+<td>grav' i ty</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com' bat ants</td>
+<td>pref' er ence</td>
+<td>a maz' ed ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ath let' ic</td>
+<td>Vi at' i cum</td>
+<td>in her' it ance</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>cem' e ter y</td>
+<td>re tal' i ate</td>
+<td>un flinch' ing ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ir re sist' i ble</td>
+<td>un vi' o la ted</td>
+<td>con temp' tu ous ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_6">THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the
+Church was going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with
+Christians condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on
+the morrow, and to these it was necessary to send the Holy
+Viaticum to strengthen their souls for the battle before them. On
+this day, when the hostile passions of heathen Rome were
+unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so many Christian
+victims, it was a work of more than common danger to discharge
+this duty.</p>
+<p>The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round
+from the altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its
+safest bearer. Before any other could step forward, the young
+acolyte Tarcisius knelt at his feet. With his hands extended
+before him, ready to receive the sacred deposit, with a
+countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as an angel's, he
+seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.</p>
+<p>"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled
+with admiration of the picture before him.</p>
+<p>"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not
+refuse me this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes,
+and his cheeks glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these
+words. He stretched forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was
+so full of fervor and courage, that the plea was irresistible.
+The priest took the Divine Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a
+linen cloth, then in an outer covering, and put them on his
+palms, saying-</p>
+<p>"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy
+feeble care. Avoid public places as thou goest along; and
+remember that holy things must not be delivered to dogs, nor
+pearls be cast before swine. Thou wilt keep safely God's sacred
+gifts?"</p>
+<p>"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth,
+as he folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and
+with cheerful reverence started on his journey. There was a
+gravity beyond the usual expression of his years stamped upon his
+countenance, as he tripped lightly along the streets, avoiding
+equally the more public, and the too low, thoroughfares.</p>
+<p>As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its
+mistress, a rich lady without children, saw him coming, and was
+struck with his beauty and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his
+breast, he was hastening on. "Stay one moment, dear child," she
+said, putting herself in his way; "tell me thy name, and where do
+thy parents live?"</p>
+<p>"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up
+smilingly; "and I have no home, save one which it might be
+displeasing to thee to hear."</p>
+<p>"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee.
+Oh, that I had a child like thee!"</p>
+<p>"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most
+solemn and sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its
+performance."</p>
+<p>"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."</p>
+<p>"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled
+look, which made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher
+sphere. She watched him a long time, and after some deliberation
+determined to follow him. Soon, however, she heard a tumult with
+horrid cries, which made her pause on her way until they had
+ceased, when she went on again.</p>
+<p>In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better
+things than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into
+an open space, where boys, just escaped from school, were
+beginning to play.</p>
+<p>"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get
+him?" said their leader.</p>
+<p>"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I
+have not seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all
+sports. Come, Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his
+arm, "whither so fast? take a part in our game, that's a good
+fellow."</p>
+<p>"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."</p>
+<p>"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and
+bullying youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when
+I want anything done. So come, join us at once."</p>
+<p>"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me
+go."</p>
+<p>"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to
+be carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose;
+well, it will not addle by being for half an hour out of its
+nest. Give it to me, and I will put it by safe while we
+play."</p>
+<p>"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards
+heaven.</p>
+<p>"I <i>will</i> see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will
+know what is this wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him
+roughly about. A crowd of men from the neighborhood soon got
+round, and all asked eagerly what was the matter. They saw a boy,
+who, with folded arms, seemed endowed with a supernatural
+strength, as he resisted every effort of one much bigger and
+stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs, pulls,
+blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept
+his purpose.</p>
+<p>"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when
+Fulvius chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the
+combatants. He at once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at
+the Ordination; and being asked, as a better-dressed man, the
+same question, he replied contemptuously, as he turned on his
+heel, "What is it? Why, only a Christian, bearing the
+Mysteries."</p>
+<p>This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of
+the Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a
+general demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge.
+"Never with life," was his only reply. A heavy blow from a
+smith's fist nearly stunned him, while the blood flowed from the
+wound. Another and another followed, till, covered with bruises,
+but with his arms crossed fast upon his breast, he fell heavily
+on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were just seizing,
+him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt themselves
+pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round
+and round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and
+the rest retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the
+author of this overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground
+than he was on his knees, and with tears in his eyes raised up
+the bruised and fainting boy as tenderly as a mother could have
+done, and in most gentle tones asked him, "Are you much hurt,
+Tarcisius?"</p>
+<p>"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with
+a smile; "but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of
+them."</p>
+<p>The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence,
+as if bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice,
+a martyr's relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the
+divine Victim of eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in
+confidence on the stout soldier's neck, but his arms and hands
+never left their watchful custody of the confided gift; and his
+gallant bearer felt no weight in the hallowed double burden which
+he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady met him and stared
+amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer at what he
+carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is that
+Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"</p>
+<p>"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he
+was a Christian."</p>
+<p>The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He
+opened his eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look
+came the light of faith-she hastened to be a Christian.</p>
+<p>The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he
+removed the child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated,
+the Holy of Holies; and he thought he looked more like an angel
+now, sleeping the martyr's slumber, than he did when living
+scarcely an hour before. Quadratus himself bore him to the
+cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried amidst the admiration
+of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed for him an
+epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the belief
+in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The mob profanely bade him to
+display;</span><br>
+ He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Than Christ's Body to mad dogs
+betray."</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Cardinal Wiseman.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>addle</b>, to become rotten, as eggs.</p>
+<p><b>tunic</b>, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and
+confined at the waist by a girdle.</p>
+<p><b>supernatural</b>, = prefix <i>super</i>, meaning
+<i>above</i> or <i>beyond,</i> + <i>natural</i>.</p>
+<p><b>-ion</b>, a suffix denoting <i>act, state, condition
+of</i>. Define <i>emotion, objection, dejection, conversion,
+submission, construction, admiration, persecution, observation,
+revolution, deliberation.</i></p>
+<p>Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of
+"Fabiola." Tell him how much you like the book, what you have
+read in it, and thank him for sending it.</p>
+<p>Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and
+tell what you like or dislike in each.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Kept murmuring under breath:</span><br>
+ "Before temptation-sacrifice!<br>
+ <span class="c4">Before dishonor-death!"</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Margaret J. Preston.</i></p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ Dare to do right! Dare to be true!<br>
+ Other men's failures can never save you;<br>
+ Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;<br>
+ Stand like a hero, and battle till death.<br>
+
+<p><i>George L. Taylor.</i></p>
+<hr>
+<br>
+ Heroes of old! I humbly lay<br>
+ <span class="c4">The laurel on your graves again;</span><br>
+ Whatever men have done, men may-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The deeds you wrought are not in
+vain.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Austin Dobson.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_61_"></a>
+<h1>_61_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>a jar'</td>
+<td>chal' ice</td>
+<td>a thwart'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>rap' tur ous</td>
+<td>sward</td>
+<td>ter' race</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>jew' eled</td>
+<td>ci bo' ri um</td>
+<td>por' tal</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>vil' lain</td>
+<td>au da' cious</td>
+<td>sac ri le' gious</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>A summer night in Remy-strokes of the midnight bell,<br>
+ Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,<br>
+ Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,<br>
+ A little village slumber'd,-locked in quiet dreams.<br>
+<br>
+ A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,<br>
+ With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,<br>
+ But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star<br>
+ Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!<br>
+<br>
+ And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran<br>
+ From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,<br>
+ Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,<br>
+ The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!<br>
+<br>
+ To right-to left,-he faltered; then swift across the sward,<br>
+ (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;<br>
+ By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,<br>
+ Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.<br>
+<br>
+ Behold! a grassy terrace,-a garden, wide and fair,<br>
+ And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.<br>
+ Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,<br>
+ Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!<br>
+<br>
+ O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!<br>
+ Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,<br>
+ Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright-<br>
+ Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,<br>
+ Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.<br>
+ All silent stands the beehive,-no little buzzing things<br>
+ Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.<br>
+<br>
+ Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,-<br>
+ The master paces nearer,-he listens-lo! he starts,<br>
+ What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive<br>
+ With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!<br>
+<br>
+ Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees<br>
+ Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;<br>
+ For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,<br>
+ Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...<br>
+<br>
+ O little ones, who listen unto this legend old<br>
+ (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),<br>
+ From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,<br>
+ Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.<br>
+<br>
+ He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare<br>
+ A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;<br>
+ Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,<br>
+ Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.<br>
+<br>
+ "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,<br>
+ Around My Heart shall hover your wing&egrave;d ministries,<br>
+ And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come<br>
+ To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><i>Eleanor C. Donnelly.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C.
+Donnelly.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>mere</b>, a waste place; a marsh.</p>
+<p><b>trellis</b>, a frame of latticework.</p>
+<p><b>waxen</b>, made of wax. <i>en</i> is here a suffix meaning
+<i>made of.</i> Use <i>golden, leaden, wooden,</i> in sentences
+of your own.</p>
+<p>Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning.
+What does <i>revealed</i> mean? <i>cloister</i>? Find as many
+synonyms of these two words as you can. Consult your
+dictionary.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_62_"></a>
+<h1>_62_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>stalked</td>
+<td>ep'au lets</td>
+<td>be hind' hand</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>se date'</td>
+<td>trudg' ing</td>
+<td>com pos' ed ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fid' dler</td>
+<td>strut' ted</td>
+<td>ap pro ba' tion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>re sumed'</td>
+<td>af firmed'</td>
+<td>dis a gree' a ble</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>whith er so ev' er</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he
+resembled a flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and
+agreeable, and took no delight in labor of any kind. But, while
+Daffy-down-dilly was yet a little boy, his mother sent him away
+from his pleasant home, and put him under the care of a very
+strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of Mr. Toil. Those who
+knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a very worthy
+character, and that he had done more good, both to children and
+grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr.
+Toil had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all
+his ways seemed very disagreeable to our friend
+Daffy-down-dilly.</p>
+<p>The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his
+desk, overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a
+certain awful birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the
+shoulders of a boy whom Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he
+punished a whole class who were behindhand with their lessons;
+and, in short, unless a lad chose to attend constantly to his
+book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet moment in the
+schoolroom of Mr. Toil.</p>
+<p>"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to
+himself, when he had been at school about a week. "I'll run away,
+and try to find my dear mother; at any rate, I shall never find
+anybody half so disagreeable as this old Mr. Toil." So, the very
+next morning, off started poor Daffy-down-dilly, and began his
+rambles about the world, with only some bread and cheese for his
+breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay his expenses. But
+he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a man of
+grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.</p>
+<p>"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence
+do you come so early, and whither are you going?"
+Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a moment or two, but finally confessed
+that he had run away from school, on account of his great dislike
+to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to find some place in the
+world where he should never see nor hear of the old schoolmaster
+again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the stranger, "we
+will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do with
+Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name
+was never heard."</p>
+<p>They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some
+haymakers were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading
+it out in the sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the
+sweet smell of the new-mown grass, and thought how much
+pleasanter it must be to make hay in the sunshine, under the blue
+sky, and with the birds singing sweetly in the neighboring trees
+and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal schoolroom, learning
+lessons all day long, and continually scolded by Mr. Toil.</p>
+<p>But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to
+peep over the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his
+companion's hand, and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or
+he will catch us!"</p>
+<p>"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.</p>
+<p>"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly.
+"Don't you see him among the haymakers?"</p>
+<p>"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil,
+the schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer;
+and people say he is the more disagreeable man of the two.
+However, he won't trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the
+farm."</p>
+<p>They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a
+drum and fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry
+forward, that they might not miss seeing the soldiers.</p>
+<p>"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.</p>
+<p>Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning
+his eyes to the captain of the company, what should he see but
+the very image of old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and
+feather on his head, a pair of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a
+laced coat on his back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long
+sword, instead of a birch rod, in his hand! Though he held his
+head high and strutted like a rooster, still he looked quite as
+ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in the
+schoolroom.</p>
+<p>"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a
+trembling voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us
+enlist in his company!"</p>
+<p>"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the
+stranger, very composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who has served in the army
+all his life. People say he's a very severe fellow, but you and I
+need not be afraid of him."</p>
+<p>"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir,
+I don't want to see the soldiers any more."</p>
+<p>So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by
+and by, they came to a house by the roadside, where some people
+were making merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles
+on their faces, were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.</p>
+<p>"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion;
+"for Mr. Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a
+fiddler, and where people are dancing and making merry. We shall
+be quite safe here."</p>
+<p>But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue,
+for, happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he
+behold again, but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow
+instead of a birch rod.</p>
+<p>"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there
+was nobody but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of
+his playing on a fiddle!"</p>
+<p>"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but
+another brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned
+the profession of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and
+generally calls himself Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil,
+and those who have known him best, think him still more
+disagreeable than his brother."</p>
+<p>"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I
+don't like the looks of this fiddler."</p>
+<p>Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering
+along the highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant
+villages; and, whithersoever they went, behold! there was the
+image of old Mr. Toil.</p>
+<p>He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a
+house, he sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he
+was there. He made himself at home in every cottage, and, under
+one disguise or another, stole into the most splendid
+mansions.</p>
+<p>"Oh, take me back!-take me back!" said poor little
+Daffy-down-dilly, bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but
+Toil all the world over, I may just as well go back to the
+schoolhouse."</p>
+<p>"Yonder it is,-there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger;
+for, though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many
+steps, they had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line.
+"Come; we will go back to school together."</p>
+<p>There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had
+not remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there
+again was the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had
+been in company with Toil all day, even while he was doing his
+best to run away from him.</p>
+<p>When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil,
+he began to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable,
+and that the old schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his
+face almost as pleasant as the face of his own dear mother.</p>
+<p><i>Nathaniel Hawthorne.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin
+&amp; Co., Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>How will the following sentences read if you change the
+name-words from the singular to the plural form: The old
+schoolmaster has a rod in his hand. The boy likes his teacher.
+The girl goes cheerfully on an errand for her mother. The pupil
+attends to his book, and knows his lesson perfectly. Under the
+blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in tree and
+bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain
+had a smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his
+back, a purple sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of
+a birch rod in his hand.</p>
+<p>From points furnished by your teacher, write a short
+composition on "Our School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals,
+punctuation, paragraphs, margin, penmanship, neatness and general
+appearance.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gems:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Evil is wrought by want of thought,<br>
+ As well as want of heart.<br>
+
+<p><i>Hood.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines
+your happiness.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_63_"></a>
+<h1>_63_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>su' macs</td>
+<td>char' coal</td>
+<td>of fi' cial</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fres' coes</td>
+<td>in i' tial</td>
+<td>rest' less ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">IN SCHOOL DAYS</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A ragged beggar sunning;</span><br>
+ Around it still the sumacs grow<br>
+ <span class="c4">And blackberry vines are running.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Within, the master's desk is seen,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Deep scarred by raps official;</span><br>
+ The warping floor, the battered seats,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The jackknife's carved initial;</span><br>
+<br>
+ The charcoal frescoes on its wall;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its door's worn sill, betraying</span><br>
+ The feet that, creeping slow to school,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Went storming out to playing!</span><br>
+<br>
+ Long years ago a winter sun<br>
+ <span class="c4">Shone over it at setting;</span><br>
+ Lit up its western window-panes,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And low eaves' icy fretting.</span><br>
+<br>
+ It touched the tangled golden curls,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And brown eyes full of grieving,</span><br>
+ Of one who still her steps delayed<br>
+ <span class="c4">When all the school were leaving.</span><br>
+<br>
+ For near her stood the little boy<br>
+ <span class="c4">Her childish favor singled;</span><br>
+ His cap pulled low upon a face<br>
+ <span class="c4">Where pride and shame were mingled.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Pushing with restless feet the snow<br>
+ <span class="c4">To right and left, he lingered;</span><br>
+ As restlessly her tiny hands<br>
+ <span class="c4">The blue-checked apron fingered.</span><br>
+<br>
+ He saw her lift her eyes; he felt<br>
+ <span class="c4">The soft hand's light caressing,</span><br>
+ And heard the tremble of her voice,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As if a fault confessing:</span><br>
+<br>
+ "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;<br>
+ <span class="c4">I hate to go above you,</span><br>
+ Because,"-the brown eyes lower fell,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Because, you see, I love you!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ Still memory to a gray-haired man<br>
+ <span class="c4">That sweet child-face is showing.</span><br>
+ Dear girl! the grasses on her grave<br>
+ <span class="c4">Have forty years been growing!</span><br>
+<br>
+ He lives to learn, in life's hard school,<br>
+ <span class="c4">How few who pass above him</span><br>
+ Lament their triumph and his loss,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Like her,-because they love him.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Whittier.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<p>From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin &amp; Co.,
+Publishers.</p>
+<br>
+ <img src="images/194.gif" width="94" height="129" alt="" border=
+"0">
+<p><i>John G. Whittier.</i></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_64_"></a>
+<h1>_64_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>Mars</td>
+<td>so' lar (ler)</td>
+<td>Ve' nus</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>plan' ets</td>
+<td>Mer' cu ry</td>
+<td>di am' e ter</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com' pass es</td>
+<td>sat' el lite</td>
+<td>tel' e scope</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>grad' u al ly</td>
+<td>in' ter est ing</td>
+<td>cir cum' fer ence</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">THE SUN'S FAMILY</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys
+sat in the shade of a large tree.</p>
+<p>"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to
+recall one," said Frank.</p>
+<p>"Let me see. Well-perhaps-I think that the most wonderful
+story I have ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's
+family."</p>
+<p>"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard
+enough to puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."</p>
+<p>"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll
+try to tell you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't
+you--the great shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"</p>
+<p>"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the
+morning when I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes,
+then over the trees and houses; by evening it has traveled across
+the sky, when it sinks below the houses and trees, out of sight
+on the other side of the town."</p>
+<p>"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the
+sun is traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really
+we-we on this big ball of earth-who are moving. We are whirling
+around on the outer surface, rushing on at the rate-let me
+think-at the rate of more than one thousand miles a minute!"</p>
+<p>"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.</p>
+<p>"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball
+moves when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"</p>
+<p>"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe
+that this big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with
+all the cities, towns, and people whirling round and round faster
+than a ball from the mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that
+it stirs one inch,-this is much harder to believe than all that
+the fairies have ever told us."</p>
+<p>"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.</p>
+<p>"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and
+viewed the stars one night through a telescope. As I looked
+through this instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger
+than ever before. The earth is a planet, and there are besides
+our earth seven large planets and many small ones, which also
+whirl around the sun. Some of these planets are larger than our
+world. Some of them also move much faster.</p>
+<p>"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him.
+The one nearest to the sun is Mercury."</p>
+<p>"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.</p>
+<p>"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched
+to ashes; but if creatures live on that planet, God has given
+them a different nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what
+would be dreadful to us.</p>
+<p>"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen
+shining so bright after sunset; then she is called the evening
+star. Some of the time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen
+in the east; she is then called the morning star.</p>
+<p>"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the
+same time of the year. If you are watching her this evening
+before or after sundown, there is no use getting up early
+to-morrow to look for her again. For several weeks Venus remains
+an evening star, then gradually disappears. Two months later you
+may see her in the east-a bright morning star.</p>
+<p>"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from
+the sun. Now let us make a drawing of what we have been talking
+about.</p>
+<p>"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and
+make a dot on its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this
+circle eighty-eight days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to
+travel around the sun. Make another circle three and one-half
+inches in diameter and make a dot on it. This represents Venus.
+It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five days to journey around the
+sun.</p>
+<p>"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to
+us. The compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The
+path made represents the journey we take in three hundred
+sixty-five days.</p>
+<p>"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan.
+This circle must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is
+much farther from the sun than our earth is. It takes him six
+hundred eighty-seven days to make the trip around the sun. The
+other planets are too far away to be put in this plan."</p>
+<p>"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all-the moon!" said
+Philip.</p>
+<p>"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little
+ball. It is less than seven thousand miles around her, while our
+earth is twenty-five thousand miles around."</p>
+<p>"Is that a little ball, Frank?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what
+is called a satellite-that is, a servant or an attendant. She is
+a satellite of our earth. She keeps circling round and round our
+earth, while we go circling round and round the sun.</p>
+<p>"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round
+a field, and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see
+that the movements of the bird would be much quicker than
+mine."</p>
+<p>"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always
+looks so quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like
+lightning, why is it that she scarcely seems to move more than an
+inch in ten minutes?"</p>
+<p>"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that
+what to us seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You
+know how very fast the steam cars seem to go when one is quite
+near them, yet I have seen a train of cars far off which seemed
+to go so slowly that I could fancy it was painted on the
+sky."</p>
+<p>"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out
+these curious things about the sun and the stars-to know how
+large they are and how fast they go?" asked Philip.</p>
+<p>"That is something we shall understand when we are older,"
+said Frank. "We must gain a little knowledge every day."</p>
+<p>"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked
+Philip.</p>
+<p>"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter
+has four, but we can see them only when we look through a
+telescope." replied Frank.</p>
+<p>"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear
+night, planets?" inquired Philip.</p>
+<p>"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars,"
+said Frank. "A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its
+own. It shines just as the moon shines, because the sun gives it
+light."</p>
+<p>"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.</p>
+<p>"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus
+and Mars as a shining planet."</p>
+<p>"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for
+almost every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a
+diamond. Do these fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked
+Philip.</p>
+<p>"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed
+stars to show that they do not move like planets? The word
+<i>planet</i> means to <i>wander.</i> These fixed stars are suns
+themselves, which may have planets of their own. They are so very
+far away that we cannot know much about them, except that they
+shine of themselves just as our sun does.</p>
+<p>"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and
+satellites with which he is surrounded. We know that without his
+warm rays there would not be any flowers or birds or any living
+thing on the earth. So we can easily imagine that all other suns
+are shining in the same way for the worlds that surround
+them."</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as
+directed in the lesson.</p>
+<p>Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the
+correct form of the action-word <i>draw</i>:</p>
+<p>My boys like to - .</p>
+<p>Yesterday they - the picture of an old mill.</p>
+<p>They are now - a picture of the solar system.</p>
+<p>The lines on the blackboard were - by John.</p>
+<p>He - well.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_65_"></a>
+<h1>_65_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>dew' y</td>
+<td>clos'es</td>
+<td>ca ress'</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>twined</td>
+<td>wreaths</td>
+<td>weath'er</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>brook' let</td>
+<td>togeth'er</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">WILL AND I</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>We roam the hills together,<br>
+ In the golden summer weather,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I;</span><br>
+ And the glowing sunbeams bless us,<br>
+ And the winds of heaven caress us,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As we wander hand in hand</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Through the blissful summer land,</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Where the tinkling brooklet passes<br>
+ Through the heart of dewy grasses,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I</span><br>
+ Have heard the mock-bird singing,<br>
+ And the field lark seen upspringing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In his happy flight afar,</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">Like a tiny winged star-</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Amid cool forest closes,<br>
+ We have plucked the wild wood-roses,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I;</span><br>
+ And have twined, with tender duty,<br>
+ Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty<br>
+ <span class="c4">Of the purest brows that shine</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">With a mother-love divine,</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Ah! thus we roam together,<br>
+ Through the golden summer weather,<br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I;</span><br>
+ While the glowing sunbeams bless us,<br>
+ And the winds of heaven caress us,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As we wander hand in hand</span><br>
+ <span class="c4">O'er the blissful summer land,</span><br>
+ <span class="c8">Will and I.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Paul H. Hayne.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>closes</b>, small inclosed fields.</p>
+<p>Write about what you and Will <i>saw, heard,</i> and
+<i>did,</i> as you roamed together over the hills, through the
+woods, along the brooklet, on a certain bright, clear day in
+early summer. You are a country boy and Will is your city cousin.
+If you begin your composition by saying, "It was a beautiful
+afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of the day in
+mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what <i>made</i> the day
+beautiful,-such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In
+other paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order
+in which you saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did
+in the "closes" of the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild
+flowers. Conclude by telling what a pleasant surprise you gave
+mother on your return home; and how she surprised you two hungry
+boys during supper.</p>
+<p>In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of
+the poem as you can.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_66_"></a>
+<h1>_66_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>themes</td>
+<td>her' e sy</td>
+<td>ramp' ant</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>a chieved'</td>
+<td>es cort ed</td>
+<td>po ta'toes</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>trem' u lous</td>
+<td>lux u' ri ous</td>
+<td>cre du' li ty</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in cred' i ble</td>
+<td>phe nom' e non</td>
+<td>pre ma ture' ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE
+CRATCHITS'.</a></h3>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/206.gif" width="298" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.</p>
+<p>Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a
+twice-turned gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she
+laid the cloth, assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her
+daughters, also brave in ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit
+plunged a fork into the saucepan of potatoes, and getting the
+corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's private property,
+conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day) into his
+mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now two
+smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for
+their own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions,
+they danced about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to
+the skies, while he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked
+him) blew the fire, until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked
+loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out and peeled.</p>
+<p>"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs.
+Cratchit. "And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late
+last Christmas Day by half an hour!"</p>
+<p>"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits.
+"Hurrah! There's <i>such</i> a goose, Martha!"</p>
+<p>"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said
+Mrs. Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her
+shawl and bonnet for her with officious zeal.</p>
+<p>"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear
+away this morning, mother!"</p>
+<p>"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs.
+Cratchit. "Sit ye down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm,
+Lord bless ye!"</p>
+<p>"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young
+Cratchits, who were everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"</p>
+<p>So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least
+three feet of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down
+before him; and his threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to
+look seasonable; and Tiny Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny
+Tim, he bore a little crutch, and had his limb supported by an
+iron frame.</p>
+<p>"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking
+round.</p>
+<p>"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.</p>
+<p>"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high
+spirits; for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from
+church, and had come home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas
+Day!"</p>
+<p>Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in
+joke; so she came out prematurely from behind the closet door,
+and ran into his arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny
+Tim, and bore him off to the wash-house, that he might hear the
+pudding singing in the copper.</p>
+<p>"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she
+had rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter
+to his heart's content.</p>
+<p>"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets
+thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest
+things you ever heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the
+people saw him in the church, because he was a cripple, and it
+might be pleasant to them to remember, upon Christmas Day, who
+made lame beggars walk and blind men see."</p>
+<p>Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled
+more when he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and
+hearty.</p>
+<p>His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back
+came Tiny Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his
+brother and sister to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob
+compounded some hot mixture in a jug, and put it on the hob to
+simmer, Master Peter and the two ubiquitous young Cratchits went
+to fetch the goose, with which they soon returned in high
+procession.</p>
+<p>Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the
+rarest of all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black
+swan was a matter of course-and in truth it was something very
+like it in that house. Mrs. Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot;
+Master Peter mashed the potatoes with incredible vigor; Miss
+Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha dusted the hot
+plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at the
+table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts,
+crammed spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for
+goose before their turn came to be helped. At last the dishes
+were set on, and grace was said. It was succeeded by a breathless
+pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking slowly all along the carving
+knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast; but when she did, and
+when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued forth, one murmur
+of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny Tim, excited
+by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the handle of
+his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!</p>
+<p>Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked.
+Its tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of
+universal admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed
+potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family;
+indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one
+small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn't eaten it all at
+last! Yet every one had had enough, and the youngest Cratchits in
+particular were steeped in sage and onion to the eyebrows! But
+now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs. Cratchit left
+the room alone-too nervous to bear witnesses-to take the pudding
+up and bring it in.</p>
+<p>Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break
+in turning out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of
+the backyard and stolen it, while they were merry with the
+goose-a supposition at which the two young Cratchits became
+livid. All sorts of horrors were supposed.</p>
+<p>Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the
+copper. A smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell
+like an eating house and a pastry cook's next door to each other,
+with a laundress's next door to that! That was the pudding! In
+half a minute Mrs. Cratchit entered-flushed, but smiling
+proudly-with the pudding like a speckled cannon ball, so hard and
+firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas holly stuck into
+the top.</p>
+<p>Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too,
+that he regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs.
+Cratchit since their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the
+weight was off her mind, she would confess she had her doubts
+about the quantity of flour. Everybody had something to say about
+it, but nobody said or thought it was at all a small pudding for
+so large a family. It would have been flat heresy to do so. Any
+Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a thing.</p>
+<p>At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the
+hearth swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being
+tasted, and considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon
+the table, and a shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the
+Cratchit family drew round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called
+a circle, meaning half a one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood
+the family display of glass,-two tumblers and a custard cup
+without a handle.</p>
+<p>These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as
+golden goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with
+beaming looks, while the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and
+cracked noisily. Then Bob proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all,
+my dears. God bless us!"</p>
+<p>Which all the family re[:e]choed.</p>
+<p>"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.</p>
+<p>He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool.
+Bob held his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the
+child, and wished to keep him by his side, and dreaded that he
+might be taken from him.</p>
+<img src="images/204.gif" width="93" height="129" alt="" border=
+"0">
+<p><i>Charles Dickens.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>declension</b>, a falling downward.</p>
+<p><b>copper</b>, a boiler made of copper.</p>
+<p><b>rallied</b>, indulged in pleasant humor.</p>
+<p><b>ubiquitous</b> (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be
+everywhere at the same time.</p>
+<p><b>eked out</b>, added to; increased.</p>
+<p><b>bedight</b>, bedecked; adorned.</p>
+<p><b>re[:e]choed</b> (re&euml;choed): What is the mark placed
+over the second <i>&euml;</i> called, and what does it
+denote?</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken,
+is considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of
+the best Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very
+poor as to the goods of this world, but very rich in love,
+kindness, and contentment.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_67_"></a>
+<h1>_67_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">WHICH SHALL IT BE?</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Which shall it be? Which shall it be?<br>
+ I looked at John, John looked at me;<br>
+ And when I found that I must speak,<br>
+ My voice seemed strangely low and weak:<br>
+ "Tell me again what Robert said,"<br>
+ And then I, listening, bent my head-<br>
+ This is his letter: "I will give<br>
+ A house and land while you shall live,<br>
+ If in return from out your seven<br>
+ One child to me for aye is given."<br>
+<br>
+ I looked at John's old garments worn;<br>
+ I thought of all that he had borne<br>
+ Of poverty, and work, and care,<br>
+ Which I, though willing, could not share;<br>
+ I thought of seven young mouths to feed,<br>
+ Of seven little children's need,<br>
+ <span class="c9">And then of this.</span><br>
+<br>
+ <span class="c9">"Come, John," said I,</span><br>
+ "We'll choose among them as they lie<br>
+ Asleep." So, walking hand in hand,<br>
+ Dear John and I surveyed our band:<br>
+ First to the cradle lightly stepped,<br>
+ Where Lilian, the baby, slept.<br>
+ Softly the father stooped to lay<br>
+ His rough hand down in loving way,<br>
+ When dream or whisper made her stir,<br>
+ And huskily he said: "Not her!"<br>
+<br>
+ We stooped beside the trundle-bed,<br>
+ And one long ray of lamplight shed<br>
+ Athwart the boyish faces there,<br>
+ In sleep so pitiful and fair;<br>
+ I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek<br>
+ A tear undried. Ere John could speak,<br>
+ "He's but a baby too," said I,<br>
+ And kissed him as we hurried by.<br>
+ Pale, patient Robbie's angel face<br>
+ Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace-<br>
+ "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"<br>
+ He whispered, while our eyes were dim.<br>
+<br>
+ Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son-<br>
+ Turbulent, restless, idle one-<br>
+ Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave<br>
+ Bade us befriend him to the grave;<br>
+ Only a mother's heart could be<br>
+ Patient enough for such as he;<br>
+ "And so," said John, "I would not dare<br>
+ To take him from her bedside prayer."<br>
+<br>
+ Then stole we softly up above,<br>
+ And knelt by Mary, child of love;<br>
+ "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"<br>
+ I said to John. Quite silently<br>
+ He lifted up a curl that lay<br>
+ Across her cheek in wilful way,<br>
+ And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"<br>
+ The while my heart beat audibly.<br>
+<br>
+ Only one more, our eldest lad,<br>
+ Trusty and truthful, good and glad,<br>
+ So like his father. "No, John, no!<br>
+ I cannot, will not, let him go."<br>
+ And so we wrote in courteous way,<br>
+ We could not give one child away;<br>
+ And afterwards toil lighter seemed,<br>
+ Thinking of that of which we dreamed,<br>
+ Happy in truth that not one face<br>
+ Was missed from its accustomed place,<br>
+ Thankful to work for all the seven,<br>
+ Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!<br>
+
+<p><i>Anonymous</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell
+of the great affection of parents for their children. Even in the
+poorest and most numerous families, what parent could think of
+parting with a child for any sum of money?</p>
+<p>Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich
+man without children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell
+about the offer the rich man made. What a great temptation this
+was!</p>
+<p>The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's
+faces and asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the
+two youngest boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple.
+Why? Not the sweet child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son.
+Why? Not, for worlds, the oldest boy. Why?</p>
+<p>Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_68_"></a>
+<h1>_68_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>Dor'o thy</td>
+<td>in her'it ance</td>
+<td>Cap pa do' ci a</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ob' sti na cy</td>
+<td>The oph' i lus</td>
+<td>ex e cu' tion ers</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St.
+Cecilia, are familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt,
+their histories are well known also. Young as they were, they
+despised alike the pleasures and the flatteries of the world.
+They chose God alone as their portion and inheritance; and He has
+highly exalted them, and placed their names amongst those
+glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.</p>
+<p>St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born
+in the city of C&aelig;sarea, and was descended of a rich and
+noble family. While the last of the ten terrible persecutions,
+which for three hundred years steeped the Church in the blood of
+martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the faith of Christ, and,
+in consequence, was seized and carried before the Roman Prefect
+of the city.</p>
+<p>She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length,
+condemned to death. When the executioners were preparing to
+behead her, the Prefect said, "Now, at least, confess your folly,
+and pray to the immortal gods for pardon."</p>
+<p>"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and
+earth may pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when
+I reach the land whither I am going."</p>
+<p>"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most
+of the pagans, had very little notion of another world.</p>
+<p>"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells
+with his saints," replied St. Dorothy. "<i>There</i> is neither
+night nor sorrow; <i>there</i> is the river of life, and the
+brightness of eternal glory; and <i>there</i> is a paradise of
+all delight, and flowers that shall never fade."</p>
+<p>"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who
+was listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if
+these things be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you
+shall have reached the land you speak of."</p>
+<p>Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered:
+"Theophilus, you shall have the sign you ask for." There was no
+time for more; the executioner placed her before the block, and,
+in another moment, with one blow, he struck off the head of the
+holy martyr.</p>
+<p>"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his
+friends, as they were about to leave the court; "but these
+Christians are not like other people." "Their obstinacy is
+altogether surprising," rejoined his friend; "death itself will
+never make them waver. But who is this, Theophilus?" he
+continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such singular
+beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden
+hair fell on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses,
+two white and two red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a
+fragrance that their like had never before been seen. He held
+them out to Theophilus. "These flowers are for you," said he;
+"will you not take them?" "And whence do you bring them, my boy?"
+asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied, "and they are the
+sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter time!" said
+Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as never
+blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made
+another; I, too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."</p>
+<p>Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the
+enraged Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded,
+he too poured forth his blood, and obtained the crown of
+martyrdom.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>C&aelig;sarea</b> (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient
+city of Palestine. It is celebrated as being the scene of many
+events recorded in the New Testament.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>
+<p>Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.</p>
+<p><i>A line from Lowell's "0de."</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/217.gif" width="295" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_69_"></a>
+<h1>_69_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">TO A BUTTERFLY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>I've watched you now a full half hour<br>
+ Self-poised upon that yellow flower;<br>
+ And, little butterfly, indeed<br>
+ I know not if you sleep or feed.<br>
+ How motionless!-not frozen seas<br>
+ <span class="c4">More motionless!-and then</span><br>
+ What joy awaits you, when the breeze<br>
+ Hath found you out among the trees,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And calls you forth again!</span><br>
+<br>
+ This plot of orchard ground is ours;<br>
+ My trees they are, my sister's flowers;<br>
+ Here rest your wings when they are weary;<br>
+ Here lodge as in a sanctuary!<br>
+ Come often to us, fear no wrong;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sit near us on the bough!</span><br>
+ We'll talk of sunshine and of song,<br>
+ And summer days, when we were young;<br>
+ Sweet childish days, that were as long<br>
+ <span class="c4">As twenty days are now!</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Wordsworth</i>.</p>
+<img src="images/219.gif" width="208" height="360" alt="" border=
+"0"></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>self-poised</b>, balanced.</p>
+<p>What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the
+Holy of Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so
+supremely holy?</p>
+<p>Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are
+now?"</p>
+<p>Tell what you know of the author's life.</p>
+<p>Memorize the poem.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_70_"></a>
+<h1>_70_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>re tort' ed</td>
+<td>quizzed</td>
+<td>in cred' i ble</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>man u fac' ture</td>
+<td>sat' ire</td>
+<td>vi o lin' ist</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com pre hend'</td>
+<td>me lo' di ous ly</td>
+<td>hu' mor</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ex hib' it</td>
+<td>a chieve' ments</td>
+<td>for' ests</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_7">THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the
+table, it was said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an
+inkstand. What will the next thing be? It is wonderful!"</p>
+<p>"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's
+extraordinary-that's what I always say," he exclaimed to the pen
+and to the other articles on the table that were near enough to
+hear. "It is wonderful what a number of things can come out of
+me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't myself know what
+will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip into me. One
+drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?</p>
+<p>"From me all the works of the poet go forth-all these living
+men, whom people can imagine they have met-all the deep feeling,
+the humor, the vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't
+understand how it is, for I am not acquainted with nature, but it
+certainly is in me. From me all things have gone forth, and from
+me proceed the troops of charming maidens, and of brave knights
+on prancing steeds, and all the lame and the blind, and I don't
+know what more-I assure you I don't think of anything."</p>
+<p>"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all;
+for if you did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the
+fluid. You give the fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what
+dwells in me, and what I would bring to the day. It is the pen
+that writes. No man doubts that; and, indeed, most people have
+about as much insight into poetry as an old inkstand."</p>
+<p>"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand.
+"You've hardly been in service a week, and are already half worn
+out. Do you fancy you are the poet? You are only a servant; and
+before you came I had many of your sorts, some of the goose
+family, and others of English manufacture. I know the quill as
+well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service, and I shall
+have many more when <i>he</i> comes-the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should
+like to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of
+me."</p>
+<p>"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.</p>
+<p>Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a
+concert, where he had heard a famous violinist, with whose
+admirable performances he was quite enchanted. The player had
+drawn a wonderful wealth of tone from the instrument; sometimes
+it had sounded like tinkling water-drops, like rolling pearls,
+sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then again it went
+swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.</p>
+<p>The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though
+not only the strings sounded, but every part of the
+instrument.</p>
+<p>It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece
+was, the bow seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings,
+and it looked as though every one might do it. The violin seemed
+to sound of itself, and the bow to move of itself-those two
+appeared to do everything; and the audience forgot the master who
+guided them and breathed soul and spirit into them. The master
+was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and named him, and
+wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:</p>
+<p>"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of
+their achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly-the
+poet, the artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the
+general-we all do it. We are only the instruments which the
+Almighty uses: to Him alone be the honor! We have nothing of
+which we should be proud."</p>
+<p>Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form
+of a parable, which he called "The Master and the
+Instrument."</p>
+<p>"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand,
+when the two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud
+what I have written down?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That
+was a cut at you, because of your conceit. That you should not
+even have understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a
+cut from within me-surely I must know my own satire!"</p>
+<p>"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.</p>
+<p>"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.</p>
+<p>And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well;
+and it is a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good
+answer-a conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they
+slept upon it. But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up
+from within him, like the tones from the violin, falling like
+pearls, rushing like the storm-wind through the forests. He
+understood his own heart in these thoughts, and caught a ray from
+the Eternal Master. To <i>Him</i> be all the honor!</p>
+<p><i>Hans Christian Andersen.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Pipkin</b>, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked
+clay.</p>
+<p>Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words
+<i>vivid, exhibit, comprehend</i>. Consult the dictionary.</p>
+<p>What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of
+science?"</p>
+<p>Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word
+<i>parable</i>. Relate one of our Lord's parables.</p>
+<p>By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned,
+form as many words as you can from the following: man, do, late,
+loud, art, room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden,
+famous, service, furnished.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_71_"></a>
+<h1>_71_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE WIND AND THE MOON.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.<br>
+ <span class="c10">You stare in the air</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Like a ghost in a chair,</span><br>
+ Always looking what I am about,<br>
+ I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."<br>
+<br>
+ The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.<br>
+ <span class="c10">So, deep on a heap</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Of clouds, to sleep</span><br>
+ Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,<br>
+ Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."<br>
+<br>
+ He turned in his bed; she was there again!<br>
+ <span class="c10">On high in the sky,</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">With her one ghost eye,</span><br>
+ The Moon shone white and alive and plain.<br>
+ Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."<br>
+<br>
+ The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.<br>
+ <span class="c10">"With my sledge and my wedge</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">I have knocked off her edge.</span><br>
+ If only I blow right fierce and grim,<br>
+ The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."<br>
+<br>
+ He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:<br>
+ <span class="c10">"One puff more's enough</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">To blow her to snuff!</span><br>
+ One good puff more where the last was bred,<br>
+ And glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."<br>
+<br>
+ He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,<br>
+ <span class="c10">In the air nowhere</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Was a moonbeam bare;</span><br>
+ Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;<br>
+ Sure and certain the Moon was gone!<br>
+<br>
+ The Wind he took to his revels once more;<br>
+ <span class="c10">On down, in town,</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Like a merry-mad clown,</span><br>
+ He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,-<br>
+ "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!<br>
+<br>
+ He flew in a rage-he danced and he blew;<br>
+ <span class="c10">But in vain was the pain</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">Of his bursting brain;</span><br>
+ For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,<br>
+ The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.<br>
+<br>
+ Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,<br>
+ <span class="c10">And shone on her throne</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">In the sky alone,</span><br>
+ A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,<br>
+ Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.<br>
+<br>
+ Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!<br>
+ <span class="c10">With my breath, good faith!</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">I blew her to death-</span><br>
+ First blew her away right out of the sky,<br>
+ Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"<br>
+<br>
+ But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;<br>
+ <span class="c10">For, high in the sky,</span><br>
+ <span class="c10">With her one white eye,</span><br>
+ Motionless, miles above the air,<br>
+ She had never heard the great Wind blare.<br>
+
+<p><i>George MacDonald.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>down</b> (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near
+the sea.</p>
+<p><b>glimmer</b>, fainter.</p>
+<p><b>glum</b>, dark, gloomy.</p>
+<p>What is a suffix? What does the suffix <i>less</i> mean?
+Define <i>cloudless, matchless, motionless.</i></p>
+<p>What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_72_"></a>
+<h1>_72_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>mi' ter</td>
+<td>can'on</td>
+<td>car' di nal</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>dis course'</td>
+<td>di' a logue</td>
+<td>cour'te ous ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,<br>
+ Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,<br>
+ And being ever courteously inclined<br>
+ To give young folks a sober turn of mind,<br>
+ He fell into discourse with him, and thus<br>
+ The dialogue they held comes down to us.<br>
+<br>
+ <i>Saint</i>.-Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to
+Rome?<br>
+ <i>Youth</i>.-To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-And when you are one, what do you intend?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.-To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Suppose it so; what have you next in view?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.-That I may get to be a canon too.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Well; and what then?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.- Why then, for aught I know,<br>
+ I may be made a bishop.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.- Be it so,-<br>
+ <span class="c11">What next?</span><br>
+ <i>Y</i>.- Why, cardinal's a high degree;<br>
+ And yet my lot it possibly may be.<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Suppose it was; what then?<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.- Why, who can say<br>
+ But I've a chance of being pope one day?<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-Well, having worn the miter and red hat,<br>
+ And triple crown, what follows after that?<br>
+<br>
+ <i>Y</i>.-Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,<br>
+ Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:<br>
+ When I've enjoyed a dignity so high<br>
+ As long as God shall please, then I must die.<br>
+<br>
+ <i>St</i>.-What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,<br>
+ But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!<br>
+ Take my advice-whatever may betide,<br>
+ For that which <i>must be</i>, first of all provide;<br>
+ Then think of that which <i>may be</i>; and indeed,<br>
+ When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,<br>
+ But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,<br>
+ Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>St. Philip Neri</b>, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went
+to Rome in 1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory,"
+and where he died in 1595.</p>
+<p><b>triple crown</b>, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy
+Father, the Pope.</p>
+<p>Use correctly in sentences the words <i>canon, cannon,
+ca&ntilde;on.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first
+six lines of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip
+and the Youth.</p>
+<p>The whole selection might be given from memory.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_73_"></a>
+<h1>_73_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>mag' ic</td>
+<td>sta' mens</td>
+<td>de sert' ed</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>pet' als</td>
+<td>pic' tures</td>
+<td>dis cour' aged</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>liq' uid</td>
+<td>sat' is fied</td>
+<td>per se ver' ance</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE WATER LILY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures.
+There were not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived
+long ago near a great American forest. His father and mother had
+come from England, but his father was dead now. His mother was
+very poor, but there were still a few beautiful pictures on the
+walls of her house.</p>
+<p>The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not
+fond of work, he often threw his drawings away before they were
+half done. He said that he wished that some good fairy would
+finish them for him.</p>
+<p>"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any
+fairies. I never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind
+your books, my child, and never mind the fairies."</p>
+<p>"Very well, mother," said the boy.</p>
+<p>"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures,"
+said his mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly
+head. "Why, child, pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't
+clothe a body, and a log of wood is far better to burn and warm a
+body."</p>
+<p>"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.</p>
+<p>"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy
+could only say, "I don't know, mother."</p>
+<p>"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the
+dumb things as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to
+play."</p>
+<p>So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the
+brink of a little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a
+lake; but it was deep and clear, and was overhung with tall
+trees. It was evening, and the sun was getting low. The boy stood
+still beside the water and thought how beautiful it was to see
+the sun, red and glorious, between the black trunks of the pine
+trees. Then he looked up at the great blue sky and thought how
+beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding over one
+another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at the
+lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.</p>
+<p>And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself,
+"I am sure there are no trees in the world with such beautiful
+leaves as these pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world
+so lovely as these. I know this is the prettiest little lake in
+the world, and if I could paint it, every one else would know it,
+too."</p>
+<p>But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat
+down with it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct
+drawing of it. But he could not make a very good picture. At last
+he threw down his drawing and said to the lily:</p>
+<p>"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I
+were a painter!"</p>
+<p>As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and
+the cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered
+like a crown of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens
+changed to diamonds before his eyes. The white petals flowed
+together, and the next moment a beautiful little fairy stood on
+his hand. She was no taller than the lily from which she came,
+and she was dressed in a robe of the purest white.</p>
+<p>"Child, are you happy?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint
+and I cannot."</p>
+<p>"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.</p>
+<p>"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try
+any more."</p>
+<p>"But I will help you."</p>
+<p>"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."</p>
+<p>"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the
+fairy. "I know a charm which will give you success. But you must
+do exactly as I tell you. Do you promise to obey?"</p>
+<p>"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my
+heart."</p>
+<p>"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little
+key on the doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine
+tree; strike the trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not
+be afraid to unlock the door. Slip in your hand, and you will
+bring out a magic palette. You must be very careful to paint with
+colors from that palette every day. On this depends the success
+of the charm. You will find that it will make your pictures
+beautiful and full of grace.</p>
+<p>"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few
+years you shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will
+be satisfied; and that you shall become a truly great
+painter."</p>
+<p>"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the
+fairy stood trembled for joy.</p>
+<p>"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the
+fairy. "But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow
+older even begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily
+you gathered to-day will never fade till my promise is
+fulfilled."</p>
+<p>The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was
+nothing in his hand but the flower.</p>
+<p>He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once.
+There on the doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he
+found the magic palette. He was so delighted with it and so
+afraid that he might break the spell that he began to work that
+very night. After that he spent nearly all his time working with
+the magic palette. He often passed whole days beside the sheet of
+water in the forest. He painted it when the sun shone on it and
+it was spotted all over with the reflections of fleeting white
+clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking on the
+ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.</p>
+<p>So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had
+never broken the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still
+worked every day with his magic palette.</p>
+<p>But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not
+like them. His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too
+much like the real ones. She said she could see as good any day
+by looking out of her window. All this made the young man very
+unhappy. He began to doubt whether he should ever be a painter,
+and one day he threw down his palette. He thought the fairy had
+deserted him.</p>
+<p>He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell
+asleep; but in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His
+chamber was full of light, and his fairy friend stood near.</p>
+<p>"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.</p>
+<p>"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not
+feel so much discouraged.</p>
+<p>"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the
+fairy. "My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly
+assist the charm."</p>
+<p>He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set
+with a beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright
+that came near it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one
+word-"Hope."</p>
+<p>Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he
+went far, far from home. In the strange land to which he went
+people thought his pictures were wonderful; and he had become a
+great and famous painter.</p>
+<p>One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a
+great city. He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had
+been painted before he left his forest home. All the people and
+the painters praised them; but there was one that they liked
+better than the others. It was a picture of a little child,
+holding in its hands several water lilies.</p>
+<p>Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was
+left alone with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair
+thinking of leaving the place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And
+he dreamed that he was again standing near the little lake in his
+native land, watching the rays of the setting sun as they melted
+away from its surface. The beautiful lily was in his hand, and
+while he looked at it the leaves became withered, and fell at his
+feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked up, and
+there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.</p>
+<p>"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your
+magic gift? I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least
+tell me your name, so that I may cut it on a ring and always wear
+it."</p>
+<p>"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."</p>
+<p><i>Jean Ingelow.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/231.gif" width="311" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<p>Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did
+the artist desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is
+the scene of the picture placed? What time of the day and of the
+year does it show?</p>
+<p>Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about
+him?</p>
+<p>Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's
+outing. Write a composition on how the day was spent.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_74_"></a>
+<h1>_74_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">A BUILDER'S LESSON.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memorize:</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"How shall I a habit break?"<br>
+ As you did that habit make.<br>
+ As you gathered, you must lose;<br>
+ As you yielded, now refuse.<br>
+ Thread by thread the strands we twist<br>
+ Till they bind us, neck and wrist;<br>
+ Thread by thread the patient hand<br>
+ Must untwine, ere free we stand.<br>
+ As we builded, stone by stone,<br>
+ We must toil, unhelped, alone,<br>
+ Till the wall is overthrown.<br>
+<br>
+ But remember, as we try,<br>
+ Lighter every test goes by;<br>
+ Wading in, the stream grows deep<br>
+ Toward the center's downward sweep;<br>
+ Backward turn, each step ashore<br>
+ Shallower is than that before.<br>
+<br>
+ Ah, the precious years we waste<br>
+ Leveling what we raised in haste:<br>
+ Doing what must be undone<br>
+ Ere content or love be won!<br>
+ First, across the gulf we cast<br>
+ Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,<br>
+ And habit builds the bridge at last!<br>
+
+<p><i>John Boyle O'Reilly.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Memory Gem:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last
+it is so strong we cannot break it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_75_"></a>
+<h1>_75_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>in ured'</td>
+<td>ru' di ments</td>
+<td>nine' ti eth</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>ma tur' er</td>
+<td>ac' cu ra cy</td>
+<td>in ad vert' ence</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>an' ec dotes</td>
+<td>e ner' vate</td>
+<td>in cor' po ra ted</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>dig' ni fied</td>
+<td>in junc' tion</td>
+<td>pre var i ca' tion</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of
+Washington were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who,
+by the death of her husband, while her children were young,
+became the sole conductress of their education. To the inquiry,
+what course she had pursued in rearing one so truly illustrious,
+she replied, "Only to require obedience, diligence, and
+truth."</p>
+<p>These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with
+the rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his
+future greatness.</p>
+<p>He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and
+to speak of his faults and omissions without prevarication or
+disguise. Hence arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt
+of deceit in others, which ever distinguished him. Once, by an
+inadvertence of his youth, considerable loss had been incurred,
+and of such a nature as to interfere with the plans of his
+mother. He came to her, frankly owning his error, and she
+replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes, "I had
+rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."</p>
+<p>She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak
+indulgence. He was inured to early rising, and never permitted to
+be idle. Sometimes he engaged in labors which the children of
+wealthy parents would now account severe, and thus acquired
+firmness of frame and a disregard of hardship.</p>
+<p>The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had
+been taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's
+concerns devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who
+surrounded him, that he was never known to be in a hurry, but
+found time for the transaction of the smallest affairs in the
+midst of the greatest and most conflicting duties.</p>
+<p>Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of
+his mother. His obedience to her commands, when a child, was
+cheerful and strict; and as he approached to maturer years, the
+expression of her slightest wish was law.</p>
+<p>At length, America having secured her independence, and the
+war being ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted
+the repose of home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his
+mother's blessing. The hero, "first in war, first in peace, and
+first in the hearts of his countrymen," came to lay his laurels
+at his mother's feet.</p>
+<p>This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year,
+to be respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief,
+Washington closed her eyes and laid her in the grave which she
+had selected for herself.</p>
+<p>We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious
+armies, the conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of
+the world, in the delightful attitude of an obedient and
+affectionate son. She, whom he honored with such filial
+reverence, said that "he had learned to command others by first
+learning to obey."</p>
+<p>Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of
+future eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and
+remember that they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they
+neglect the injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments,
+and forsake not the law of thy mother."</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/239.gif" width="337" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>L.E. Fournier.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>conductress</b>, a woman who leads or directs.</p>
+<p>The suffix <i>-ess</i> is used to form feminine
+name-words.</p>
+<p>Tell what each of the following words means:</p>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>ab' bess</td>
+<td>ac' tress</td>
+<td>duch' ess</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>li' on ess</td>
+<td>count' ess</td>
+<td>po' et ess</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>song' stress</td>
+<td>au' thor ess</td>
+<td>di rect' ress</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Use the following homonyms in sentences:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore;
+vain, vein; vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here;
+fair, fare; sweet, suite; strait, straight.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_76_"></a>
+<h1>_76_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>na' tal</td>
+<td>a main'</td>
+<td>toc' sin</td>
+<td>re count' ed</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>'Tis splendid to have a record<br>
+ <span class="c4">So white and free from stain</span><br>
+ That, held to the light, it shows no blot,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Though tested and tried amain;</span><br>
+ That age to age forever<br>
+ <span class="c4">Repeats its story of love,</span><br>
+ And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,<br>
+ <span class="c4">All other days above.</span><br>
+<br>
+ And this is Washington's glory,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A steadfast soul and true,</span><br>
+ Who stood for his country's honor<br>
+ <span class="c4">When his country's days were few.</span><br>
+ And now when its days are many,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And its flag of stars is flung</span><br>
+ To the breeze in radiant glory,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His name is on every tongue.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To be so great and strong,</span><br>
+ That your memory is ever a tocsin<br>
+ <span class="c4">To rally the foes of wrong;</span><br>
+ To live so proudly and purely,<br>
+ <span class="c4">That your people pause in their way,</span><br>
+ And year by year, with banner and drum,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Keep the thought of your natal day.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Margaret E. Sangster.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>By permission of the author.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_77_"></a>
+<h1>_77_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>Brit' on (un)</td>
+<td>ant' lers</td>
+<td>wrin' kled</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>vet' er an</td>
+<td>im mor' tal</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>He lay upon his dying bed,<br>
+ <span class="c4">His eye was growing dim,</span><br>
+ When, with a feeble voice, he called<br>
+ <span class="c4">His weeping son to him:</span><br>
+ "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I bow to heaven's high will;</span><br>
+ But quickly from yon antlers bring<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sword of Bunker Hill."</span><br>
+<br>
+ The sword was brought; the soldier's eye<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lit with a sudden flame;</span><br>
+ And, as he grasped the ancient blade,<br>
+ <span class="c4">He murmured Warren's name;</span><br>
+ Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But what is richer still,</span><br>
+ I leave you, mark me, mark me well,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sword of Bunker Hill.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I dared the Briton's band;</span><br>
+ A captain raised his blade on me,<br>
+ <span class="c4">I tore it from his hand;</span><br>
+ And while the glorious battle raged,<br>
+ <span class="c4">It lightened Freedom's will;</span><br>
+ For, son, the God of Freedom blessed<br>
+ <span class="c4">The sword of Bunker Hill.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">A smile-and he was dead;</span><br>
+ But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Upon that dying bed.</span><br>
+ The son remains, the sword remains,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Its glory growing still,</span><br>
+ And twenty millions bless the sire<br>
+ <span class="c4">And sword of Bunker Hill.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>William R. Wallace.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/243.gif" width="530" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_78_"></a>
+<h1>_78_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>es' say</td>
+<td>buoy' ant</td>
+<td>in sip' id</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>fe quent' ing</td>
+<td>scowl' ing ly</td>
+<td>sug ges' tion</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>in tel' li gence</td>
+<td>sin' gu lar ly</td>
+<td>so lic' i tude</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>com pet' i tor</td>
+<td>phi los' o pher</td>
+<td>ve' he ment ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>tre men' dous ly</td>
+<td>ex pos tu la' tion</td>
+<td>ig no min' i ous ly</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE MARTYR'S BOY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor,
+that comes forward with light and buoyant steps across the open
+court, towards the inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to
+sketch him before he reaches it. He is about fourteen years old,
+but tall for that age, with elegance of form and manliness of
+bearing. His bare neck and limbs are well developed by healthy
+exercise; his features display an open and warm heart, while his
+lofty forehead, round which his brown hair naturally curls, beams
+with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual youth's garment,
+the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow spheroid of
+gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind
+him, shows us that he is just returning home from school.</p>
+<p>While we have been thus noting him, he has received his
+mother's embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes
+upon him for some time in silence, as if to discover in his
+countenance the cause of his unusual delay, for he is an hour
+late in his return. But he meets her glance with so frank a look,
+and with such a smile of innocence, that every cloud of doubt is
+in a moment dispelled, and she addresses him as follows:</p>
+<p>"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I
+trust, has happened to you on the way."</p>
+<p>"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all
+has been so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell
+you."</p>
+<p>A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted
+boy a delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must.
+You know I am never happy if I have failed to tell you all the
+bad and the good of the day about myself. But, to-day, for the
+first time, I have a doubt whether I ought to tell you all."</p>
+<p>Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a
+first anxiety, or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye,
+that the youth should seize her hand and put it tenderly to his
+lips, while he thus replied:</p>
+<p>"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing
+that may give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear <i>all</i>
+that has befallen me to-day, or only the cause of my late return
+home?"</p>
+<p>"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that
+concerns you can be indifferent to me."</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/246.gif" width="471" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting
+school appears to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I
+was crowned as the successful competitor in a declamation, which
+our good master Cassianus set us for our work during the morning
+hours; and this led, as you will hear, to some singular
+discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real philosopher should
+be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard anything so
+cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can
+they have to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a
+Christian, what charming suggestions such a theme naturally
+makes! And so I felt it. My heart glowed, and all my thoughts
+seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of the lessons you have
+taught me, and of the domestic examples that are before me. The
+son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my turn came
+to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the
+second, I saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending
+affectionately towards me, he said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my
+child, there are sharp ears listening.'"</p>
+<p>"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a
+Christian? I chose his school because it was in the highest
+repute for learning and morality; and now indeed I thank God that
+I did so. But in these days of danger we are obliged to live as
+strangers in our own land. Certainly, had Cassianus proclaimed
+his faith, his school would soon have been deserted. But go on,
+my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"</p>
+<p>"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows
+vehemently applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes
+of Corvinus bent scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in
+manifest anger."</p>
+<p>"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and
+wherefore?"</p>
+<p>"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in
+the school. But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know
+not why, he seems ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause
+of which I cannot understand."</p>
+<p>"Did he say aught to you, or do?"</p>
+<p>"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth
+from school into the field by the river, he addressed me
+insultingly in the presence of our companions, and said, 'Come,
+Pancratius, this, I understand, is the last time we meet
+<i>here</i>; but I have a long score to demand payment of from
+you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your
+supercilious looks at me as you spouted your high-flown
+declamation to-day; ay, and I caught expressions in it which you
+may live to rue, and that very soon. Before you leave us, I must
+have my revenge. If you are worthy of your name let us fairly
+contend in more manly strife than that of the style and tables.
+Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to humble
+you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"</p>
+<p>The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and
+scarcely breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my
+dear son?"</p>
+<p>"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of
+my school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority
+over them. 'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know,
+Corvinus, that I have always refused to indulge in personal
+combats, which, beginning in a cool trial of skill, end in an
+angry strife, hatred, and wish for revenge. How much less could I
+think of entering on them now, when you avow that you are anxious
+to begin them with those evil feelings which are usually their
+bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle round us; and
+I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had hoped
+to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all
+happiness attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you,
+in peace,' 'Not so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face
+with fury; 'but-'"</p>
+<p>The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered,
+his body trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go
+on; I dare not tell the rest!"</p>
+<p>"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your
+father's memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her
+son's head, "conceal nothing from me. I shall never again have
+rest if you tell me not all. What further said or did
+Corvinus?"</p>
+<p>The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent
+prayer, and then proceeded:</p>
+<p>"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have
+concealed your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then
+bear this token of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So
+saying, he dealt me a furious blow upon the face, which made me
+reel and stagger, while a shout of savage delight broke forth
+from the boys around us."</p>
+<p>He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:</p>
+<p>"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart
+seemed bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my
+ear the name of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt
+that I was strong enough-my rising anger made me so-to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping on the
+ground. I heard already the shout of applause that would have
+hailed my victory and turned the tables against him. It was the
+hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood so strong
+within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."</p>
+<p>"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the
+trembling matron.</p>
+<p>He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I
+stretched forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive
+you, as I freely and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.'
+Cassianus came up at that moment, having seen all from a
+distance, and the youthful crowd quickly dispersed. I entreated
+him, by our common faith, now acknowledged between us, not to
+pursue Corvinus for what he had done; and I obtained his promise.
+And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in soft, gentle
+accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call this a
+happy day?"</p>
+<p><i>"Fabiola"-Cardinal Wiseman.</i></p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/251.gif" width="541" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>spheroid</b> (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a
+sphere.</p>
+<p><b>vellum</b>, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a
+lamb, goat, sheep or young calf, for writing on.</p>
+<p><b>theme</b>, a subject or topic on which a person writes or
+speaks.</p>
+<p><b>score</b>, bill, account, reckoning.</p>
+<p><b>supercil'ious</b>, proud, haughty.</p>
+<p><b>styles and tables</b>, writing implements for schools. The
+tables or tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters
+were traced by the sharp point of the style, and erased by its
+flat top.</p>
+<p><b>cestus</b>, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of
+leather bands, and often loaded with lead or iron.</p>
+<p><b>"If you are worthy of your name."</b> Reference is here
+made by Corvinus to the <i>pancratium</i>, an athletic exercise
+among the Romans, which combined all personal contests, such as
+boxing, wrestling, etc.</p>
+<p><b>Cassianus</b>, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a
+school for Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to
+offer sacrifice to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his
+own pupils should stab him to death with their iron writing
+pencils, called styles.</p>
+<p><b>ay</b> or <b>aye</b>, meaning <i>yes</i>, is pronounced
+<i>[=i]</i> or <i>[:a][)i]</i>; meaning <i>ever</i>, and used
+only in poetry, it is pronounced <i>[=a]</i>.</p>
+<p>Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be
+clearly impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in
+your own words a description of "The Martyr's Boy."</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_79_"></a>
+<h1>_79_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">THE ANGEL'S STORY.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>Through the blue and frosty heavens<br>
+ <span class="c4">Christmas stars were shining bright;</span><br>
+ Glistening lamps throughout the City<br>
+ <span class="c4">Almost matched their gleaming light;</span><br>
+ While the winter snow was lying,<br>
+ And the winter winds were sighing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Long ago, one Christmas night.</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ Rich and poor felt love and blessing<br>
+ <span class="c4">From the gracious season fall;</span><br>
+ Joy and plenty in the cottage,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Peace and feasting in the hall;</span><br>
+ And the voices of the children<br>
+ <span class="c4">Ringing clear above it all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Yet one house was dim and darkened;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gloom, and sickness, and despair,</span><br>
+ Dwelling in the gilded chambers,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Creeping up the marble stair,</span><br>
+ Even stilled the voice of mourning,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">For a child lay dying there.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Silken curtains fell around him,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Velvet carpets hushed the tread,</span><br>
+ Many costly toys were lying<br>
+ <span class="c4">All unheeded by his bed;</span><br>
+ And his tangled golden ringlets<br>
+ <span class="c4">Were on downy pillows spread.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The skill of all that mighty City<br>
+ <span class="c4">To save one little life was vain,-</span><br>
+ One little thread from being broken,<br>
+ One fatal word from being spoken;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Nay, his very mother's pain</span><br>
+ And the mighty love within her<br>
+ <span class="c4">Could not give him health again.</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ Suddenly an unseen Presence<br>
+ <span class="c4">Checked those constant moaning
+cries,</span><br>
+ Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Raised those blue and wondering
+eyes,</span><br>
+ Fixed on some mysterious vision<br>
+ <span class="c4">With a startled, sweet surprise.</span><br>
+<br>
+ For a radiant angel hovered,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Smiling, o'er the little bed;</span><br>
+ White his raiment; from his shoulders<br>
+ <span class="c4">Snowy dove-like pinions spread,</span><br>
+ And a starlike light was shining<br>
+ <span class="c4">In a glory round his head.</span><br>
+<br>
+ While, with tender love, the angel,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Leaning o'er the little nest,</span><br>
+ In his arms the sick child folding,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Laid him gently on his breast,</span><br>
+ Sobs and wailings told the mother<br>
+ <span class="c4">That her darling was at rest.</span><br>
+<br>
+ So the angel, slowly rising,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Spread his wings, and through the
+air</span><br>
+ Bore the child; and, while he held him<br>
+ <span class="c4">To his heart with loving care,</span><br>
+ Placed a branch of crimson roses<br>
+ <span class="c4">Tenderly beside him there.</span><br>
+<br>
+ While the child, thus clinging, floated<br>
+ <span class="c4">Towards the mansions of the Blest,</span><br>
+ Gazing from his shining guardian<br>
+ <span class="c4">To the flowers upon his breast,</span><br>
+ Thus the angel spake, still smiling<br>
+ <span class="c4">On the little heavenly guest:</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Know, dear little one, that Heaven<br>
+ <span class="c4">Does no earthly thing disdain;</span><br>
+ Man's poor joys find there an echo<br>
+ <span class="c4">Just as surely as his pain;</span><br>
+ Love, on earth so feebly striving,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lives divine in Heaven again.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Once, in that great town below us,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In a poor and narrow street,</span><br>
+ Dwelt a little sickly orphan;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gentle aid, or pity sweet,</span><br>
+ Never in life's rugged pathway<br>
+ <span class="c4">Guided his poor tottering feet.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "All the striving, anxious fore-thought<br>
+ <span class="c4">That should only come with age</span><br>
+ Weighed upon his baby spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Showed him soon life's sternest
+page;</span><br>
+ Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow<br>
+ <span class="c4">Was his only heritage."</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ "One bright day, with feeble footsteps<br>
+ <span class="c4">Slowly forth he tried to crawl</span><br>
+ Through the crowded city's pathways,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Till he reached a garden-wall,</span><br>
+ Where 'mid princely halls and mansions<br>
+ <span class="c4">Stood the lordliest of all.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "There were trees with giant branches,<br>
+ Velvet glades where shadows hide;<br>
+ There were sparkling fountains glancing,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Flowers, which in luxuriant pride</span><br>
+ Even wafted breaths of perfume<br>
+ <span class="c4">To the child who stood outside.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "He against the gate of iron<br>
+ <span class="c4">Pressed his wan and wistful face,</span><br>
+ Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure<br>
+ <span class="c4">At the glories of the place;</span><br>
+ Never had his brightest day-dream<br>
+ <span class="c4">Shone with half such wondrous grace.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "You were playing in that garden,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Throwing blossoms in the air,</span><br>
+ Laughing when the petals floated<br>
+ <span class="c4">Downwards on your golden hair;</span><br>
+ And the fond eyes watching o'er you,<br>
+ And the splendor spread before you,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Told a House's Hope was there.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "When your servants, tired of seeing<br>
+ <span class="c4">Such a face of want and woe,</span><br>
+ Turning to the ragged orphan,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gave him coin, and bade him go,</span><br>
+ Down his cheeks so thin and wasted<br>
+ <span class="c4">Bitter tears began to flow.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "But that look of childish sorrow<br>
+ <span class="c4">On your tender child-heart fell,</span><br>
+ And you plucked the reddest roses<br>
+ <span class="c4">From the tree you loved so well,</span><br>
+ Passed them through the stern cold grating,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure<br>
+ <span class="c4">And the gentle voice he heard,</span><br>
+ In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;</span><br>
+ In his hand he took the flowers,<br>
+ <span class="c4">In his heart the loving word.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "So he crept to his poor garret;<br>
+ <span class="c4">Poor no more, but rich and bright;</span><br>
+ For the holy dreams of childhood-<br>
+ <span class="c4">Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light-</span><br>
+ Floated round the orphan's pillow<br>
+ <span class="c4">Through the starry summer night.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;<br>
+ <span class="c4">All too weak to rise he lay;</span><br>
+ Did he dream that none spake harshly,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">All were strangely kind that day?</span><br>
+ Surely then his treasured roses<br>
+ <span class="c4">Must have charmed all ills away.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "And he smiled, though they were fading;<br>
+ <span class="c4">One by one their leaves were shed;</span><br>
+ 'Such bright things could never perish,<br>
+ <span class="c4">They would bloom again,' he said.</span><br>
+ When the next day's sun had risen<br>
+ <span class="c4">Child and flowers both were dead.</span><br>
+<br>
+ "Know, dear little one, our Father<br>
+ <span class="c4">Will no gentle deed disdain;</span><br>
+ Love on the cold earth beginning<br>
+ <span class="c4">Lives divine in Heaven again;</span><br>
+ While the angel hearts that beat there<br>
+ <span class="c4">Still all tender thoughts retain."</span><br>
+<br>
+ So the angel ceased, and gently<br>
+ <span class="c4">O'er his little burden leant;</span><br>
+ While the child gazed from the shining,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Loving eyes that o'er him bent,</span><br>
+ To the blooming roses by him.<br>
+ <span class="c4">Wondering what that mystery meant.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Thus the radiant angel answered,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And with tender meaning smiled:</span><br>
+ "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Sin and the hard world defiled,</span><br>
+ God has given me leave to seek you,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">I was once that little child!"</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+ In the churchyard of that city<br>
+ <span class="c4">Rose a tomb of marble rare,</span><br>
+ Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With her buds and blossoms fair,-</span><br>
+ And a humble grave beside it,-<br>
+ <span class="c4">No one knew who rested there.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Adelaide A. Procter</i>.</p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/257.gif" width="277" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p><i>Kaulbach</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into
+a composition the length of which to be determined by your
+teacher. Use many of the words and forms of expression you find
+in the poem.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p>THE ANGEL'S STORY</p>
+<p>A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given
+a bunch of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers.
+Afterwards he came as a "radiant angel" to visit his dying
+friend, and in a spirit of gratitude bore him to heaven.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_80_"></a>
+<h1>_80_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>al' ti tude</td>
+<td>as tound' ing</td>
+<td>ve loc' i ty</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>vag' a bond</td>
+<td>mus tach' es</td>
+<td>hes i ta' ting ly</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>par' a lyzed</td>
+<td>tre men' dous</td>
+<td>ex tra or' di na ry</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_8">GLUCK'S VISITOR.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one
+day Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual
+warning to little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he
+was to let nobody in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite
+close to the fire, for it was raining very hard. He turned and
+turned, and the roast got nice and brown.</p>
+<p>"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask
+anybody to dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of
+mutton as this, it would do their hearts good to have somebody to
+eat it with them." Just as he spoke there came a double knock at
+the house door, yet heavy and dull, as though the knocker had
+been tied up. "It must be the wind," said Gluck; "nobody else
+would venture to knock double knocks at our door."</p>
+<p>No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and
+what was particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a
+hurry, and not to be in the least afraid of the consequences.
+Gluck put his head out the window to see who it was.</p>
+<p>It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had
+ever seen in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly
+brass-colored; his cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes
+twinkled merrily through long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches
+curled twice round like a corkscrew on each side of his mouth,
+and his hair, of a curious mixed pepper-and-salt color, descended
+far over his shoulders. He was about four feet six in height, and
+wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same altitude, decorated
+with a black feather some three feet long. He wore an enormous
+black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very much too
+long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.</p>
+<p>Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his
+visitor that he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until
+the old gentleman turned round to look after his fly-away cloak.
+In so doing he caught sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed
+in the window, with its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed.</p>
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/264.gif" width="397" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to
+answer the door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman
+justice, he <i>was</i> wet. His feather hung down between his
+legs like a beaten puppy's tail, dripping like an umbrella; and
+from the end of his mustaches the water was running into his
+waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill stream.</p>
+<p>"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."</p>
+<p>"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.</p>
+<p>"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death,
+sir, if I thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"</p>
+<p>"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and
+there's your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on
+the walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."</p>
+<p>Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the
+window that he began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold.
+When he turned and saw the beautiful fire rustling and roaring,
+and throwing long, bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were
+licking its chops at the savory smell of the leg of mutton, his
+heart melted within him that it should be burning away for
+nothing.</p>
+<p>"He does look <i>very</i> wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just
+let him in for a quarter of an hour."</p>
+<p>As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind
+through the house that made the old chimney totter.</p>
+<p>"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to
+them."</p>
+<p>"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let
+you stay till they come; they'd be the death of me."</p>
+<p>"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that.
+How long may I stay?"</p>
+<p>"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's
+very brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and
+sat himself down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the
+chimney, for it was much too high for the roof.</p>
+<p>"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again
+to turn the mutton. But the old gentleman did <i>not</i> dry
+there, but went on drip, drip, dripping among the cinders, so
+that the fire fizzed and sputtered and began to look very black
+and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak; every fold in it ran
+like a gutter.</p>
+<p>"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the
+water spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor;
+"mayn't I take your cloak?"</p>
+<p>"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.</p>
+<p>"Your cap, sir?"</p>
+<p>"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather
+gruffly.</p>
+<p>"But-sir-I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but-really-sir-you're putting the fire out."</p>
+<p>"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."</p>
+<p>Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it
+was such a strange mixture of coolness and humility.</p>
+<p>"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't
+you give me a little bit?"</p>
+<p>"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.</p>
+<p>"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had
+nothing to eat yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a
+bit from the knuckle!"</p>
+<p>He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted
+Gluck's heart.</p>
+<p>"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give
+you that, but no more."</p>
+<p>"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.</p>
+<p>"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.</p>
+<p>Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came
+a tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck
+fitted the slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the
+door.</p>
+<p>"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz,
+as he walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.</p>
+<p>"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans,
+administering an educational box on the ear, as he followed his
+brother.</p>
+<p>"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.</p>
+<p>"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off,
+and was standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the
+utmost velocity.</p>
+<p>"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and
+turning fiercely to Gluck.</p>
+<p>"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great
+terror.</p>
+<p>"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.</p>
+<p>"My dear brother, he was so <i>very</i> wet!"</p>
+<p>The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that
+instant, the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which
+it crashed with a shock that shook the water out of it all over
+the room. What was very odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched
+the cap, than it flew out of Schwartz's hand, spinning like a
+straw in a high wind, and fell into the corner at the farther end
+of the room.</p>
+<p>"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.</p>
+<p>"What's your business?" snarled Hans.</p>
+<p>"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very
+modestly, "and I saw your fire through the window, and begged
+shelter for a quarter of an hour."</p>
+<p>"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz.
+"We've quite enough water in our kitchen, without making it a
+drying house."</p>
+<p>"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir;
+look at my gray hairs."</p>
+<p>"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm.
+Walk!"</p>
+<p>"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of
+bread before I go?"</p>
+<p>"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing
+to do with our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"</p>
+<p>"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out
+with you."</p>
+<p>"A little bit," said the old gentleman.</p>
+<p>"Be off!" said Schwartz.</p>
+<p>"Pray, gentlemen."</p>
+<p>"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no
+sooner touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after
+the rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the
+corner on the top of it.</p>
+<p>Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to
+turn him out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he
+went after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the
+wall as he tumbled into the corner. And so there they lay, all
+three.</p>
+<p>Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak
+was all wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very
+much on one side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and
+replied, with perfect coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very
+good morning. At twelve o'clock to-night, I'll call again."</p>
+<p><i>John Ruskin.</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p>NOTE.-"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection
+is taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in
+1841, for the amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the
+finest story of its kind in the language.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_81_"></a>
+<h1>_81_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>elf</td>
+<td>en cir' cled</td>
+<td>jerk</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>hur' ri cane</td>
+<td>rein'deer</td>
+<td>min' i a ture</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>tar' nished</td>
+<td></td>
+<td></td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9">A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the
+house<br>
+ Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:<br>
+ The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,<br>
+ In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.<br>
+ The children were nestled all snug in their beds,<br>
+ While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;<br>
+ And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,<br>
+ Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,<br>
+ When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,<br>
+ I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.<br>
+ Away to the window I flew like a flash,<br>
+ Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.<br>
+ The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow<br>
+ Gave the luster of midday to objects below;<br>
+ When, what to my wondering eyes should appear<br>
+ But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,<br>
+ With a little old driver, so lively and quick,<br>
+ I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!<br>
+ More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,<br>
+ And he whistled, and shouted and called them by name:<br>
+ "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!<br>
+ On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!<br>
+ To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,<br>
+ Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"<br>
+ As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly<br>
+ When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,<br>
+ So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,<br>
+ With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;<br>
+ And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof<br>
+ The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.<br>
+ As I drew in my head, and was turning around,<br>
+ Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.<br>
+ He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,<br>
+ And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;<br>
+ A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,<br>
+ And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;<br>
+ His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!<br>
+ His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;<br>
+ His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,<br>
+ And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;<br>
+ The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,<br>
+ And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;<br>
+ He had a broad face, and a little round belly,<br>
+ That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.<br>
+ He was chubby and plump,-a right jolly old elf-<br>
+ And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.<br>
+ A wink of his eye and a twist of his head<br>
+ Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.<br>
+ He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,<br>
+ And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,<br>
+ And, laying his finger aside of his nose,<br>
+ And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.<br>
+ He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,<br>
+ And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;<br>
+ But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,<br>
+ "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"<br>
+
+<p><i>Clement C. Moore.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_82_"></a>
+<h1>_82_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>a chieved'</td>
+<td>es poused'</td>
+<td>thral' dom</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>al li' ance</td>
+<td>ter rif' ic</td>
+<td>Del' a ware</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>Com' mo dore</td>
+<td>re cip' i ents</td>
+<td>New' found land</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>can non ad' ing</td>
+<td>par tic' i pa ted</td>
+<td>char ac ter is' tic</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9">COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.</a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p>The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds.
+From the early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks
+of King George's proud ships with merciless fire, down to the
+glories achieved by Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with
+Spain, the story of our Navy is the pride and glory of our
+Republic. The glowing track of its victories extends around the
+world.</p>
+<p>Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds
+adorn the pages of our country's history, there is none more
+deserving of our gratitude and admiration than Commodore John
+Barry. His name and fame will live in the naval annals of our
+country as long as the history of America lasts.</p>
+<p>Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in
+County Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen
+he left home for a life on</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"The sea, the sea, the open sea,<br>
+ The blue, the fresh, the ever free."<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America.
+He spent his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way
+soon acquired a general and practical education. By fidelity to
+duty, he advanced so rapidly in his profession that at the age of
+twenty-five we find him in command of the <i>Black Prince,</i>
+one of the finest merchant vessels then running between
+Philadelphia and London.</p>
+<p>When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and
+England, our gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship,
+and without delay or hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted
+country. Congress purchased a few vessels, had them fitted out
+for war, and placed the little fleet under the command of Captain
+Barry. His flagship was the <i>Lexington</i>, named after the
+first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at this time
+adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+<i>Lexington</i> was the first to hoist this ensign of
+freedom.</p>
+<p>From the time of the fitting out of the <i>Lexington</i> down
+to the time of the declaration of peace, which assured the
+liberation of the Colonies from the thraldom of Great Britain,
+Commodore Barry was constantly engaged on shore and afloat.
+Though he actually participated in upwards of twenty sea fights,
+always against a force superior to his own, he never once struck
+his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations ranged all the
+way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies, and as far
+east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories were
+hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men
+were publicly thanked by General Washington.</p>
+<p>During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was
+spending the winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our
+brave soldiers perishing for want of provisions, blankets,
+clothing and tents, an incident occurred which shows how
+supremely loyal and devoted Commodore Barry was to the American
+cause. The British troops were occupying Philadelphia. Lord Howe,
+their commander, offered our great sea fighter a bribe of fifty
+thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if he would
+abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I
+have engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither
+the value nor the command of the whole British fleet can seduce
+me from it."</p>
+<p>General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and
+daring and loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and
+safest man to be trusted with the important mission of carrying
+our commissioners to France to secure that alliance and
+assistance which we then so sorely needed.</p>
+<p>On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a
+British man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his
+ship, captain, and destination, he gave the following bold and
+characteristic reply: "This is the United States ship
+<i>Alliance</i>: Jack Barry, half Irishman and half Yankee,
+commander: who are you?" In the engagement that followed, Barry
+and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor that after a
+few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was forced to
+strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."</p>
+<p>This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of
+Commodore in the service of our Republic, continued at the head
+of our infant Navy till his death, which took place in
+Philadelphia, on the 13th of September, 1803. During life he was
+generous and charitable, and at his death made the children of
+the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia the chief recipients
+of his wealth. His remains repose in the little graveyard
+attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.</p>
+<p>Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St.
+Patrick," a society of which General Washington himself was a
+member, a magnificent monument was erected to the memory of
+Commodore Barry, in Independence Square, Philadelphia, under the
+shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle of American liberty. Miss
+Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece of the Commodore,
+had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the unveiling, which
+took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>There are gallant hearts whose glory<br>
+ <span class="c4">Columbia loves to name,</span><br>
+ Whose deeds shall live in story<br>
+ <span class="c4">And everlasting fame.</span><br>
+ But never yet one braver<br>
+ <span class="c4">Our starry banner bore</span><br>
+ Than saucy old Jack Barry,<br>
+ <span class="c4">The Irish Commodore.</span><br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies
+compose it? What is the number of senators, and how are they
+chosen?</p>
+<p>Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul
+Jones?</p>
+<p>Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And
+Admiral Schley?</p>
+<p>What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?</p>
+<p>What does "never struck his flag" mean?</p>
+<p>Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.</p>
+<p>Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the
+selection.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/274.gif" width="273" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<p>COMMODORE JOHN BARRY</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_83_"></a>
+<h1>_83_</h1>
+<table width="65%" summary="Vocab_Layout" align="center">
+<tr>
+<td>sau' cy</td>
+<td>ig nored'</td>
+<td>rev' eled</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>plain' tive</td>
+<td>dis traught'</td>
+<td>wea' ri some</td>
+</tr>
+<tr>
+<td>rol' lick ing</td>
+<td>mis' chie vous</td>
+<td>frec'kle-faced</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9">THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.</a></h3>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>He was the boy of the house, you know,<br>
+ <span class="c4">A jolly and rollicking lad;</span><br>
+ He was never tired, and never sick,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And nothing could make him sad.</span><br>
+<br>
+ Did some one urge that he make less noise,<br>
+ <span class="c4">He would say, with a saucy grin,</span><br>
+ "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir-<br>
+ <span class="c4">I'm sorry I am not a twin!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ "There are two of twins-oh, it must be fun<br>
+ <span class="c4">To go double at everything:</span><br>
+ To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,<br>
+ <span class="c4">To whistle by twos, and to sing!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ His laugh was something to make you glad,<br>
+ <span class="c4">So brimful was it of joy;</span><br>
+ A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,<br>
+ <span class="c4">But it never troubled the boy.</span><br>
+<br>
+ You met him out in the garden path,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With the terrier at his heels;</span><br>
+ You knew by the shout he hailed you with<br>
+ <span class="c4">How happy a youngster feels.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The maiden auntie was half distraught<br>
+ <span class="c4">At his tricks as the days went by;</span><br>
+ "The most mischievous child in the world!"<br>
+ <span class="c4">She said, with a shrug and a sigh.</span><br>
+<br>
+ His father owned that her words were true,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And his mother declared each day</span><br>
+ Was putting wrinkles into her face,<br>
+ <span class="c4">And was turning her brown hair gray.</span><br>
+<br>
+ But it never troubled the boy of the house;<br>
+ <span class="c4">He reveled in clatter and din,</span><br>
+ And had only one regret in the world-<br>
+ <span class="c4">That he hadn't been born a twin.</span><br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c3">
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+ There's nobody making a noise to-day,<br>
+ <span class="c4">There's nobody stamping the floor,</span><br>
+ There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,<br>
+ <span class="c4">There's crape on the wide hall door.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The terrier's whining out in the sun-<br>
+ <span class="c4">"Where's my comrade?" he seems to
+say;</span><br>
+ Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.<br>
+ <span class="c4">There's no frolic for you to-day.</span><br>
+<br>
+ The freckle-faced girl from the house next door<br>
+ <span class="c4">Is sobbing her young heart out;</span><br>
+ Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget<br>
+ <span class="c4">To miss the laugh and the shout.</span><br>
+<br>
+ How strangely quiet the little form,<br>
+ <span class="c4">With the hands on the bosom crossed!</span><br>
+ Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,<br>
+ <span class="c4">Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!</span><br>
+<br>
+ So solemn and still the big house seems-<br>
+ <span class="c4">No laughter, no racket, no din,</span><br>
+ No starting shriek, no voice piping out,<br>
+ <span class="c4">"I'm sorry I am not a twin!"</span><br>
+<br>
+ There a man and a woman, pale with grief,<br>
+ <span class="c4">As the wearisome moments creep;</span><br>
+ Oh! the loneliness touches everything-<br>
+ <span class="c4">The boy of the house is asleep.</span><br>
+
+<p><i>Jean Blewett.</i></p>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>From the Toronto <i>Globe</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<div class="c2"><img src="images/279.gif" width="387" height=
+"430" alt="" border="0"></div>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+ <a name="_84_"></a>
+<h1>_84_</h1>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<h3><a href="#CONTENTS_9"><b>BIOGRAPHIES</b></a></h3>
+<br>
+
+<p><b>Cook, Eliza</b>, was born in London, England, in the year
+1817, and was the most popular poetess of her day. When a young
+girl, she gave herself so completely up to reading that her
+father threatened to burn her books. She began to write at an
+early age, and contributed poems and essays to various
+periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will live. She
+died in 1889.</p>
+<p><b>Cowper, William</b>, is one of the most eminent and popular
+of all English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother
+dying when he was only six years old, the child was sent away
+from home to boarding school, where he suffered so much from the
+cruelty of a bigger boy that he was obliged to leave that school
+for another. At the completion of his college course he expressed
+regrets that his education was not received in a school where he
+could be taught his duty to God. "I have been graduated," he
+writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the gospel." His
+longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a poet
+chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.</p>
+<p><b>Dickens, Charles</b>, one of the greatest and most popular
+of the novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard,
+persistent work he raised himself from obscurity and poverty to
+fame and fortune. After only two years of schooling he was
+obliged to go to work. His first job was pasting labels on
+blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five cents a day! He
+next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then reporter
+for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from a
+book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in
+1867, he lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is
+buried in Westminster Abbey.</p>
+<p><b>Donnelly, Eleanor Cecilia</b>, began to write verses when
+she was but eight years old. Her early education was directed by
+her mother, a gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been
+devoted to the cause of Catholic truth and the elevation of
+Catholic literature. Besides hundreds of charming stories and
+essays, she has published several volumes of poems. Her writings
+on sacred subjects display a strong, intelligent faith, and a
+tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos, originality, grace of
+diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment, and sublimity
+of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our American
+poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city of
+Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of
+every Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor
+and glory of Almighty God.</p>
+<p><b>Gould, Hannah F.,</b> an American poetess, has written many
+pleasant poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King"
+have long been favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year
+1789, and died in 1865.</p>
+<p><b>Hawthorne, Nathaniel,</b> was born in Salem, Mass., on July
+4, 1804. When still quite young he showed a great fondness for
+reading. At the early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's
+"Pilgrim's Progress." At college he was a classmate of
+Longfellow. Among his writings are a number of stories for
+children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The Snow-Image," "The Wonder
+Books," and some stories of American history. His volumes of
+short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The Scarlet
+Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of
+the Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The
+Marble Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in
+1864, and is buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a
+delicate and exquisite humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use
+of language. His style may be said to combine almost every
+excellence-elegance, simplicity, grace, clearness and force.</p>
+<p><b>Hayne, Paul Hamilton,</b> an American poet, was born in
+South Carolina in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of
+poems. His death occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the
+American patriot, Isaac Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in
+1780, fell into the hands of the British, and was hanged by them
+because he refused to join their ranks and fight against his
+country.</p>
+<p><b>Holland, Josiah Gilbert,</b> a popular American author who
+wrote under the assumed name of <i>Timothy Titcomb,</i> was born
+in Massachusetts in the year 1819. He began life as a physician,
+but after a few years of practice gave up his profession and went
+to Vicksburg, Miss., as Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a
+number of novels and several volumes of essays. In 1870 he became
+editor of <i>Scribner's Magazine.</i> He died in 1881.</p>
+<p><b>Hunt, Leigh</b>, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an
+intimate friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born
+near London, England, in 1784, and died in 1859.</p>
+<p><b>Jackson, Helen Hunt</b>, a noted American writer of prose
+and poetry, and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the
+initials of her name), was born in Massachusetts in the year
+1831. She is the author of many charming poems, short stories,
+and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk" and "Bits of Travel." She
+lived some years in Colorado, where her life brought to her
+notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she wrote "A
+Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what
+"Uncle Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in
+California in 1885.</p>
+<p><b>"Mercedes"</b> is the pen name of an able, zealous, and
+devoted Sister of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has
+written several excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools
+which have met the test of successful production. Her "Wild
+Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a volume of Poems and Dramas
+that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of true poetry." A
+competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their hues most
+delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+enriched the columns of <i>The Missionary</i> and other
+publications with several true stories, in attractive prose, of
+edifying conversions resulting from the missionary zeal of priest
+and teacher. Her graceful pen is ever at the service of every
+cause tending to the glory of God and the good of souls.</p>
+<p><b>Moore, Thomas</b>, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland,
+in the year 1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His
+matchless "Melodies" are the delight of all lovers of music, and
+are sung all over the world. Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated
+them into the grand old Celtic tongue. Moore is the greatest of
+Ireland's song-writers, and one of the world's greatest. As a
+poet few have equaled him in the power to write poetry which
+charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display an
+exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts
+which they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he
+spent the later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In
+1896, the Moore Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his
+grave a monument consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic
+cross.</p>
+<p><b>Moore, Clement C.,</b> poet and teacher, was born in New
+York in 1779. In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary
+founded by his father, who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the
+Protestant Episcopal diocese of New York. He died in 1863.</p>
+<p><b>Morris, George P.,</b> poet and journalist, wrote several
+popular poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and
+ballads. He was born in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died
+in New York in 1864.</p>
+<p><b>McCarthy, Denis Aloysius,</b> poet, lecturer and
+journalist, was born in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary,
+Ireland, in the year 1871, and made his elementary and
+intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers' School of his
+native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round
+of Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a
+distinguished critic who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is
+soulful and sweet, and sings itself into the heart of anyone who
+has a bit of sentiment in his make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at
+present Associate Editor of the <i>Sacred Heart Review</i> of
+Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and contributes
+poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various papers and
+magazines.</p>
+<p><b>Newman, Cardinal John Henry,</b> was born in London in
+1801, and studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a
+minister of the Church of England, and rose rapidly in his
+profession. In 1845 he abandoned the English ministry, renounced
+the errors of Protestantism, and entered the Catholic Church, of
+which he remained till death a most faithful, devoted, and
+zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was made Rector of
+the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879 was raised
+to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will
+profit by and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss
+and Gain" and "Callista." The former is the story of a convert;
+the latter a tale of the third century, in which the beautiful
+heroine and martyr, Callista, is presented with a master's art.
+Newman is the greatest master of English prose. In this field he
+holds the same rank that Shakespeare does in English poetry. To
+his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English essayist, pays the
+following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm of Dr.
+Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the
+jumping of one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters
+the room." This great Prince of the Church died the death of the
+saints in the year 1890.</p>
+<p><b>O'Reilly, John Boyle,</b> patriot, author, poet and
+journalist, was born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in
+County Meath, Ireland, in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to
+England as agent of the Fenian Brotherhood, an organization whose
+purpose was the freedom of Ireland from English rule. In 1863 he
+joined the English army in order to sow the seeds of revolution
+among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested, tried for treason,
+and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted to twenty
+years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to Australia
+to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston
+<i>Pilot</i> in 1874. He is the author of "Songs from the
+Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and Ballads," and of other works.
+He died in 1890. All through life the voice and pen of Boyle
+O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his native land, and
+his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his character.
+In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+monument.</p>
+<p><b>Riley, James Whitcomb,</b> called the "Hoosier Poet," was
+born in Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a
+strong sense of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and
+goes to the heart. He has written much in dialect. His home is in
+Indianapolis.</p>
+<p><b>Ruskin, John,</b> one of the most famous of English
+authors, was born in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He
+spent several years in Italy in the study of art. He wrote many
+volumes of essays and lectures, chiefly on matters connected with
+art and art criticism. In his writings we find many beautiful
+pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and such things. His
+"Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature, established his
+reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He died in
+1900.</p>
+<p><b>Sangster, Mrs. Margaret E.,</b> editor and poet, was born
+in New Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated
+in Vienna. She has successfully edited such periodicals as
+<i>Hearth and Home, Harpers' Young People, and Harpers'
+Bazaar,</i> in which much of her prose and poetry has appeared.
+She is at present (1909) the editor of <i>The Woman's Home
+Companion.</i></p>
+<p><b>Southey, Robert,</b> an eminent English poet and author,
+was born in the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of
+ten. In 1792 he was expelled from the Westminster School for
+writing an essay against corporal punishment. He then entered one
+of the colleges of Oxford University, where he became an intimate
+friend of Coleridge. While residing at Lisbon he began a special
+study of Spanish and Portuguese literature. In 1813 he was
+appointed poet-laureate of England, and in 1835 received a
+pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey, Coleridge
+and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in
+their writings described the scenery of that beautiful
+region.</p>
+<p><b>Tennyson, Alfred,</b> is considered the greatest poet of
+his age, and one of the great English poets of modern times. He
+was born in the year 1809, and educated at Cambridge University.
+In 1850 he gave to the world "In Memoriam," his lament for the
+loss by death of his friend, Arthur H. Hallam. In 1851 he
+succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His poems, long
+and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King," "The
+Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of
+thought, of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented
+by the entire English-speaking world, and was buried in
+Westminster Abbey. Tennyson always loved the sea, the music of
+whose restless waves awakened an answering echo in his heart.</p>
+<p><b>Wallace, William R.,</b> was born at Lexington, Ky., in the
+year 1819. As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword
+of Bunker Hill."</p>
+<p><b>Westwood, Thomas,</b> an English poet, was born in the year
+1814, and died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one
+of which was "Beads from a Rosary."</p>
+<p><b>Whittier, John G.,</b> called the "Quaker Poet," was born
+in Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and
+were poor. When young he learned to make shoes, and with the
+money thus earned he paid his way at school. He was a boy of
+nineteen when his first verses were published. His poems were
+inspired by current events, and their patriotic spirit gives them
+a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound" is considered his
+greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he never visited
+a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He gave
+thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery
+struggle. While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied
+in their libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the
+slave. Of this he wrote-<br>
+</p>
+<table summary="poem_Layout">
+<tr>
+<td width="100"></td>
+<td>"Forego the dreams of lettered ease,<br>
+ Put thou the scholar's promise by;<br>
+ The rights of man are more than these."<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+<p>Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.</p>
+<p><b>Wiseman, Cardinal Nicholas Patrick,</b> was born in the
+year 1802 in Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there.
+His family returned to Ireland, where he was educated. When he
+was sixteen he entered the English College, Rome, and was
+ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was appointed Coadjutor
+Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of Westminster,
+and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a profound
+scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is the
+author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the
+<i>Dublin Review.</i> He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church
+of the Catacombs," from which some selections have been taken for
+this Reader, is one of the classics of our language. It was
+written in 1854.</p>
+<p><b>Woodworth, Samuel,</b> editor and poet, was born in
+Massachusetts in 1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris,
+he founded the <i>New York Mirror.</i> "The Old Oaken Bucket" is
+the best known of his poems.</p>
+<p>For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken
+for this book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the
+series.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<hr class="c1">
+<br>
+<br>
+</td>
+</tr>
+</table>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
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@@ -0,0 +1,10188 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: De La Salle Fifth Reader
+
+Author: Brothers of the Christian Schools
+
+Release Date: January 23, 2004 [EBook #10811]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed
+Proofreaders
+
+
+
+
+
+_DE LA SALLE SERIES_
+
+
+
+
+FIFTH READER
+
+
+
+[Illustration: WILLIAM McKINLEY PRESIDENT 1897-1901]
+
+
+
+(REVISED EDITION, 1922)
+
+BY THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, ST. JOSEPH'S NORMAL INSTITUTE,
+POCANTICO HILLS, N.Y. LA SALLE INSTITUTE, GLENCOE, MO.
+
+
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+_2_ PREFACE
+
+_3_ INTRODUCTION
+
+_4_ SUGGESTIONS
+
+_5_ GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+_6_ DEFINITIONS
+
+_7_ HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE. _Mercedes_
+
+_8_ COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT. _J.T. Trowbridge_
+
+_9_ THE LITTLE FERN. _Mara L. Pratt_
+
+_10_ HELPING MOTHER.
+
+_11_ A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+_12_ TWO LABORERS. _Thomas Carlyle_
+
+_13_ THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+_14_ THE BROOK SONG. _James Whitcomb Riley_
+
+_15_ THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN. _Rydingsvard_
+
+_16_ THE USE OF FLOWERS. _Mary Howitt_
+
+_17_ PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+_18_ SEPTEMBER. _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_19_ "MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME." _Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+_20_ THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+_21_ MY BEADS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_22_ THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS. _Thomas Moore_
+
+_23_ A LITTLE LADY. _Louisa M. Alcott_
+
+_24_ WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE. _Anon._
+
+_25_ A SONG OF DUTY. _Denis A. McCarthy_
+
+_26_ AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+_27_ MY GUARDIAN ANGEL. _Cardinal Newman_
+
+_28_ LITTLE BELL. _Thomas Westwood_
+
+_29_ A MODEST WIT. _Selleck Osborne_
+
+_30_ WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE. _George P. Morris_
+
+_31_ THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+_32_ THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET. _Samuel Woodworth_
+
+_33_ THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS. _Pierre J. Hetzel_
+
+_34_ OUR HEROES. _Phoebe Cary_
+
+_35_ THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_36_ THE BROOK. _Tennyson_
+
+_37_ LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+_38_ ONE BY ONE. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_39_ THE BIRCH CANOE. _Longfellow_
+
+_40_ PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+_41_ To MY DOG BLANCO. _J.G. Holland_
+
+_42_ A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+_43_ THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS. _Longfellow_
+
+_44_ GLORIA IN EXCELSIS. _Father Ryan_
+
+_45_ THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE. _Eugene Field_
+
+_46_ THE HOLY CITY.
+
+_47_ THE FEAST OF TONGUES. _Aesop_
+
+_48_ THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM. _William Cowper_
+
+_49_ JACK FROST. _Hannah F. Gould_
+
+_50_ "GOING! GOING! GONE!" _Helen Hunt Jackson_
+
+_51_ SEVEN TIMES TWO. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_52_ MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+_53_ THE OLD ARM-CHAIR. _Eliza Cook_
+
+_54_ BREAK, BREAK, BREAK! _Tennyson_
+
+_55_ GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+_56_ HAPPY OLD AGE. _Robert Southey_
+
+_57_ KIND WORDS. _Father Faber_
+
+_58_ KINDNESS IS THE WORD. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_59_ DAFFODILS. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_60_ THE STORY OF TARCISIUS. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_61_ LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM. _Eleanor C. Donnelly_
+
+_62_ LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY. _Nathaniel Hawthorne_
+
+_63_ IN SCHOOL DAYS _Whittier_
+
+_64_ THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+_65_ WILL AND I _Paul H. Hayne_
+
+_66_ CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'. _Charles Dickens_
+
+_67_ WHICH SHALL IT BE? _Anon_
+
+_68_ ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR.
+
+_69_ TO A BUTTERFLY. _William Wordsworth_
+
+_70_ THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND. _Hans Christian Andersen_
+
+_71_ THE WIND AND THE MOON. _George MacDonald_
+
+_72_ ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+_73_ THE WATER LILY. _Jean Ingelow_
+
+_74_ A BUILDER'S LESSON. _John Boyle O'Reilly_
+
+_75_ WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+_76_ WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY. _Margaret E. Sangster_
+
+_77_ THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL. _William R. Wallace_
+
+_78_ THE MARTYR'S BOY. _Cardinal Wiseman_
+
+_79_ THE ANGEL'S STORY. _Adelaide A. Procter_
+
+_80_ GLUCK'S VISITOR. _John Ruskin_
+
+_81_ A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS. _Clement C. Moore_
+
+_82_ COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+_83_ THE BOY OF THE HOUSE. _Jean Blewett_
+
+_84_ BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Although "ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. _Leigh Hunt_"
+and "A SIMPLE RECIPE. _James Whitcomb Riley_" were originally shown in the
+list above, neither work appears in the text.)
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_2_
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+The object of the Christian Brothers in issuing a new series of Readers
+is to place in the hands of the teachers and pupils of our Catholic
+schools a set of books embodying the matter and methods best suited to
+their needs. The matter has been written or chosen with a view to
+interest and instruct, to cultivate a taste for the best literature, to
+build up a strong moral character and to imbue our children with an
+intelligent love of Faith and Country. The methods are those approved by
+the most experienced and progressive teachers of reading in Europe and
+America.
+
+These Readers have also been specially designed to elicit thought and
+facilitate literary composition. In furtherance of this idea, class
+talks, word study, the structure of sentences, drills on certain correct
+forms of expression, the proper arrangement of ideas, explanation of
+phrases and literary expressions, oral and written reproductions of
+narrations and descriptions, and exercises in original composition, all
+receive the attention which their importance demands. Thus will the
+pupils, while learning to read and from their earliest years, acquire
+that readiness in grasping the thoughts of others and that fluency in
+expressing their own, which are so essential to a good English
+education.
+
+In teaching the art of Reading as well as that of Composition, the
+principle of order should in a great measure determine the value of the
+methods to be employed. In the acquisition of knowledge, the child
+instinctively follows the order of nature. This order is first,
+_observation_; second, _thought_; third, _expression_. It becomes the
+duty of the teacher, consequently, to lead the child to observe
+_accurately_, to think _clearly_, and to express his thoughts
+_correctly_. And text-books are useful only in so far as they supply the
+teacher with the material and the system best calculated to accomplish
+such results.
+
+It is therefore hoped that the present new series of Readers, having
+been planned in accordance with the principle just enunciated, will
+prove a valuable adjunct in our Catholic schools.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_3_
+
+
+
+INTRODUCTION
+
+
+In this Fifth Reader of the De La Salle Series the plan of the preceding
+numbers has been continued. The pupil has now mastered the mechanical
+difficulties of learning to read, and has acquired a fairly good working
+vocabulary. Hence he is prepared to read intelligently and with some
+degree of fluency and pleasure. Now is the time to lead him to acquire a
+taste for good reading. The selections have been drawn mainly from
+authors whose writings are distinguished for their moral and literary
+value, and whose style is sure to excite a lasting interest.
+
+In addition to giving the pupil practice in reading and forming a basis
+for oral and written composition work, these selections will raise his
+ideas of right living, will quicken his imagination, will give him his
+first knowledge of many things, stimulate his powers of observation,
+enlarge his vocabulary, and correct and refine his mode of expression. A
+wholesome reading habit, so important to-day, will thus be easily,
+pleasantly and unconsciously formed.
+
+The following are some of the features of the book:
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION.--This Guide is to be referred to again and
+again, and the diacritical marks carefully taught. Instruction in the
+vowel sounds is an excellent drill in articulation, while a knowledge of
+the diacritical marks enables the pupil to master these sounds for
+himself when consulting the dictionary.
+
+VARIETY OF MATTER.--In the volume will be found the best sentiments of
+the best writers. The pupil will find fables, nature studies, tales of
+travel and adventure, brave deeds from history and fiction, stories of
+loyalty and heroism, examples of sublime Christian self-sacrifice, and
+selections that teach industry, contentment, respect for authority,
+reverence for all things sacred, attachment to home, and fidelity to
+faith and Country.
+
+LANGUAGE STUDY.--If reading is to hold its proper place in the class
+room, the teaching of it must not be confined to the mere reading of the
+text. In its truest sense, reading is far more comprehensive. The
+teacher will question the pupil on what he has read, point out to him
+the beauties of thought and language, find out what hold the reading has
+taken upon his memory, how it has aroused his imagination, assisted his
+judgment, directed his will, and contributed to his fund of general
+information. To assist in this most important work is the object aimed
+at in the matter given for Language Study. Such study will also give
+fuller powers of interpretation and corresponding appreciation of the
+selection considered simply as literature.
+
+RECITATIONS.--There are some selections marked for recitation. The
+public recitation of these extracts will banish awkwardness of manner,
+beget self-confidence, and lay the foundation for subsequent
+elocutionary work. Besides, experience teaches that a single poem or
+address based upon some heroic or historic event, recited before a class
+or a school, will often do more to build up a noble character and foster
+a love of history, than a full term of instruction by question and
+answer.
+
+POETRY.--The numerous poetic selections, some of which are partly
+analyzed by way of suggestion, will create a love for the highest and
+purest forms of literature, will broaden the field of knowledge, and
+emphasize the teachings of some of the prose selections. Many of them
+have been written by American authors. Every American boy and girl
+should be acquainted with the works of poets who have done so much for
+the development of American literature and nationality.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--"The memorizing of choice bits of prose and poetry
+enriches the vocabulary of the pupils, adorns their memory, suggests
+delicate and noble thoughts, and puts them in possession of sentences of
+the best construction. The recitation of these expressive texts
+accustoms the children to speak with ease, grace and elegance."
+("Elements of Practical Pedagogy.")
+
+BIOGRAPHIES.--Young children enjoy literature for its own sake, and take
+little interest in the personality of the writer; but as they grow
+older, pleasure in the work of an author arouses an interest in the
+writer himself. Brief biographical sketches are given at the close of
+the volume as helps in the study of the authors from whom selections are
+drawn, and to induce the pupils to read further.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_4_
+
+
+
+SUGGESTIONS
+
+
+WORD STUDY.--The pupil should know how to spell and pronounce correctly
+all the words of the selection he is preparing to read. He should know
+their ordinary meanings and the special meanings they may have in the
+text. He should be able to write them correctly from dictation and to
+use them in sentences of his own. He should examine if they are
+primitive, derivative, or compound; he should be able to name the
+prefixes and suffixes and show how the meanings of the original words
+are modified by their use. He should cultivate the habit of word
+mastery. What is read will not otherwise be understood. Without it there
+can be no good reading, speaking or writing.
+
+EXPRESSIVE READING.--There should be constant drill to secure correct
+pronunciation, distinct articulation, proper emphasis, and an agreeable
+tone of voice, without which there can be no expressive reading. This is
+a difficult task, and will take much time, trouble and practice; but it
+has far-reaching results. It enlarges the sympathy of the pupil and lays
+the foundation for a genuine love of literature. Do not, then, let the
+reading lesson drift into a dull and monotonous calling of words. On the
+contrary, let it be intelligent, spirited, enthusiastic. Emotion comes
+largely from the imagination. The pupil himself must be taught not only
+to feel what he reads, but to make its meaning clear to others. It is
+important that children be taught to acquire thought through the ear.
+
+CONCERT READING.--Reading in concert is generally of little value, and
+the time given to it ill-spent. It does not aid the children in getting
+thought, or in expressing it fluently. As an exercise in teaching
+reading it is ineffective and often positively harmful. A concert
+recitation to which special training has been given partakes of the
+nature of a hymn or a song, and then becomes an element of value. If
+occasionally there must be concert reading in the class room, it should
+always be preceded by individual mastery of the selection.
+
+POEMS.--In the first lesson, a poem, like a picture, should be presented
+as a whole, and never dissected. The teacher should first read it
+through, not stopping for note or comment. He should then read it again,
+part by part, stopping, for question, explanation and discussion.
+Lastly, the whole poem, should be read with suitable emotion, so that
+the final impression may be made by the author's own words. It is
+important that the pupil get the message which the author intended to
+give. In teaching a descriptive poem, make the pictures as vivid as
+possible, and thus awaken the imagination. In dealing with a narrative
+poem, the sequence of events must first be made clear. When this is
+done, the aim should be to give fuller meaning to the story by bringing
+out clearly the causes, motives and results of acts. All this will take
+time. Be it so. One poem well read, well studied, is worth more than a
+volume carelessly read over. In reading poetry, be careful that the
+pupils, while giving the rhythm of the lines, do not fall into the
+singsong tone so common and so disagreeable.
+
+EXPLANATIONS.--Explanations should accompany every reading lesson,
+without which there can be no serious teaching of the vernacular. By
+their means the teacher enters into communication with his pupils; he
+gets them to speak, he corrects their errors, trains their reason, and
+forms their taste. It has been said that a teacher able to explain
+selections in prose and poetry "holds his class in the hollow of his
+hand." The teacher should insist that the pupil express himself clearly
+and correctly, not only during the reading lesson, but on every subject
+he has occasion to deal with, either orally or in writing, throughout
+the day's recitations.
+
+REVIEWS.--As the memory of children, though prompt, is weak, frequent
+reviews should be held. They are necessary for the backward pupils and
+advantageous for the others. Have an informal talk with the children on
+what they have read, what they have learned, what they have liked, and
+what has interested them. Some important parts of the prose and poetry
+previously studied might, during this exercise, be re-read with profit.
+
+COMPOSITION.--Continue oral and written composition. The correct use of
+written language is best taught by selecting for compositions
+subject-matter that deeply interests the children. If persevered in,
+this will secure a good, strong, idiomatic use of English. If the words
+of a selection that has been studied appear now and then in the
+children's conversation or writing, it should be a matter for praise;
+for this means that new words have been added to their vocabulary, and
+that the children have a new conception of beauty of thought and speech.
+
+See that all written work be done neatly and legibly. Slovenly or
+careless habits should never be allowed in any written work.
+
+MEMORY GEMS.--Do not lose sight of the memory gems. Familiarize the
+pupil with them. Their value to the child lies more in future good
+resulting from them than in present good. These treasures of thought
+will live in the memory and influence the daily lives of the children
+who learn them by heart.
+
+THE DICTIONARY.--The use of the dictionary is a necessary part of
+education. It is a powerful aid in self-education. Its use will double
+the value of study in connection with reading and language. Every
+Grammar School, High School and College should be supplied with several
+copies of a good unabridged dictionary, and every pupil taught how to
+consult it, and encouraged to do so. The dictionary should be the book
+of first and last and constant resort.
+
+USE OF THE LIBRARY.--The teacher should endeavor to create an interest
+in those books from which the selections in the Reader are taken, and in
+others of equal grade and quality. Encourage the children to take books
+from the library. Direct them in their choice. Encourage home reading.
+The reading of good books should be a part of regular school work;
+otherwise little or no true progress can be made in speaking and
+writing. The best way to learn to speak and write good English is to
+read good English.
+
+For additional suggestions as to the best means of teaching Reading and
+Language, teachers are referred to Chapters II and IV, Part IV, of
+"Elements of Practical Pedagogy," by the Christian Brothers, and
+published by the La Salle Bureau of Supplies, 50 Second Street, New
+York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Acknowledgments are gratefully made to the following authors,
+publishers, and owners of copyright, who have courteously granted
+permission to use the selections which bear their names:
+
+"Mercedes," Miss Eleanor C. Donnelly, Miss Mary Boyle O'Reilly, Miss
+Kate Putnam Osgood, Miss P.C. Donnelly, Mrs. Margaret E. Sangster, Mr.
+Denis A. McCarthy, Mr. James Whitcomb Riley, Mr. George Cooper, Mr. J.T.
+Trowbridge, "Rev. Richard W. Alexander;" University of Notre Dame; The
+Ladies' Home Journal; Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.; The Educational
+Publishing Co.; Little, Brown & Co.; The Bobbs-Merrill Co.; P.J. Kenedy
+& Sons; The Hinds & Noble Co.; Charles Scribner's Sons.
+
+The selections from Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Hawthorne, Fields,
+Trowbridge, Phoebe Cary, Charles Dudley Warner, are used by permission
+of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton, Mifflin & Co., publishers
+of the works of these authors, and to these gentlemen are tendered
+expressions of sincere thanks.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_5_
+
+
+
+GUIDE TO PRONUNCIATION
+
+
+NOTE.--This Guide is given to aid the pupil in the use of the
+dictionary, and will be found to cover all ordinary cases. In the
+diacritical marking, as in accentuation and syllabication, Webster's
+International Dictionary has been taken as authority.
+
+
+
+
+VOWELS
+
+
+(Transcriber's Note: Equivalent sound shown within round brackets.)
+
+
+
+[=a]            as in gate--g[=a]te
+
+[^a]            as in care--c[^a]re
+
+[)a]            as in cat--c[)a]t
+
+[.a]            as in ask--[.a]sk
+
+[a.]  ([)o])    as in what--wh[a.]t
+
+[:a]            as in car--c[:a]r
+
+[a:]            as in all--[a:]ll
+
+ai  ([^a])      as in air--[^a]ir
+
+ai  ([=a])      as in aim--[=a]im
+
+au  ([:a])      as in aunt--[:a]unt
+
+[=e]            as in eve--[=e]ve
+
+[)e]            as in end--[)e]nd
+
+[~e]            as in her--h[~e]r
+
+[^e]            as in there--th[^e]re
+
+[e=]  ([=a])    as in they--th[e=]y
+
+ea  ([=e])      as in ear--[=e]ar
+
+ei  ([=e])      as in receive--rec[=e]ive
+
+[=i]            as in ice--[=i]ce
+
+[)i]            as in pin--p[)i]n
+
+[~i]  ([~e])    as in bird--b[~i]rd
+
+[:i]  ([=e])    as in police--pol[:i]ce
+
+i[e=]  ([=e])   as in chief--chi[=e]f
+
+[=o]            as in old--[=o]ld
+
+[^o]            as in lord--l[^o]rd
+
+[)o]            as in not--n[)o]t
+
+[.o]  ([)u])    as in son--s[.o]n
+
+[o.]  ([u.])    as in wolf--w[o.]lf
+
+[o:]  ([=oo])   as in do--d[o:]
+
+oa  ([=o])      as in boat--b[=o]at
+
+[=oo]  ([o:])   as in moon--m[=oo]n
+
+[)oo]  ([o.])   as in foot--f[)oo]t
+
+[=u]            as in pure--p[=u]re
+
+[)u]            as in cup--c[)u]p
+
+[^u]            as in burn--b[^u]rn
+
+[u.]  ([o.])    as in full--f[u.]ll
+
+[u:]            as in rude--r[u:]de
+
+ew  ([=u])      as in new
+
+[=y]  ([=i]     as in fly--fl[=y]
+
+[)y]  ([)i])    as in hymn--h[)y]mn
+
+[~y]  ([~e])    as in myrrh--m[~y]rrh
+
+
+
+CONSONANTS
+
+
+c   (s)        as in cent
+
+c   (k)        as in cat
+
+ce  (sh)       as in ocean
+
+ch  (k)        as in school
+
+ch  (sh)       as in machine
+
+ci  (sh)       as in gracious
+
+dg  (j)        as in edge
+
+ed  (d)        as in burned
+
+ed  (t)        as in baked
+
+f   (v)        as in of
+
+g   (hard)     as in get
+
+g   (j)        as in gem
+
+gh  (f)        as in laugh
+
+n   (ng)       as in ink
+
+ph  (f)        as in sulphur
+
+qu  (kw)       as in queen
+
+s   (z)        as in has
+
+s   (sh)       as in sure
+
+s   (zh)       as in pleasure
+
+ssi (sh)       as in passion
+
+si  (zh)       as in occasion
+
+ti  (sh)       as in nation
+
+wh  (hw)       as in when
+
+x   (z)        as in Xavier
+
+x   (ks)       as in tax
+
+x   (gz)       as in exist
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_6_
+
+
+
+DEFINITIONS
+
+
+LANGUAGE is the expression of thought by means of words.
+
+WORDS, with respect to their _origin_, are divided into _primitive_
+and _derivative_; and with respect to their _composition_, into _simple_
+and _compound_.
+
+A PRIMITIVE word is one that is not derived from another word.
+
+A DERIVATIVE word is one that is formed from another word by means
+of prefixes or suffixes, or by some other change.
+
+A SIMPLE word is one that consists of a single significant term.
+
+A COMPOUND word is one made up of two or more simple words.
+
+A SENTENCE is a combination of words which make complete sense.
+
+A SYLLABLE is a word or a part of a word pronounced by one effort
+of the voice.
+
+
+The DIAERESIS is the mark [..] placed over the second of two
+adjacent vowels, to denote that they are to be pronounced as distinct
+letters; as _REECHO_.
+
+
+
+RULES FOR THE USE OF CAPITAL LETTERS
+
+
+The first word of every SENTENCE should begin with a capital.
+
+PROPER NAMES, and words derived from them, should begin with
+capitals.
+
+The first word of every LINE OF POETRY should begin with a capital.
+
+All names of God and all titles of the DEITY, as well as all
+pronouns referring to the Deity, should begin with capitals.
+
+The words I and O should always be capitals.
+
+The first word of a DIRECT QUOTATION should begin with a capital.
+
+The names of the DAYS and of the MONTHS should begin with
+capitals; but not the names of the seasons.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_7_
+
+
+
+HYMN TO ST. LA SALLE.
+
+
+       Glorious Patron! low before thee
+         Kneel thy sons, with hearts a-flame!
+       And our voices blend in music,
+         Singing praises to thy name.
+           Saint John Baptist! glorious Patron!
+           Saint La Salle! we sound thy fame.
+
+       Lover of our Queen and Mother,
+         At her feet didst vow thy heart,
+       Earth, and all its joys, forsaking,
+         Thou didst choose the better part.
+           Saint La Salle, our glorious Father,
+           Pierce our souls with love's own dart.
+
+       Model of the Christian Teacher!
+         Patron of the Christian youth!
+       Lead us all to heights of glory,
+         As we strive in earnest ruth.
+           Saint La Salle! oh, guard and guide us,
+           As we spread afar the Truth!
+
+       In this life of sin and sorrow,
+         Saint La Salle, oh, guide our way,
+       In the hour of dark temptation,
+         Father! be our spirit's stay!
+           Take our hand and lead us homeward,
+           Saint La Salle, to Heaven's bright Day!
+
+
+_Mercedes._
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. JOHN BAPTIST DE LA SALLE.]
+Founder of the Brothers of the Christian Schools, pointing out the way
+of salvation to the children of all nations.
+
+"Christian Teachers are the sculptors of living angels, moulding and
+shaping the souls of youth for heaven." _Most Reverend Archbishop
+Keane, of Dubuque._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_8_
+
+
+due
+mien
+fri'ar
+pri'or
+Pa'los
+por'ter
+con'vent
+pre'cious
+grat'i tude
+
+
+
+COLUMBUS AT THE CONVENT.
+
+
+       Dreary and brown the night comes down,
+         Gloomy, without a star.
+       On Palos town the night comes down;
+       The day departs with stormy frown;
+         The sad sea moans afar.
+
+       A convent gate is near; 'tis late;
+         Tin-gling! the bell they ring.
+       They ring the bell, they ask for bread--
+       "Just for my child," the father said.
+         Kind hands the bread will bring.
+
+       White was his hair, his mien was fair,
+         His look was calm and great.
+       The porter ran and called a friar;
+       The friar made haste and told the prior;
+         The prior came to the gate.
+
+       He took them in, he gave them food;
+         The traveler's dreams he heard;
+       And fast the midnight moments flew.
+       And fast the good man's wonder grew,
+         And all his heart was stirred.
+
+       The child the while, with soft, sweet smile,
+         Forgetful of all sorrow,
+       Lay soundly sleeping in his bed.
+       The good man kissed him there, and said:
+         "You leave us not to-morrow!
+
+       "I pray you, rest the convent's guest;
+         This child shall be our own--
+       A precious care, while you prepare
+       Your business with the court, and bear
+         Your message to the throne."
+
+       And so his guest he comforted.
+         O wise, good prior! to you,
+       Who cheered the stranger's darkest days,
+       And helped him on his way, what praise
+         And gratitude are due!
+
+
+_J.T. Trowbridge._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Where is Palos? What is it noted for?
+
+Who was the "good man" spoken of in the poem?
+
+In the line "The traveler's dreams he heard," who was the traveler?
+Relate the story of his dreams. Why are they called dreams? Did the
+dreams become facts? In what way?
+
+How did the monks of this convent assist Columbus?
+
+How did the Queen of Spain assist him?
+
+Why is it that in the geography of our country we meet with so many
+Catholic names?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Press on! There's no such word as fail!
+       Push nobly on! The goal is near!
+       Ascend the mountain! Breast the gale!
+       Look upward, onward,--never fear!
+
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_9_
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE FERN.
+
+
+A great many centuries ago, when the earth was even more beautiful than
+it is now, there grew in one of the many valleys a dainty little fern
+leaf. All around the tiny plant were many others, but none of them so
+graceful and delicate as this one I tell you of. Every day the cheery
+breezes sought out their playmate, and the merry sunbeams darted in and
+out, playing hide-and-seek among reeds and rushes; and when the twilight
+shadows deepened, and the sunbeams had all gone away, the little fern
+curled itself up for the night with only the dewdrops for company.
+
+So day after day went by: and no one knew of, or found the sweet wild
+fern, or the beautiful valley it grew in. But--for this was a very long
+time ago--a great change took place in the earth; and rocks and soil
+were upturned, and the rivers found new channels to flow in.
+
+Now, when all this happened, the little fern was quite covered up with
+the soft moist clay, and perhaps you think it might as well never have
+lived as to have been hidden away where none could see it.
+
+But after all, it was not really lost; for hundreds of years afterwards,
+when all that clay had become stone, and had broken into many fragments,
+a very wise and learned man found the bit of rock upon which was all the
+delicate tracery of the little fern leaf, with outline just as perfect
+and lovely as when, long, long ago it had swayed to the breezes in its
+own beautiful valley.
+
+And so wonderful did it seem to the wise man, that he took the fern leaf
+home with him and placed it in his cabinet where all could admire it;
+and where, if they were thoughtful and clever enough, they could think
+out the story for themselves and find the lesson which was hidden away
+with the fern in the bit of rock.
+
+Lesson! did I say? Well, let's not call it a lesson, but only a truth
+which it will do every one of us good to remember; and that is, that
+none of the beauty in this fair world around us, nor anything that is
+sweet and lovely in our own hearts, and lives, will ever be useless and
+lost. For, as the little fern leaf lay hidden away for years and years,
+and yet finally was found by the wise man and given a place with his
+other rare and precious possessions where it could still, though
+silently, aid those who looked upon it; so we, as boys and girls, men
+and women who are to be, can now, day by day, cultivate all lovely
+traits of character, making ourselves ready to take our place in the
+world's work. And when that time comes we shall not only be able to aid
+others silently, as did the little fern, but may also, by word and deed,
+lend a hand to each and every one around us.
+
+_Mara L. Pratt._
+
+From "Fairyland of Flowers." The Educational Publishing Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Break up the following words into their syllables, and place the accent
+mark where it belongs in each:
+
+outline, tracery, cabinet, delicate, finally, character, hundreds,
+centuries, remember, beautiful, possessions. Show the correct use of the
+words in original sentences. The dictionary will help you in the work.
+
+Name some of the traits of character that will help a boy or a girl to
+be truly successful in life.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The child is father of the man;
+       And I could wish my days to be
+       Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+Truth alone makes life rich and great.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+       There is a tongue in every leaf--
+         A voice in every rill--
+       A voice that speaketh everywhere--
+       In flood and fire, through earth and air,
+         A tongue that's never still.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_10_
+
+
+blithe
+whistler
+mellow
+replied
+cheery
+skylark
+
+
+
+HELPING MOTHER.
+
+
+       As I went down the street to-day,
+         I saw a little lad
+       Whose face was just the kind of face
+         To make a person glad.
+       It was so plump and rosy-cheeked,
+         So cheerful and so bright,
+       It made me think of apple-time.
+         And filled me with delight.
+
+       I saw him busy at his work,
+         While blithe as skylark's song
+       His merry, mellow whistle rang
+         The pleasant street along.
+       "Oh, that's the kind of lad I like!"
+         I thought as I passed by;
+       "These busy, cheery, whistling boys
+         Make grand men by and by."
+
+       Just then a playmate came along,
+         And leaned across the gate--
+       A plan that promised lots of fun
+         And frolic to relate.
+       "The boys are waiting for us now,
+         So hurry up!" he cried;
+       My little whistler shook his head,
+         And "Can't come," he replied.
+
+       "Can't come? Why not, I'd like to know?
+         What hinders?" asked the other.
+       "Why, don't you see," came the reply,
+         "I'm busy helping mother?
+       She's lots to do, and so I like
+         To help her all I can;
+       So I've no time for fun just now,"
+         Said this dear little man.
+
+       "I like to hear you talk like that,"
+         I told the little lad;
+       "Help mother all you can, and make
+         Her kind heart light and glad."
+       It does me good to think of him,
+         And know that there are others
+       Who, like this manly little boy,
+         Take hold and help their mothers.
+
+
+
+LANGUAGE WORK:
+
+
+Describe the little lad spoken of in the poem. Do you know any boy like
+him?
+
+Tell what this "little man" said to his playmate.
+
+When night came, was the boy sorry that he had missed so much fun? What
+kind of man did he very likely grow up to be?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_11_
+
+
+rid' dle
+brand'-new
+mys' ter y
+un rav' el
+like' ness es
+
+
+
+A CONTENTED WORKMAN.
+
+
+Once upon a time, Frederick, King of Prussia, surnamed "Old Fritz," took
+a ride, and saw an old laborer plowing his land by the wayside cheerily
+singing his song.
+
+"You must be well off, old man," said the king. "Does this land on which
+you are working so hard belong to you?"
+
+"No, sir," replied the laborer, who knew not that it was the king; "I am
+not so rich as that; I plow for wages."
+
+"How much do you get a day?" asked the king.
+
+"Two dollars," said the laborer.
+
+"That is not much," replied the king; "can you get along with that?"
+
+"Yes; and have something left."
+
+"How is that?"
+
+The laborer smiled, and said, "Well, if I must tell you, fifty cents are
+for myself and wife; with fifty I pay my old debts, fifty I lend, and
+fifty I give away for the Lord's sake."
+
+"That is a mystery which I cannot solve," replied the king.
+
+"Then I will solve it for you," said the laborer. "I have two old
+parents at home, who kept me when I was weak and needed help; and now,
+that they are weak and need help, I keep them. This is my debt, towards
+which I pay fifty cents a day. The third fifty cents, which I lend, I
+spend for my children, that they may receive Christian instruction. This
+will come handy to me and my wife when we get old. With the last fifty I
+maintain two sick sisters. This I give for the Lord's sake."
+
+The king, well pleased with his answer, said, "Bravely spoken, old man.
+Now I will also give you something to guess. Have you ever seen me
+before?"
+
+"Never," said the laborer.
+
+"In less than five minutes you shall see me fifty times, and carry in
+your pocket fifty of my likenesses."
+
+"That is a riddle which I cannot unravel," said the laborer.
+
+"Then I will do it for you," replied the king. Thrusting his hand into
+his pocket, and counting fifty brand-new gold pieces into his hand,
+stamped with his royal likeness, he said to the astonished laborer, who
+knew not what was coming, "The coin is good, for it also comes from our
+Lord God, and I am his paymaster. I bid you good-day."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       The working men, whatever their task,
+         Who carve the stone, or bear the hod,
+       They wear upon their honest brows
+         The royal stamp and seal of God;
+       And worthier are their drops of sweat
+         Than diamonds in a coronet.
+
+       Give fools their gold, and knaves their power;
+         Let fortune's bubbles rise and fall;
+       Who sows a field, or trains a flower,
+         Or plants a tree, is more than all.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+[Illustration: LABOR _Millet_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_12_
+
+
+con' script
+in dis pen' sa ble
+im' ple ment
+in de fea' si bly
+
+
+
+TWO LABORERS.
+
+
+Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
+earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
+man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
+notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
+scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
+tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
+man living manlike.
+
+Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
+pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
+so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
+wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
+so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
+indispensable,--for daily bread.
+
+A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
+the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
+Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
+revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
+they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
+endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
+only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
+heaven for us!
+
+If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
+glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
+freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
+else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
+
+Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
+and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
+toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
+than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
+thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
+depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
+break through.
+
+_Bacon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_13_
+
+
+gust
+thief
+mop' ing
+awk' ward
+pet' tish ly
+in dig' nant
+un bear' a ble
+med' dle some
+en light' ened
+in quis' i tive
+
+
+
+THE GRUMBLING PUSS.
+
+
+"What's the matter?" said Growler to the gray cat, as she sat moping on
+the top of the garden wall.
+
+"Matter enough," said the cat, turning her head another way, "Our cook
+is very fond of talking of hanging me. I wish heartily some one would
+hang _her_."
+
+"Why, what _is_ the matter?" repeated Growler.
+
+"Hasn't she beaten me, and called me a thief, and threatened to be the
+death of me?"
+
+"Dear, dear!" said Growler; "pray what has brought it about?"
+
+"Oh, nothing at all; it is her temper. All the servants complain of it.
+I wonder they haven't hanged her long ago."
+
+"Well, you see," said Growler, "cooks are awkward things to hang; you
+and I might be managed much more easily."
+
+"Not a drop of milk have I had this day!" said the gray cat; "and such a
+pain in my side!"
+
+"But what," said Growler, "what is the cause?"
+
+"Haven't I told you?" said the gray cat, pettishly; "it's her
+temper:--oh, what I have had to suffer from it! Everything she breaks
+she lays to me; everything that is stolen she lays to me. Really, it is
+quite unbearable!"
+
+Growler was quite indignant; but, being of a reflective turn, after the
+first gust of wrath had passed, he asked: "But was there no particular
+cause this morning?"
+
+"She chose to be very angry because I--I offended her," said the cat.
+
+"How, may I ask?" gently inquired Growler.
+
+"Oh, nothing worth telling,--a mere mistake of mine."
+
+Growler looked at her with such a questioning expression, that she was
+compelled to say, "I took the wrong thing for my breakfast."
+
+"Oh!" said Growler, much enlightened.
+
+"Why, the fact is," said the gray cat, "I was springing at a mouse, and
+knocked down a dish, and, not knowing exactly what it was, I smelt it,
+and it was rather nice, and--"
+
+"You finished it," hinted Growler.
+
+"Well, I believe I should have done so, if that meddlesome cook hadn't
+come in. As it was, I left the head."
+
+"The head of what?" said Growler.
+
+"How inquisitive you are!" said the gray cat.
+
+"Nay, but I should like to know," said Growler.
+
+"Well, then, of a certain fine fish that was meant for dinner."
+
+"Then," said Growler, "say what you please; but, now that I've heard the
+whole story, I only wonder she did _not_ hang you."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Fill the following blanks with words that will make complete sentences:
+
+Mary -- here, and Susan and Agnes -- coming. They -- delayed on the road.
+Mother -- to come with them, but she and father -- obliged to wait till
+to-morrow.
+
+Puss said to Growler, "I -- not -- a drop of milk to-day, and -- not -- any
+yesterday."
+
+I -- my work well now. Yesterday I -- it fairly well. To-morrow I shall
+-- it perfectly.
+
+The boys -- their best, though they -- the game.
+
+John--now the boys he -- last week. He -- not -- them before.
+
+
+NOTE.--Let two pupils read or recite the conversational parts of this
+selection, omitting the explanatory matter, while the other pupils
+simply listen. If done with expressive feeling and in a perfectly
+natural tone, it will prove quite an interesting exercise. To play or
+act the story of a selection helps to develop the imagination.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_14_
+
+
+scared
+swerve
+gur' gle
+rip' ples
+cur' rent
+mum' bling ly
+
+
+
+THE BROOK SONG.
+
+
+       Little brook! Little brook!
+       You have such a happy look--
+       Such a very merry manner, as you swerve and curve and crook--
+       And your ripples, one and one,
+       Reach each other's hands and run
+       Like laughing little children in the sun!
+
+       Little brook, sing to me;
+       Sing about the bumblebee
+       That tumbled from a lily bell and grumbled mumblingly,
+       Because he wet the film
+       Of his wings, and had to swim,
+       While the water bugs raced round and laughed at him.
+
+       Little brook--sing a song
+       Of a leaf that sailed along
+       Down the golden-hearted center of your current swift and strong,
+       And a dragon fly that lit
+       On the tilting rim of it,
+       And rode away and wasn't scared a bit.
+
+       And sing--how oft in glee
+       Came a truant boy like me,
+       Who loved to lean and listen to your lilting melody,
+       Till the gurgle and refrain
+       Of your music in his brain
+       Wrought a happiness as keen to him as pain.
+
+       Little brook--laugh and leap!
+       Do not let the dreamer weep:
+       Sing him all the songs of summer till he sink in softest sleep;
+       And then sing soft and low
+       Through his dreams of long ago--
+       Sing back to him the rest he used to know!
+
+
+_James Whitcomb Riley_.
+
+From "Rhymes of Childhood." Used by special permission of the
+publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Co. Copyright, 1900.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: BY THE BROOK]
+
+
+RIPPLES, little curling waves FILM, a thin skin or slight
+covering.
+
+CURRENT, the swiftest part of a stream; also applied to _air,
+electricity_, etc.
+
+What do the following expressions mean: tilting rim, lilting melody,
+softest sleep, gurgle and refrain, a happiness as keen to him as pain?
+
+What is a lullaby? Recite a stanza of one.
+
+Insert _may_ or _can_ properly where you see a dash in the
+following: The boy said, "--I leave the room?" "Mother, I--climb the
+ladder;--I?"--a dog climb a tree?--I ask a favor?
+
+Copy the following words--they are often misspelled: loving, using,
+till, until, queer, fulfil, speech, muscle, quite, scheme, success,
+barely, college, villain, salary, visitor, remedy, hurried, forty-four,
+enemies, twelfth, marriage, immense, exhaust.
+
+By means of the suffixes, _er, est, ness_, form three new words
+from each of the following words: happy, sleepy, lively, greedy,
+steady, lovely, gloomy.
+
+Example: From happy,--happier, happiest, happiness. Note the change of
+_y_ to _i_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_15_
+
+
+rag'ged
+crin'kly
+rub'bish
+fil'tered
+protect'ed
+disor'derly
+disturbed'
+imme'diately
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF THE SEED-DOWN.
+
+
+
+I.
+
+
+High above the earth, over land and sea, floated the seed-down, borne on
+the autumn wind's strong arms.
+
+"Here shall you lie, little seed-down," said he at last, and put it down
+on the ground, and laid a fallen leaf over it. Then he flew away
+immediately, because he had much to look after.
+
+That was in the dark evening, and the seed could not see where it was
+placed, and besides, the leaf covered it.
+
+Something heavy came now, and pressed so hard that the seed came near
+being destroyed; but the leaf, weak though it was, protected it.
+
+It was a human foot which walked along over the ground, and pressed the
+downy seed into the earth. When the foot was withdrawn, the earth fell,
+and filled the little pit it had made.
+
+The cold came, and the snow fell several feet deep; but the seed lay
+quietly down there, waiting for warmth and light. When the spring came,
+and the snow melted away, the plant shot up out of the earth.
+
+There was a little gray cottage beside which it grew up. The tiny plant
+could not see very far around, because rubbish and brush-heaps lay near
+it, and the little window was so gray and dusty that it could not peep
+into the cottage either.
+
+"Who lives here?" asked the little thing.
+
+"Don't you know that?" asked the ragged shoe, which lay near. "Why, the
+smith who drinks so much lives here, and his wife who wore me out."
+
+And then she told how it looked inside, how life went on there, and it
+was not cheering; no, but fearfully sad. The shoe knew it all well, and
+told a whole lot in a few minutes, because she had such a well-hung
+tongue.
+
+Now there came a pair of ragged children, running--the smith's boy and
+girl; he was six years old and the girl eight, so the shoe said, after
+they were gone.
+
+"Oh, see, what a pretty little plant!" said the girl. "So now, I shall
+pull it up," said the boy, and the plant trembled to the root's heart.
+
+"No, do not do it!" said the girl. "We must let it grow. Do you not see
+what pretty crinkly leaves it has? It will have lovely flowers, I know,
+when it grows bigger."
+
+And it was allowed to stay there. The children took a stick and dug up
+the earth round about, so it looked like a plowed field. Then they threw
+the shoe and the sweepings a little way off, because they thought to
+make the place look better.
+
+"You cannot think," said the shoe, after the children had gone, "you
+cannot think how in the way folks are!"
+
+"The children have to give themselves airs, and pretend to be very
+orderly," said the half of a coffee-cup; and she broke in another place
+she was so disturbed.
+
+But the sun shone warmly and the rain filtered down in the upturned
+earth. Then leaf after leaf unfolded, and in a few days the plant was
+several inches high.
+
+"Oh, see!" said the children, who came again; "see how beautiful it is
+getting!"
+
+"Come, father, come! brother and I have discovered such a pretty plant!
+Come and see it!" begged the girl.
+
+The father glanced at it. The plant looked so lovely on the little rough
+bit of soil which lay between the piles of sweepings.
+
+The smith nodded to the children.
+
+"It looks very disorderly here," he said to himself, and stopped an
+instant. "Yes, indeed, it does!" He went along, but thought of the
+little green spot, with the lovely plant in the midst of it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+II.
+
+
+
+pet' als
+in' mates
+scrubbed
+fra' grant
+
+
+
+The children ran into the house.
+
+"Mother," said they, "there is such a rare plant growing right by the
+window!"
+
+The mother wished to glance out, but the window was so thick with dust
+that she could not do so. She wiped off a little spot.
+
+"My! My!" said she, when she noticed how dirty the window looked beside
+the cleaned spot; so she wiped the whole window.
+
+"That is an odd plant," said she, looking at it. "But how dreadfully
+dirty it is out in the yard!"
+
+Now that the sun shone in through the window it became very light in the
+cottage. The mother looked at the ragged children and at the rubbish in
+the room, and the blood rushed over her pale cheeks.
+
+"It is a perfect shame!" she murmured. "I have never noticed that it was
+so untidy here."
+
+She hurried around, and set the room to rights, and, when that was done,
+she washed the dirty floor. She scrubbed it so hard that her hands
+smarted as if she had burned them in the fire; she did not stop until
+every spot was white.
+
+It was evening; the husband came home from work. The wife sat mending
+the girl's ragged dress. The man stopped in the door. It looked so
+strange to him within, and the look his wife gave him was brighter than
+ever before, he thought.
+
+"Go--God's peace!" he stammered. It was a long time since such a
+greeting had been heard in here.
+
+"God's peace!" answered she; "wel--welcome home!" She had not said this
+for many years.
+
+The smith stepped forward to the window; on the bed beside it the two
+children lay sleeping. He looked at them, then he looked out on the
+mound where the little plant stood. After a few minutes he went out.
+
+A deep sigh rose from the woman's breast. She had hoped that he would
+stay home that evening. Two great tears fell on the little dress.
+
+In a few minutes she heard a noise outside. She went to the window to
+see what it could be. Her husband had not gone away! He was out in the
+yard clearing up the brush-heaps and rubbish.
+
+She became more happy than she had been for a long time. He glanced in
+through the window and saw her. Then she nodded, he nodded back, and
+they both smiled.
+
+"Be careful, above all, of the little plant!" said she.
+
+Warm and sunny days came. The smith stayed at home now every evening. It
+was green and lovely round the little cottage, and outside the window
+there was a whole flower-bed, with many blossoms; but in the midst stood
+the little plant the autumn wind had brought thither.
+
+The smith's family stood around the flower-bed, and talked about the
+flowers.
+
+"But the plant that brother and I found is the most beautiful of all,"
+said the girl.
+
+"Yes, indeed it is," said the parents.
+
+The smith bent down and took one of the leaves in his hand, but very
+carefully, because he was afraid he might hurt it with his thick, coarse
+fingers.
+
+Then a bell was heard ringing in the distance. The sound floated out
+over field and lake, and rang so peacefully in the eventide, just as the
+sun sank behind the tree-tops in the forest. And every one bowed the
+head, because it was Saturday evening, and it was a sacred voice that
+sounded.
+
+In a little while all was silent in the cottage; the inmates slumbered,
+more tired, perhaps, than before, after the week's toils, but also much,
+much happier. And round about, all was calm and peaceful.
+
+But when Sunday's sun came up, the plant opened its bud,--and it bore
+but a single one. When the cottage folks passed the little
+flower-garden, they all stopped and looked at the beautiful, fragrant
+blossom.
+
+"It shall go with us to the house of God," said the wife, turning to her
+husband. He nodded, and then she broke off the flower. The wife looked
+at the husband, and he looked at her, and then their eyes rested on both
+children; then their eyes grew dim, but became immediately bright again,
+for the tears were not of sorrow, but of happiness.
+
+When the organ's tones swelled and the people sang in the temple, the
+flower folded its petals, for it had fulfilled its mission; but on the
+waves of song its perfume floated upwards. And in the sweet fragrance
+lay a warm thanksgiving from the little seed-down.
+
+
+From "My Lady Legend," translated from the Swedish by Miss Rydingsvaerd.
+
+Used by the special permission of the publishers, Lothrop, Lee & Shepard
+Co.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+I want it to be said of me by those who know me best that I have always
+plucked a thistle and planted a flower in its place wherever a flower
+would grow.
+
+_Abraham Lincoln._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_16_
+
+
+lux'u ry
+med'i cine
+a bun'dant
+wil'der ness
+
+
+
+THE USE OF FLOWERS.
+
+
+       God might have bade the earth bring forth
+         Enough for great and small,
+       The oak tree, and the cedar tree,
+         Without a flower at all.
+
+       He might have made enough, enough,
+         For every want of ours;
+       For luxury, medicine, and toil,
+         And yet have made no flowers.
+
+       The ore within the mountain mine
+         Requireth none to grow,
+       Nor doth it need the lotus flower
+         To make the river flow.
+
+       The clouds might give abundant rain,
+         The nightly dews might fall,
+       And the herb that keepeth life in man
+         Might yet have drunk them all.
+
+       Then wherefore, wherefore were they made
+         All dyed with rainbow light,
+       All fashioned with supremest grace,
+         Upspringing day and night--
+
+       Springing in valleys green and low,
+         And on the mountains high,
+       And in the silent wilderness,
+         Where no man passeth by?
+
+       Our outward life requires them not,
+         Then wherefore had they birth?
+       To minister delight to man,
+         To beautify the earth;
+
+       To whisper hope--to comfort man
+         Whene'er his faith is dim;
+       For whoso careth for the flowers
+         Will care much more for Him!
+
+
+_Mary Howitt._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Give the plural forms of the following name-words: tree, leaf, copy,
+foot, shoe, calf, life, child, tooth, valley.
+
+Insert the proper punctuation marks in the following stanza:
+
+
+       In the country on every side
+         Where far and wide
+       Like a leopard's tawny hide
+         Stretches the plain
+       To the dry grass and drier grain
+       How welcome is the rain.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Full many a gem of purest ray serene
+         The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;
+       Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
+         And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
+
+
+_Stanza from Gray's "Elegy."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_17_
+
+
+deigned
+in' va lid
+lone' li ness
+smoothed
+med'i cine
+be wil'dered
+gen' ius
+riv' et ed
+soul-sub du' ing
+
+
+
+PIERRE'S LITTLE SONG.
+
+
+In a humble room, in one of the poorer streets of London, little Pierre,
+a fatherless French boy, sat humming by the bedside of his sick mother.
+There was no bread in the house; and he had not tasted food all day. Yet
+he sat humming to keep up his spirits.
+
+Still, at times, he thought of his loneliness and hunger, and he could
+scarcely keep the tears from his eyes; for he knew that nothing would be
+so welcome to his poor invalid mother as a good sweet orange; and yet he
+had not a penny in the world.
+
+The little song he was singing was his own,--one he had composed, both
+air and words; for the child was a genius. He went to the window, and,
+looking out, saw a man putting up a great poster with yellow letters,
+announcing that Madame Malibran would sing that night in public.
+
+"Oh, if I could only go!" thought little Pierre; and then, pausing a
+moment, he clasped his hands; his eyes sparkled with a new hope. Running
+to the looking-glass, he smoothed his yellow curls, and, taking from a
+little box an old, stained paper, he gave one eager glance at his
+mother, who slept, and ran speedily from the house.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"Who, do you say, is waiting for me?" said the lady to her servant. "I
+am already worn out with company."
+
+"Only a very pretty little boy, with yellow curls, who says that if he
+can just see you, he is sure you will not be sorry, and he will not keep
+you a moment."
+
+"Oh, well, let him come!" said the beautiful singer, with a smile; "I
+can never refuse children."
+
+Little Pierre came in, his hat under his arm; and in his hand a little
+roll of paper. With a manliness unusual in a child, he walked straight
+up to the lady, and, bowing, said: "I have come to see you, because my
+mother is very sick, and we are too poor to get food and medicine. I
+thought that, perhaps, if you would only sing my little song at one of
+your grand concerts, some publisher might buy it, for a small sum; and
+so I could get food and medicine for my mother."
+
+The beautiful woman rose from her seat; very tall and stately she
+was;--she took the little roll from his hand, and lightly hummed the
+air.
+
+"Did you compose it?" she asked,--"you, a child! And the words?--Would
+you like to come to my concert?" she asked, after a few moments of
+thought.
+
+"Oh, yes!" and the boy's eyes grew bright with happiness; "but I
+couldn't leave my mother."
+
+"I will send somebody to take care of your mother for the evening; and
+here is a crown, with which you may go and get food and medicine. Here
+is also one of my tickets; come to-night; and that will admit you to a
+seat near me."
+
+Almost beside himself with joy, Pierre bought some oranges, and many a
+little luxury besides, and carried them home to the poor invalid,
+telling her, not without tears, of his good fortune.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+When evening came, and Pierre was admitted to the concert hall, he felt
+that never in his life had he been in so grand a place. The music, the
+glare of lights, the beauty, the flashing of diamonds and the rustling
+of silks, completely bewildered him. At last _she_ came; and the
+child sat with his eyes riveted on her face. Could it be that the grand
+lady, glittering with jewels, and whom everybody seemed to worship,
+would really sing his little song?
+
+Breathless he waited:--the band, the whole band, struck up a little
+plaintive melody: he knew it, and clapped his hands for joy! And oh, how
+she sang it! It was so simple, so mournful, so soul-subduing. Many a
+bright eye was dimmed with tears, many a heart was moved, by the
+touching words of that little song.
+
+Pierre walked home as if he were moving on the air. What cared he for
+money now? The greatest singer in Europe had sung his little song, and
+thousands had wept at his grief.
+
+The next day he was frightened by a visit from Madame Malibran. She laid
+her hand on his yellow curls, and, turning to the sick woman, said:
+"Your little boy, madam, has brought you a fortune. I was offered, this
+morning, by the first publisher in London, a large sum for his little
+song. Madam, thank God that your son has a gift from heaven."
+
+The noble-hearted singer and the poor woman wept together. As for
+Pierre, always mindful of Him who watches over the tried and the
+tempted, he knelt down by his mother's bedside and uttered a simple
+prayer, asking God's blessing on the kind lady who had deigned to notice
+their affliction.
+
+The memory of that prayer made the singer even more tender-hearted; and
+she now went about doing good. And on her early death, he who stood by
+her bed, and smoothed her pillow, and lightened her last moments by his
+affection, was the little Pierre of former days,--now rich,
+accomplished, and one of the most talented composers of the day.
+
+All honor to those great hearts who, from their high stations, send down
+bounty to the widow and the fatherless!
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIERRE (pe [^a]r'), Peter.
+
+MALIBRAN, a French singer and actress. She died in 1836, when only 28
+years old.
+
+What does "he walked as if moving on air" mean?
+
+BREATHLESS = _breath_+_less_, without breath, out of breath;
+holding the breath on account of great interest.
+
+BREATHLESSLY, in a breathless manner. Use _breath, breathless,
+breathlessly,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Pronounce separately the two similar consonant sounds coming together in
+the following words and phrases:
+
+humming; meanness; is sure; his spirit; send down; this shows; eyes
+sparkled; wept together; frequent trials.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+A single sunbeam is enough to drive away many shadows.
+
+_St. Francis of Assisi._
+
+
+
+       Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
+         'Tis only noble to be good.
+       Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+         And simple faith than Norman blood.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_18_
+
+
+
+SEPTEMBER.
+
+
+       The golden-rod is yellow;
+         The corn is turning brown;
+       The trees in apple orchards
+         With fruit are bending down.
+
+       The gentian's bluest fringes
+         Are curling in the sun;
+       In dusty pods the milkweed
+         Its hidden silk has spun.
+
+       The sedges flaunt their harvest
+         In every meadow nook;
+       And asters by the brookside
+         Make asters in the brook.
+
+       From dewy lanes at morning
+         The grapes' sweet odors rise;
+       At noon the roads all flutter
+         With yellow butterflies.
+
+       By all these lovely tokens
+         September days are here,
+       With summer's best of weather,
+         And autumn's best of cheer.
+
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+
+[Footnote: Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.]
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+sedges, coarse grasses which grow in marshy places.
+
+Tell what the following expressions mean: dewy lanes; best of cheer;
+sedges flaunt their harvest.
+
+How do "Asters by the brookside make asters in the brook"?
+
+Give in your own words the tokens of September mentioned in the poem.
+Can you name any others?
+
+Memorize the poem. What do you know of the author?
+
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_19_
+
+
+tat'ter
+wreathed
+Ken tuck' y
+de scend'ed
+re cess'
+home' stead
+en rap' tured
+Penn syl va' ni a
+
+
+
+"MY OLD KENTUCKY HOME."
+
+
+"My Old Kentucky Home" was written by Stephen Collins Foster, a resident
+of Pittsburg, Pa., while he and his sister were on a visit to his
+relative, Judge John Rowan, a short distance east of Bardstown, Ky. One
+beautiful morning while the slaves were at work in the cornfield and the
+sun was shining with a mighty splendor on the waving grass, first giving
+it a light red, then changing it to a golden hue, there were seated upon
+a bench in front of the Rowan homestead two young people, a brother and
+a sister.
+
+High up in the top of a tree was a mocking bird warbling its sweet
+notes. Over in a hidden recess of a small brush, the thrush's mellow
+song could be heard. A number of small negro children were playing not
+far away. When Foster had finished the first verse of the song his
+sister took it from his hand and sang in a sweet, mellow voice:
+
+
+
+       The sun shines bright on the old Kentucky home;
+         'Tis summer, the darkies are gay;
+       The corn top's ripe and the meadows in the bloom,
+         While the birds make music all the day.
+
+       The young folks roll on the little cabin floor,
+         All merry, all happy, all bright;
+       By'n by hard times comes a-knockin' at the door--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+
+On her finishing the first verse the mocking bird descended to a lower
+branch. The feathery songster drew his head to one side and appeared to
+be completely enraptured at the wonderful voice of the young singer.
+When the last note died away upon the air, her fond brother sang in deep
+bass voice:
+
+
+       Weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         Well sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+       A few more days for to tote the weary load,
+         No matter, 'twill never be light;
+       A few more days till we totter on the road--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+
+The negroes had laid down their hoes and rakes; the little tots had
+placed themselves behind the large, sheltering trees, while the old
+black women were peeping around the corner of the house. The faithful
+old house dog never took his eyes off the young singers. Everything was
+still; not even the stirring of the leaves seemed to break the wonderful
+silence.
+
+Again the brother and sister took hold of the remaining notes, and sang
+in sweet accents:
+
+
+       They hunt no more for the 'possum and the coon
+         On the meadow, the hill and the shore;
+       They sing no more by the glimmer of the moon,
+         On the bench by the old cabin door.
+
+       The day goes by like a shadow o'er the heart,
+         With sorrow where all was delight:
+       The time has come when the darkies have to part--
+         Then, my old Kentucky home, good night.
+
+       The head must bow and the back will have to bend
+         Wherever the darkies may go;
+       A few more days and the trouble all will end
+         In the fields where the sugar cane grow.
+
+       Then weep no more, my lady; oh, weep no more to-day,
+         We'll sing one song for the old Kentucky home,
+       For our old Kentucky home far away.
+
+
+As the song was finished tears flowed down the old people's cheeks; the
+children crept from their hiding place behind the trees, their faces
+wreathed in smiles. The mocking bird and the thrush sought their home in
+the thicket, while the old house dog still lay basking in the sun.
+
+
+_Mrs. T.A. Sherrard_
+
+
+Louisville _Courier-Journal._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_20_
+
+
+stew' ard
+se'quel
+Gal'i lee
+ab lu' tions
+in ter ces' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST MIRACLE OF JESUS.
+
+
+In the first year of our Lord's public life, St. John tells us in his
+gospel that "there was a marriage in Cana of Galilee, and the Mother of
+Jesus was there. And Jesus also was invited to the marriage." Mary was
+invited to be one of the honored guests because she was, no doubt, an
+intimate friend of the family. She preceded her Son to the wedding in
+order to lend her aid in the necessary preparations.
+
+Jesus also was asked, and He did not refuse the invitation. He went as
+freely to this house of feasting as He afterwards went pityingly to so
+many houses of mourning. Though worn and weary with his long fast and
+struggle in the desert, He was pleased to attend this merry wedding
+feast, and by this loving and kindly act to sanctify the bond of
+Marriage, which was to become in His Church one of the seven Sacraments.
+
+The feast went gayly onward until an incident occurred that greatly
+disturbed the host. The wine failed. The host had not calculated
+rightly, or perhaps he had not counted on so many guests.
+
+Mary, with her motherly heart, was the first to notice the confusion of
+the servants when they discovered that the wine vessels had become
+empty; and leaning towards her Son, whispered, "They have no wine." "My
+hour is not yet come," He answered her, meaning that His time for
+working miracles had not yet arrived. He knew on the instant what the
+gentle heart of His Mother desired. His words sounded like a refusal of
+the request which Mary made rather with her eyes than with her tongue;
+but the sequel shows that the Blessed Mother fully believed that her
+prayer would be granted.
+
+She quietly said to the servants, "Whatsoever He shall say to you, do
+ye." They had not long to wait. There were standing close at hand six
+great urns of stone, covered with branches, as is the custom in the
+East, in order to keep the water cool and fresh. These vessels
+"containing two or three measures apiece," were kept in readiness for
+the guests, who were required not only to wash their feet before
+touching the linen and drapery of the couches, but even during the meal
+frequently to purify their hands. Already there had been many of these
+ablutions performed, and the urns were being rapidly emptied.
+
+"Fill the waterpots with water," said Jesus to the servants.
+
+They filled them up to the brim with clear, fresh water.
+
+"Draw out now, and carry to the chief steward of the feast."
+
+And they carried it.
+
+When the chief steward had tasted the water made wine, and knew not
+whence it was, he called the bridegroom and said to him: "Every man at
+first setteth forth good wine, and when men have well drunk then that
+which is worse; but thou hast kept the good wine until now."
+
+The steward had supposed at first that the host had wished to give an
+agreeable surprise to the company assembled at his table; but the
+latter, to his amazement, was at once made aware that a wondrous deed
+had been accomplished--that water had been changed into wine!
+
+Jesus had performed His first Miracle.
+
+From this beautiful story of the first miracle of Jesus, we learn that
+Jesus Christ is God, and that Mary, the Mother of God, whose
+intercession is all-powerful with her Divine Son, has a loving and
+motherly care over the smallest of our life's concerns.
+
+
+[Illustration: THE FEAST _Veronese_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PRECEDED, went before in order of time. The prefix _pre_- means
+_before_. Tell what the following words mean:
+
+prefix, predict, prepare, prejudge, prescribe, predestine, precaution,
+precursor, prefigure, prearrange.
+
+Read the sentences of the Lesson that express commands.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+The conscious water saw its God and blushed.
+
+_Richard Crashaw._
+
+But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the
+Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His Name.
+
+
+_Gospel of St. John._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_21_
+
+
+dec' ades (dek' ads)
+di' a dem
+
+
+
+MY BEADS.
+
+
+       Sweet blessed beads! I would not part
+           With one of you for richest gem
+           That gleams in kingly diadem:
+       Ye know the history of my heart.
+
+       For I have told you every grief
+           In all the days of twenty years,
+           And I have moistened you with tears,
+       And in your decades found relief.
+
+       Ah! time has fled, and friends have failed,
+         And joys have died; but in my needs
+         Ye were my friends, my blessed beads!
+       And ye consoled me when I wailed.
+
+       For many and many a time, in grief,
+         My weary fingers wandered round
+         Thy circled chain, and always found
+       In some Hail Mary sweet relief.
+
+       How many a story you might tell
+         Of inner life, to all unknown;
+         I trusted you and you alone,
+       But ah! ye keep my secrets well.
+
+       Ye are the only chain I wear--
+         A sign that I am but the slave,
+         In life, in death, beyond the grave,
+       Of Jesus and His Mother fair.
+
+
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P. J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+From the following words make new words by means of the suffix -_ous_:
+joy, grace, grief, glory, desire, virtue, beauty, courage, disaster,
+harmony.
+
+(Consult the dictionary.)
+
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+
+       Mary,--our comfort and our hope,--
+         O, may that name be given
+       To be the last we sigh on earth,--
+         The first we breathe in heaven.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_22_
+
+
+
+THE HARP THAT ONCE THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
+
+
+       The harp that once through Tara's halls
+         The soul of music shed,
+       Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls,
+         As if that soul were fled.
+       So sleeps the pride of former days,
+         So glory's thrill is o'er,
+       And hearts, that once beat high for praise,
+         Now feel that pulse no more.
+
+       No more to chiefs and ladies bright
+         The harp of Tara swells;
+       The chord alone that breaks at night
+         Its tale of ruin tells.
+       Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes,
+         The only throb she gives
+       Is when some heart indignant breaks,
+         To show that still She lives.
+
+
+_Thomas Moore._
+
+
+[Illustration: TOM MOORE]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_23_
+
+
+ma'am
+dis suade'
+re spect'a ble
+shuf' fled
+dan' ger ous
+grate' ful
+wist' ful ly
+mit' tens
+outstretched'
+res' cue
+un daunt' ed
+an' ti qua ted
+
+
+
+A LITTLE LADY.[001]
+
+
+Going down a very steep street, where the pavement was covered with ice,
+I saw before me an old woman, slowly and timidly picking her way. She
+was one of the poor but respectable old ladies who dress in rusty black,
+wear old-fashioned bonnets, and carry big bags.
+
+Some young folks laugh at these antiquated figures; but those who are
+better bred treat them with respect. They find something touching in the
+faded suits, the withered faces, and the knowledge that these lonely old
+ladies have lost youth, friends, and often fortune, and are patiently
+waiting to be called away from a world that seems to have passed by and
+forgotten them.
+
+Well, as I slipped and shuffled along, I watched the little black bonnet
+in front, expecting every minute to see it go down, and trying to hurry,
+that I might offer my help.
+
+At the corner, I passed three little school-girls, and heard one say to
+another, "O, I wouldn't; she will do well enough, and we shall lose our
+coasting, unless we hurry."
+
+"But if she should tumble and break her poor old bones, I should feel so
+bad," returned the second, a pleasant-faced child, whose eyes, full of a
+sweet, pitiful expression, followed the old lady.
+
+"She's such a funny-looking woman, I shouldn't like to be seen walking
+with her," said the third, as if she thought it a kind thing to do, but
+had not the courage to try it.
+
+"Well, I don't care; she's old, and ought to be helped, and I'm going to
+do it," cried the pleasant-faced girl; and, running by me, I saw her
+overtake the old lady, who stood at a crossing, looking wistfully over
+the dangerous sheet of ice before her.
+
+"Please, ma'am, may I help you, it's so bad here?" said the kind little
+voice, as the hands in the red mittens were helpfully out-stretched.
+
+"O, thank you, dear. I'd no idea the walking was so bad; but I must get
+home." And the old face lighted up with a grateful smile, which was
+worth a dozen of the best coasts in Boston.
+
+"Take my arm then; I'll help you down the street, for I'm afraid you
+might fall," said the child, offering her arm.
+
+"Yes, dear, so I will. Now we shall get on beautifully. I've been having
+a dreadful time, for my over-socks are all holes, and I slip at every
+step."
+
+"Keep hold, ma'am, I won't fall. I have rubber boots, and can't tumble."
+
+So chatting, the two went safely across, leaving me and the other girls
+to look after them and wish that we had done the little act of kindness,
+which now looked so lovely in another.
+
+"I think Katy is a very good girl, don't you?" said one child to the
+other.
+
+"Yes, I do; let's wait till she comes back. No matter if we do lose some
+coasts," answered the child who had tried to dissuade her playmate from
+going to the rescue.
+
+Then I left them; but I think they learned a lesson that day in real
+politeness; for, as they watched little Katy dutifully supporting the
+old lady, undaunted by the rusty dress, the big bag, the old socks, and
+the queer bonnet, both their faces lighted up with new respect and
+affection for their playmate.
+
+_Louisa M. Alcott._
+
+From "Little Women." Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DISSUADE, to advise against; to turn from a purpose by reasons
+given.
+
+ANTIQUATED, grown old; old-fashioned.
+
+Tell what each contraction met with in the selection stands for.
+
+
+Use _their_ or _there_ properly in place of the blanks in
+the following sentences: The girls were on -- way
+to the Park. -- was an old lady at the crossing.
+Our home is --. Katy and Mary said --
+mother lived --.
+
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Count that day lost
+         Whose low descending sun,
+       Views from thy hands
+         No worthy action done.
+
+
+_Author unknown._
+
+
+
+What I must do concerns me, not what people will think.
+
+_Emerson_.
+
+
+
+[Footnote 001: Copyrighted by Little, Brown & Company.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_24_
+
+
+
+WHAT HOUSE TO LIKE.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Some love the glow of outward show,
+         Some love mere wealth and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+       What's all the gold that glitters cold,
+         When linked to hard or haughty feeling?
+       Whate'er we're told, the noble gold
+         Is truth of heart and manly dealing.
+
+       A lowly roof may give us proof
+         That lowly flowers are often fairest;
+       And trees whose bark is hard and dark
+         May yield us fruit and bloom the rarest.
+
+       There's worth as sure 'neath garments poor
+         As e'er adorned a loftier station;
+       And minds as just as those, we trust,
+         Whose claim is but of wealth's creation.
+
+       Then let them seek, whose minds are weak,
+         Mere fashion's smile, and try to win it;
+       The house to me may lowly be
+         If I but like the people in it.
+
+
+_Anon_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+What is meant by "haughty feeling"?
+
+What does the author say "the noble gold" is?
+
+Is "bloom" in the third stanza an action-word or a name-word? Why?
+
+Give in your own words the thought of the fourth stanza.
+
+Use _to, too, two,_ properly before each of the following words:
+
+hard, win, people, minds, dark, yield.
+
+What virtues does the poem recommend?
+
+What "lowly flowers are often fairest"?
+
+What "lowly" virtue does the following stanza suggest?
+
+
+       The bird that sings on highest wing,
+         Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
+       And she that doth most sweetly sing,
+         Sings in the shade when all things rest.
+
+
+_Montgomery_.
+
+
+Name the two birds referred to.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_25_
+
+
+sears
+flecked
+de signed'
+strait'ened
+il lu'mined
+
+
+
+A SONG OF DUTY.
+
+
+       Sorrow comes and sorrow goes;
+         Life is flecked with shine and shower;
+       Now the tear of grieving flows,
+         Now we smile in happy hour;
+       Death awaits us, every one--
+         Toiler, dreamer, preacher, writer--
+       Let us then, ere life be done,
+         Make the world a little brighter!
+
+       Burdens that our neighbors bear,
+         Easier let us try to make them;
+       Chains perhaps our neighbors wear,
+         Let us do our best to break them.
+       From the straitened hand and mind,
+         Let us loose the binding fetter,
+       Let us, as the Lord designed,
+         Make the world a little better!
+
+       Selfish brooding sears the soul,
+         Fills the mind with clouds of sorrow,
+       Darkens all the shining goal
+         Of the sun-illumined morrow;
+       Wherefore should our lives be spent
+         Daily growing blind and blinder--
+       Let us, as the Master meant,
+         Make the world a little kinder!
+
+
+_Denis A. McCarthy._
+
+From "Voices from Erin."
+
+Angel Guardian Press, Boston, Mass.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_26_
+
+
+Sod' om
+spright' ly
+the o lo' gi an
+his' to ry
+To bi' as
+cre at' ed
+pro ceed' ed
+sep' a ra ted
+min' is ter
+Au gus' tine
+crit' i cise
+cat' e ehism
+de ter' mined
+As cen' sion
+Res ur rec' tion
+
+
+
+AN EVENING WITH THE ANGELS.
+
+
+"Well, James," said a kind-voiced mother, "you promised to tell Maggie
+all about the Catechism you heard this afternoon at school."
+
+"All right, mother," answered sprightly James, "anything at all to make
+Maggie happy. Let's begin right away."
+
+"Maggie, you said," continued James, "that you never could find out
+_when_ the angels were created. Neither could our teacher tell me. And
+I'm told St. Augustine could only make a guess when they were created.
+
+"He thought the angels were created when God separated the light from
+the darkness. But that's no matter, anyhow. We're sure there are angels;
+that's the chief point."
+
+"Are you quite certain?" asked Maggie.
+
+"To be sure I am," said James. "If I met a man in the street I would
+know he must have a father and a mother, although I had never heard when
+he was born."
+
+"That's so," chimed in the proud mother.
+
+"Well, then, mother, many angels have been seen on earth, and they must
+have been created some time. Let me tell you some of the places where it
+is said in the Bible that angels have been seen, and where they spoke,
+too."
+
+"Now, James," said the father, "let Maggie see if _she_ can find out
+some of those places herself. Here is the Bible."
+
+With the help of mother and James, Maggie soon found the history of Adam
+and Eve, where it is recorded that an angel with a flaming sword was
+placed at the gate of Paradise.
+
+"Poor Adam and Eve," said Maggie, "they must have felt very sad."
+
+"Yes," answered Father Kennedy, who dropped in just then, and beheld his
+young theologians with the holy Book before them. "They felt very sorry,
+indeed, but they were consoled when told that a Savior would come to
+redeem them."
+
+"So you told us last Sunday," chimed in James. "Then you spoke about the
+angels at Bethlehem who sang glory to God in the highest."
+
+"And there was an angel in the desert when our Lord was tempted,"
+proceeded the father.
+
+"Oh! did you hear papa say the devil was an angel?" exclaimed James.
+
+"Of course the devil is an angel," said Maggie, glad to trip up her big
+brother, "but he is a bad one."
+
+"I say yet that there were angels with our Lord after His forty days'
+fast," insisted James.
+
+"So I say, too," retorted Maggie; "but while only one _bad angel_
+tempted our Lord, many good angels came to minister unto Him."
+
+"Very well, indeed," said Father Kennedy. "But let's hurry over some
+other points about the angels. Your turn; Master James, and give only
+the place and person in each case."
+
+"Well, let me see; there were Abraham and the three angels who went to
+Sodom, and the angels who beat the man that wanted to steal money from
+the temple, and the angel who took Tobias on a long journey."
+
+"Please, Father Kennedy, wasn't it an _Archangel?_" inquired Maggie,
+still determined to surpass her brother.
+
+"Never mind that," said the priest. "Go on, James; 'twill be Maggie's
+turn soon."
+
+"Well, there was an angel in the Garden of Olives, and angels at the
+Resurrection of our Lord, and angels at His Ascension."
+
+Here Maggie exclaimed, "Please, Father Kennedy, may I have till next
+Sunday to search out some angels? James has taken all mine."
+
+"No," mildly said the delighted clergyman, "_your _angel is always with
+you, and James has his, too."
+
+"Father Kennedy, there's a man dying in the block behind the church,"
+said the servant from the half-open parlor door. "Excuse my coming in
+without knocking. They're in a great hurry."
+
+"Good night, children," said the devoted priest, "till next Sunday. May
+your angels watch over you in the meantime."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ARCHANGEL ([:a]rk [=a]n' j[)e]l), a chief angel.
+
+ARCHBISHOP ([:a]rch bish' [)u]p), a chief bishop.
+
+ARCH, as a prefix, means _chief_, and in nearly every case
+the _ch_ is soft, as in archbishop. In archangel, architect, and in
+one or two other words, the _ch = k._
+
+ARCH, as a suffix, is pronounced _[:a]rk_, and means _ruler;
+_ as monarch, a _sole ruler;_ one who _rules alone._
+
+Make a list of all the words of the Lesson that are contractions. Write
+after each what it is a contraction of.
+
+EARTHWARD = earth + ward (w[~e]rd). _ward_ is here a suffix
+meaning _course, direction to, motion towards._ Add this SUFFIX
+to the end of each of the following words, and tell the meaning of
+each new word formed:
+
+up, sea, back, down, east, west, land, earth.
+
+WHAT word is the opposite in meaning of each of these new words?
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+                            The generous heart
+       Should scorn a pleasure which gives others pain.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_27_
+
+
+ebb' ing
+spon' sor
+judg' ments
+el' e ments
+tu' te lage
+
+
+
+MY GUARDIAN ANGEL.
+
+
+       My oldest friend, mine from the hour
+         When first I drew my breath;
+       My faithful friend, that shall be mine,
+         Unfailing, till my death.
+
+       Thou hast been ever at my side;
+         My Maker to thy trust
+       Consign'd my soul, what time He framed
+         The infant child of dust.
+
+       No beating heart in holy prayer,
+         No faith, inform'd aright,
+       Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,
+         Or Michael's conquering might.
+
+       Nor patron saint, nor Mary's love,--
+         The dearest and the best,--
+       Has known my being as thou hast known,
+         And blest as thou hast blest.
+
+       Thou wast my sponsor at the font;
+         And thou, each budding year,
+       Didst whisper elements of truth
+         Into my childish ear.
+
+       And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,
+         My rebel spirit fell,
+       Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,
+         Yet bear each deed of Hell.
+
+       And then in turn, when judgments came.
+         And scared me back again,
+       Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe
+         And hallow every pain.
+
+       Oh! who of all thy toils and cares
+         Can tell the tale complete,
+       To place me under Mary's smile,
+         And Peter's royal feet!
+
+       And thou wilt hang above my bed,
+         When life is ebbing low;
+       Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,
+         The jealous, sleepless foe.
+
+       Mine, when I stand before my Judge;
+         And mine, if spared to stay
+       Within the golden furnace till
+         My sin is burn'd away.
+
+       And mine, O Brother of my soul,
+         When my release shall come;
+       Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,
+         Thy wings shall waft me home.
+
+
+_Cardinal Newman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration: THE GUARDIAN ANGEL]
+
+
+Explain the following expressions:
+
+Joseph's tutelage; Michael's conquering might; my sponsor at the font;
+each budding year; my rebel spirit fell; Peter's royal feet. Describe
+the picture.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_28_
+
+
+quoth
+crooned
+frisked
+beech'-wood
+twain
+se'rene
+frol'icked
+wan'dering
+
+
+
+LITTLE BELL.
+
+
+       Piped the blackbird on the beech-wood spray:
+       "Pretty maid, slow wandering this way,
+           What's your name?" quoth he,--
+       "What's your name? Oh, stop, and straight unfold,
+       Pretty maid, with showery curls of gold!"
+           "Little Bell," said she.
+
+       Little Bell sat down beneath the rocks,
+       Tossed aside her gleaming, golden locks.
+           "Bonny bird," quoth she,
+       "Sing me your best song before I go,"
+       "Here's the very finest song I know,
+           Little Bell," said he.
+
+       And the blackbird piped: you never heard
+       Half so gay a song from any bird,--
+           Full of quips and wiles,
+       Now so round and rich, now soft and slow,
+       All for love of that sweet face below,
+           Dimpled o'er with smiles.
+
+       And the while the bonny bird did pour
+       His full heart out freely, o'er and o'er,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine forth in happy overflow
+           From the blue, bright eyes.
+
+       Down the dell she tripped; and through the glade
+       Peeped the squirrel from the hazel shade,
+           And from out the tree
+       Swung, and leaped, and frolicked, void of fear,
+       While bold blackbird piped, that all might hear:
+           "Little Bell!" piped he.
+
+       Little Bell sat down amid the fern:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, to your task return;
+           Bring me nuts," quoth she.
+       Up, away, the frisky squirrel hies,--
+       Golden woodlights glancing in his eyes,--
+           And adown the tree
+       Great ripe nuts, kissed brown by July sun,
+       In the little lap dropped, one by one.
+       Hark! how blackbird pipes to see the fun!
+           "Happy Bell!" pipes he.
+
+       Little Bell looked up and down the glade:
+       "Squirrel, squirrel, if you're not afraid,
+           Come and share with me!"
+       Down came squirrel, eager for his fare,
+       Down came bonny blackbird, I declare!
+       Little Bell gave each his honest share;
+           Ah! the merry three!
+
+       And the while these woodland playmates twain
+       Piped and frisked from bough to bough again,
+           'Neath the morning skies,
+       In the little childish heart below
+       All the sweetness seemed to grow and grow,
+       And shine out in happy overflow
+           From her blue, bright eyes.
+
+       By her snow-white cot at close of day
+       Knelt sweet Bell, with folded palms, to pray:
+           Very calm and clear
+       Rose the praying voice to where, unseen,
+       In blue heaven, an angel shape serene
+           Paused awhile to hear.
+
+       "What good child is this," the angel said,
+       "That, with happy heart, beside her bed
+           Prays so lovingly?"
+       Low and soft, oh! very low and soft,
+       Crooned the blackbird in the orchard croft,
+           "Bell, _dear_ Bell!" crooned he.
+
+       "Whom God's creatures love," the angel fair
+       Whispered, "God doth bless with angels' care;
+           Child, thy bed shall be
+       Folded safe from harm. Love, deep and kind,
+       Shall watch around, and leave good gifts behind,
+           Little Bell, for thee."
+
+
+_Thomas Westwood_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+A STUDY OF LITTLE BELL
+
+croft, a small inclosed field, near a house.
+
+croon, to sing in a low tone.
+
+quips, quick, smart turns.
+
+piping, making a shrill sound like that of a pipe or flute.
+
+In the first stanza what are the marks called that enclose _Little
+Bell?_ Why are these marks used here?
+
+Name the words of the poem in which the apostrophe is used. Tell what it
+denotes in each case.
+
+Where does the poem first take us? What do we see there?
+
+In what words does the blackbird address the "pretty maid, slowly
+wandering" his way? Who is she?
+
+Seated beneath the rocks, what does Little Bell ask the blackbird to do?
+
+Read the lines that describe the blackbird's song. Why did the bird sing
+so sweetly? What were the effects of his song on "the little childish
+heart below?"
+
+Seated amid the fern, what did Little Bell ask the squirrel to do? Read
+the lines that tell what the squirrel did. What invitation did the
+squirrel receive from Little Bell?
+
+Where does the poem bring us "at the close of day?" Tell what you see
+there.
+
+Read the lines that tell what the angel asked.
+
+Read the angel's words in the first two lines of the last stanza. What
+is their meaning?
+
+What promises did the angel make to this good child? Why did he make
+such beautiful promises?
+
+Tell what the following words and expressions of the poem mean: quoth
+he; straight unfold; dell; glade; hies; showery curls of gold; bonny
+bird; hazel shade; void of fear; golden woodlights; adown the tree;
+playmates twain; with folded palms; an angel shape; with angels' care;
+the bird did pour his full heart out freely; the sweetness did shine
+forth in happy overflow.
+
+Select a stanza of the poem, and express in your own words the thought
+it contains.
+
+Describe some of the pictures the poem brings to mind.
+
+What is the lesson the poet wishes us to learn from this poem?
+
+Show how the couplet of the English poet, Coleridge,--
+
+       "He prayeth best who loveth best,
+       All things both great and small,"--
+
+is illustrated in the story of Little Bell.
+
+
+
+Write a composition on the story from the following hints: Where did
+Little Bell go? In what season of the year? At what time of day? How old
+was she? How did she look? What companions did she meet? What did the
+three friends do? How did the little girl close the day?
+
+In your composition, use as many words and phrases of the poem as you
+can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       Prayer is the dew of faith,
+         Its raindrop, night and day,
+       That guards its vital power from death
+         When cherished hopes decay,
+       And keeps it mid this changeful scene,
+       A bright, perennial evergreen.
+
+       Good works, of faith the fruit,
+         Should ripen year by year,
+       Of health and soundness at the root
+         And evidence sincere.
+       Dear Savior, grant thy blessing free
+       And make our faith no barren tree.
+
+
+_Lydia H. Sigourney._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_29_
+
+
+na'bob
+ap plaud'ed
+un as sum'ing
+sad' dler
+dif' fi dence
+sec' re ta ry
+ob scured'
+live' li hood
+su per cil' i ous
+
+
+
+A MODEST WIT.
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       A supercilious nabob of the East--
+         Haughty,  being great--purse-proud,  being rich--
+       A governor, or general, at the least,
+         I have forgotten which--
+       Had in his family a humble youth,
+         Who went from England in his patron's suit,
+       An unassuming boy, in truth
+         A lad of decent parts, and good repute.
+
+       This youth had sense and spirit;
+         But yet with all his sense,
+         Excessive diffidence
+       Obscured his merit.
+
+       One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine,
+         His honor, proudly free, severely merry,
+       Conceived it would be vastly fine
+         To crack a joke upon his secretary.
+
+       "Young man," said he, "by what art, craft, or trade,
+         Did your good father gain a livelihood?"--
+       "He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said,
+         "And in his line was reckoned good."
+
+       "A saddler, eh? and taught you Greek,
+         Instead of teaching you to sew!
+       Pray, why did not your father make
+         A saddler, sir, of you?"
+
+       Each flatterer, then, as in duty bound,
+       The joke applauded, and the laugh went round.
+         At length, Modestus, bowing low,
+       Said (craving pardon, if too free he made),
+         "Sir, by your leave, I fain would know
+       _Your_ father's trade!"
+
+       "_My_ father's _trade?_ Heavens! that's too bad!
+       My father's trade! Why, blockhead, are you mad?
+       My father, sir, did never stoop so low.
+       He was a gentleman, I'd have you know."
+
+       "Excuse the liberty I take,"
+         Modestus said, with archness on his brow,
+       "Pray, why did not your father make
+         A gentleman of you?"
+
+
+_Selleck Osborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+fain, gladly.
+
+archness, sly humor free from malice.
+
+suit (s[=u]t), the people who attend upon a person of distinction;
+often written _suite_ (_sw[=e]t_).
+
+Write the plural forms of _boy, man, duty, youth, family,
+secretary._
+
+Copy these sentences, using other words instead of those in italics:
+
+He was an _unassuming_ boy, of decent _parts_ and good
+_repute_. His _diffidence obscured_ his merit.
+_Excuse_ the _liberty_ I take.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The rank is but the guinea's stamp,--
+       The man's the gold for a' that!
+
+
+_Burns._
+
+
+One cannot always be a hero, but one can always be a man.
+
+_Goethe_ (_g[^u]' t[=e]_).
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_30_
+
+
+
+WOODMAN, SPARE THAT TREE.[002]
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+       Woodman, spare that tree!
+         Touch not a single bough!
+       In youth it sheltered me,
+         And I'll protect it now.
+       'Twas my forefather's hand
+         That placed it near his cot;
+       There, woodman, let it stand,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not!
+
+       That old familiar tree,
+         Whose glory and renown
+       Are spread o'er land and sea--
+         And wouldst thou hew it down?
+       Woodman, forbear thy stroke!
+         Cut not its earth-bound ties;
+       Oh! spare that aged oak,
+         Now towering to the skies.
+
+       When but an idle boy,
+         I sought its grateful shade;
+       In all their gushing joy
+         Here, too, my sisters played.
+       My mother kissed me here;
+         My father pressed my hand;--
+       Forgive this foolish tear,
+         But let that old oak stand.
+
+       My heartstrings round thee cling,
+         Close as thy bark, old friend!
+       Here shall the wild bird sing,
+         And still thy branches bend.
+       Old tree! the storm still brave!
+         And, Woodman, leave the spot!
+       While I've a hand to save,
+         Thy ax shall harm it not.
+
+
+_George P. Morris,_
+
+
+[Footnote 002: NOTE.--Many trees in our country are landmarks, and are
+valued highly. The early settlers were accustomed to plant trees and
+dedicate them to liberty. One of these was planted at Cambridge, Mass.,
+and it was under the shade of this venerable Elm that George Washington
+took command of the Continental army, July 3rd, 1775.
+
+There are other trees around whose trunks and under whose boughs whole
+families of children passed much of their childhood. When one of these
+falls or is destroyed, it is like the death of some honored citizen.
+
+Judge Harris of Georgia, a scholar, and a gentleman of extensive
+literary culture, regarded "Woodman, Spare that Tree" as one of the
+truest lyrics of the age. He never heard it sung or recited without
+being deeply moved.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_31_
+
+
+car' goes
+em bar' go
+im mor' tal ized
+prin' ci ple
+col' o nists
+rep re sen ta' tion
+de ri' sion
+pa' tri ot ism
+Phil a del' phi a
+
+
+
+THE BOSTON TEA PARTY.
+
+
+Shortly before the War of the Revolution broke out, George III, King of
+England, claimed the right to tax the people of this country, though he
+did not permit them to take any part in framing the laws under which
+they lived.
+
+He placed a light tax on tea, just to teach Americans that they could
+not escape taxation altogether. But the colonists were fighting for a
+principle,--that of no taxation without representation, and would not
+buy the tea. In New York and Philadelphia the people would not allow the
+vessels to land their cargoes.
+
+The women of America held meetings in many towns, and declared they
+would drink no tea until the hated tax was removed. The ladies had a
+hard time of it without their consoling cup of tea, but they stood out
+nobly.
+
+Three shiploads of tea were sent to Boston. On the night of December 16,
+1773, a party of young Americans, painted and dressed like Indians,
+boarded the three vessels lying in the harbor, opened the chests, and
+emptied all the tea into the water. They then slipped away to their
+homes, and were never found out by the British. One of the leaders of
+these daring young men was Paul Revere, whose famous midnight ride has
+been immortalized by Longfellow.
+
+When the news of the Boston Tea Party was carried across the ocean, the
+anger of the King was aroused, and he sent a strong force of soldiers to
+Boston to bring the rebels to terms. This act only increased the spirit
+of patriotism that burned in the breasts of all Americans.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+George P. Morris, the poet, describes this Tea Party, and the origin of
+the tune "Yankee Doodle," in the following verses, which our American
+boys and girls of to-day will gladly read and sing:
+
+
+
+       Once on a time old Johnny Bull flew in a raging fury,
+       And swore that Jonathan should have no trials, sir, by jury;
+       That no elections should be held, across the briny waters;
+       "And now," said he, "I'll tax the tea of all his sons and daughters."
+       Then down he sate in burly state, and blustered like a grandee,
+       And in derision made a tune called "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle"--these are facts--"Yankee doodle dandy;"
+       My son of wax, your tea I'll tax; you Yankee doodle dandy!"
+
+       John sent the tea from o'er the sea, with heavy duties rated;
+       But whether hyson or bohea, I never heard it stated.
+       Then Jonathan to pout began--he laid a strong embargo--
+       "I'll drink no tea, by Jove!" so he threw overboard the cargo.
+       Then Johnny sent a regiment, big words and looks to bandy,
+       Whose martial band, when near the land, played "Yankee doodle dandy."
+       "Yankee doodle--keep it up--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       I'll poison with a tax your cup, you Yankee doodle dandy."
+
+       A long war then they had, in which John was at last defeated,
+       And "Yankee Doodle" was the march to which his troops retreated.
+       Cute Jonathan, to see them fly, could not restrain his laughter;
+       "That tune," said he, "suits to a T--I'll sing it ever after!"
+       Old Johnny's face, to his disgrace, was flushed with beer and brandy,
+       E'en while he swore to sing no more this Yankee doodle dandy.
+       Yankee doodle,--ho-ha-he--Yankee doodle dandy,
+       We kept the tune, but not the tea--Yankee doodle dandy.
+
+       I've told you now the origin of this most lively ditty,
+       Which Johnny Bull dislikes as "dull and stupid"--what a pity!
+       With "Hail Columbia" it is sung, in chorus full and hearty--
+       On land and main we breathe the strain John made for his tea party,
+       No matter how we rhyme the words, the music speaks them handy,
+       And where's the fair can't sing the air of Yankee doodle dandy?
+       Yankee doodle, firm and true--Yankee doodle dandy--
+       Yankee doodle, doodle do, Yankee doodle dandy!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+The people of the thirteen original colonies adopted as a principle, "No
+taxation without representation." What did they mean by this? Name the
+thirteen original colonies.
+
+Are the last syllables of the words _principle_ and
+_principal_ pronounced alike? Use the two words in sentences of your own.
+
+What does "with heavy duties rated" mean?
+
+Pronounce distinctly the final consonants in the words _colonists,
+insects, friend, friends, nests, priests, lifts, tempts._
+
+Write the plural forms of the following words: solo, echo, negro, cargo,
+piano, calico, potato, embargo.
+
+How should a word be broken or divided when there is not room for all of
+it at the end of a line? Illustrate by means of examples found in your
+Reader.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_32_
+
+
+scenes
+source
+seized
+re ceive'
+poised
+nec' tar
+re verts'
+Ju' pi ter
+cat' a ract
+ex' qui site
+in tru' sive ly
+
+
+
+THE OLD OAKEN BUCKET.
+
+
+       How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood,
+         When fond recollection presents them to view!
+       The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood,
+         And every loved spot that my infancy knew;--
+       The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it;
+         The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell;
+
+       The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it,
+         And e'en the rude bucket which hung in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.
+
+       That moss-covered vessel I hailed as a treasure;
+         For often, at noon, when returned from the field,
+       I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure,
+         The purest and sweetest that nature can yield.
+       How ardent I seized it with hands that were glowing,
+         And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell;
+       Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing,
+         And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket arose from the well.
+
+       How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it,
+         As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips!
+       Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it,
+         Though filled with the nectar that Jupiter sips.
+
+       And now, far removed from that loved habitation,
+         The tear of regret will intrusively swell,
+       As fancy reverts to my father's plantation,
+         And sighs for the bucket which hangs in the well:
+       The old oaken bucket, the ironbound bucket,
+         The moss-covered bucket, which hangs in the well!
+
+
+_Samuel Woodworth._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a list of the describing-words of the poem, and tell what each
+describes. Use each to describe something else.
+
+Make a list of the words of the poem that you never use, and tell what
+word you would have used in the place of each had you tried to express
+its meaning. Which word is better, yours or the author's? Why?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_33_
+
+
+blouse
+receipt'ed
+coun' te nance
+ab sorbed'
+con trast' ed
+for' tu nate ly
+mir' a cle
+stock'-still
+good-hu' mored ly
+
+
+
+THE BOY AND THE CRICKETS.
+
+
+My friend Jacques went into a baker's shop one day to buy a little cake
+which he had fancied in passing. He intended it for a child whose
+appetite was gone, and who could be coaxed to eat only by amusing him.
+He thought that such a pretty loaf might tempt even the sick. While he
+waited for his change, a little boy six or eight years old, in poor but
+perfectly clean clothes, entered the baker's shop. "Ma'am," said he to
+the baker's wife, "mother sent me for a loaf of bread." The woman
+climbed upon the counter (this happened in a country town), took from
+the shelf of four-pound loaves the best one she could find, and put it
+into the arms of the little boy.
+
+My friend Jacques then first observed the thin and thoughtful face of
+the little fellow. It contrasted strongly with the round, open
+countenance of the great loaf, of which he was taking the greatest care.
+
+"Have you any money?" said the baker's wife.
+
+The little boy's eyes grew sad.
+
+"No, ma'am," said he, hugging the loaf closer to his thin blouse; "but
+mother told me to say that she would come and speak to you about it
+to-morrow."
+
+"Run along," said the good woman; "carry your bread home, child."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am," said the poor little fellow.
+
+My friend Jacques came forward for his money. He had put his purchase
+into his pocket, and was about to go, when he found the child with the
+big loaf, whom he had supposed to be halfway home, standing stock-still
+behind him.
+
+"What are you doing there?" said the baker's wife to the child, whom she
+also had thought to be fairly off. "Don't you like the bread?"
+
+"Oh yes, ma'am!" said the child.
+
+"Well, then, carry it to your mother, my little friend. If you wait any
+longer, she will think you are playing by the way, and you will get a
+scolding."
+
+The child did not seem to hear. Something else absorbed his attention.
+
+The baker's wife went up to him, and gave him a friendly tap on the
+shoulder, "What _are_ you thinking about?" said she.
+
+"Ma'am," said the little boy, "what is it that sings?"
+
+"There is no singing," said she.
+
+"Yes!" cried the little fellow. "Hear it! Queek, queek, queek, queek!"
+
+My friend and the woman both listened, but they could hear nothing,
+unless it was the song of the crickets, frequent guests in bakers'
+houses.
+
+"It is a little bird," said the dear little fellow; "or perhaps the
+bread sings when it bakes, as apples do?"
+
+"No, indeed, little goosey!" said the baker's wife; "those are crickets.
+They sing in the bakehouse because we are lighting the oven, and they
+like to see the fire."
+
+"Crickets!" said the child; "are they really crickets?"
+
+"Yes, to be sure," said she good-humoredly. The child's face lighted up.
+
+"Ma'am," said he, blushing at the boldness of his request, "I would like
+it very much if you would give me a cricket."
+
+"A cricket!" said the baker's wife, smiling; "what in the world would
+you do with a cricket, my little friend? I would gladly give you all
+there are in the house, to get rid of them, they run about so."
+
+"O ma'am, give me one, only one, if you please!" said the child,
+clasping his little thin hands under the big loaf. "They say that
+crickets bring good luck into houses; and perhaps if we had one at home,
+mother, who has so much trouble, wouldn't cry any more."
+
+"Why does your poor mamma cry?" said my friend, who could no longer help
+joining in the conversation.
+
+"On account of her bills, sir," said the little fellow. "Father is dead,
+and mother works very hard, but she cannot pay them all."
+
+My friend took the child, and with him the great loaf, into his arms,
+and I really believe he kissed them both. Meanwhile the baker's wife,
+who did not dare to touch a cricket herself, had gone into the
+bakehouse. She made her husband catch four, and put them into a box with
+holes in the cover, so that they might breathe. She gave the box to the
+child, who went away perfectly happy.
+
+When he had gone, the baker's wife and my friend gave each other a good
+squeeze of the hand. "Poor little fellow!" said they both together. Then
+she took down her account book, and, finding the page where the mother's
+charges were written, made a great dash all down the page, and then
+wrote at the bottom, "Paid."
+
+Meanwhile my friend, to lose no time, had put up in paper all the money
+in his pockets, where fortunately he had quite a sum that day, and had
+begged the good wife to send it at once to the mother of the little
+cricket-boy, with her bill receipted, and a note, in which he told her
+she had a son who would one day be her joy and pride.
+
+They gave it to a baker's boy with long legs, and told him to make
+haste. The child, with his big loaf, his four crickets, and his little
+short legs, could not run very fast, so that, when he reached home, he
+found his mother, for the first time in many weeks, with her eyes raised
+from her work, and a smile of peace and happiness upon her lips.
+
+The boy believed that it was the arrival of his four little black things
+which had worked this miracle, and I do not think he was mistaken.
+Without the crickets, and his good little heart, would this happy change
+have taken place in his mother's fortunes?
+
+_From the French of Pierre J. Hetzel._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Jacques (zh[:a]k), James.
+
+In the selection, find ten sentences that ask questions, and five that
+express commands or requests.
+
+What mark of punctuation always follows the first kind? The second?
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       In the evening I sit near my poker and tongs,
+         And I dream in the firelight's glow,
+       And sometimes I quaver forgotten old songs
+         That I listened to long ago.
+       Then out of the cinders there cometh a chirp
+         Like an echoing, answering cry,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+       For my cricket has learnt, I am sure of it quite,
+         That this earth is a silly, strange place,
+       And perhaps he's been beaten and hurt in the fight,
+         And perhaps he's been passed in the race.
+       But I know he has found it far better to sing
+         Than to talk of ill luck and to sigh,--
+       Little we care for the outside world,
+         My friend the cricket, and I.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_34_
+
+
+
+For Recitation:
+
+
+OUR HEROES.
+
+
+       Here's a hand to the boy who has courage
+         To do what he knows to be right;
+       When he falls in the way of temptation
+         He has a hard battle to fight.
+       Who strives against self and his comrades
+         Will find a most powerful foe:
+       All honor to him if he conquers;
+         A cheer for the boy who says "No!"
+
+       There's many a battle fought daily
+         The world knows nothing about;
+       There's many a brave little soldier
+         Whose strength puts a legion to rout.
+       And he who fights sin single-handed
+         Is more of a hero, I say,
+       Than he who leads soldiers to battle,
+         And conquers by arms in the fray.
+
+       Be steadfast, my boy, when you're tempted,
+         And do what you know to be right;
+       Stand firm by the colors of manhood,
+         And you will o'ercome in the fight.
+       "The right!" be your battle cry ever
+         In waging the warfare of life;
+       And God, who knows who are the heroes,
+         Will give you the strength for the strife.
+
+
+_Phoebe Cary._
+
+From "Poems for the Study of Language." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write sentences each containing one of the following words:
+
+I, me; he, him; she, her; they, them.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+For raising the spirits, for brightening the eyes, for bringing back
+vanished smiles, for making one brave and courageous, light-hearted and
+happy, there is nothing like a good Confession.
+
+_Father Bearne, S.J._
+
+
+
+       Heroes must be more than driftwood
+       Floating on a waveless tide.
+
+       For right is right, since God is God;
+         And right the day must win;
+       To doubt would be disloyalty,
+         To falter would be sin.
+
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the
+Faith.
+
+_St. Paul._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_35_
+
+
+troll
+cel' er y
+new' fan gled
+thatch
+chink' ing
+as par' a gus
+im mense'
+sauce' pan
+de mol' ish ing
+sa' vor y
+pat' terns
+ag' gra va ting
+
+
+
+THE MINNOWS WITH SILVER TAILS.
+
+
+There was a cuckoo clock hanging in Tom Turner's cottage. When it struck
+one, Tom's wife laid the baby in the cradle, and took a saucepan off the
+fire, from which came a very savory smell.
+
+"If father doesn't come soon," she observed, "the apple dumplings will
+be too much done."
+
+"There he is!" cried the little boy; "he is coming around by the wood;
+and now he's going over the bridge. O father! make haste, and have some
+apple dumpling."
+
+"Tom," said his wife, as he came near, "art tired to-day?"
+
+"Uncommon tired," said Tom, as he threw himself on the bench, in the
+shadow of the thatch.
+
+"Has anything gone wrong?" asked his wife; "what's the matter?"
+
+"Matter!" repeated Tom; "is anything the matter? The matter is this,
+mother, that I'm a miserable, hard-worked slave;" and he clapped his
+hands upon his knees and uttered in a deep voice, which frightened the
+children--"a miserable slave!"
+
+"Bless us!" said the wife, but could not make out what he meant.
+
+"A miserable, ill-used slave," continued Tom, "and always have been."
+
+"Always have been?" said his wife: "why, father, I thought thou used to
+say, at the election time, that thou wast a free-born Briton."
+
+"Women have no business with politics," said Tom, getting up rather
+sulkily. Whether it was the force of habit, or the smell of the dinner,
+that made him do it, has not been ascertained; but it is certain that he
+walked into the house, ate plenty of pork and greens, and then took a
+tolerable share in demolishing the apple dumpling.
+
+When the little children were gone out to play, Tom's wife said to him,
+"I hope thou and thy master haven't had words to-day."
+
+"We've had no words," said Tom, impatiently; "but I'm sick of being at
+another man's beck and call. It's, 'Tom, do this,' and 'Tom do that,'
+and nothing but work, work, work, from Monday morning till Saturday
+night. I was thinking as I walked over to Squire Morton's to ask for the
+turnip seed for master,--I was thinking, Sally, that I am nothing but a
+poor workingman after all. In short, I'm a slave; and my spirit won't
+stand it."
+
+So saying, Tom flung himself out at the cottage door, and his wife
+thought he was going back to his work as usual; but she was mistaken. He
+walked to the wood, and there, when he came to the border of a little
+tinkling stream, he sat down and began to brood over his grievances.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what," said Tom to himself, "it's much pleasanter
+sitting here in the shade, than broiling over celery trenches, and
+thinning wall fruit, with a baking sun at one's back, and a hot wall
+before one's eyes. But I'm a miserable slave. I must either work or see
+my family starve; a very hard lot it is to be a workingman."
+
+"Ahem," said a voice close to him. Tom started, and, to his great
+surprise, saw a small man about the size of his own baby, sitting
+composedly at his elbow. He was dressed in green,--green hat, green
+coat, and green shoes. He had very bright black eyes, and they twinkled
+very much as he looked at Tom and smiled.
+
+"Servant, sir!" said Tom, edging himself a little farther off.
+
+"Miserable slave," said the small man, "art thou so far lost to the
+noble sense of freedom that thy very salutation acknowledges a mere
+stranger as thy master?'
+
+"Who are you," said Tom, "and how dare you call me a slave?"
+
+"Tom," said the small man, with a knowing look, "don't speak roughly.
+Keep your rough words for your wife, my man; she is bound to bear them."
+
+"I'll thank you to let my affairs alone," interrupted Tom, shortly.
+
+"Tom, I'm your friend; I think I can help you out of your difficulty.
+Every minnow in this stream--they are very scarce, mind you--has a
+silver tail."
+
+"You don't say so," exclaimed Tom, opening his eyes very wide; "fishing
+for minnows and being one's own master would be much pleasanter than the
+sort of life I've been leading this many a day."
+
+"Well, keep the secret as to where you get them, and much good may it do
+you," said the man in green. "Farewell; I wish you joy in your freedom."
+So saying, he walked away, leaving Tom on the brink of the stream, full
+of joy and pride.
+
+He went to his master and told him that he had an opportunity for
+bettering himself, and should not work for him any longer.
+
+The next day, he arose with the dawn, and went in search of minnows. But
+of all the minnows in the world, never were any so nimble as those with
+silver tails. They were very shy, too, and had as many turns and doubles
+as a hare; what a life they led him!
+
+They made him troll up the stream for miles; then, just as he thought
+his chase was at an end and he was sure of them, they would leap quite
+out of the water, and dart down the stream again like little silver
+arrows. Miles and miles he went, tired, wet, and hungry. He came home
+late in the evening, wearied and footsore, with only three minnows in
+his pocket, each with a silver tail.
+
+"But, at any rate," he said to himself, as he lay down in his bed,
+"though they lead me a pretty life, and I have to work harder than ever,
+yet I certainly am free; no man can now order me about."
+
+This went on for a whole week; he worked very hard; but, up to Saturday
+afternoon, he had caught only fourteen minnows.
+
+After all, however, his fish were really great curiosities; and when he
+had exhibited them all over the town, set them out in all lights,
+praised their perfections, and taken immense pains to conceal his
+impatience and ill temper, he, at length, contrived to sell them all,
+and get exactly fourteen shillings for them, and no more.
+
+"Now, I'll tell you what, Tom Turner," said he to himself, "I've found
+out this afternoon, and I don't mind your knowing it,--that every one of
+those customers of yours was your master. Why! you were at the beck of
+every man, woman, and child that came near you;--obliged to be in a good
+temper, too, which was very aggravating."
+
+"True, Tom," said the man in green, starting up in his path. "I knew you
+were a man of sense; look you, you are all workingmen; and you must all
+please your customers. Your master was your customer; what he bought of
+you was your work. Well, you must let the work be such as will please
+the customer."
+
+"All workingmen? How do you make that out?" said Tom, chinking the
+fourteen shillings in his hand. "Is my master a workingman; and has he a
+master of his own? Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense at all; he works with his head, keeps his books, and
+manages his great mills. He has many masters; else why was he nearly
+ruined last year?"
+
+"He was nearly ruined because he made some newfangled kinds of patterns
+at his works, and people would not buy them," said Tom. "Well, in a way
+of speaking, then, he works to please his masters, poor fellow! He is,
+as one may say, a fellow-servant, and plagued with very awkward masters.
+So I should not mind his being my master, and I think I'll go and tell
+him so."
+
+"I would, Tom," said the man in green. "Tell him you have not been able
+to better yourself, and you have no objection now to dig up the
+asparagus bed."
+
+So Tom trudged home to his wife, gave her the money he had earned, got
+his old master to take him back, and kept a profound secret his
+adventures with the man in green.
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+"Every minnow in the stream (they are very scarce, mind you) has a
+silver tail." Here we have a group of words in parenthesis. Read the
+sentence aloud several times, _omitting_ the group in parenthesis. Now
+read the _whole_ sentence, keeping in mind the fact that the words in
+parenthesis are not at all important,--that they are merely thrown in by
+way of explanation. You notice that you have read the words in
+parenthesis in a _lower tone_ and _faster time._ Groups of words like
+the above are not always enclosed by marks of parenthesis; but that
+makes no difference in the reading of them.
+
+The following examples are taken from "The Martyr's Boy," page 243.
+Practice on them till you believe you have mastered the method.
+
+I never heard anything so cold and insipid (I hope it is not wrong to
+say so) as the compositions read by my companions.
+
+Only, I know not why, he seems ever to have a grudge against me.
+
+I felt that I was strong enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my
+unjust assailant by the throat, and cast him gasping to the ground.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+
+       "Work! and the clouds of care will fly;
+         Pale want will pass away.
+       Work! and the leprosy of crime
+         And tyrants must decay.
+       Leave the dead ages in their urns:
+         The present time be ours,
+       To grapple bravely with our lot,
+         And strew our path with flowers."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_36_
+
+
+
+THE BROOK.
+
+
+       I come from haunts of coot and hern,
+         I make a sudden sally,
+       And sparkle out among the fern,
+         To bicker down a valley.
+       By thirty hills I hurry down,
+         Or slip between the ridges,
+       By twenty thorps, a little town,
+         And half a hundred bridges.
+       Till last by Philip's farm I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I chatter over stony ways
+         In little sharps and trebles;
+       I bubble into eddying bays;
+         I babble on the pebbles.
+       With many a curve my banks I fret
+         By many a field and fallow.
+       And many a fairy foreland set
+         With willow-weed and mallow.
+       I chatter, chatter, as I flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+       I steal by lawns and grassy plots,
+         I slide by hazel covers,
+       I move the sweet forget-me-nots
+         That grow for happy lovers.
+       I slip, I slide, I gloom, I glance,
+         Among my skimming swallows;
+       I make the netted sunbeams dance
+         Against my sandy shallows.
+
+       I murmur under moon and stars
+         In brambly wildernesses;
+       I linger by my shingly bars;
+         I loiter round my cresses.
+       And out again I curve and flow
+         To join the brimming river;
+       For men may come, and men may go,
+         But I go on forever.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+HAUNTS, places of frequent resort.
+
+COOT and hern, water fowls that frequent lakes and other still
+waters.
+
+BICKER, to move quickly and unsteadily, like flame or water.
+
+THORP, a cluster of houses; a hamlet.
+
+SHARPS and trebles, terms in music. They are here used to
+describe the sound of the brook.
+
+EDDYING, moving in circles. Why are "eddying bays" dangerous to the
+swimmer?
+
+FRETTED BANKS, banks worn away by the action of the water.
+
+FALLOW, plowed land, foreland, a point of land running into the sea
+or other water.
+
+MALLOW, a kind of plant.
+
+GLOOM, to shine obscurely.
+
+SHINGLY, abounding with shingle or loose gravel.
+
+BARS, banks of sand or gravel or rock forming a shoal in a river or
+harbor.
+
+CRESSES, certain plants which grow near the water. They are
+sometimes used as a salad.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_37_
+
+
+wits
+hale
+borne
+suit' ed
+prop' er ly
+sit u a' tion
+
+
+
+LEARNING TO THINK.
+
+
+Grandpa Dennis is one of the kindest and gentlest, as well as one of the
+wisest men I know; and although his step is somewhat feeble, and the few
+locks that are left him are gray, he is still more hale and hearty than
+many a younger man.
+
+Like all old people whose hearts are in the right place, he is fond of
+children, whom he likes to amuse and instruct by his pleasant talk, as
+they gather round his fireside or sit upon his knee.
+
+Sometimes he puts questions to the young folks, not only to find out
+what they know, but also to sharpen their wits and lead them to think.
+
+"Tell me, Norman," he said one day, as they sat together, "if I have a
+cake to divide among three persons, how ought I to proceed?"
+
+"Why, cut it into three parts, and give one to each, to be sure," said
+Norman.
+
+"Let us try that plan, and see how it will succeed. Suppose the cake has
+to be divided among you, Arthur and Winnie. If I cut off a very thin
+slice for you, and divide what is left between your brother and sister,
+will that be fair?"
+
+"No, that would not be at all fair, Grandpa."
+
+"Why not? Did I not divide the cake according to your advice? Did I not
+cut it into three parts?"
+
+"But one was larger than the other, and they ought to have been exactly
+the same size."
+
+"Then you think, that if I had divided the cake into three equal parts,
+it would have been quite fair?"
+
+"Yes; if you had done so, I should have no cause to complain."
+
+"Now, Norman, let us suppose that I have three baskets to send to a
+distance by three persons; shall I act fairly if I give each a basket to
+carry?"
+
+"Stop a minute, Grandpa, I must think a little. No, it might not be
+fair, for one of the baskets might be a great deal larger than the
+others."
+
+"Come, Norman, I see that you are really beginning to think. But we will
+take care that the baskets are all of the same size."
+
+"Then it would be quite fair for each one to take a basket."
+
+"What! if one was full of lead, and the other two were filled with
+feathers?"
+
+"Oh, no! I never thought of that. Let the baskets be of the same weight,
+and all will be right."
+
+"Are you quite sure of that? Suppose one of the three persons is a
+strong man, another a weak woman, and the third a little child?"
+
+"Grandpa! Grandpa! Why, I am altogether wrong. How many things there are
+to think about."
+
+"Well, Norman, I hope you see that if burdens have to be equally borne,
+they must be suited to the strength of those who have to bear them."
+
+"Yes, I see that clearly now. Put one more question to me, Grandpa, and
+I will try to answer it properly this time."
+
+"Well, then, my next question is this: If I want a man to dig for me,
+and three persons apply for the situation, will it not be fair if I set
+them to work to try them, and choose the one who does his task in the
+quickest time?"
+
+"Are they all to begin their work at the same time?"
+
+"A very proper question, Norman: yes, they shall all start together."
+
+"Has one just as much ground to dig as another?"
+
+"Exactly the same."
+
+"And will each man have a good spade?"
+
+"Yes, their spades shall be exactly alike."
+
+"But one part of the field may be soft earth, and the other hard and
+stony."
+
+"I will take care of that. All shall be fairly dealt with. The ground
+shall be everywhere alike."
+
+"Well, I think, Grandpa, that he who does his work first, if done as
+well as that of either of the other two, is the best man."
+
+"And I think so, too, Norman; and if you go on in this way it will be
+greatly to your advantage. Only form the habit of being thoughtful in
+little things, and you will be sure to judge wisely in important ones."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+In the words _suit_ (s[=u]t) and _soon_ (s[=oo]n), have the marked
+vowels the same sound?
+
+
+In the two statements,--
+
+
+       I give it to you because it's good;
+       Virtue brings its own reward;
+
+
+why is there an apostrophe in the first "it's," and none in the second?
+
+
+       Let your hands be honest and clean--
+       Let your conscience be honest and clean--
+
+
+Combine these two sentences by the word _and_; rewrite them, omitting
+all needless words.
+
+Compose two sentences, one having the action-word _learned_; the other
+the word _taught_.
+
+Fill each of the following blank spaces with the correct form of the
+action-word _bear_:
+
+
+As Christ -- His cross, so must we -- ours.
+Our cross must be --. "And -- His own
+cross, He went forth to Calvary."
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_38_
+
+
+elate'
+despond'
+lu' mi nous
+pil' grim age
+
+
+
+ONE BY ONE.
+
+
+       One by one the sands are flowing,
+         One by one the moments fall;
+       Some are coming, some are going;
+         Do not strive to grasp them all.
+
+       One by one thy duties wait thee;
+         Let thy whole strength go to each;
+       Let no future dreams elate thee,
+         Learn thou first what these can teach.
+
+       One by one (bright gifts from Heaven)
+         Joys are sent thee here below;
+       Take them readily when given,
+         Ready, too, to let them go.
+
+       One by one thy griefs shall meet thee;
+         Do not fear an armed band;
+       One will fade as others greet thee--
+         Shadows passing through the land.
+
+       Do not look at life's long sorrow;
+         See how small each moment's pain;
+       God will help thee for to-morrow,
+         So each day begin again.
+
+       Every hour that fleets so slowly
+         Has its task to do or bear;
+       Luminous the crown, and holy,
+         When each gem is set with care.
+
+       Do not linger with regretting,
+         Or for passing hours despond;
+       Nor, thy daily toil forgetting,
+         Look too eagerly beyond.
+
+       Hours are golden links, God's token,
+         Reaching heaven; but one by one
+       Take them, lest the chain be broken
+         Ere the pilgrimage be done.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Choose any four lines of the poem, and tell what lesson each line
+teaches.
+
+Name some great works that were done little by little.
+
+What does "Rome was not built in a day" mean?
+
+Tell what is meant by "He that despiseth small faults shall fall by
+little and little."
+
+What is the real or literal meaning of the word _gem_?
+
+Find the word in the poem, and tell what meaning it has there.
+
+Explain the line--
+
+
+       "Let no future dreams elate thee."
+
+
+What is meant by "building castles in the air?"
+
+Study the whole poem line by line, and try to tell yourself what each
+line means. Nearly every single line of it teaches an important moral
+lesson. Find out what that lesson is.
+
+Tell what you know of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_39_
+
+
+ca noe'
+sup' ple
+fi' brous
+res' in
+sin' ews
+tam' a rack
+ooz' ing
+bal' sam
+sol' i ta ry
+pli' ant
+fis' sure
+re sist' ance
+som' ber
+crev' ice
+re splen' dent
+
+
+
+THE BIRCH CANOE.
+
+
+           "Give me of your bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Of your yellow bark, O Birch Tree!
+       Growing by the rushing river,
+       Tall and stately in the valley!
+       I a light canoe will build me,
+       That shall float upon the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily!
+           Lay aside your cloak, O Birch Tree!
+       Lay aside your white-skin wrapper,
+       For the summer time is coming,
+       And the sun is warm in heaven,
+       And you need no white-skin wrapper!"
+           Thus aloud cried Hiawatha
+       In the solitary forest,
+       When the birds were singing gayly,
+       In the Moon of Leaves were singing.
+           And the tree with all its branches
+       Rustled in the breeze of morning,
+       Saying, with a sigh of patience,
+       "Take my cloak, O Hiawatha!"
+           With his knife the tree he girdled;
+       Just beneath its lowest branches,
+       Just above the roots, he cut it,
+       Till the sap came oozing outward;
+       Down the trunk, from top to bottom,
+       Sheer he cleft the bark asunder,
+       With a wooden wedge he raised it,
+       Stripped it from the trunk unbroken.
+           "Give me of your boughs, O Cedar!
+       Of your strong and pliant branches,
+       My canoe to make more steady,
+       Make more strong and firm beneath me!"
+           Through the summit of the Cedar
+       Went a sound, a cry of horror,
+       Went a murmur of resistance;
+       But it whispered, bending downward,
+       "Take my boughs, O Hiawatha!"
+           Down he hewed the boughs of cedar
+       Shaped them straightway to a framework,
+       Like two bows he formed and shaped them,
+       Like two bended bows together.
+           "Give me of your roots, O Tamarack!
+       Of your fibrous roots, O Larch Tree!
+       My canoe to bind together,
+       So to bind the ends together,
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Larch with all its fibers
+       Shivered in the air of morning,
+       Touched his forehead with its tassels,
+       Said, with one long sigh of sorrow,
+       "Take them all, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the earth he tore the fibers,
+       Tore the tough roots of the Larch Tree.
+       Closely sewed the bark together,
+       Bound it closely to the framework.
+           "Give me of your balm, O Fir Tree!
+       Of your balsam and your resin,
+       So to close the seams together
+       That the water may not enter,
+       That the river may not wet me!"
+           And the Fir Tree, tall and somber,
+       Sobbed through all its robes of darkness,
+       Rattled like a shore with pebbles,
+       Answered wailing, answered weeping,
+       "Take my balm, O Hiawatha!"
+           And he took the tears of balsam,
+       Took the resin of the Fir Tree,
+       Smeared therewith each seam and fissure,
+       Made each crevice safe from water.
+           "Give me of your quills, O Hedgehog!
+       I will make a necklace of them,
+       Make a girdle for my beauty,
+       And two stars to deck her bosom!"
+           From a hollow tree the Hedgehog,
+       With his sleepy eyes looked at him,
+       Shot his shining quills, like arrows,
+       Saying, with a drowsy murmur,
+       Through the tangle of his whiskers,
+       "Take my quills, O Hiawatha!"
+           From the ground the quills he gathered,
+       All the little shining arrows,
+       Stained them red and blue and yellow,
+       With the juice of roots and berries;
+       Into his canoe he wrought them,
+       Round its waist a shining girdle.
+       Round its bows a gleaming necklace,
+       On its breast two stars resplendent.
+           Thus the Birch Canoe was builded
+       In the valley, by the river,
+       In the bosom of the forest;
+       And the forest's life was in it,
+       All its mystery and its magic,
+       All the lightness of the birch tree,
+       All the toughness of the cedar,
+       All the larch's supple sinews;
+       And it floated on the river,
+       Like a yellow leaf in autumn,
+       Like a yellow water lily.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Song of Hiawatha." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MOON OF LEAVES, month of May.
+
+SHEER, straight up and down.
+
+TAMARACK, the American larch tree.
+
+FISSURE, a narrow opening; a cleft.
+
+What does Hiawatha call the bark of the birch tree?
+
+Where did he get the balsam and resin? What use did he put these to?
+
+What are the drops of balsam called? Why?
+
+NOTE.--"The bark canoe of the Indians is, perhaps, the lightest and most
+beautiful model of all the water craft ever invented. It is generally
+made complete with the bark of one birch tree, and so skillfully shaped
+and sewed together with the roots of the tamarack, that it is
+water-tight, and rides upon the water as light as a cork."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_40_
+
+
+pic' tures
+pal' ace
+four' teen
+fa' mous ly
+scul' lion
+re past'
+in hal' ing
+en chant' ed
+mat' tress
+char' coal
+land' scapes
+ar' chi tect
+
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA.
+
+
+A little shepherd boy, twelve years old, one day gave up the care of the
+sheep he was tending, and betook himself to Florence, where he knew no
+one but a lad of his own age, nearly as poor as himself, who had lived
+in the same village, but who had gone to Florence to be scullion in the
+house of Cardinal Sachetti. It was for a good motive that little Peter
+desired to come to Florence: he wanted to be an artist, and he knew
+there was a school for artists there. When he had seen the town well,
+Peter stationed himself at the Cardinal's palace; and inhaling the odor
+of the cooking, he waited patiently till his Eminence was served, that
+he might speak to his old companion, Thomas. He had to wait a long time;
+but at length Thomas appeared.
+
+"You here, Peter! What have you come to Florence for?"
+
+"I am come to learn painting."
+
+"You had much better learn kitchen work to begin with; one is then sure
+not to die of hunger."
+
+"You have as much to eat as you want here, then?" replied Peter.
+
+"Indeed I have," said Thomas; "I might eat till I made myself ill every
+day, if I chose to do it."
+
+"Then," said Peter, "I see we shall do very well. As you have too much
+and I not enough, I will bring my appetite, and you will bring the food;
+and we shall get on famously."
+
+"Very well," said Thomas.
+
+"Let us begin at once, then," said Peter; "for as I have eaten nothing
+to-day, I should like to try the plan directly."
+
+Thomas then took little Peter into the garret where he slept, and bade
+him wait there till he brought him some fragments that he was freely
+permitted to take. The repast was a merry one, for Thomas was in high
+spirits, and little Peter had a famous appetite.
+
+"Ah," cried Thomas, "here you are fed and lodged. Now the question is,
+how are you going to study?"
+
+"I shall study like all artists--with pencil and paper."
+
+"But then, Peter, have you money to buy the paper and pencils?"
+
+"No, I have nothing; but I said to myself, 'Thomas, who is scullion at
+his lordship's, must have plenty of money!' As you are rich, it is just
+the same as if I was."
+
+Thomas scratched his head and replied, that as to broken victuals, he
+had plenty of them; but that he would have to wait three years before he
+should receive wages. Peter did not mind. The garret walls were white.
+Thomas could give him charcoal, and so he set to draw on the walls with
+that; and after a little while somebody gave Thomas a silver coin.
+
+With joy he brought it to his friend. Pencils and paper were bought.
+Early in the morning Peter went out studying the pictures in the
+galleries, the statues in the streets, the landscapes in the
+neighborhood; and in the evening, tired and hungry, but enchanted with
+what he had seen, he crept back into the garret, where he was always
+sure to find his dinner hidden under the mattress, _to keep it warm,_ as
+Thomas said. Very soon the first charcoal drawings were rubbed off, and
+Peter drew his best designs to ornament his friend's room.
+
+One day Cardinal Sachetti, who was restoring his palace, came with the
+architect to the very top of the house, and happened to enter the
+scullion's garret. The room was empty; but both Cardinal and architect
+were struck with the genius of the drawings. They thought they were
+executed by Thomas, and his Eminence sent for him. When poor Thomas
+heard that the Cardinal had been in the garret, and had seen what he
+called Peter's daubs, he thought all was lost.
+
+"You will no longer be a scullion," said the Cardinal to him; and
+Thomas, thinking this meant banishment and disgrace, fell on his knees,
+and cried, "Oh! my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"
+
+The Cardinal made him tell his story.
+
+"Bring him to me when he comes in to-night," said he, smiling.
+
+But Peter did not return that night, nor the next, till at length a
+fortnight had passed without a sign of him. At last came the news that
+the monks of a distant convent had received and kept with them a boy of
+fourteen, who had come to ask permission to copy a painting of Raphael
+in the chapel of the convent. This boy was Peter. Finally, the Cardinal
+sent him as a pupil to one of the first artists in Rome.
+
+Fifty years afterwards there were two old men who lived as brothers in
+one of the most beautiful houses in Florence. One said of the other, "He
+is the greatest painter of our age." The other said of the first, "He is
+a model for evermore of a faithful friend."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PETER OF CORTONA, a great Italian painter and architect. He was
+born in Cortona in the year 1596, and died in Rome, in 1669.
+
+EMINENCE, a title of honor, applied to a cardinal.
+
+GALLERIES, rooms or buildings where works of art are exhibited.
+
+VICTUALS (v[)i]t' 'lz), cooked food for human beings.
+
+FORTNIGHT (f[^o]rt' n[=i]t or n[)i]t): This word is contracted from
+_fourteen nights._
+
+Locate the cities of _Rome_ and _Florence_.
+
+Give words that mean the opposite of the following:
+
+ill, bade, buy, first, old, begin, empty, enter, cooked, merry, bought,
+friend, inhale, patient, palace, distant, appeared, disgrace, famous,
+faithful, morning, enchanted.
+
+Recite the words--"Oh, my lord, what will become of poor Peter?"--as
+Thomas uttered them. Remember he was beseeching a great _cardinal_ in
+favor of a poor destitute _boy_ whom he loved as a brother. He _felt_
+what he said.
+
+Do you find any humorous passages in the selection? Read them, and tell
+wherein the humor lies.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+When a friend asketh, there is no to-morrow.
+
+_Spanish Proverb._
+
+
+
+Diligence overcomes difficulties; sloth makes them.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs."_
+
+
+
+       A gift in need, though small indeed,
+       Is large as earth and rich as heaven.
+
+
+_Whittier_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_41_
+
+
+vas' sal
+roy' al ly
+beg' gar y
+hom' age
+sen' ti nel
+dif' fer ence
+
+
+
+TO MY DOG BLANCO.[003]
+
+
+       My dear, dumb friend, low lying there,
+         A willing vassal at my feet,
+       Glad partner of my home and fare,
+         My shadow in the street.
+
+       I look into your great brown eyes,
+         Where love and loyal homage shine,
+       And wonder where the difference lies
+         Between your soul and mine!
+
+       For all the good that I have found
+         Within myself or human kind,
+       Hath royally informed and crowned
+         Your gentle heart and mind.
+
+       I scan the whole broad earth around
+         For that one heart which, leal and true,
+       Bears friendship without end or bound,
+         And find the prize in you.
+
+       I trust you as I trust the stars;
+         Nor cruel loss, nor scoff of pride,
+       Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,
+         Can move you from my side!
+
+       As patient under injury
+         As any Christian saint of old,
+       As gentle as a lamb with me,
+         But with your brothers bold;
+
+       More playful than a frolic boy,
+         More watchful than a sentinel,
+       By day and night your constant joy
+         To guard and please me well.
+
+       I clasp your head upon my breast--
+         The while you whine and lick my hand--
+       And thus our friendship is confessed,
+         And thus we understand!
+
+       Ah, Blanco! did I worship God
+         As truly as you worship me,
+       Or follow where my Master trod
+         With your humility,--
+
+       Did I sit fondly at His feet,
+         As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,
+       And watch Him with a love as sweet,
+         My life would grow divine!
+
+
+_J.G. Holland_
+
+From "The Complete Poetical Writings of J.G. Holland."
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Footnote 003: Copyright, 1879, 1881, by Charles Scribner's Sons.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LEAL (l[=e]l), loyal, faithful.
+
+DUNGEON (d[)u]n' j[)u]n), a close, dark prison, commonly
+underground.
+
+Tell what is meant by the terms, dumb friend; willing vassal; glad
+partner; my shadow; human kind; frolic boy.
+
+What duty does Blanco teach his master?
+
+Memorize the last two stanzas of the poem.
+
+The three great divisions of time are _past, present, future._ Tell what
+time each of the following action-words expresses:
+
+found, find, have found, will find, bears, shall bear, has borne,
+crowned, will crown, did crown, crowns.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_42_
+
+
+ab'bot
+clois'ter
+min'ster
+li'brary
+chron' i cle
+
+
+
+A STORY OF A MONK.
+
+
+Many hundreds of years ago there dwelt in a cloister a monk named Urban,
+who was remarkable for his earnest and fervent piety. He was a studious
+reader of the learned and sacred volumes in the convent library. One day
+he read in the Epistles of St. Peter the words, "One day is with the
+Lord as a thousand years, and a thousand years as one day;" and this
+saying seemed impossible in his eyes, so that he spent many an hour in
+meditating upon it.
+
+Then one morning it happened that the monk descended from the library
+into the cloister garden, and there he saw a little bird perched on the
+bough of a tree, singing sweetly, like a nightingale. The bird did not
+move as the monk approached her, till he came quite close, and then she
+flew to another bough, and again another, as the monk pursued her. Still
+singing the same sweet song, the nightingale flew on; and the monk,
+entranced by the sound, followed her out of the garden into the wide
+world.
+
+At last he stopped, and turned back to the cloister; but every thing
+seemed changed to him. Every thing had become larger, more beautiful,
+and older,--the buildings, the garden; and in the place of the low,
+humble cloister church, a lofty minster with three towers reared its
+head to the sky. This seemed very strange to the monk, indeed marvelous;
+but he walked on to the cloister gate and timidly rang the bell. A
+porter entirely unknown to him answered his summons, and drew back in
+amazement when he saw the monk.
+
+The latter went in, and wandered through the church, gazing with
+astonishment on memorial stones which he never remembered to have seen
+before. Presently the brethren of the cloister entered the church; but
+all retreated when they saw the strange figure of the monk. The abbot
+only (but not his abbot) stopped, and stretching a crucifix before him,
+exclaimed, "In the name of Christ, who art thou, spirit or mortal? And
+what dost thou seek here, coming from the dead among us, the living?"
+
+The monk, trembling and tottering like an old man, cast his eyes to the
+ground, and for the first time became aware that a long silvery beard
+descended from his chin over his girdle, to which was still suspended
+the key of the library. To the monks around, the stranger seemed some
+marvelous appearance; and, with a mixture of awe and admiration, they
+led him to the chair of the abbot. There he gave the key to a young
+monk, who opened the library, and brought out a chronicle wherein it was
+written that three hundred years ago the monk Urban had disappeared; and
+no one knew whither he had gone.
+
+"Ah, bird of the forest, was it then thy song?" said the monk Urban,
+with a sigh. "I followed thee for scarce three minutes, listening to thy
+notes, and yet three hundred years have passed away! Thou hast sung to
+me the song of eternity which I could never before learn. Now I know it;
+and, dust myself, I pray to God kneeling in the dust." With these words
+he sank to the ground, and his spirit ascended to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Copy the last paragraph, omitting all marks of punctuation.
+
+Close the book, and punctuate what you have written. Compare your work
+with the printed page.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+If thou wouldst live long, live well; for folly and wickedness shorten
+life.
+
+_From "Poor Richard's Proverbs"_
+
+
+The older I grow--and I now stand upon the brink of eternity--the more
+comes back to me the sentence in the catechism which I learned when a
+child, and the fuller and deeper becomes its meaning: "What is the chief
+end of man? To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever."
+
+_Thomas Carlyle._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_43_
+
+
+dole
+man' na
+em' blem
+re leased'
+plumes
+breathe
+crim' son
+feath' ered
+soared
+dou' bly
+hom' i ly
+ser'a phim
+
+
+
+THE SERMON OF ST. FRANCIS.
+
+
+       Up soared the lark into the air,
+       A shaft of song, a winged prayer,
+       As if a soul, released from pain,
+       Were flying back to heaven again.
+
+       St. Francis heard; it was to him
+       An emblem of the Seraphim;
+       The upward motion of the fire,
+       The light, the heat, the heart's desire.
+
+       Around Assisi's convent gate
+       The birds, God's poor who cannot wait,
+       From moor and mere and darksome wood
+       Came flocking for their dole of food.
+
+       "O brother birds," St. Francis said,
+       "Ye come to me and ask for bread,
+       But not with bread alone to-day
+       Shall ye be fed and sent away.
+
+       "Ye shall be fed, ye happy birds
+       With manna of celestial words;
+       Not mine, though mine they seem to be,
+       Not mine, though they be spoken through me.
+
+       "O, doubly are ye bound to praise
+       The great Creator in your lays;
+       He giveth you your plumes of down,
+       Your crimson hoods, your cloaks of brown.
+
+       "He giveth you your wings to fly
+       And breathe a purer air on high,
+       And careth for you everywhere,
+       Who for yourselves so little care!"
+
+       With flutter of swift wings and songs
+       Together rose the feathered throngs,
+       And singing scattered far apart;
+       Deep peace was in St. Francis' heart.
+
+       He knew not if the brotherhood
+       His homily had understood;
+       He only knew that to one ear
+       The meaning of his words was clear.
+
+
+_Longfellow._
+
+From "Children's Hour and Other Poems." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: ST. FRANCIS PREACHING]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+LAYS, songs.
+
+ASSISI ([:a]s s[=e]' ze), a town of Italy, where St. Francis was
+born in 1182.
+
+What does "manna of celestial words" mean?
+
+What is the singular form of seraphim?
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Every word has its own spirit,
+         True or false, that never dies;
+       Every word man's lips have uttered
+         Echoes in God's skies.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_44_
+
+
+GLORIA IN EXCELSIS.
+
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sound the thrilling song;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Roll the hymn along.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let the heavens ring;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Welcome, new-born King.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Over the sea and land,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Chant the anthem grand.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Let us all rejoice;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Lift each heart and voice.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Swell the hymn on high;
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         Sound it to the sky.
+
+       Gloria in excelsis!
+         Sing it, sinful earth,
+       In excelsis Deo!
+         For the Savior's birth.
+
+
+_Father Ryan._
+
+"Father Ryan's Poems." Published by P.J. Kenedy & Sons, New York.
+
+
+[Illustration: Artist _Hofmann_.--Caption: "Glory to God in the
+highest; and on earth peace to men of good will."]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_45_
+
+
+plied
+won' drous
+ex cite' ment
+com mo' tion
+vig' or
+fo' li age
+mar' vel ous
+com pas' sion
+
+
+
+THE FIRST CHRISTMAS TREE.[004]
+
+
+Once upon a time the Forest was in a great commotion. Early in the
+evening the wise old Cedars had shaken their heads and told of strange
+things that were to happen. They had lived in the Forest many, many
+years; but never had they seen such marvelous sights as were to be seen
+now in the sky, and upon the hills, and in the distant village.
+
+"Pray tell us what you see," pleaded a little Vine; "we who are not so
+tall as you can behold none of these wonderful things."
+
+"The whole sky seems to be aflame," said one of the Cedars, "and the
+Stars appear to be dancing among the clouds; angels walk down from
+heaven to the earth and talk with the shepherds upon the hills."
+
+The Vine trembled with excitement. Its nearest neighbor was a tiny tree,
+so small it was scarcely ever noticed; yet it was a very beautiful
+little tree, and the Vines and Ferns and Mosses loved it very dearly.
+
+"How I should like to see the Angels!" sighed the little Tree; "and how
+I should like to see the Stars dancing among the clouds! It must be very
+beautiful. Oh, listen to the music! I wonder whence it comes."
+
+"The Angels are singing," said a Cedar; "for none but angels could make
+such sweet music."
+
+"And the Stars are singing, too," said another Cedar; "yes, and the
+shepherds on the hills join in the song."
+
+The trees listened to the singing. It was a strange song about a Child
+that had been born. But further than this they did not understand. The
+strange and glorious song continued all the night.
+
+In the early morning the Angels came to the Forest singing the same song
+about the Child, and the Stars sang in chorus with them, until every
+part of the woods rang with echoes of that wondrous song. They were clad
+all in white, and there were crowns upon their fair heads, and golden
+harps in their hands. Love, hope, joy and compassion beamed from their
+beautiful faces. The Angels came through the Forest to where the little
+Tree stood, and gathering around it, they touched it with their hands,
+kissed its little branches, and sang even more sweetly than before. And
+their song was about the Child, the Child, the Child, that had been
+born. Then the Stars came down from the skies and danced and hung upon
+the branches of the little Tree, and they, too, sang the song of the
+Child.
+
+When they left the Forest, one Angel remained to guard the little Tree.
+Night and day he watched so that no harm should come to it. Day by day
+it grew in strength and beauty. The sun sent it his choicest rays,
+heaven dropped its sweetest dew upon it, and the winds sang to it their
+prettiest songs.
+
+So the years passed, and the little Tree grew until it became the pride
+and glory of the Forest.
+
+One day the Tree heard some one coming through the Forest. "Have no
+fear," said the Angel, "for He who comes is the Master."
+
+And the Master came to the Tree and placed His Hands upon its smooth
+trunk and branches. He stooped and kissed the Tree, and then turned and
+went away.
+
+[Illustration: _A. Bida._]
+
+Many times after that the Master came to the Forest, rested beneath the
+Tree and enjoyed the shade of its foliage. Many times He slept there and
+the Tree watched over Him. Many times men came with the Master to the
+Forest, sat with Him in the shade of the Tree, and talked with Him of
+things which the Tree never could understand. It heard them tell how the
+Master healed the sick and raised the dead and bestowed blessings
+wherever He walked.
+
+But one night the Master came alone into the Forest. His Face was pale
+and wet with tears. He fell upon His knees and prayed. The Tree heard
+Him, and all the Forest was still. In the morning there was a sound of
+rude voices and a clashing of swords.
+
+[Illustration: _Hofmann._]
+
+Strange men plied their axes with cruel vigor, and the Tree was hewn to
+the ground. Its beautiful branches were cut away, and its soft, thick
+foliage was strewn to the winds. The Trees of the Forest wept.
+
+The cruel men dragged the hewn Tree away, and the Forest saw it no more.
+
+But the Night Wind that swept down from the City of the Great King
+stayed that night in the Forest awhile to say that it had seen that day
+a Cross raised on Calvary,--the Tree on which was nailed the Body of the
+dying Master.
+
+_Eugene Field._
+
+From "A Little Book of Profitable Tales." Published by Charles
+Scribner's Sons.
+
+
+[Footnote 004: Copyright, 1889, by Eugene Field.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_46_
+
+
+
+THE HOLY CITY.
+
+
+       Last night I lay a-sleeping; there came a dream so fair;--
+       I stood in old Jerusalem, beside the Temple there;
+       I heard the children singing, and ever as they sang
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang;--
+       Methought the voice of Angels
+       From Heaven in answer rang.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, lift up your gates and sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And then methought my dream was changed;--
+       The streets no longer rang
+       Hushed were the glad Hosannas the little children sang.
+       The sun grew dark with mystery,
+       The morn was cold and chill,
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill;--
+       As the shadow of a cross arose upon a lonely hill.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, hark! how the Angels sing
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna to your King!
+
+       And once again the scene was changed--
+       New earth there seemed to be;
+       I saw the Holy City beside the tideless sea;
+       The light of God was on its streets,
+       The gates were open wide,
+       And all who would might enter,
+       And no one was denied.
+       No need of moon or stars by night,
+       Nor sun to shine by day;
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away,--
+       It was the New Jerusalem, that would not pass away.
+       Jerusalem, Jerusalem, sing, for the night is o'er,
+       Hosanna in the highest! Hosanna forevermore!
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_47_
+
+
+trea' son
+eu' lo gies
+de bat' ed
+phi los' o phy
+in ge nu' i ty
+ap pro' pri ate
+con' sum ma ted
+
+
+
+THE FEAST OF TONGUES.
+
+
+Xanthus invited a large company to dinner, and Aesop was ordered to
+furnish the choicest dainties that money could procure. The first course
+consisted of tongues, cooked in different ways and served with
+appropriate sauces. This gave rise to much mirth and many witty remarks
+by the guests. The second course was also nothing but tongues, and so
+with the third and fourth. This seemed to go beyond a joke, and Xanthus
+demanded in an angry manner of Aesop, "Did I not tell you to provide the
+choicest dainties that money could procure?" "And what excels the
+tongue?" replied Aesop, "It is the channel of learning and philosophy.
+By it addresses and eulogies are made, and commerce carried on,
+contracts executed, and marriages consummated. Nothing is equal to the
+tongue." The company applauded Aesop's wit, and good feeling was
+restored.
+
+"Well," said Xanthus to the guests, "pray do me the favor of dining with
+me again to-morrow. I have a mind to change the feast; to-morrow," said
+he, turning to Aesop, "provide us with the worst meat you can find." The
+next day the guests assembled as before, and to their astonishment and
+the anger of Xanthus nothing but tongues was provided. "How, sir," said
+Xanthus, "should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst
+another?" "What," replied Aesop, "can be worse than the tongue? What
+wickedness is there under the sun that it has not a part in? Treasons,
+violence, injustice, fraud, are debated and resolved upon, and
+communicated by the tongue. It is the ruin of empires, cities, and of
+private friendships." The company were more than ever struck by Aesop's
+ingenuity, and they interceded for him with his master.
+
+_From "Aesop's Fables."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+XANTHUS, a Greek poet and historian, who lived in the sixth century
+before Christ.
+
+Write the plurals of the following words, and tell how they are formed
+in each case:
+
+dainty, sauce, eulogy, feast, city, chief, calf, day, lily, copy, loaf,
+roof, half, valley, donkey.
+
+What words are made emphatic by contrast in the following sentence: "How
+should tongues be the best of meat one day and the worst another?"
+
+Memorize what Aesop said in praise of the tongue, and what he said in
+dispraise of it.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+"If any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man. The tongue is
+a fire, a world of iniquity. By it we bless God and the Father; and by
+it we curse men who are made after the likeness of God."
+
+_From "Epistle of St. James."_
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_48_
+
+
+ap' pe tite
+ha rangued'
+sus pend' ed
+min' strel sy
+
+
+
+THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE GLOWWORM.
+
+
+       A nightingale, that all day long
+       Had cheered the village with his song,
+       Nor yet at eve his note suspended,
+       Nor yet when eventide was ended,
+       Began to feel, as well he might,
+       The keen demands of appetite;
+       When, looking eagerly around,
+       He spied far off, upon the ground,
+       A something shining in the dark,
+       And knew the glowworm by his spark;
+       So, stooping down from hawthorn top,
+       He thought to put him in his crop.
+
+       The worm, aware of his intent,
+       Harangued him thus, right eloquent:
+       "Did you admire my lamp," quoth he,
+       "As much as I your minstrelsy,
+       You would abhor to do me wrong
+       As much as I to spoil your song:
+       For 'twas the self-same Power Divine
+       Taught you to sing and me to shine;
+       That you with music, I with light,
+       Might beautify and cheer the night."
+       The songster heard this short oration,
+       And, warbling out his approbation,
+       Released him, as my story tells,
+       And found a supper somewhere else.
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+Why did the nightingale feel "The keen demands of appetite?"
+
+Do you admire the eloquent speech that the worm made to the bird? Study
+it by heart. Copy it from memory. Compare your copy with the printed
+page as to spelling, capitals and punctuation.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       I would not enter on my list of friends
+       (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense,
+       Yet wanting sensibility) the man
+       Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
+       An inadvertent step may crush the snail
+       That crawls at evening in the public path;
+       But he that has humanity, forewarned,
+       Will tread aside, and let the reptile live.
+
+
+_William Cowper._
+
+
+
+       Turn, turn thy hasty foot aside,
+         Nor crush that helpless worm!
+       The frame thy wayward looks deride
+         Required a God to form.
+
+       The common Lord of all that move.
+         From whom thy being flowed,
+       A portion of His boundless love
+         On that poor worm bestowed.
+
+       Let them enjoy their little day,
+         Their humble bliss receive;
+       Oh! do not lightly take away
+         The life thou canst not give!
+
+
+_Thomas Gisborne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_49_
+
+
+mar' gin
+pitch' er
+cup' board
+breathed
+di' a mond
+quiv' er ing
+
+
+
+JACK FROST.
+
+
+       Jack Frost looked forth one still, clear night,
+       And whispered, "Now I shall be out of sight;
+       So, through the valley, and over the height,
+         In silence I'll take my way.
+       I will not go on like that blustering train,
+       The wind and the snow, the hail and the rain,
+       Who make so much bustle and noise in vain;
+         But I'll be as busy as they!"
+
+       Then he flew to the mountain, and powdered its crest;
+       He lit on the trees, and their boughs he dressed
+       In diamond beads; and over the breast
+         Of the quivering lake he spread
+       A coat of mail, that it need not fear
+       The glittering point of many a spear,
+       Which he hung on its margin, far and near,
+         Where a rock could rear its head.
+
+       He went to the windows of those who slept,
+       And over each pane, like a fairy, crept:
+       Wherever he breathed, wherever he stepped,
+         By the morning light were seen
+       Most beautiful things!--there were flowers and trees;
+       There were bevies of birds, and swarms of bees;
+       There were cities with temples and towers; and these
+         All pictured in silvery sheen!
+
+       But he did one thing that was hardly fair;
+       He peeped in the cupboard, and finding there
+       That all had forgotten for him to prepare.--
+         "Now, just to set them a-thinking,
+       I'll bite this basket of fruit," said he;
+       "This costly pitcher I'll burst in three;
+       And the glass of water they've left for me,
+       Shall '_tchick_,' to tell them I'm drinking."
+
+
+_Hannah F. Gould._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CREST, top or summit.
+
+COAT OF MAIL, a garment of iron or steel worn by warriors in olden
+times.
+
+BEVIES, flocks or companies.
+
+SHEEN, brightness.
+
+TCHICK a combination of letters whose pronunciation is supposed to
+resemble the sound of breaking glass.
+
+What did Jack Frost do when he went to the mountain?
+
+How did he dress the boughs of the trees? What did he spread over the
+lake? Why?
+
+What could be seen after he had worked on "the windows of those who
+slept?"
+
+What mischief did he do in the cupboard, and why?
+
+Is Jack Frost an artist? In what kind of weather does he work? Why does
+he work generally at night?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_50_
+
+
+re' al ize
+pen' du lum
+dil' i gent ly
+sig nif' i cance
+auc tion eer'
+per sist' ent ly
+in ex haust' i ble
+un der stood'
+hope' less ly
+nev er the less
+
+
+
+"GOING! GOING! GONE!"
+
+
+The other day, as I was walking through a side street in one of our
+large cities, I heard these words ringing out from a room so crowded
+with people that I could but just see the auctioneer's face and uplifted
+hammer above the heads of the crowd.
+
+"Going! Going! Going! Gone!" and down came the hammer with a sharp rap.
+
+I do not know how or why it was, but the words struck me with a new
+force and significance. I had heard them hundreds of times before, with
+only a sense of amusement. This time they sounded solemn.
+
+"Going! Going! Gone!"
+
+"That is the way it is with life," I said to myself;--"with time." This
+world is a sort of auction-room; we do not know that we are buyers: we
+are, in fact, more like beggars; we have brought no money to exchange
+for precious minutes, hours, days, or years; they are given to us. There
+is no calling out of terms, no noisy auctioneer, no hammer; but
+nevertheless, the time is "going! going! gone!"
+
+The more I thought of it, the more solemn did the words sound, and the
+more did they seem to me a good motto to remind one of the value of
+time.
+
+When we are young we think old people are preaching and prosing when
+they say so much about it,--when they declare so often that days, weeks,
+even years, are short. I can remember when a holiday, a whole day long,
+appeared to me an almost inexhaustible play-spell; when one afternoon,
+even, seemed an endless round of pleasure, and the week that was to come
+seemed longer than does a whole year now.
+
+One needs to live many years before one learns how little time there is
+in a year,--how little, indeed, there will be even in the longest
+possible life,--how many things one will still be obliged to leave
+undone.
+
+But there is one thing, boys and girls, that you can realize if you will
+try--if you will stop and think about it a little; and that is, how fast
+and how steadily the present time is slipping away. However long life
+may seem to you as you look forward to the whole of it, the present hour
+has only sixty minutes, and minute by minute, second by second, it is
+"going! going! gone!" If you gather nothing from it as it passes, it is
+"gone" forever. Nothing is so utterly, hopelessly lost as "lost time."
+It makes me unhappy when I look back and see how much time I have
+wasted; how much I might have learned and done if I had but understood
+how short is the longest hour.
+
+All the men and women who have made the world better, happier or wiser
+for their having lived in it, have done so by working diligently and
+persistently. Yet, I am certain that not even one of these, when
+"looking backward from his manhood's prime, saw not the specter of his
+mis-spent time." Now, don't suppose I am so foolish as to think that all
+the preaching in the world can make anything look to young eyes as it
+looks to old eyes; not a bit of it.
+
+But think about it a little; don't let time slip away by the minute,
+hour, day, without getting something out of it! Look at the clock now
+and then, and listen to the pendulum, saying of every minute, as it
+flies,--"Going! going! gone!"
+
+_Helen Hunt Jackson._
+
+From "Bits of Talk." Copyright, Little, Brown & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PROSING, talking in a dull way.
+
+In the following sentences, instead of the words in italics, use others
+that have the same general meaning:
+
+I heard these words _ringing_ out from a _room_ so _crowded_ with
+_people_ that I could _but_ just _see_ the man's _face._ How _fast_ and
+_steadily_ the present time is _slipping_ away!
+
+
+Punctuate the following:
+
+Go to the ant thou sluggard consider her ways and be wise.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_51_
+
+
+yearn
+car' ol
+mus' ing
+stee' ple
+mag' ic al
+
+
+
+SEVEN TIMES TWO.
+
+
+       You bells in the steeple, ring, ring out your changes,
+         How many soever they be,
+       And let the brown meadowlark's note, as he ranges,
+         Come over, come over to me!
+
+       Yet birds' clearest carol, by fall or by swelling,
+         No magical sense conveys;
+       And bells have forgotten their old art of telling
+         The fortune of future days.
+
+       "Turn again, turn again!" once they rang cheerily,
+         While a boy listened alone;
+       Made his heart yearn again, musing so wearily
+         All by himself on a stone.
+
+       Poor bells! I forgive you; your good days are over,
+         And mine, they are yet to be;
+       No listening, no longing, shall aught, aught discover:
+         You leave the story to me.
+
+       The foxglove shoots out of the green matted heather,
+         And hangeth her hoods of snow;
+       She was idle, and slept till the sunshiny weather:
+         Oh, children take long to grow!
+
+       I wish and I wish that the spring would go faster,
+         Nor long summer bide so late;
+       And I could grow on like the foxglove and aster,
+         For some things are ill to wait.
+
+       I wait for the day when dear hearts shall discover,
+         While dear hands are laid on my head,
+       "The child is a woman--the book may close over,
+         For all the lessons are said."
+
+       I wait for my story: the birds cannot sing it,
+         Not one, as he sits on the tree;
+       The bells cannot ring it, but long years, O bring it!
+         Such as I wish it to be.
+
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+"TURN AGAIN, TURN AGAIN!" Reference is here made to Dick
+Whittington, a poor orphan country lad, who went to London to earn a
+living, and who afterwards rose to be the first Lord Mayor of that city.
+
+
+NOTE.--This poem is the second of a series of seven lyrics, entitled
+"The Songs of Seven," which picture seven stages in a woman's life. For
+the first of the series, "Seven Times One," see page 44 of the Fourth
+Reader. Read it in connection with this. "Seven Times Two" shows the
+girl standing at the entrance to maidenhood, books closed and lessons
+said, longing for the years to go faster to bring to her the happiness
+she imagines is waiting.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_52_
+
+
+man' i fold
+do mes' tic
+pet' tish ly
+in grat' i tude
+
+
+
+MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.
+
+
+It was thirteen years since my mother's death, when, after a long
+absence from my native village, I stood beside the sacred mound beneath
+which I had seen her buried. Since that mournful period, a great change
+had come over me. My childish years had passed away, and with them my
+youthful character. The world was altered, too; and as I stood at my
+mother's grave, I could hardly realize that I was the same thoughtless,
+happy creature, whose cheeks she so often kissed in an excess of
+tenderness.
+
+But the varied events of thirteen years had not effaced the remembrance
+of that mother's smile. It seemed as if I had seen her but yesterday--as
+if the blessed sound of her well-remembered voice was in my ear. The gay
+dreams of my infancy and childhood were brought back so distinctly to my
+mind that, had it not been for one bitter recollection, the tears I shed
+would have been gentle and refreshing.
+
+The circumstance may seem a trifling one, but the thought of it now
+pains my heart; and I relate it, that those children who have parents to
+love them may learn to value them as they ought.
+
+My mother had been ill a long time, and I had become so accustomed to
+her pale face and weak voice, that I was not frightened at them, as
+children usually are. At first, it is true, I sobbed violently; but
+when, day after day, I returned from school, and found her the same, I
+began to believe she would always be spared to me; but they told me she
+would die.
+
+One day when I had lost my place in the class, I came home discouraged
+and fretful. I went to my mother's chamber. She was paler than usual,
+but she met me with the same affectionate smile that always welcomed my
+return. Alas! when I look back through the lapse of thirteen years, I
+think my heart must have been stone not to have been melted by it. She
+requested me to go downstairs and bring her a glass of water. I
+pettishly asked her why she did not call a domestic to do it. With a
+look of mild reproach, which I shall never forget if I live to be a
+hundred years old, she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?"
+
+I went and brought her the water, but I did not do it kindly. Instead of
+smiling, and kissing her as I had been wont to do, I set the glass down
+very quickly, and left the room. After playing a short time, I went to
+bed without bidding my mother good night; but when alone in my room, in
+darkness and silence, I remembered how pale she looked, and how her
+voice trembled when she said, "Will not my daughter bring a glass of
+water for her poor, sick mother?" I could not sleep. I stole into her
+chamber to ask forgiveness. She had sunk into an easy slumber, and they
+told me I must not waken her.
+
+I did not tell anyone what troubled me, but stole back to my bed,
+resolved to rise early in the morning and tell her how sorry I was for
+my conduct. The sun was shining brightly when I awoke, and, hurrying on
+my clothes, I hastened to my mother's chamber. She was dead! She never
+spoke more--never smiled upon me again; and when I touched the hand that
+used to rest upon my head in blessing, it was so cold that it made me
+start.
+
+I bowed down by her side, and sobbed in the bitterness of my heart. I
+then wished that I might die, and be buried with her; and, old as I now
+am, I would give worlds, were they mine to give, could my mother but
+have lived to tell me she forgave my childish ingratitude. But I cannot
+call her back; and when I stand by her grave, and whenever I think of
+her manifold kindness, the memory of that reproachful look she gave me
+will bite like a serpent and sting like an adder.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       "But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+       And the sound of a voice that is still!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_53_
+
+
+chide
+be dewed'
+em balmed'
+be tide'
+lin' gered
+wor' shiped
+
+
+
+THE OLD ARM-CHAIR.
+
+
+       I love it, I love it; and who shall dare
+       To chide me for loving that old Arm-chair?
+       I've treasured it long as a sainted prize;
+       I've bedewed it with tears, and embalmed it with sighs.
+       'Tis bound by a thousand bands to my heart;
+       Not a tie will break, not a link will start.
+       Would ye learn the spell?--a mother sat there!
+       And a sacred thing is that old Arm-chair.
+
+       In Childhood's hour I lingered near
+       The hallowed seat with listening ear;
+       And gentle words that mother would give,
+       To fit me to die, and teach me to live.
+       She told me that shame would never betide,
+       With truth for my creed and God for my guide;
+       She taught me to lisp my earliest prayer,
+       As I knelt beside that old Arm-chair.
+
+       I sat and watched her many a day,
+       When her eye grew dim and her locks were gray;
+       And I almost worshiped her when she smiled,
+       And turned from her Bible to bless her child.
+       Years rolled on; but the last one sped--
+       My idol was shattered; my earth-star fled:
+       I learned how much the heart can bear,
+       When I saw her die in that old Arm-chair.
+
+       'Tis past, 'tis past, but I gaze on it now
+       With quivering breath and throbbing brow:
+       'Twas there she nursed me; 'twas there she died;
+       And Memory flows with lava tide.
+       Say it is folly, and deem me weak,
+       While the scalding drops start down my cheek;
+       But I love it, I love it; and cannot tear
+       My soul from a mother's old Arm-chair.
+
+_Eliza Cook._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPELL, a verse or phrase or word supposed to have magical power; a
+charm.
+
+HALLOWED, made holy.
+
+HOLLOWED, made a hole out of; made hollow. Use these two words
+in sentences of your own.
+
+What is meant by "Memory flows with lava tide?"
+
+Write a two-paragraph description of an old arm-chair. Your imagination
+will furnish you with all needed details.
+
+Divide the following words into their syllables, and mark the accented
+syllable of each:
+
+absurd, every, nature, mature, leisure, valuable, safety, again, virtue,
+ancient, weather, history, poetry, mother, genuine, earliest, fatigued,
+business.
+
+The dictionary will aid you.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_54_
+
+
+crags
+break
+tongue
+thoughts
+ha' ven
+sail' or
+state' ly
+
+
+
+BREAK, BREAK, BREAK!
+
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
+       And I would that my tongue could utter
+         The thoughts that arise in me.
+
+       O well for the fisherman's boy,
+         That he shouts with his sister at play!
+       O well for the sailor lad,
+         That he sings in his boat on the bay!
+
+       And the stately ships go on
+         To the haven under the hill;
+       But O for the touch of a vanished hand,
+         And the sound of a voice that is still!
+
+       Break, break, break,
+         At the foot of thy crags, O sea!
+       But the tender grace of a day that is dead
+         Will never come back to me.
+
+
+_Tennyson_.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tennyson]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_55_
+
+
+barns
+deaf en ing
+i dol' a trous
+pon' der
+ca lum' ni ate
+Be at' i tudes
+
+
+
+GOD IS OUR FATHER.
+
+
+The Old Law, the Law given to the Jews on Mount Sinai, tended to inspire
+the fear of God, which is the beginning of wisdom. It was given amidst
+fire and smoke, thunders and lightnings, and whatever else could fill
+the minds of the Jews with fear and wonder. Compelled, as it were, by
+the idolatrous acts of His chosen people, by their repeated rebellions,
+and their endless murmurings, God showed Himself to them as the almighty
+Sovereign, the King of kings, the Lord of lords, whose holiness, power,
+majesty, and severity in punishing sin, filled their minds with awe and
+dread.
+
+It was not thus that the New Law, the Law of grace and love, was given
+to the world. No dark cloud covered the mount of the Beatitudes from
+which our Lord preached; no deafening thunders were heard; no angry
+flashes of lightning were visible. There was nothing forbidding in the
+voice, words, or appearance of the Divine Lawgiver. In the whole
+exterior of our Savior there was a something so sweet, so humble, so
+meek and captivating, that the people were filled with admiration and
+love.
+
+One of the most remarkable features of this first sermon that Christ
+preached is the fact that He constantly called God our Father. How
+beautifully His teachings reveal the spirit of the Law of love! Listen
+to Him attentively, and ponder upon His words:
+
+"Take heed that you do not your justice before men, to be seen by them:
+otherwise you shall not have a reward of your FATHER WHO is in
+heaven.... But when thou dost alms, let not thy left hand know what thy
+right hand doth; that thy alms may be in secret, and thy FATHER WHO
+seeth in secret will repay thee.... Love your enemies; do good to them
+that hate you; and pray for them that persecute and calumniate you; that
+you may be the children of your FATHER WHO is in heaven, Who maketh His
+sun to rise upon the good and bad, and raineth upon the just and the
+unjust.
+
+"Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap,
+nor gather into barns: and your heavenly FATHER feedeth them. Are not
+you of much more value than they?... If you, then, being evil, know how
+to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your FATHER WHO
+is in heaven give good things to them that ask Him.... For if you will
+forgive men their offenses, your heavenly FATHER will forgive you also
+your offenses. But if you will not forgive men, neither will your FATHER
+forgive you your offenses.... Thus therefore shall you pray: OUR FATHER
+Who art in heaven."
+
+From these and many other similar expressions found in the very first
+sermon which Jesus Christ ever preached, we learn that it is the
+expressed will of God that we should look upon Him as our loving Father;
+and that, however unworthy we may be, we should look upon ourselves as
+His beloved children. There cannot be a possible doubt of this, since it
+is taught so positively by His only begotten Son, Who is "the Way, the
+Truth, and the Life."
+
+[Illustration: _Henry le Jeune._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Sinai (s[=i]' n[=a]), a mountain in Arabia.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_56_
+
+
+
+HAPPY OLD AGE.
+
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried;
+         "The few locks that are left you are gray;
+       You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man;
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "In the days of my youth," Father William replied,
+         "I remembered that youth would fly fast,
+       And abused not my health and my vigor at first,
+         That I never might need them at last."
+
+       "You are old, Father William," the young man cried,
+         "And life must be hastening away;
+       You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death!
+         Now, tell me the reason, I pray."
+
+       "I am cheerful, young man," Father William replied;
+         "Let the cause thy attention engage;
+       In the days of my youth I remembered my God!
+         And He hath not forgotten my age."
+
+
+_Robert Southey._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Tell the story of the poem in your own words. What are some of the
+important lessons it teaches?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_57_
+
+
+smit' ing
+el' o quence
+mes' mer ize
+ges' ture
+vin' e gar
+un dy' ing ly
+
+
+
+KIND WORDS.
+
+
+Kind words are the music of the world. They have a power which seems to
+be beyond natural causes, as if they were some angel's song, which had
+lost its way and come on earth, and sang on undyingly, smiting the
+hearts of men with sweetest wounds, and putting for the while an angel's
+nature into us.
+
+Let us then think first of all of the power of kind words. In truth,
+there is hardly a power on earth equal to them. It seems as they could
+almost do what in reality God alone can do, namely, soften the hard and
+angry hearts of men. Many a friendship, long, loyal, and
+self-sacrificing, rested at first on no thicker a foundation than a kind
+word.
+
+Kind words produce happiness. How often have we ourselves been made
+happy by kind words, in a manner and to an extent which we are unable to
+explain! And happiness is a great power of holiness. Thus, kind words,
+by their power of producing happiness, have also a power of producing
+holiness, and so of winning men to God.
+
+If I may use such a word when I am speaking of religious subjects, it is
+by voice and words that men mesmerize each other. Hence it is that the
+world is converted by the voice of the preacher. Hence it is that an
+angry word rankles longer in the heart than an angry gesture, nay, very
+often even longer than a blow. Thus, all that has been said of the power
+of kindness in general applies with an additional and peculiar force to
+kind words.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+From "Spiritual Conferences."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Explain: Kind words are the music of the world--An angel's song that had
+lost its way and come on earth--Smiting the hearts of men with sweetest
+wounds--Putting an angel's nature into us--Hard and angry hearts of
+men--An angry word rankles longer in the heart than even a blow.
+
+Mention some occasions when kind words addressed to you made you very
+happy. Which will bring a person more happiness,--to have kind words
+said to him, or for him to say them to another?
+
+Memorize the first paragraph of the selection.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+Kindness has converted more sinners than either zeal, eloquence, or
+learning.
+
+_Father Faber._
+
+
+You will catch more flies with a spoonful of honey than with a hundred
+barrels of vinegar.
+
+_St. Francis de Sales._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_58_
+
+
+
+KINDNESS IS THE WORD.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "What is the real good?"
+       I asked in musing mood.
+
+       Order, said the law court;
+       Knowledge, said the school;
+       Truth, said the wise man;
+       Pleasure, said the fool;
+       Love, said the maiden;
+       Beauty, said the page;
+       Freedom, said the dreamer;
+       Home, said the sage;
+       Fame, said the soldier;
+       Equity, said the seer;--
+
+       Spake my heart full sadly:
+       "The answer is not here."
+
+       Then within my bosom
+       Softly this I heard:
+       "Each heart holds the secret:
+       Kindness is the word."
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SAGE, a wise man.
+
+SEER, one who foresees events; a prophet.
+
+EQUITY ([)e]k' w[)i] t[)y]), justice, fairness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_59_
+
+
+va' cant
+joc' und
+pen' sive
+spright' ly
+sol' i tude
+daf' fo dils
+con tin' u ous
+
+
+
+DAFFODILS.
+
+
+       I wandered lonely as a cloud
+         That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
+       When all at once I saw a crowd,
+         A host, of golden daffodils,
+       Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
+         Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
+
+       Continuous as the stars that shine
+         And twinkle on the Milky Way,
+       They stretched in never-ending line
+         Along the margin of the bay:
+       Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
+         Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
+
+       The waves beside them danced; but they
+         Outdid the sparkling waves in glee:
+       A poet could not but be gay
+         In such a jocund company.
+       I gazed,--and gazed,--but little thought
+         What wealth the show to me had brought:
+
+       For oft, when on my couch I lie
+         In vacant or in pensive mood,
+       They flash upon that inward eye
+         Which is the bliss of solitude;
+       And then my heart with pleasure fills,
+         And dances with the daffodils.
+
+
+_William Wordsworth._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MILKY WAY, the belt of light seen at night in the heavens, and is
+composed of millions of stars.
+
+1st stanza: Explain, "I wandered lonely." To what does the poet compare
+his loneliness?
+
+What did the poet see "all at once?" Where? What were the daffodils
+doing?
+
+What picture do the first two lines bring to mind? Describe the picture
+contained in the remaining lines of this stanza.
+
+2d stanza: How does the poet tell what a great crowd of daffodils there
+were? How would you tell it?
+
+How does he say the daffodils were arranged? What does _margin_ mean?
+
+How many daffodils did he see? In this stanza, what does he say they
+were doing?
+
+3d stanza: What is said of the waves? In what did the daffodils surpass
+the waves?
+
+What do the third and fourth lines of this stanza mean?
+
+4th stanza: What does "in vacant mood" mean? "In pensive mood?" "Inward
+eye?"
+
+How does this inward eye make bliss for us in solitude?
+
+What feelings did the thought of what he saw awaken in the heart of the
+poet?
+
+What changed the wanderer's loneliness, as told at the beginning of the
+poem, to gayety, as told towards the end?
+
+Commit the poem to memory.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_60_
+
+
+hos' tile
+en dowed'
+tu' mult
+ac' o lyte
+ep' i taph
+grav' i ty
+com' bat ants
+pref' er ence
+a maz' ed ly
+ath let' ic
+Vi at' i cum
+in her' it ance
+cem' e ter y
+re tal' i ate
+un flinch' ing ly
+ir re sist' i ble
+un vi' o la ted
+con temp' tu ous ly
+
+
+
+THE STORY OF TARCISIUS.
+
+
+At the time our story opens, a bloody persecution of the Church was
+going on, and all the prisons of Rome were filled with Christians
+condemned to death for the Faith. Some were to die on the morrow, and to
+these it was necessary to send the Holy Viaticum to strengthen their
+souls for the battle before them. On this day, when the hostile passions
+of heathen Rome were unusually excited by the coming slaughter of so
+many Christian victims, it was a work of more than common danger to
+discharge this duty.
+
+The Sacred Bread was prepared, and the priest turned round from the
+altar on which it was placed, to see who would be its safest bearer.
+Before any other could step forward, the young acolyte Tarcisius knelt
+at his feet. With his hands extended before him, ready to receive the
+sacred deposit, with a countenance beautiful in its lovely innocence as
+an angel's, he seemed to entreat for preference, and even to claim it.
+
+"Thou art too young, my child," said the kind priest, filled with
+admiration of the picture before him.
+
+"My youth, holy father, will be my best protection. Oh! do not refuse me
+this great honor." The tears stood in the boy's eyes, and his cheeks
+glowed with a modest emotion, as he spoke these words. He stretched
+forth his hands eagerly, and his entreaty was so full of fervor and
+courage, that the plea was irresistible. The priest took the Divine
+Mysteries, wrapped up carefully in a linen cloth, then in an outer
+covering, and put them on his palms, saying--
+
+"Remember, Tarcisius, what a treasure is intrusted to thy feeble care.
+Avoid public places as thou goest along; and remember that holy things
+must not be delivered to dogs, nor pearls be cast before swine. Thou
+wilt keep safely God's sacred gifts?"
+
+"I will die rather than betray them," answered the holy youth, as he
+folded the heavenly trust in the bosom of his tunic, and with cheerful
+reverence started on his journey. There was a gravity beyond the usual
+expression of his years stamped upon his countenance, as he tripped
+lightly along the streets, avoiding equally the more public, and the too
+low, thoroughfares.
+
+As he was approaching the door of a large mansion, its mistress, a rich
+lady without children, saw him coming, and was struck with his beauty
+and sweetness, as, with arms folded on his breast, he was hastening on.
+"Stay one moment, dear child," she said, putting herself in his way;
+"tell me thy name, and where do thy parents live?"
+
+"I am Tarcisius, an orphan boy," he replied, looking up smilingly; "and
+I have no home, save one which it might be displeasing to thee to hear."
+
+"Then come into my house and rest; I wish to speak to thee. Oh, that I
+had a child like thee!"
+
+"Not now, noble lady, not now. I have intrusted to me a most solemn and
+sacred duty, and I must not tarry a moment in its performance."
+
+"Then promise to come to me tomorrow; this is my house."
+
+"If I am alive, I will," answered the boy, with a kindled look, which
+made him appear to her as a messenger from a higher sphere. She watched
+him a long time, and after some deliberation determined to follow him.
+Soon, however, she heard a tumult with horrid cries, which made her
+pause on her way until they had ceased, when she went on again.
+
+In the meantime, Tarcisius, with his thoughts fixed on better things
+than her inheritance, hastened on, and shortly came into an open space,
+where boys, just escaped from school, were beginning to play.
+
+"We just want one to make up the game; where shall we get him?" said
+their leader.
+
+"Capital!" exclaimed another; "here comes Tarcisius, whom I have not
+seen for an age. He used to be an excellent hand at all sports. Come,
+Tarcisius," he added, stopping him by seizing his arm, "whither so fast?
+take a part in our game, that's a good fellow."
+
+"I can't now; I really can't. I am going on business of great
+importance."
+
+"But you shall," exclaimed the first speaker, a strong and bullying
+youth, laying hold of him. "I will have no sulking, when I want anything
+done. So come, join us at once."
+
+"I entreat you," said the poor boy feelingly, "do let me go."
+
+"No such thing," replied the other. "What is that you seem to be
+carrying so carefully in your bosom? A letter, I suppose; well, it will
+not addle by being for half an hour out of its nest. Give it to me, and
+I will put it by safe while we play."
+
+"Never, never," answered the child, looking up towards heaven.
+
+"I _will_ see it," insisted the other rudely; "I will know what is this
+wonderful secret." And he commenced pulling him roughly about. A crowd
+of men from the neighborhood soon got round, and all asked eagerly what
+was the matter. They saw a boy, who, with folded arms, seemed endowed
+with a supernatural strength, as he resisted every effort of one much
+bigger and stronger, to make him reveal what he was bearing. Cuffs,
+pulls, blows, kicks, seemed to have no effect. He bore them all without
+a murmur, or an attempt to retaliate; but he unflinchingly kept his
+purpose.
+
+"What is it? what can it be?" one began to ask the other; when Fulvius
+chanced to pass by, and joined the circle round the combatants. He at
+once recognized Tarcisius, having seen him at the Ordination; and being
+asked, as a better-dressed man, the same question, he replied
+contemptuously, as he turned on his heel, "What is it? Why, only a
+Christian, bearing the Mysteries."
+
+This was enough. Heathen curiosity, to see the Mysteries of the
+Christians revealed, and to insult them, was aroused, and a general
+demand was made to Tarcisius to yield up his charge. "Never with life,"
+was his only reply. A heavy blow from a smith's fist nearly stunned him,
+while the blood flowed from the wound. Another and another followed,
+till, covered with bruises, but with his arms crossed fast upon his
+breast, he fell heavily on the ground. The mob closed upon him, and were
+just seizing, him to tear open his thrice-holy trust, when they felt
+themselves pushed aside right and left by some giant strength. Some went
+reeling to the further side of the square, others were spun round and
+round, they knew not how, till they fell where they were, and the rest
+retired before a tall athletic officer, who was the author of this
+overthrow. He had no sooner cleared the ground than he was on his knees,
+and with tears in his eyes raised up the bruised and fainting boy as
+tenderly as a mother could have done, and in most gentle tones asked
+him, "Are you much hurt, Tarcisius?"
+
+"Never mind me, Quadratus," answered he, opening his eyes with a smile;
+"but I am carrying the Divine Mysteries; take care of them."
+
+The soldier raised the boy in his arms with tenfold reverence, as if
+bearing, not only the sweet victim of a youthful sacrifice, a martyr's
+relics, but the very King and Lord of Martyrs, and the divine Victim of
+eternal salvation. The child's head leaned in confidence on the stout
+soldier's neck, but his arms and hands never left their watchful custody
+of the confided gift; and his gallant bearer felt no weight in the
+hallowed double burden which he carried. No one stopped him, till a lady
+met him and stared amazedly at him. She drew nearer, and looked closer
+at what he carried. "Is it possible?" she exclaimed with terror, "is
+that Tarcisius, whom I met a few moments ago, so fair and lovely?"
+
+"Madam," replied Quadratus, "they have murdered him because he was a
+Christian."
+
+The lady looked for an instant on the child's countenance. He opened his
+eyes upon her, smiled, and expired. From that look came the light of
+faith--she hastened to be a Christian.
+
+The venerable Dionysius could hardly see for weeping, as he removed the
+child's hands, and took from his bosom, unviolated, the Holy of Holies;
+and he thought he looked more like an angel now, sleeping the martyr's
+slumber, than he did when living scarcely an hour before. Quadratus
+himself bore him to the cemetery of Callistus, where he was buried
+amidst the admiration of older believers; and later a holy Pope composed
+for him an epitaph, which no one can read without concluding that the
+belief in the real presence of Our Lord's Body in the Blessed Eucharist
+was the same then as now:
+
+
+
+       "Christ's secret gifts, by good Tarcisius borne,
+         The mob profanely bade him to display;
+       He rather gave his own limbs to be torn,
+         Than Christ's Body to mad dogs betray."
+
+
+_Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+From "Fabiola; or, The Church of the Catacombs."
+
+
+
+ADDLE, to become rotten, as eggs.
+
+TUNIC, a loose garment, reaching to the knees, and confined at the
+waist by a girdle.
+
+SUPERNATURAL, = prefix _super_, meaning _above_ or _beyond,_ +
+_natural_.
+
+-ION, a suffix denoting _act, state, condition of_. Define
+_emotion, objection, dejection, conversion, submission, construction,
+admiration, persecution, observation, revolution, deliberation._
+
+Write a letter to a friend who has sent you a copy of "Fabiola." Tell
+him how much you like the book, what you have read in it, and thank him
+for sending it.
+
+Make a list of the characters in the story of Tarcisius, and tell what
+you like or dislike in each.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+
+       The boy, with proud, yet tear-dimmed eyes,
+         Kept murmuring under breath:
+       "Before temptation--sacrifice!
+         Before dishonor--death!"
+
+
+_Margaret J. Preston._
+
+
+
+       Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
+       Other men's failures can never save you;
+       Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;
+       Stand like a hero, and battle till death.
+
+
+_George L. Taylor._
+
+
+
+       Heroes of old! I humbly lay
+         The laurel on your graves again;
+       Whatever men have done, men may--
+         The deeds you wrought are not in vain.
+
+
+_Austin Dobson._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_61_
+
+
+a jar'
+chal' ice
+a thwart'
+rap' tur ous
+sward
+ter' race
+jew' eled
+ci bo' ri um
+por' tal
+vil' lain
+au da' cious
+sac ri le' gious
+
+
+
+LEGEND OF THE WAXEN CIBORIUM.
+
+
+       A summer night in Remy--strokes of the midnight bell,
+       Like drops of molten silver, athwart the silence fell,
+       Where 'mid the misty meadows, the circling crystal streams,
+       A little village slumber'd,--locked in quiet dreams.
+
+       A lily, green-embower'd, beside a mossy wood,
+       With golden cross uplifted, the small white chapel stood,
+       But in that solemn hour, the light of moon and star
+       Upon its portal shining, revealed the door ajar!
+
+       And lo! into the midnight, with noiseless feet, there ran
+       From out the sacred shadows, a mask'd and muffl'd man,
+       Who bore beneath his mantle, with sacrilegious hold,
+       The Victim of the altar within Its vase of gold!
+
+       To right--to left,--he faltered; then swift across the sward,
+       (Like dusky demon fleeing), he bore the Hidden Lord;
+       By mere and moonlit meadow his rapid passage sped,
+       Till, at an open wicket, he paused with bended head.
+
+       Behold! a grassy terrace,--a garden, wide and fair,
+       And, 'mid the wealth of roses, a beehive nestling there.
+       Across the flow'ring trellis, the villain cast his cloak,
+       Upon the jeweled chalice, the moonbeams, sparkling, broke!
+
+       O sacrilegious fingers! your work was quickly done!
+       Within the hive (audacious!) he thrust the Holy One,
+       Then gath'ring up his mantle to hide the treasure bright--
+       Plunged back into the darkness, and vanish'd in the night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Forth in the summer morning, full of the sun and breeze,
+       Into his dewy garden, walks the master of the bees.
+       All silent stands the beehive,--no little buzzing things
+       Among the flowers, flutter, on brown and golden wings.
+
+       Untasted lies the honey within the roses' hearts,--
+       The master paces nearer,--he listens--lo! he starts,
+       What sounds of rapturous singing! O heaven! all alive
+       With strange angelic music, is that celestial hive!
+
+       Upon his knees adoring, the master, weeping, sees
+       Within a honeyed cloister, the Chalice of the bees;
+       For lo! the little creatures have reared a waxen shrine,
+       Wherein reposes safely the Sacred Host Divine!...
+
+       O little ones, who listen unto this legend old
+       (Upon my shoulder blending your locks of brown and gold),
+       From out the hands of sinners whose hearts are foul to see,
+       Behold! the dear Lord Jesus appeals to you and me.
+
+       He says: "O loving children! within your hearts prepare
+       A hive of honeyed sweetness where I may nestle fair;
+       Make haste, O pure affections! to welcome Me therein,
+       Out of the world's bright gardens, out of the groves of Sin.
+
+       "And in the night of sorrow (sweet sorrow), like the bees,
+       Around My Heart shall hover your winged ministries,
+       And while ye toil, the angels shall, softly singing come
+       To worship Me, the Captive of Love's Ciborium!"
+
+
+
+_Eleanor C. Donnelly._
+
+From "The Children of the Golden Sheaf." Published by P.C. Donnelly.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+MERE, a waste place; a marsh.
+
+TRELLIS, a frame of latticework.
+
+WAXEN, made of wax. _en_ is here a suffix meaning _made of._ Use
+_golden, leaden, wooden,_ in sentences of your own.
+
+Synonyms are words which have very nearly the same meaning. What does
+_revealed_ mean? _cloister_? Find as many synonyms of these two words as
+you can. Consult your dictionary.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_62_
+
+
+stalked
+ep'au lets
+be hind' hand
+se date'
+trudg' ing
+com pos' ed ly
+fid' dler
+strut' ted
+ap pro ba' tion
+re sumed'
+af firmed'
+dis a gree' a ble
+whith er so ev' er
+
+
+
+LITTLE DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY.
+
+
+Daffy-down-dilly was so called because in his nature he resembled a
+flower, and loved to do only what was beautiful and agreeable, and took
+no delight in labor of any kind. But, while Daffy-down-dilly was yet a
+little boy, his mother sent him away from his pleasant home, and put him
+under the care of a very strict schoolmaster, who went by the name of
+Mr. Toil. Those who knew him best, affirmed that this Mr. Toil was a
+very worthy character, and that he had done more good, both to children
+and grown people, than anybody else in the world. Nevertheless, Mr. Toil
+had a severe countenance; his voice, too, was harsh; and all his ways
+seemed very disagreeable to our friend Daffy-down-dilly.
+
+The whole day long, this terrible old schoolmaster sat at his desk,
+overlooking the pupils, or stalked about the room with a certain awful
+birch rod in his hand. Now came a rap over the shoulders of a boy whom
+Mr. Toil had caught at play; now he punished a whole class who were
+behindhand with their lessons; and, in short, unless a lad chose to
+attend constantly to his book, he had no chance of enjoying a quiet
+moment in the schoolroom of Mr. Toil.
+
+"I can't bear it any longer," said Daffy-down-dilly to himself, when he
+had been at school about a week. "I'll run away, and try to find my dear
+mother; at any rate, I shall never find anybody half so disagreeable as
+this old Mr. Toil." So, the very next morning, off started poor
+Daffy-down-dilly, and began his rambles about the world, with only some
+bread and cheese for his breakfast, and very little pocket money to pay
+his expenses. But he had gone only a short distance, when he overtook a
+man of grave and sedate appearance, who was trudging along the road at a
+moderate pace.
+
+"Good-morning, my fine little lad," said the stranger; "whence do you
+come so early, and whither are you going?" Daffy-down-dilly hesitated a
+moment or two, but finally confessed that he had run away from school,
+on account of his great dislike to Mr. Toil; and that he was resolved to
+find some place in the world where he should never see nor hear of the
+old schoolmaster again. "Very well, my little friend," answered the
+stranger, "we will go together; for I, also, have had a great deal to do
+with Mr. Toil, and should be glad to find some place where his name was
+never heard."
+
+They had not gone far, when they passed a field where some haymakers
+were at work, mowing down the tall grass, and spreading it out in the
+sun to dry. Daffy-down-dilly was delighted with the sweet smell of the
+new-mown grass, and thought how much pleasanter it must be to make hay
+in the sunshine, under the blue sky, and with the birds singing sweetly
+in the neighboring trees and bushes, than to be shut up in a dismal
+schoolroom, learning lessons all day long, and continually scolded by
+Mr. Toil.
+
+But, in the midst of these thoughts, while he was stopping to peep over
+the stone wall, he started back, caught hold of his companion's hand,
+and cried, "Quick, quick! Let us run away, or he will catch us!"
+
+"Who will catch us?" asked the stranger.
+
+"Mr. Toil, the old schoolmaster!" answered Daffy-down-dilly. "Don't you
+see him among the haymakers?"
+
+"Don't be afraid," said the stranger. "This is not Mr. Toil, the
+schoolmaster, but a brother of his, who was bred a farmer; and people
+say he is the more disagreeable man of the two. However, he won't
+trouble you, unless you become a laborer on the farm."
+
+They went on a little farther, and soon heard the sound of a drum and
+fife. Daffy-down-dilly besought his companion to hurry forward, that
+they might not miss seeing the soldiers.
+
+"Quick step! Forward march!" shouted a gruff voice.
+
+Little Daffy-down-dilly started in great dismay; and, turning his eyes
+to the captain of the company, what should he see but the very image of
+old Mr. Toil himself, with a smart cap and feather on his head, a pair
+of gold epaulets on his shoulders, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword, instead of a birch rod, in his
+hand! Though he held his head high and strutted like a rooster, still he
+looked quite as ugly and disagreeable as when he was hearing lessons in
+the schoolroom.
+
+"This is certainly old Mr. Toil," said Daffy-down-dilly, in a trembling
+voice. "Let us run away, for fear he will make us enlist in his
+company!"
+
+"You are mistaken again, my little friend," replied the stranger, very
+composedly. "This is not Mr. Toil, the schoolmaster, but a brother of
+his, who has served in the army all his life. People say he's a very
+severe fellow, but you and I need not be afraid of him."
+
+"Well, well," said Daffy-down-dilly, "but, if you please, sir, I don't
+want to see the soldiers any more."
+
+So the child and the stranger resumed their journey; and, by and by,
+they came to a house by the roadside, where some people were making
+merry. Young men and rosy-cheeked girls, with smiles on their faces,
+were dancing to the sound of a fiddle.
+
+"Let us stop here," cried Daffy-down-dilly to his companion; "for Mr.
+Toil will never dare to show his face where there is a fiddler, and
+where people are dancing and making merry. We shall be quite safe here."
+
+But these last words died away upon Daffy-down-dilly's tongue, for,
+happening to cast his eyes on the fiddler, whom should he behold again,
+but the likeness of Mr. Toil, holding a fiddle bow instead of a birch
+rod.
+
+"Oh, dear!" whispered he, turning pale, "it seems as if there was nobody
+but Mr. Toil in the world. Who could have thought of his playing on a
+fiddle!"
+
+"This is not your old schoolmaster," said the stranger, "but another
+brother of his, who was bred in France, where he learned the profession
+of a fiddler. He is ashamed of his family, and generally calls himself
+Mr. Pleasure; but his real name is Toil, and those who have known him
+best, think him still more disagreeable than his brother."
+
+"Pray let us go a little farther," said Daffy-down-dilly. "I don't like
+the looks of this fiddler."
+
+Thus the stranger and little Daffy-down-dilly went wandering along the
+highway, and in shady lanes, and through pleasant villages; and,
+whithersoever they went, behold! there was the image of old Mr. Toil.
+
+He stood like a scarecrow in the cornfields. If they entered a house, he
+sat in the parlor; if they peeped into the kitchen, he was there. He
+made himself at home in every cottage, and, under one disguise or
+another, stole into the most splendid mansions.
+
+"Oh, take me back!--take me back!" said poor little Daffy-down-dilly,
+bursting into tears. "If there is nothing but Toil all the world over, I
+may just as well go back to the schoolhouse."
+
+"Yonder it is,--there is the schoolhouse!" said the stranger; for,
+though he and little Daffy-down-dilly had taken a great many steps, they
+had traveled in a circle, instead of a straight line. "Come; we will go
+back to school together."
+
+There was something in his companion's voice that little
+Daffy-down-dilly now remembered; and it is strange that he had not
+remembered it sooner. Looking up into his face, behold! there again was
+the likeness of old Mr. Toil; so the poor child had been in company with
+Toil all day, even while he was doing his best to run away from him.
+
+When Daffy-down-dilly became better acquainted with Mr. Toil, he began
+to think that his ways were not so very disagreeable, and that the old
+schoolmaster's smile of approbation made his face almost as pleasant as
+the face of his own dear mother.
+
+_Nathaniel Hawthorne._
+
+
+"Little Daffy-down-dilly and Other Stories." Houghton, Mifflin & Co.,
+Publishers.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+How will the following sentences read if you change the name-words from
+the singular to the plural form: The old schoolmaster has a rod in his
+hand. The boy likes his teacher. The girl goes cheerfully on an errand
+for her mother. The pupil attends to his book, and knows his lesson
+perfectly. Under the blue sky, and while the bird was singing sweetly in
+tree and bush, the farmer was making hay in his meadow. The man won't
+trouble him unless he becomes a laborer on his farm. The captain had a
+smart cap and feather on his head, a laced coat on his back, a purple
+sash round his waist, and a long sword instead of a birch rod in his
+hand.
+
+From points furnished by your teacher, write a short composition on "Our
+School." Be careful as to spelling, capitals, punctuation, paragraphs,
+margin, penmanship, neatness and general appearance.
+
+
+Memory Gems:
+
+
+       Evil is wrought by want of thought,
+       As well as want of heart.
+
+
+_Hood._
+
+
+It is not where you are, but what you are, that determines your
+happiness.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_63_
+
+
+su' macs
+char' coal
+of fi' cial
+fres' coes
+in i' tial
+rest' less ly
+
+
+
+IN SCHOOL DAYS
+
+
+       Still sits the schoolhouse by the road,
+         A ragged beggar sunning;
+       Around it still the sumacs grow
+         And blackberry vines are running.
+
+       Within, the master's desk is seen,
+         Deep scarred by raps official;
+       The warping floor, the battered seats,
+         The jackknife's carved initial;
+
+       The charcoal frescoes on its wall;
+         Its door's worn sill, betraying
+       The feet that, creeping slow to school,
+         Went storming out to playing!
+
+       Long years ago a winter sun
+         Shone over it at setting;
+       Lit up its western window-panes,
+         And low eaves' icy fretting.
+
+       It touched the tangled golden curls,
+         And brown eyes full of grieving,
+       Of one who still her steps delayed
+         When all the school were leaving.
+
+       For near her stood the little boy
+         Her childish favor singled;
+       His cap pulled low upon a face
+         Where pride and shame were mingled.
+
+       Pushing with restless feet the snow
+         To right and left, he lingered;
+       As restlessly her tiny hands
+         The blue-checked apron fingered.
+
+       He saw her lift her eyes; he felt
+         The soft hand's light caressing,
+       And heard the tremble of her voice,
+         As if a fault confessing:
+
+       "I'm sorry that I spelt the word;
+         I hate to go above you,
+       Because,"--the brown eyes lower fell,--
+         "Because, you see, I love you!"
+
+       Still memory to a gray-haired man
+         That sweet child-face is showing.
+       Dear girl! the grasses on her grave
+         Have forty years been growing!
+
+       He lives to learn, in life's hard school,
+         How few who pass above him
+       Lament their triumph and his loss,
+         Like her,--because they love him.
+
+
+_Whittier._
+
+
+From "Child Life in Poetry." Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Publishers.
+
+
+[Illustration: _John G. Whittier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_64_
+
+
+Mars
+so' lar (ler)
+Ve' nus
+plan' ets
+Mer' cu ry
+di am' e ter
+com' pass es
+sat' el lite
+tel' e scope
+grad' u al ly
+in' ter est ing
+cir cum' fer ence
+
+
+
+THE SUN'S FAMILY
+
+
+"Please tell me a story, Frank" said Philip, as the two boys sat in the
+shade of a large tree.
+
+"I have heard and read many wonderful stories. I will try to recall
+one," said Frank.
+
+"Let me see. Well--perhaps--I think that the most wonderful story I have
+ever read is that of the solar system, or the sun's family."
+
+"Solar system!" repeated Philip. "That certainly sounds hard enough to
+puzzle even a fairy. Please tell me all about it."
+
+"That I should find much too hard" answered Frank. "But I'll try to tell
+you what little I know. You see the sun there, don't you--the great
+shining sun? Do you think the sun moves?"
+
+"Of course it moves," said Philip. "I always see it in the morning when
+I am in the garden. It rises first above the bushes, then over the trees
+and houses; by evening it has traveled across the sky, when it sinks
+below the houses and trees, out of sight on the other side of the town."
+
+"Now that is quite a mistake," said Frank, "You think that the sun is
+traveling all that way along the sky, whereas it is really we--we on
+this big ball of earth--who are moving. We are whirling around on the
+outer surface, rushing on at the rate--let me think--at the rate of more
+than one thousand miles a minute!"
+
+"Frank, what do you mean?" cried Philip.
+
+"I mean that the earth is moving many times faster than a ball moves
+when shot from the mouth of a cannon!"
+
+"Do you expect me to believe that, Frank! I can hardly believe that this
+big, solid earth moves at all; but to think of it with all the cities,
+towns, and people whirling round and round faster than a ball from the
+mouth of a cannon, while we never feel that it stirs one inch,--this is
+much harder to believe than all that the fairies have ever told us."
+
+"Yes, but it is quite true for all that," replied Frank.
+
+"I have learned much about the motions of the planets, and viewed the
+stars one night through a telescope. As I looked through this
+instrument, the stars appeared to me much larger than ever before. The
+earth is a planet, and there are besides our earth seven large planets
+and many small ones, which also whirl around the sun. Some of these
+planets are larger than our world. Some of them also move much faster.
+
+"The sun is in the middle with the planets moving around him. The one
+nearest to the sun is Mercury."
+
+"It must be hot there!" cried Philip.
+
+"I dare say that if we were in Mercury we should be scorched to ashes;
+but if creatures live on that planet, God has given them a different
+nature from ours, so that they may enjoy what would be dreadful to us.
+
+"The next planet to Mercury is Venus. Venus is sometimes seen shining so
+bright after sunset; then she is called the evening star. Some of the
+time, a little before sunrise, she may be seen in the east; she is then
+called the morning star.
+
+"Venus can never be an evening star and a morning star at the same time
+of the year. If you are watching her this evening before or after
+sundown, there is no use getting up early to-morrow to look for her
+again. For several weeks Venus remains an evening star, then gradually
+disappears. Two months later you may see her in the east--a bright
+morning star.
+
+"Our earth is the third planet, and Mars is the fourth from the sun. Now
+let us make a drawing of what we have been talking about.
+
+"First open the compasses one inch; describe a circle, and make a dot on
+its circumference, naming it Mercury. Write on this circle eighty-eight
+days; this shows the time it takes Mercury to travel around the sun.
+Make another circle three and one-half inches in diameter and make a dot
+on it. This represents Venus. It takes Venus two hundred twenty-five
+days to journey around the sun.
+
+"The next circle we have to draw is a very interesting one to us. The
+compasses must be opened two and one-half inches. The path made
+represents the journey we take in three hundred sixty-five days.
+
+"One more circle must be drawn to complete our little plan. This circle
+must be eight inches in diameter. You see Mars is much farther from the
+sun than our earth is. It takes him six hundred eighty-seven days to
+make the trip around the sun. The other planets are too far away to be
+put in this plan."
+
+"O, Frank, you have missed the biggest of all--the moon!" said Philip.
+
+"O, no, no!" exclaimed Frank. "The moon is quite a little ball. It is
+less than seven thousand miles around her, while our earth is
+twenty-five thousand miles around."
+
+"Is that a little ball, Frank?"
+
+"Yes, compared with the sun and the planets. The moon is what is called
+a satellite--that is, a servant or an attendant. She is a satellite of
+our earth. She keeps circling round and round our earth, while we go
+circling round and round the sun.
+
+"How fast the moon must travel! If I were to go rushing round a field,
+and a bird should keep flying around my head, you see that the movements
+of the bird would be much quicker than mine."
+
+"I can't understand it, Frank," said Philip. "The moon always looks so
+quiet in the sky. If she is darting about like lightning, why is it that
+she scarcely seems to move more than an inch in ten minutes?"
+
+"I suppose," said Frank, after a thoughtful silence, "that what to us
+seems an inch in the sky is really many miles. You know how very fast
+the steam cars seem to go when one is quite near them, yet I have seen a
+train of cars far off which seemed to go so slowly that I could fancy it
+was painted on the sky."
+
+"Yes, that must be the reason; but how do people find out these curious
+things about the sun and the stars--to know how large they are and how
+fast they go?" asked Philip.
+
+"That is something we shall understand when we are older," said Frank.
+"We must gain a little knowledge every day."
+
+"Is the earth the only planet that has a moon?" asked Philip.
+
+"Mercury and Venus have no moons. Mars has two, and Jupiter has four,
+but we can see them only when we look through a telescope." replied
+Frank.
+
+"Are all the twinkling stars which one sees on a fine clear night,
+planets?" inquired Philip.
+
+"Those that twinkle are not planets; they are fixed stars," said Frank.
+"A planet does not twinkle. It has no light of its own. It shines just
+as the moon shines, because the sun gives it light."
+
+"But our earth does not shine!" said Philip.
+
+"Indeed it does," explained Frank. "Our earth appears to Venus and Mars
+as a shining planet."
+
+"There must be many more fixed stars than planets, then, for almost
+every star that I can see twinkles and sparkles like a diamond. Do these
+fixed stars all go around the sun?" asked Philip.
+
+"O, Philip! haven't you noticed that they are called fixed stars to show
+that they do not move like planets? The word _planet_ means to _wander._
+These fixed stars are suns themselves, which may have planets of their
+own. They are so very far away that we cannot know much about them,
+except that they shine of themselves just as our sun does.
+
+"We know that our sun gives light and heat to the planets and satellites
+with which he is surrounded. We know that without his warm rays there
+would not be any flowers or birds or any living thing on the earth. So
+we can easily imagine that all other suns are shining in the same way
+for the worlds that surround them."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Make a drawing of the sun and the three planets nearest it, as directed
+in the lesson.
+
+Fill each blank space in the following sentences with the correct form
+of the action-word _draw_:
+
+
+My boys like to --.
+
+Yesterday they -- the picture of an old mill.
+
+They are now -- a picture of the solar system.
+
+The lines on the blackboard were -- by John.
+He -- well.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_65_
+
+
+dew' y
+clos'es
+ca ress'
+twined
+wreaths
+weath'er
+brook' let
+togeth'er
+
+
+
+WILL AND I
+
+
+       We roam the hills together,
+       In the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       And the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         Through the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Where the tinkling brooklet passes
+       Through the heart of dewy grasses,
+                 Will and I
+       Have heard the mock-bird singing,
+       And the field lark seen upspringing,
+         In his happy flight afar,
+         Like a tiny winged star--
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Amid cool forest closes,
+       We have plucked the wild wood-roses,
+                 Will and I;
+       And have twined, with tender duty,
+       Sweet wreaths to crown the beauty
+         Of the purest brows that shine
+         With a mother-love divine,
+                 Will and I.
+
+       Ah! thus we roam together,
+       Through the golden summer weather,
+                 Will and I;
+       While the glowing sunbeams bless us,
+       And the winds of heaven caress us,
+         As we wander hand in hand
+         O'er the blissful summer land,
+                 Will and I.
+
+
+_Paul H. Hayne._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CLOSES, small inclosed fields.
+
+Write about what you and Will _saw, heard,_ and _did,_ as you roamed
+together over the hills, through the woods, along the brooklet, on a
+certain bright, clear day in early summer. You are a country boy and
+Will is your city cousin. If you begin your composition by saying, "It
+was a beautiful afternoon towards the end of June," keep the image of
+the day in mind till the end of the paragraph; tell what _made_ the day
+beautiful,--such as the sun, the sky, the trees, the grass. In other
+paragraphs tell the things you saw and heard in the order in which you
+saw and heard them. Give a paragraph to what you did in the "closes" of
+the cool forest, and why you plucked the wild flowers. Conclude by
+telling what a pleasant surprise you gave mother on your return home;
+and how she surprised you two hungry boys during supper.
+
+In your composition, use as many of the words and phrases of the poem as
+you can.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_66_
+
+
+themes
+her' e sy
+ramp' ant
+a chieved'
+es cort ed
+po ta'toes
+trem' u lous
+lux u' ri ous
+cre du' li ty
+in cred' i ble
+phe nom' e non
+pre ma ture' ly
+
+
+
+CHRISTMAS DINNER AT THE CRATCHITS'.
+
+
+[Illustration: Tiny Tim and Bob Cratchit.]
+
+Then up rose Mrs. Cratchit, dressed out but poorly in a twice-turned
+gown, but brave in ribbons, which are cheap; and she laid the cloth,
+assisted by Belinda Cratchit, second of her daughters, also brave in
+ribbons; while Master Peter Cratchit plunged a fork into the saucepan of
+potatoes, and getting the corners of his monstrous shirt-collar (Bob's
+private property, conferred upon his son and heir in honor of the day)
+into his mouth, rejoiced to find himself so gallantly attired. And now
+two smaller Cratchits, boy and girl, came tearing in, screaming that
+outside the baker's they had smelt the goose, and known it for their
+own; and, basking in luxurious thoughts of sage and onions, they danced
+about the table, and exalted Master Peter Cratchit to the skies, while
+he (not proud, although his collar nearly choked him) blew the fire,
+until the potatoes, bubbling up, knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to
+be let out and peeled.
+
+"What has ever kept your precious father, then?" said Mrs. Cratchit.
+"And your brother, Tiny Tim? And Martha wasn't as late last Christmas
+Day by half an hour!"
+
+"Here's Martha, mother!" cried the two young Cratchits. "Hurrah! There's
+_such_ a goose, Martha!"
+
+"Why, bless your heart alive, my dear, how late you are!" said Mrs.
+Cratchit, kissing her a dozen times, and taking off her shawl and bonnet
+for her with officious zeal.
+
+"We'd a deal of work to finish up last night, and had to clear away this
+morning, mother!"
+
+"Well, never mind so long as you are come," said Mrs. Cratchit. "Sit ye
+down before the fire, my dear, and have a warm, Lord bless ye!"
+
+"No, no! There's father coming," cried the two young Cratchits, who were
+everywhere at once. "Hide, Martha, hide!"
+
+So Martha hid herself, and in came the father, with at least three feet
+of comforter, exclusive of the fringe, hanging down before him; and his
+threadbare clothes darned up and brushed, to look seasonable; and Tiny
+Tim upon his shoulder. Alas for Tiny Tim, he bore a little crutch, and
+had his limb supported by an iron frame.
+
+"Why, where's our Martha?" cried Bob Cratchit, looking round.
+
+"Not coming," said Mrs. Cratchit.
+
+"Not coming!" said Bob, with a sudden declension in his high spirits;
+for he had been Tim's blood-horse all the way from church, and had come
+home rampant. "Not coming upon Christmas Day!"
+
+Martha didn't like to see him disappointed, if it were only in joke; so
+she came out prematurely from behind the closet door, and ran into his
+arms, while the two young Cratchits hustled Tiny Tim, and bore him off
+to the wash-house, that he might hear the pudding singing in the copper.
+
+"And how did little Tim behave?" asked Mrs. Cratchit, when she had
+rallied Bob on his credulity, and Bob had hugged his daughter to his
+heart's content.
+
+"As good as gold," said Bob, "and better. Somehow he gets thoughtful,
+sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest things you ever
+heard. He told me, coming home, that he hoped the people saw him in the
+church, because he was a cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to
+remember, upon Christmas Day, who made lame beggars walk and blind men
+see."
+
+Bob's voice was tremulous when he told them this, and trembled more when
+he said that Tiny Tim was growing strong and hearty.
+
+His active little crutch was heard upon the floor, and back came Tiny
+Tim before another word was spoken, escorted by his brother and sister
+to his stool beside the fire; and while Bob compounded some hot mixture
+in a jug, and put it on the hob to simmer, Master Peter and the two
+ubiquitous young Cratchits went to fetch the goose, with which they soon
+returned in high procession.
+
+Such a bustle ensued that you might have thought a goose the rarest of
+all birds; a feathered phenomenon, to which a black swan was a matter of
+course--and in truth it was something very like it in that house. Mrs.
+Cratchit made the gravy hissing hot; Master Peter mashed the potatoes
+with incredible vigor; Miss Belinda sweetened up the apple sauce; Martha
+dusted the hot plates; Bob took Tiny Tim beside him in a tiny corner at
+the table; the two young Cratchits set chairs for everybody, not
+forgetting themselves, and, mounting guard upon their posts, crammed
+spoons into their mouths, lest they should shriek for goose before their
+turn came to be helped. At last the dishes were set on, and grace was
+said. It was succeeded by a breathless pause, as Mrs. Cratchit, looking
+slowly all along the carving knife, prepared to plunge it in the breast;
+but when she did, and when the long-expected gush of stuffing issued
+forth, one murmur of delight arose all round the board, and even Tiny
+Tim, excited by the two young Cratchits, beat on the table with the
+handle of his knife, and feebly cried Hurrah!
+
+Bob said he didn't believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its
+tenderness and flavor, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal
+admiration. Eked out by apple sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a
+sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said
+with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish),
+they hadn't eaten it all at last! Yet every one had had enough, and the
+youngest Cratchits in particular were steeped in sage and onion to the
+eyebrows! But now, the plates being changed by Miss Belinda, Mrs.
+Cratchit left the room alone--too nervous to bear witnesses--to take the
+pudding up and bring it in.
+
+Suppose it should not be done enough! Suppose it should break in turning
+out! Suppose somebody should have got over the wall of the backyard and
+stolen it, while they were merry with the goose--a supposition at which
+the two young Cratchits became livid. All sorts of horrors were
+supposed.
+
+Halloa! A great deal of steam! The pudding was out of the copper. A
+smell like a washing day! That was the cloth. A smell like an eating
+house and a pastry cook's next door to each other, with a laundress's
+next door to that! That was the pudding! In half a minute Mrs. Cratchit
+entered--flushed, but smiling proudly--with the pudding like a speckled
+cannon ball, so hard and firm, smoking hot, and bedight with Christmas
+holly stuck into the top.
+
+Oh, a wonderful pudding! Bob Cratchit said, and calmly too, that he
+regarded it as the greatest success achieved by Mrs. Cratchit since
+their marriage. Mrs. Cratchit said that, now the weight was off her
+mind, she would confess she had her doubts about the quantity of flour.
+Everybody had something to say about it, but nobody said or thought it
+was at all a small pudding for so large a family. It would have been
+flat heresy to do so. Any Cratchit would have blushed to hint at such a
+thing.
+
+At last the dinner was all done, the cloth was cleared, the hearth
+swept, and the fire made up. The compound in the jug being tasted, and
+considered perfect, apples and oranges were put upon the table, and a
+shovelful of chestnuts on the fire. Then all the Cratchit family drew
+round the hearth in what Bob Cratchit called a circle, meaning half a
+one; and at Bob Cratchit's elbow stood the family display of glass,--two
+tumblers and a custard cup without a handle.
+
+These held the hot stuff from the jug, however, as well as golden
+goblets would have done; and Bob served it out with beaming looks, while
+the chestnuts on the fire sputtered and cracked noisily. Then Bob
+proposed: "A Merry Christmas to us all, my dears. God bless us!"
+
+Which all the family re[:e]choed.
+
+"God bless us every one!" said Tiny Tim, the last of all.
+
+He sat very close to his father's side, upon his little stool. Bob held
+his withered little hand in his, as if he loved the child, and wished to
+keep him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from him.
+
+_Charles Dickens._
+
+[Illustration: Portrait of Dickens.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DECLENSION, a falling downward.
+
+COPPER, a boiler made of copper.
+
+RALLIED, indulged in pleasant humor.
+
+UBIQUITOUS (u b[)i]k' w[)i] t[)u]s), appearing to be everywhere at
+the same time.
+
+EKED OUT, added to; increased.
+
+BEDIGHT, bedecked; adorned.
+
+RE[:E]CHOED (reechoed): What is the mark placed over the second _e_ called,
+and what does it denote?
+
+
+NOTE.--"A Christmas Carol," from which the selection is taken, is
+considered the best short story that Dickens wrote, and one of the best
+Christmas stories ever written. The Cratchits were very poor as to the
+goods of this world, but very rich in love, kindness, and contentment.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_67_
+
+
+
+WHICH SHALL IT BE?
+
+
+       Which shall it be? Which shall it be?
+       I looked at John, John looked at me;
+       And when I found that I must speak,
+       My voice seemed strangely low and weak:
+       "Tell me again what Robert said,"
+       And then I, listening, bent my head--
+       This is his letter: "I will give
+       A house and land while you shall live,
+       If in return from out your seven
+       One child to me for aye is given."
+
+       I looked at John's old garments worn;
+       I thought of all that he had borne
+       Of poverty, and work, and care,
+       Which I, though willing, could not share;
+       I thought of seven young mouths to feed,
+       Of seven little children's need,
+             And then of this.
+
+             "Come, John," said I,
+       "We'll choose among them as they lie
+       Asleep."  So, walking hand in hand,
+       Dear John and I surveyed our band:
+       First to the cradle lightly stepped,
+       Where Lilian, the baby, slept.
+       Softly the father stooped to lay
+       His rough hand down in loving way,
+       When dream or whisper made her stir,
+       And huskily he said: "Not her!"
+
+       We stooped beside the trundle-bed,
+       And one long ray of lamplight shed
+       Athwart the boyish faces there,
+       In sleep so pitiful and fair;
+       I saw on Jamie's rough, red cheek
+       A tear undried. Ere John could speak,
+       "He's but a baby too," said I,
+       And kissed him as we hurried by.
+       Pale, patient Robbie's angel face
+       Still in his sleep bore suffering's trace--
+       "No, for a thousand crowns, not him!"
+       He whispered, while our eyes were dim.
+
+       Poor Dick! bad Dick, our wayward son--
+       Turbulent, restless, idle one--
+       Could he be spared? Nay, He who gave
+       Bade us befriend him to the grave;
+       Only a mother's heart could be
+       Patient enough for such as he;
+       "And so," said John, "I would not dare
+       To take him from her bedside prayer."
+
+       Then stole we softly up above,
+       And knelt by Mary, child of love;
+       "Perhaps for her 'twould better be,"
+       I said to John. Quite silently
+       He lifted up a curl that lay
+       Across her cheek in wilful way,
+       And shook his head: "Nay, love, not thee,"
+       The while my heart beat audibly.
+
+       Only one more, our eldest lad,
+       Trusty and truthful, good and glad,
+       So like his father. "No, John, no!
+       I cannot, will not, let him go."
+       And so we wrote in courteous way,
+       We could not give one child away;
+       And afterwards toil lighter seemed,
+       Thinking of that of which we dreamed,
+       Happy in truth that not one face
+       Was missed from its accustomed place,
+       Thankful to work for all the seven,
+       Trusting the rest to One in Heaven!
+
+
+_Anonymous_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Write the story of the poem in the form of a composition. Tell of the
+great affection of parents for their children. Even in the poorest and
+most numerous families, what parent could think of parting with a child
+for any sum of money?
+
+Tell about the letter John and his wife received from a rich man without
+children who wished to adopt one of their seven. Tell about the offer
+the rich man made. What a great temptation this was!
+
+The parents considered the offer, looked into each other's faces and
+asked, "Which shall it be?" Not the baby. Why? Not the two youngest
+boys. Why? Not the poor helpless little cripple. Why? Not the sweet
+child, Mary. Why? Not Dick, the wayward son. Why? Not, for worlds, the
+oldest boy. Why?
+
+Tell the answer the parents sent the rich man.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_68_
+
+
+Dor'o thy
+in her'it ance
+Cap pa do' ci a
+ob' sti na cy
+The oph' i lus
+ex e cu' tion ers
+
+
+
+ST. DOROTHY, MARTYR
+
+
+The names of St. Catherine and St. Agnes, St. Lucy and St. Cecilia, are
+familiar to us all; and to many of us, no doubt, their histories are
+well known also. Young as they were, they despised alike the pleasures
+and the flatteries of the world. They chose God alone as their portion
+and inheritance; and He has highly exalted them, and placed their names
+amongst those glorious martyrs whose memory is daily honored in the holy
+Sacrifice of the Mass.
+
+St. Dorothy was another of these virgin saints. She was born in the city
+of Caesarea, and was descended of a rich and noble family. While the last
+of the ten terrible persecutions, which for three hundred years steeped
+the Church in the blood of martyrs, was raging, Dorothy embraced the
+faith of Christ, and, in consequence, was seized and carried before the
+Roman Prefect of the city.
+
+She was put to the most cruel tortures, and, at length, condemned to
+death. When the executioners were preparing to behead her, the Prefect
+said, "Now, at least, confess your folly, and pray to the immortal gods
+for pardon."
+
+"I pray," replied the martyr, "that the God of heaven and earth may
+pardon and have mercy on you; and I will also pray when I reach the land
+whither I am going."
+
+"Of what land do you speak?" asked the judge, who, like most of the
+pagans, had very little notion of another world.
+
+"I speak of that land where Christ, the Son of God, dwells with his
+saints," replied St. Dorothy. "_There_ is neither night nor sorrow;
+_there_ is the river of life, and the brightness of eternal glory; and
+_there_ is a paradise of all delight, and flowers that shall never
+fade."
+
+"I pray you, then," said a young man, named Theophilus, who was
+listening to her words with pity mingled with wonder, "if these things
+be so, to send me some of those flowers, when you shall have reached the
+land you speak of."
+
+Dorothy looked at him as he spoke; and then answered: "Theophilus, you
+shall have the sign you ask for." There was no time for more; the
+executioner placed her before the block, and, in another moment, with
+one blow, he struck off the head of the holy martyr.
+
+"Those were strange words," said Theophilus to one of his friends, as
+they were about to leave the court; "but these Christians are not like
+other people." "Their obstinacy is altogether surprising," rejoined his
+friend; "death itself will never make them waver. But who is this,
+Theophilus?" he continued, as a young boy came up to them, of such
+singular beauty that the eyes of all were fixed upon him with wonder and
+admiration. He seemed not more than ten years old; his golden hair fell
+on his shoulders, and in his hand he bore four roses, two white and two
+red, and of so brilliant a color and rich a fragrance that their like
+had never before been seen. He held them out to Theophilus. "These
+flowers are for you," said he; "will you not take them?" "And whence do
+you bring them, my boy?" asked Theophilus. "From Dorothy," he replied,
+"and they are the sign you even now asked for." "Roses, and in winter
+time!" said Theophilus, as he took the flowers; "yea, and such roses as
+never blossomed in any earthly garden. Prefect, your task is not yet
+ended; your sword has slain one Christian, but it has made another; I,
+too, profess the faith for which Dorothy died."
+
+Within another hour, Theophilus was condemned to death by the enraged
+Prefect; and on the spot where Dorothy had been beheaded, he too poured
+forth his blood, and obtained the crown of martyrdom.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CAESAREA (s[)e]s [.a] r[=e]' [.a]), an ancient city of Palestine. It
+is celebrated as being the scene of many events recorded in the New
+Testament.
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+       Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.
+
+
+_A line from Lowell's "0de."_
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_69_
+
+
+
+TO A BUTTERFLY.
+
+
+       I've watched you now a full half hour
+       Self-poised upon that yellow flower;
+       And, little butterfly, indeed
+       I know not if you sleep or feed.
+       How motionless!--not frozen seas
+         More motionless!--and then
+       What joy awaits you, when the breeze
+       Hath found you out among the trees,
+         And calls you forth again!
+
+       This plot of orchard ground is ours;
+       My trees they are, my sister's flowers;
+       Here rest your wings when they are weary;
+       Here lodge as in a sanctuary!
+       Come often to us, fear no wrong;
+         Sit near us on the bough!
+       We'll talk of sunshine and of song,
+       And summer days, when we were young;
+       Sweet childish days, that were as long
+         As twenty days are now!
+
+
+_Wordsworth_.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SELF-POISED, balanced.
+
+What is a sanctuary? In the Temple at Jerusalem, what was the Holy of
+Holies? Why are the sanctuaries of Catholic churches so supremely holy?
+
+Why are "sweet childish days" as long "As twenty days are now?"
+
+Tell what you know of the author's life.
+
+Memorize the poem.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_70_
+
+
+re tort' ed
+quizzed
+in cred' i ble
+man u fac' ture
+sat' ire
+vi o lin' ist
+com pre hend'
+me lo' di ous ly
+hu' mor
+ex hib' it
+a chieve' ments
+for' ests
+
+
+
+THE PEN AND THE INKSTAND.
+
+
+In the room of a poet, where his inkstand stood upon the table, it was
+said, "It is wonderful what can come out of an inkstand. What will the
+next thing be? It is wonderful!"
+
+"Yes, certainly," said the Inkstand. "It's extraordinary--that's what I
+always say," he exclaimed to the pen and to the other articles on the
+table that were near enough to hear. "It is wonderful what a number of
+things can come out of me. It's quite incredible. And I really don't
+myself know what will be the next thing, when that man begins to dip
+into me. One drop out of me is enough for half a page of paper; and what
+cannot be contained in half a page?
+
+"From me all the works of the poet go forth--all these living men, whom
+people can imagine they have met--all the deep feeling, the humor, the
+vivid pictures of nature. I myself don't understand how it is, for I am
+not acquainted with nature, but it certainly is in me. From me all
+things have gone forth, and from me proceed the troops of charming
+maidens, and of brave knights on prancing steeds, and all the lame and
+the blind, and I don't know what more--I assure you I don't think of
+anything."
+
+"There you are right," said the Pen; "you don't think at all; for if you
+did, you would comprehend that you only furnish the fluid. You give the
+fluid, that I may exhibit upon the paper what dwells in me, and what I
+would bring to the day. It is the pen that writes. No man doubts that;
+and, indeed, most people have about as much insight into poetry as an
+old inkstand."
+
+"You have but little experience," replied the Inkstand. "You've hardly
+been in service a week, and are already half worn out. Do you fancy you
+are the poet? You are only a servant; and before you came I had many of
+your sorts, some of the goose family, and others of English manufacture.
+I know the quill as well as the steel pen. Many have been in my service,
+and I shall have many more when _he_ comes--the man who goes through the
+motions for me, and writes down what he derives from me. I should like
+to know what will be the next thing he'll take out of me."
+
+"Inkpot!" exclaimed the Pen.
+
+Late in the evening the poet came home. He had been to a concert, where
+he had heard a famous violinist, with whose admirable performances he
+was quite enchanted. The player had drawn a wonderful wealth of tone
+from the instrument; sometimes it had sounded like tinkling water-drops,
+like rolling pearls, sometimes like birds twittering in chorus, and then
+again it went swelling on like the wind through the fir trees.
+
+The poet thought he heard his own heart weeping, but weeping
+melodiously, like the sound of woman's voice. It seemed as though not
+only the strings sounded, but every part of the instrument.
+
+It was a wonderful performance; and difficult as the piece was, the bow
+seemed to glide easily to and fro over the strings, and it looked as
+though every one might do it. The violin seemed to sound of itself, and
+the bow to move of itself--those two appeared to do everything; and the
+audience forgot the master who guided them and breathed soul and spirit
+into them. The master was forgotten; but the poet remembered him, and
+named him, and wrote down his thoughts concerning the subject:
+
+"How foolish it would be of the violin and the bow to boast of their
+achievements. And yet we men often commit this folly--the poet, the
+artist, the laborer in the domain of science, the general--we all do it.
+We are only the instruments which the Almighty uses: to Him alone be the
+honor! We have nothing of which we should be proud."
+
+Yes, that is what the poet wrote down. He wrote it in the form of a
+parable, which he called "The Master and the Instrument."
+
+"That is what you get, madam," said the Pen to the Inkstand, when the
+two were alone again. "Did you not hear him read aloud what I have
+written down?"
+
+"Yes, what I gave you to write," retorted the Inkstand. "That was a cut
+at you, because of your conceit. That you should not even have
+understood that you were being quizzed! I gave you a cut from within
+me--surely I must know my own satire!"
+
+"Ink-pipkin!" cried the Pen.
+
+"Writing-stick!" cried the Inkstand.
+
+And each of them felt a conviction that he had answered well; and it is
+a pleasing conviction to feel that one has given a good answer--a
+conviction on which one can sleep; and accordingly they slept upon it.
+But the poet did not sleep. Thoughts welled up from within him, like the
+tones from the violin, falling like pearls, rushing like the storm-wind
+through the forests. He understood his own heart in these thoughts, and
+caught a ray from the Eternal Master. To _Him_ be all the honor!
+
+_Hans Christian Andersen._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+PIPKIN, a small pipe; a small jar made of baked clay.
+
+Write as many synonyms as you know, or can find, of the words _vivid,
+exhibit, comprehend_. Consult the dictionary.
+
+What one word may you use instead of "laborer in the domain of science?"
+
+Seek in your dictionary the definition of the word _parable_. Relate one
+of our Lord's parables.
+
+By means of the prefixes and suffixes that you have learned, form as
+many words as you can from the following: man, do, late, loud, art,
+room, blind, easy, heart, humor, vivid, maiden, famous, service,
+furnished.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_71_
+
+
+
+THE WIND AND THE MOON.
+
+
+       Said the Wind to the Moon, "I will blow you out.
+              You stare in the air
+              Like a ghost in a chair,
+       Always looking what I am about,
+       I hate to be watched; I'll blow you out."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and out went the Moon.
+              So, deep on a heap
+              Of clouds, to sleep
+       Down lay the Wind and slumbered soon,
+       Muttering low, "I've done for that Moon."
+
+       He turned in his bed; she was there again!
+              On high in the sky,
+              With her one ghost eye,
+       The Moon shone white and alive and plain.
+       Said the Wind, "I will blow you out again."
+
+       The Wind blew hard, and the Moon grew dim.
+              "With my sledge and my wedge
+              I have knocked off her edge.
+       If only I blow right fierce and grim,
+       The creature will soon be dimmer than dim."
+
+       He blew and he blew, and she thinned to a thread:
+              "One puff more's enough
+              To blow her to snuff!
+       One good puff more where the last was bred,
+       And  glimmer, glimmer, glum, will go the thread."
+
+       He blew a great blast, and the thread was gone,
+              In the air nowhere
+              Was a moonbeam bare;
+       Far off and harmless the shy stars shone;
+       Sure and certain the Moon was gone!
+
+       The Wind he took to his revels once more;
+              On down, in town,
+              Like a merry-mad clown,
+       He leaped and holloed with whistle and roar,--
+       "What's that?" The glimmering thread once more!
+
+       He flew in a rage--he danced and he blew;
+              But in vain was the pain
+              Of his bursting brain;
+       For still the broader the moon-scrap grew,
+       The broader he swelled his big cheeks, and blew.
+
+       Slowly she grew, till she filled the night,
+              And shone on her throne
+              In the sky alone,
+       A matchless, wonderful, silvery light,
+       Radiant and lovely, the Queen of the Night.
+
+       Said the Wind: "What a marvel of power am I!
+              With my breath, good faith!
+              I blew her to death--
+       First blew her away right out of the sky,
+       Then blew her in; what a strength am I!"
+
+       But the Moon she knew nothing about the affair;
+              For, high in the sky,
+              With her one white eye,
+       Motionless, miles above the air,
+       She had never heard the great Wind blare.
+
+
+_George MacDonald._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+DOWN (7th stanza), a tract of sandy, hilly land near the sea.
+
+GLIMMER, fainter.
+
+GLUM, dark, gloomy.
+
+What is a suffix? What does the suffix _less_ mean? Define _cloudless,
+matchless, motionless._
+
+What class of people does Mr. Wind remind you of?
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_72_
+
+
+mi' ter
+can'on
+car' di nal
+dis course'
+di' a logue
+cour'te ous ly
+
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
+
+
+       St. Philip Neri, as old readings say,
+       Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day,
+       And being ever courteously inclined
+       To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
+       He fell into discourse with him, and thus
+       The dialogue they held comes down to us.
+
+       _Saint_.--Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome?
+       _Youth_.--To make myself a scholar, sir, I come.
+       _St_.--And when you are one, what do you intend?
+       _Y_.--To be a priest, I hope, sir, in the end.
+       _St_.--Suppose it so; what have you next in view?
+       _Y_.--That I may get to be a canon too.
+       _St_.--Well; and what then?
+       _Y_.--                       Why then, for aught I know,
+       I may be made a bishop.
+       _St_.--            Be it so,--
+                   What next?
+       _Y_.--             Why, cardinal's a high degree;
+       And yet my lot it possibly may be.
+       _St_.--Suppose it was; what then?
+       _Y_.--                             Why, who can say
+       But I've a chance of being pope one day?
+       _St_.--Well, having worn the miter and red hat,
+       And triple crown, what follows after that?
+
+       _Y_.--Nay, there is nothing further, to be sure,
+       Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
+       When I've enjoyed a dignity so high
+       As long as God shall please, then I must die.
+
+       _St_.--What! must you die? fond youth, and at the best,
+       But wish, and hope, and may be, all the rest!
+       Take my advice--whatever may betide,
+       For that which _must be_, first of all provide;
+       Then think  of that which _may be_; and indeed,
+       When well prepared, who knows what may succeed,
+       But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
+       Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.
+
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+ST. PHILIP NERI, born in Florence, Italy, in 1515. Went to Rome in
+1533, where he founded the "Priests of the Oratory," and where he died
+in 1595.
+
+TRIPLE CROWN, the tiara; the crown worn by our Holy Father, the
+Pope.
+
+Use correctly in sentences the words _canon, cannon, canon._
+
+
+NOTE.--It will prove interesting if one pupil reads the first six lines
+of the selection, and two others personate St. Philip and the Youth.
+
+The whole selection might be given from memory.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_73_
+
+
+mag' ic
+sta' mens
+de sert' ed
+pet' als
+pic' tures
+dis cour' aged
+liq' uid
+sat' is fied
+per se ver' ance
+
+
+
+THE WATER LILY.
+
+
+There was once a little boy who was very fond of pictures. There were
+not many pictures for him to look at, for he lived long ago near a great
+American forest. His father and mother had come from England, but his
+father was dead now. His mother was very poor, but there were still a
+few beautiful pictures on the walls of her house.
+
+The little boy liked to copy these pictures; but as he was not fond of
+work, he often threw his drawings away before they were half done. He
+said that he wished that some good fairy would finish them for him.
+
+"Child," said his mother, "I don't believe that there are any fairies. I
+never saw one, and your father never saw one. Mind your books, my child,
+and never mind the fairies."
+
+"Very well, mother," said the boy.
+
+"It makes me sad to see you stand looking at the pictures," said his
+mother another day, as she laid her hand on his curly head. "Why, child,
+pictures can't feed a body, pictures can't clothe a body, and a log of
+wood is far better to burn and warm a body."
+
+"All that is quite true, mother," said the boy.
+
+"Then why do you keep looking at them, child?" but the boy could only
+say, "I don't know, mother."
+
+"You don't know! Nor I, neither! Why, child, you look at the dumb things
+as if you loved them! Put on your cap and run out to play."
+
+So the boy wandered off into the forest till he came to the brink of a
+little sheet of water. It was too small to be called a lake; but it was
+deep and clear, and was overhung with tall trees. It was evening, and
+the sun was getting low. The boy stood still beside the water and
+thought how beautiful it was to see the sun, red and glorious, between
+the black trunks of the pine trees. Then he looked up at the great blue
+sky and thought how beautiful it was to see the little clouds folding
+over one another like a belt of rose-colored waves. Then he looked at
+the lake and saw the clouds and the sky and the trees all reflected
+there, down among the lilies.
+
+And he wished that he were a painter, for he said to himself, "I am sure
+there are no trees in the world with such beautiful leaves as these
+pines. I am sure there are no clouds in the world so lovely as these. I
+know this is the prettiest little lake in the world, and if I could
+paint it, every one else would know it, too."
+
+But he had nothing to paint with. So he picked a lily and sat down with
+it in his hand and tried very hard to make a correct drawing of it. But
+he could not make a very good picture. At last he threw down his drawing
+and said to the lily:
+
+"You are too beautiful to draw with a pencil. How I wish I were a
+painter!"
+
+As he said these words he felt the flower move. He looked, and the
+cluster of stamens at the bottom of the lily-cup glittered like a crown
+of gold. The dewdrops which hung upon the stamens changed to diamonds
+before his eyes. The white petals flowed together, and the next moment a
+beautiful little fairy stood on his hand. She was no taller than the
+lily from which she came, and she was dressed in a robe of the purest
+white.
+
+"Child, are you happy?" she asked.
+
+"No," said the boy in a low voice, "because I want to paint and I
+cannot."
+
+"How do you know that you cannot?" asked the fairy.
+
+"Oh, I have tried a great many times. It is of no use to try any more."
+
+"But I will help you."
+
+"Oh," said the boy. "Then I might succeed."
+
+"I heard your wish, and I am willing to help you," said the fairy. "I
+know a charm which will give you success. But you must do exactly as I
+tell you. Do you promise to obey?"
+
+"Spirit of a water lily!" said the boy, "I promise with all my heart."
+
+"Go home, then," said the fairy, "and you will find a little key on the
+doorstep. Take it up and carry it to the nearest pine tree; strike the
+trunk with it, and a keyhole will appear. Do not be afraid to unlock the
+door. Slip in your hand, and you will bring out a magic palette. You
+must be very careful to paint with colors from that palette every day.
+On this depends the success of the charm. You will find that it will
+make your pictures beautiful and full of grace.
+
+"If you do not break the spell, I promise you that in a few years you
+shall be able to paint this lily so well that you will be satisfied; and
+that you shall become a truly great painter."
+
+"Can it be possible?" said the boy. And the hand on which the fairy
+stood trembled for joy.
+
+"It shall be so, if only you do not break the charm," said the fairy.
+"But lest you forget what you owe to me, and as you grow older even
+begin to doubt that you have ever seen me, the lily you gathered to-day
+will never fade till my promise is fulfilled."
+
+The boy raised his eyes, and when he looked again there was nothing in
+his hand but the flower.
+
+He arose with the lily in his hand, and went home at once. There on the
+doorstep was the little key, and in the pine tree he found the magic
+palette. He was so delighted with it and so afraid that he might break
+the spell that he began to work that very night. After that he spent
+nearly all his time working with the magic palette. He often passed
+whole days beside the sheet of water in the forest. He painted it when
+the sun shone on it and it was spotted all over with the reflections of
+fleeting white clouds. He painted it covered with water lilies rocking
+on the ripples. He painted it by moonlight, when but two or three stars
+in the empty sky shone down upon it; and at sunset, when it lay
+trembling like liquid gold.
+
+So the years passed, and the boy grew to be a man. He had never broken
+the charm. The lily had never faded, and he still worked every day with
+his magic palette.
+
+But no one cared for his pictures. Even his mother did not like them.
+His forests and misty hills and common clouds were too much like the
+real ones. She said she could see as good any day by looking out of her
+window. All this made the young man very unhappy. He began to doubt
+whether he should ever be a painter, and one day he threw down his
+palette. He thought the fairy had deserted him.
+
+He threw himself on his bed. It grew dark, and he soon fell asleep; but
+in the middle of the night he awoke with a start. His chamber was full
+of light, and his fairy friend stood near.
+
+"Shall I take back my gift?" she asked.
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" he cried. He was rested now, and he did not feel so
+much discouraged.
+
+"If you still wish to go on working, take this ring," said the fairy.
+"My sister sends it to you. Wear it, and it will greatly assist the
+charm."
+
+He took the ring, and the fairy was gone. The ring was set with a
+beautiful blue stone, which reflected everything bright that came near
+it; and he thought he saw inside the ring the one word--"Hope."
+
+Many more years passed. The young man's mother died, and he went far,
+far from home. In the strange land to which he went people thought his
+pictures were wonderful; and he had become a great and famous painter.
+
+One day he went to see a large collection of pictures in a great city.
+He saw many of his own pictures, and some of them had been painted
+before he left his forest home. All the people and the painters praised
+them; but there was one that they liked better than the others. It was a
+picture of a little child, holding in its hands several water lilies.
+
+Toward evening the people departed one by one, till he was left alone
+with his masterpieces. He was sitting in a chair thinking of leaving the
+place, when he suddenly fell asleep. And he dreamed that he was again
+standing near the little lake in his native land, watching the rays of
+the setting sun as they melted away from its surface. The beautiful lily
+was in his hand, and while he looked at it the leaves became withered,
+and fell at his feet. Then he felt a light touch on his hand. He looked
+up, and there on the chair beside him stood the little fairy.
+
+"O wonderful fairy!" he cried, "how can I thank you for your magic gift?
+I can give you nothing but my thanks. But at least tell me your name, so
+that I may cut it on a ring and always wear it."
+
+"My name," replied the fairy, "is Perseverance."
+
+_Jean Ingelow._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+Name the different objects you see in the picture. What did the artist
+desire to tell? What is the central object? Where is the scene of the
+picture placed? What time of the day and of the year does it show?
+
+Describe the boy. How old is he? What impresses you most about him?
+
+Suppose your teacher took the class to this lake for a day's outing.
+Write a composition on how the day was spent.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_74_
+
+
+
+A BUILDER'S LESSON.
+
+
+Memorize:
+
+
+       "How shall I a habit break?"
+       As you did that habit make.
+       As you gathered, you must lose;
+       As you yielded, now refuse.
+       Thread by thread the strands we twist
+       Till they bind us, neck and wrist;
+       Thread by thread the patient hand
+       Must untwine, ere free we stand.
+       As we builded, stone by stone,
+       We must toil, unhelped, alone,
+       Till the wall is overthrown.
+
+       But remember, as we try,
+       Lighter every test goes by;
+       Wading in, the stream grows deep
+       Toward the center's downward sweep;
+       Backward turn, each step ashore
+       Shallower is than that before.
+
+       Ah, the precious years we waste
+       Leveling what we raised in haste:
+       Doing what must be undone
+       Ere content or love be won!
+       First, across the gulf we cast
+       Kite-borne threads, till lines are passed,
+       And habit builds the bridge at last!
+
+
+_John Boyle O'Reilly._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Memory Gem:
+
+
+Habit is a cable. Every day we weave a thread, until at last it is so
+strong we cannot break it.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_75_
+
+
+in ured'
+ru' di ments
+nine' ti eth
+ma tur' er
+ac' cu ra cy
+in ad vert' ence
+an' ec dotes
+e ner' vate
+in cor' po ra ted
+dig' ni fied
+in junc' tion
+pre var i ca' tion
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON AND HIS MOTHER.
+
+
+Some of the most interesting anecdotes of the early life of Washington
+were derived from his mother, a dignified matron who, by the death of
+her husband, while her children were young, became the sole conductress
+of their education. To the inquiry, what course she had pursued in
+rearing one so truly illustrious, she replied, "Only to require
+obedience, diligence, and truth."
+
+These simple rules, faithfully enforced, and incorporated with the
+rudiments of character, had a powerful influence over his future
+greatness.
+
+He was early accustomed to accuracy in all his statements, and to speak
+of his faults and omissions without prevarication or disguise. Hence
+arose that noble openness of soul, and contempt of deceit in others,
+which ever distinguished him. Once, by an inadvertence of his youth,
+considerable loss had been incurred, and of such a nature as to
+interfere with the plans of his mother. He came to her, frankly owning
+his error, and she replied, while tears of affection moistened her eyes,
+"I had rather it should be so, than that my son should have been guilty
+of a falsehood."
+
+She was careful not to enervate him by luxury or weak indulgence. He was
+inured to early rising, and never permitted to be idle. Sometimes he
+engaged in labors which the children of wealthy parents would now
+account severe, and thus acquired firmness of frame and a disregard of
+hardship.
+
+The systematic employment of time, which from childhood he had been
+taught, was of great service when the weight of a nation's concerns
+devolved upon him. It was then observed by those who surrounded him,
+that he was never known to be in a hurry, but found time for the
+transaction of the smallest affairs in the midst of the greatest and
+most conflicting duties.
+
+Such benefit did he derive from attention to the counsels of his mother.
+His obedience to her commands, when a child, was cheerful and strict;
+and as he approached to maturer years, the expression of her slightest
+wish was law.
+
+At length, America having secured her independence, and the war being
+ended, Washington, who for eight years had not tasted the repose of
+home, hastened with filial reverence to ask his mother's blessing. The
+hero, "first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his
+countrymen," came to lay his laurels at his mother's feet.
+
+This venerable woman continued, till past her ninetieth year, to be
+respected and beloved by all around. With pious grief, Washington closed
+her eyes and laid her in the grave which she had selected for herself.
+
+We have now seen the man who was the leader of victorious armies, the
+conqueror of a mighty kingdom, and the admiration of the world, in the
+delightful attitude of an obedient and affectionate son. She, whom he
+honored with such filial reverence, said that "he had learned to command
+others by first learning to obey."
+
+Let those, then, who in the morning of life are ambitious of future
+eminence, cultivate the virtue of filial obedience, and remember that
+they cannot be either fortunate or happy while they neglect the
+injunction, "My son, keep thy father's commandments, and forsake not the
+law of thy mother."
+
+
+[Illustration: _L.E. Fournier._]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+CONDUCTRESS, a woman who leads or directs.
+
+The suffix _-ess_ is used to form feminine name-words.
+
+Tell what each of the following words means:
+
+
+
+ab' bess
+ac' tress
+duch' ess
+li' on ess
+count' ess
+po' et ess
+song' stress
+au' thor ess
+di rect' ress
+
+
+
+Use the following homonyms in sentences:
+
+
+air, ere, e'er, heir; oar, ore, o'er; in, inn; four, fore; vain, vein;
+vale, veil; core, corps; their, there; hear, here; fair, fare; sweet,
+suite; strait, straight.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_76_
+
+
+na' tal
+a main'
+toc' sin
+re count' ed
+
+
+
+WASHINGTON'S BIRTHDAY.
+
+
+       'Tis splendid to have a record
+         So white and free from stain
+       That, held to the light, it shows no blot,
+         Though tested and tried amain;
+       That age to age forever
+         Repeats its story of love,
+       And your birthday lives in a nation's heart,
+         All other days above.
+
+       And this is Washington's glory,
+         A steadfast soul and true,
+       Who stood for his country's honor
+         When his country's days were few.
+       And now when its days are many,
+         And its flag of stars is flung
+       To the breeze in radiant glory,
+         His name is on every tongue.
+
+       Yes, it's splendid to live so bravely,
+         To be so great and strong,
+       That your memory is ever a tocsin
+         To rally the foes of wrong;
+       To live so proudly and purely,
+         That your people pause in their way,
+       And year by year, with banner and drum,
+         Keep the thought of your natal day.
+
+
+_Margaret E. Sangster._
+
+By permission of the author.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_77_
+
+
+Brit' on (un)
+ant' lers
+wrin' kled
+vet' er an
+im mor' tal
+
+
+
+THE SWORD OF BUNKER HILL.
+
+
+       He lay upon his dying bed,
+         His eye was growing dim,
+       When, with a feeble voice, he called
+         His weeping son to him:
+       "Weep not, my boy," the veteran said,
+         "I bow to heaven's high will;
+       But quickly from yon antlers bring
+         The sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+       The sword was brought; the soldier's eye
+         Lit with a sudden flame;
+       And, as he grasped the ancient blade,
+         He murmured Warren's name;
+       Then said, "My boy, I leave you gold,
+         But what is richer still,
+       I leave you, mark me, mark me well,
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "'Twas on that dread, immortal day,
+         I dared the Briton's band;
+       A captain raised his blade on me,
+         I tore it from his hand;
+       And while the glorious battle raged,
+         It lightened Freedom's will;
+       For, son, the God of Freedom blessed
+         The sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+       "Oh! keep this sword," his accents broke,--
+         A smile--and he was dead;
+       But his wrinkled hand still grasped the blade,
+         Upon that dying bed.
+       The son remains, the sword remains,
+         Its glory growing still,
+       And twenty millions bless the sire
+         And sword of Bunker Hill.
+
+
+_William R. Wallace._
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_78_
+
+
+es' say
+buoy' ant
+in sip' id
+fe quent' ing
+scowl' ing ly
+sug ges' tion
+in tel' li gence
+sin' gu lar ly
+so lic' i tude
+com pet' i tor
+phi los' o pher
+ve' he ment ly
+tre men' dous ly
+ex pos tu la' tion
+ig no min' i ous ly
+
+
+
+THE MARTYR'S BOY.
+
+
+It is a youth full of grace, and sprightliness, and candor, that comes
+forward with light and buoyant steps across the open court, towards the
+inner hall; and we shall hardly find time to sketch him before he
+reaches it. He is about fourteen years old, but tall for that age, with
+elegance of form and manliness of bearing. His bare neck and limbs are
+well developed by healthy exercise; his features display an open and
+warm heart, while his lofty forehead, round which his brown hair
+naturally curls, beams with a bright intelligence. He wears the usual
+youth's garment, the short toga, reaching below the knee, and a hollow
+spheroid of gold suspended round his neck. A bundle of papers and vellum
+rolls fastened together, and carried by an old servant behind him, shows
+us that he is just returning home from school.
+
+While we have been thus noting him, he has received his mother's
+embrace, and has sat himself low by her feet. She gazes upon him for
+some time in silence, as if to discover in his countenance the cause of
+his unusual delay, for he is an hour late in his return. But he meets
+her glance with so frank a look, and with such a smile of innocence,
+that every cloud of doubt is in a moment dispelled, and she addresses
+him as follows:
+
+"What has detained you to-day, my dearest boy? No accident, I trust, has
+happened to you on the way."
+
+"Oh, none, I assure you, sweetest mother; on the contrary, all has been
+so delightful that I can scarcely venture to tell you."
+
+A look of smiling, expostulation drew from the open-hearted boy a
+delicious laugh, as he continued: "Well, I suppose I must. You know I am
+never happy if I have failed to tell you all the bad and the good of the
+day about myself. But, to-day, for the first time, I have a doubt
+whether I ought to tell you all."
+
+Did the mother's heart flutter more than usual, as from a first anxiety,
+or was there a softer solicitude dimming her eye, that the youth should
+seize her hand and put it tenderly to his lips, while he thus replied:
+
+"Fear nothing, mother most beloved, your son has done nothing that may
+give you pain. Only say, do you wish to hear _all_ that has befallen me
+to-day, or only the cause of my late return home?"
+
+"Tell me all, dear Pancratius," she answered; "nothing that concerns you
+can be indifferent to me."
+
+"Well, then," he began, "this last day of my frequenting school appears
+to me to have been singularly blessed. First, I was crowned as the
+successful competitor in a declamation, which our good master Cassianus
+set us for our work during the morning hours; and this led, as you will
+hear, to some singular discoveries. The subject was, 'That the real
+philosopher should be ever ready to die for the truth.' I never heard
+anything so cold or insipid (I hope it is not wrong to say so) as the
+compositions read by my companions. It was not their fault, poor
+fellows! what truth can they possess, and what inducements can they have
+to die for any of their vain opinions? But to a Christian, what charming
+suggestions such a theme naturally makes! And so I felt it. My heart
+glowed, and all my thoughts seemed to burn, as I wrote my essay, full of
+the lessons you have taught me, and of the domestic examples that are
+before me. The son of a martyr could not feel otherwise. But when my
+turn came to read my declamation, I found that my feelings had nearly
+betrayed me. In the warmth of my recitation, the word 'Christian'
+escaped my lips instead of 'philosopher,' and 'faith' instead of
+'truth,' At the first mistake, I saw Cassianus start; at the second, I
+saw a tear glisten in his eye, as bending affectionately towards me, he
+said, in a whisper, 'Beware, my child, there are sharp ears listening.'"
+
+"What, then," interrupted the mother, "is Cassianus a Christian? I chose
+his school because it was in the highest repute for learning and
+morality; and now indeed I thank God that I did so. But in these days of
+danger we are obliged to live as strangers in our own land. Certainly,
+had Cassianus proclaimed his faith, his school would soon have been
+deserted. But go on, my dear boy. Were his apprehensions well grounded?"
+
+"I fear so; for while the great body of my school-fellows vehemently
+applauded my hearty declamation, I saw the dark eyes of Corvinus bent
+scowlingly upon me, as he bit his lip in manifest anger."
+
+"And who is he, my child, that was so displeased, and wherefore?"
+
+"He is the strongest, but, unfortunately, the dullest boy in the school.
+But this, you know, is not his fault. Only, I know not why, he seems
+ever to have had a grudge against me, the cause of which I cannot
+understand."
+
+"Did he say aught to you, or do?"
+
+"Yes, and was the cause of my delay. For when we went forth from school
+into the field by the river, he addressed me insultingly in the presence
+of our companions, and said, 'Come, Pancratius, this, I understand, is
+the last time we meet _here_; but I have a long score to demand payment
+of from you. You have loved to show your superiority in school over me
+and others older and better than yourself; I saw your supercilious looks
+at me as you spouted your high-flown declamation to-day; ay, and I
+caught expressions in it which you may live to rue, and that very soon.
+Before you leave us, I must have my revenge. If you are worthy of your
+name let us fairly contend in more manly strife than that of the style
+and tables. Wrestle with me, or try the cestus against me. I burn to
+humble you as you deserve, before these witnesses of your insolent
+triumphs.'"
+
+The anxious mother bent eagerly forward as she listened, and scarcely
+breathed. "And what," she exclaimed, "did you answer, my dear son?"
+
+"I told him gently that he was quite mistaken; for never had I
+consciously done anything that could give pain to him or any of my
+school-fellows; nor did I ever dream of claiming superiority over them.
+'And as to what you propose,' I added, 'you know, Corvinus, that I have
+always refused to indulge in personal combats, which, beginning in a
+cool trial of skill, end in an angry strife, hatred, and wish for
+revenge. How much less could I think of entering on them now, when you
+avow that you are anxious to begin them with those evil feelings which
+are usually their bad end?' Our school-mates had now formed a circle
+round us; and I clearly saw that they were all against me, for they had
+hoped to enjoy some of the delights of their cruel games; I therefore
+cheerfully added, 'And now, my comrades, good-by, and may all happiness
+attend you. I part from you, as I have lived with you, in peace,' 'Not
+so,' replied Corvinus, now purple in the face with fury; 'but--'"
+
+The boy's countenance became crimsoned, his voice quivered, his body
+trembled, and, half-choked, he sobbed out, "I cannot go on; I dare not
+tell the rest!"
+
+"I entreat you, for God's sake, and for the love you bear your father's
+memory," said the mother, placing her hand upon her son's head, "conceal
+nothing from me. I shall never again have rest if you tell me not all.
+What further said or did Corvinus?"
+
+The boy recovered himself by a moment's pause and a silent prayer, and
+then proceeded:
+
+"'Not so!' exclaimed Corvinus, 'not so do you depart! You have concealed
+your abode from us, but I will find you out; till then bear this token
+of my determined purpose to be revenged!' So saying, he dealt me a
+furious blow upon the face, which made me reel and stagger, while a
+shout of savage delight broke forth from the boys around us."
+
+He burst into tears, which relieved him, and then went on:
+
+"Oh, how I felt my blood boil at that moment; how my heart seemed
+bursting within me; and a voice appeared to whisper in my ear the name
+of 'coward!' It surely was an evil spirit. I felt that I was strong
+enough--my rising anger made me so--to seize my unjust assailant by the
+throat, and cast him gasping on the ground. I heard already the shout of
+applause that would have hailed my victory and turned the tables against
+him. It was the hardest struggle of my life; never were flesh and blood
+so strong within me. O God! may they never be again so tremendously
+powerful."
+
+"And what did you do, then, my darling boy?" gasped forth the trembling
+matron.
+
+He replied, "My good angel conquered the demon at my side. I stretched
+forth my hand to Corvinus, and said, 'May God forgive you, as I freely
+and fully do; and may He bless you abundantly.' Cassianus came up at
+that moment, having seen all from a distance, and the youthful crowd
+quickly dispersed. I entreated him, by our common faith, now
+acknowledged between us, not to pursue Corvinus for what he had done;
+and I obtained his promise. And now, sweet mother," murmured the boy, in
+soft, gentle accents, into his parent's bosom, "do you think I may call
+this a happy day?"
+
+_"Fabiola"--Cardinal Wiseman._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+SPHEROID (sf[=e]'), a body or figure in shape like a sphere.
+
+VELLUM, a fine kind of parchment, made of the skin of a lamb, goat,
+sheep or young calf, for writing on.
+
+THEME, a subject or topic on which a person writes or speaks.
+
+SCORE, bill, account, reckoning.
+
+SUPERCIL'IOUS, proud, haughty.
+
+STYLES AND TABLES, writing implements for schools. The tables or
+tablets were covered with wax, on which the letters were traced by the
+sharp point of the style, and erased by its flat top.
+
+CESTUS, a covering for the hands of boxers, made of leather bands,
+and often loaded with lead or iron.
+
+"IF YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR NAME." Reference is here made by
+Corvinus to the _pancratium_, an athletic exercise among the Romans,
+which combined all personal contests, such as boxing, wrestling, etc.
+
+CASSIANUS, St. Cassian, who, though a Bishop, opened a school for
+Roman youths. Having confessed Christ, and refusing to offer sacrifice
+to the gods, the pagan judge commanded that his own pupils should stab
+him to death with their iron writing pencils, called styles.
+
+AY or AYE, meaning _yes_, is pronounced
+_[=i]_ or _[:a][)i]_; meaning _ever_,
+and used only in poetry, it is pronounced _[=a]_.
+
+Read carefully two or three times the opening paragraph of the
+selection, so that the picture conveyed by the words may be clearly
+impressed on the mind. Then with book closed write out in your own words
+a description of "The Martyr's Boy."
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_79_
+
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY.
+
+
+       Through the blue and frosty heavens
+         Christmas stars were shining bright;
+       Glistening lamps throughout the City
+         Almost matched their gleaming light;
+       While the winter snow was lying,
+       And the winter winds were sighing,
+         Long ago, one Christmas night.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Rich and poor felt love and blessing
+         From the gracious season fall;
+       Joy and plenty in the cottage,
+         Peace and feasting in the hall;
+       And the voices of the children
+         Ringing clear above it all.
+
+       Yet one house was dim and darkened;
+         Gloom, and sickness, and despair,
+       Dwelling in the gilded chambers,
+         Creeping up the marble stair,
+       Even stilled the voice of mourning,--
+         For a child lay dying there.
+
+       Silken curtains fell around him,
+         Velvet carpets hushed the tread,
+       Many costly toys were lying
+         All unheeded by his bed;
+       And his tangled golden ringlets
+         Were on downy pillows spread.
+
+       The skill of all that mighty City
+         To save one little life was vain,--
+       One little thread from being broken,
+       One fatal word from being spoken;
+         Nay, his very mother's pain
+       And the mighty love within her
+         Could not give him health again.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       Suddenly an unseen Presence
+         Checked those constant moaning cries,
+       Stilled the little heart's quick fluttering,
+         Raised those blue and wondering eyes,
+       Fixed on some mysterious vision
+         With a startled, sweet surprise.
+
+       For a radiant angel hovered,
+         Smiling, o'er the little bed;
+       White his raiment; from his shoulders
+         Snowy dove-like pinions spread,
+       And a starlike light was shining
+         In a glory round his head.
+
+       While, with tender love, the angel,
+         Leaning o'er the little nest,
+       In his arms the sick child folding,
+         Laid him gently on his breast,
+       Sobs and wailings told the mother
+         That her darling was at rest.
+
+       So the angel, slowly rising,
+         Spread his wings, and through the air
+       Bore the child; and, while he held him
+         To his heart with loving care,
+       Placed a branch of crimson roses
+         Tenderly beside him there.
+
+       While the child, thus clinging, floated
+         Towards the mansions of the Blest,
+       Gazing from his shining guardian
+         To the flowers upon his breast,
+       Thus the angel spake, still smiling
+         On the little heavenly guest:
+
+       "Know, dear little one, that Heaven
+         Does no earthly thing disdain;
+       Man's poor joys find there an echo
+         Just as surely as his pain;
+       Love, on earth so feebly striving,
+         Lives divine in Heaven again.
+
+       "Once, in that great town below us,
+         In a poor and narrow street,
+       Dwelt a little sickly orphan;
+         Gentle aid, or pity sweet,
+       Never in life's rugged pathway
+         Guided his poor tottering feet.
+
+       "All the striving, anxious fore-thought
+         That should only come with age
+       Weighed upon his baby spirit,
+         Showed him soon life's sternest page;
+       Grim Want was his nurse, and Sorrow
+         Was his only heritage."
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       "One bright day, with feeble footsteps
+         Slowly forth he tried to crawl
+       Through the crowded city's pathways,
+         Till he reached a garden-wall,
+       Where 'mid princely halls and mansions
+         Stood the lordliest of all.
+
+       "There were trees with giant branches,
+       Velvet glades where shadows hide;
+       There were sparkling fountains glancing,
+         Flowers, which in luxuriant pride
+       Even wafted breaths of perfume
+         To the child who stood outside.
+
+       "He against the gate of iron
+         Pressed his wan and wistful face,
+       Gazing with an awe-struck pleasure
+         At the glories of the place;
+       Never had his brightest day-dream
+         Shone with half such wondrous grace.
+
+       "You were playing in that garden,
+         Throwing blossoms in the air,
+       Laughing when the petals floated
+         Downwards on your golden hair;
+       And the fond eyes watching o'er you,
+       And the splendor spread before you,
+         Told a House's Hope was there.
+
+       "When your servants, tired of seeing
+         Such a face of want and woe,
+       Turning to the ragged orphan,
+         Gave him coin, and bade him go,
+       Down his cheeks so thin and wasted
+         Bitter tears began to flow.
+
+       "But that look of childish sorrow
+         On your tender child-heart fell,
+       And you plucked the reddest roses
+         From the tree you loved so well,
+       Passed them through the stern cold grating,
+         Gently bidding him 'Farewell!'
+
+       "Dazzled by the fragrant treasure
+         And the gentle voice he heard,
+       In the poor forlorn boy's spirit,
+         Joy, the sleeping Seraph, stirred;
+       In his hand he took the flowers,
+         In his heart the loving word.
+
+       "So he crept to his poor garret;
+         Poor no more, but rich and bright;
+       For the holy dreams of childhood--
+         Love, and Rest, and Hope, and Light--
+       Floated round the orphan's pillow
+         Through the starry summer night.
+
+       "Day dawned, yet the visions lasted;
+         All too weak to rise he lay;
+       Did he dream that none spake harshly,--
+         All were strangely kind that day?
+       Surely then his treasured roses
+         Must have charmed all ills away.
+
+       "And he smiled, though they were fading;
+         One by one their leaves were shed;
+       'Such bright things could never perish,
+         They would bloom again,' he said.
+       When the next day's sun had risen
+         Child and flowers both were dead.
+
+       "Know, dear little one, our Father
+         Will no gentle deed disdain;
+       Love on the cold earth beginning
+         Lives divine in Heaven again;
+       While the angel hearts that beat there
+         Still all tender thoughts retain."
+
+       So the angel ceased, and gently
+         O'er his little burden leant;
+       While the child gazed from the shining,
+         Loving eyes that o'er him bent,
+       To the blooming roses by him.
+         Wondering what that mystery meant.
+
+       Thus the radiant angel answered,
+         And with tender meaning smiled:
+       "Ere your childlike, loving spirit,
+         Sin and the hard world defiled,
+       God has given me leave to seek you,--
+         I was once that little child!"
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       In the churchyard of that city
+         Rose a tomb of marble rare,
+       Decked, as soon as Spring awakened,
+         With her buds and blossoms fair,--
+       And a humble grave beside it,--
+         No one knew who rested there.
+
+
+_Adelaide A. Procter_.
+
+
+[Illustration: _Kaulbach_.]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+Enlarge the following brief summary of the Angel's Story into a
+composition the length of which to be determined by your teacher. Use
+many of the words and forms of expression you find in the poem.
+
+
+THE ANGEL'S STORY
+
+A poor little boy, to whom a child of wealth had in pity given a bunch
+of "reddest roses," died with the fading flowers. Afterwards he came as
+a "radiant angel" to visit his dying friend, and in a spirit of
+gratitude bore him to heaven.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_80_
+
+
+al' ti tude
+as tound' ing
+ve loc' i ty
+vag' a bond
+mus tach' es
+hes i ta' ting ly
+par' a lyzed
+tre men' dous
+ex tra or' di na ry
+
+
+
+GLUCK'S VISITOR.
+
+
+It was drawing toward winter, and very cold weather, when one day
+Gluck's two older brothers had gone out, with their usual warning to
+little Gluck, who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let nobody
+in and give nothing out. Gluck sat down quite close to the fire, for it
+was raining very hard. He turned and turned, and the roast got nice and
+brown.
+
+"What a pity," thought Gluck, "that my brothers never ask anybody to
+dinner. I'm sure, when they have such a nice piece of mutton as this, it
+would do their hearts good to have somebody to eat it with them." Just
+as he spoke there came a double knock at the house door, yet heavy and
+dull, as though the knocker had been tied up. "It must be the wind,"
+said Gluck; "nobody else would venture to knock double knocks at our
+door."
+
+No; it wasn't the wind. There it came again very hard, and what was
+particularly astounding the knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to
+be in the least afraid of the consequences. Gluck put his head out the
+window to see who it was.
+
+It was the most extraordinary looking little gentleman he had ever seen
+in his life. He had a very large nose, slightly brass-colored; his
+cheeks were very round and very red; his eyes twinkled merrily through
+long, silky eyelashes; his mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew
+on each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious mixed
+pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his shoulders. He was about
+four feet six in height, and wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the
+same altitude, decorated with a black feather some three feet long. He
+wore an enormous black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been very
+much too long in calm weather, as the wind carried it clear out from the
+wearer's shoulders to about four times his own length.
+
+Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the appearance of his visitor that
+he remained fixed, without uttering a word, until the old gentleman
+turned round to look after his fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught
+sight of Gluck's little yellow head jammed in the window, with its mouth
+and eyes very wide open indeed.
+
+"Hello!" said the little gentleman, "that's not the way to answer the
+door. I'm wet; let me in." To do the little gentleman justice, he _was_
+wet. His feather hung down between his legs like a beaten puppy's tail,
+dripping like an umbrella; and from the end of his mustaches the water
+was running into his waistcoat pockets, and out again like a mill
+stream.
+
+"I'm very sorry" said Gluck, "but I really can't."
+
+"Can't what?" said the old gentleman.
+
+"I can't let you in, sir. My brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I
+thought of such a thing. What do you want, sir?"
+
+"Want?" said the old gentleman. "I want fire and shelter; and there's
+your great fire there blazing, crackling, and dancing on the walls, with
+nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say."
+
+Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out of the window that he
+began to feel it was really unpleasantly cold. When he turned and saw
+the beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and throwing long, bright
+tongues up the chimney, as if it were licking its chops at the savory
+smell of the leg of mutton, his heart melted within him that it should
+be burning away for nothing.
+
+"He does look _very_ wet," said little Gluck; "I'll just let him in for
+a quarter of an hour."
+
+As the little gentleman walked in, there came a gust of wind through the
+house that made the old chimney totter.
+
+"That's a good boy. Never mind your brothers. I'll talk to them."
+
+"Pray, sir, don't do any such thing," said Gluck. "I can't let you stay
+till they come; they'd be the death of me."
+
+"Dear me," said the old gentleman, "I'm sorry to hear that. How long may
+I stay?"
+
+"Only till the mutton is done, sir," replied Gluck, "and it's very
+brown." Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen and sat himself
+down on the hob, with the top of his cap up the chimney, for it was much
+too high for the roof.
+
+"You'll soon dry there; sir," said Gluck, and sat down again to turn the
+mutton. But the old gentleman did _not_ dry there, but went on drip,
+drip, dripping among the cinders, so that the fire fizzed and sputtered
+and began to look very black and uncomfortable. Never was such a cloak;
+every fold in it ran like a gutter.
+
+"I beg pardon, sir," said Gluck, at length, after watching the water
+spreading in long, quicksilver-like streams over the floor; "mayn't I
+take your cloak?"
+
+"No, thank you," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Your cap, sir?"
+
+"I am all right, thank you," said the old gentleman, rather gruffly.
+
+"But--sir--I'm very sorry," said Gluck, hesitatingly,
+"but--really--sir--you're putting the fire out."
+
+"It'll take longer to do the mutton, then."
+
+Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of his guest; it was such a
+strange mixture of coolness and humility.
+
+"That mutton looks very nice," said the old gentleman. "Can't you give
+me a little bit?"
+
+"Impossible, sir," said Gluck.
+
+"I'm very hungry," continued the old gentleman; "I've had nothing to eat
+yesterday nor to-day. They surely couldn't miss a bit from the knuckle!"
+
+He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it quite melted Gluck's
+heart.
+
+"They promised me one slice to-day, sir," said he; "I can give you that,
+but no more."
+
+"That's a good boy," said the old gentleman again.
+
+"I don't care if I do get beaten for it," thought Gluck.
+
+Just as he had cut a large slice out of the mutton, there came a
+tremendous rap at the door. The old gentleman jumped; Gluck fitted the
+slice into the mutton again, and ran to open the door.
+
+"What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?" said Schwartz, as he
+walked in, throwing his umbrella in Gluck's face.
+
+"Aye; what for, indeed, you little vagabond?" said Hans, administering
+an educational box on the ear, as he followed his brother.
+
+"Bless my soul!" said Schwartz, when he opened the door.
+
+"Amen," said the little gentleman, who had taken his cap off, and was
+standing in the middle of the kitchen, bowing with the utmost velocity.
+
+"Who's that?" said Schwartz, catching up a rolling-pin, and turning
+fiercely to Gluck.
+
+"I don't know, indeed, brother," said Gluck, in great terror.
+
+"How did he get in?" roared Schwartz.
+
+"My dear brother, he was so _very_ wet!"
+
+The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck's head; but, at that instant,
+the old gentleman interposed his conical cap, on which it crashed with a
+shock that shook the water out of it all over the room. What was very
+odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the cap, than it flew out of
+Schwartz's hand, spinning like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the
+corner at the farther end of the room.
+
+"Who are you sir?" demanded Schwartz.
+
+"What's your business?" snarled Hans.
+
+"I'm a poor old man, sir," the little gentleman began, very modestly,
+"and I saw your fire through the window, and begged shelter for a
+quarter of an hour."
+
+"Have the goodness to walk out again, then," said Schwartz. "We've quite
+enough water in our kitchen, without making it a drying house."
+
+"It's a very cold day, sir, to turn an old man out in, sir; look at my
+gray hairs."
+
+"Aye!" said Hans, "there are enough of them to keep you warm. Walk!"
+
+"I'm very, very hungry, sir; couldn't you spare me a bit of bread before
+I go?"
+
+"Bread, indeed!" said Schwartz; "do you suppose we've nothing to do with
+our bread but to give it to such fellows as you?"
+
+"Why don't you sell your feather?" said Hans, sneeringly. "Out with
+you."
+
+"A little bit," said the old gentleman.
+
+"Be off!" said Schwartz.
+
+"Pray, gentlemen."
+
+"Off!" cried Hans, seizing him by the collar. But he had no sooner
+touched the old gentleman's collar than away he went after the
+rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into the corner on
+the top of it.
+
+Then Schwartz was very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him
+out. But he also had hardly touched him, when away he went after Hans
+and the rolling-pin, and hit his head against the wall as he tumbled
+into the corner. And so there they lay, all three.
+
+Then the old gentleman spun himself round until his long cloak was all
+wound neatly about him, clapped his cap on his head, very much on one
+side, gave a twist to his corkscrew mustaches, and replied, with perfect
+coolness: "Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At twelve o'clock
+to-night, I'll call again."
+
+_John Ruskin._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+NOTE.--"The King of the Golden River," from which the selection is
+taken, is a charming story for children. It was written in 1841, for the
+amusement of a sick child. It is said to be the finest story of its kind
+in the language.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_81_
+
+
+elf
+en cir' cled
+jerk
+hur' ri cane
+rein'deer
+min' i a ture
+tar' nished
+
+
+
+A VISIT FROM ST. NICHOLAS.
+
+
+       'Twas the  night  before  Christmas,  when  all through the house
+       Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse:
+       The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
+       In the hope that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
+       The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
+       While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
+       And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
+       Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,
+       When out on the lawn there rose such a clatter,
+       I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
+       Away to the window I flew like a flash,
+       Tore open the shutters, and threw up the sash.
+       The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
+       Gave the luster of midday to objects below;
+       When, what  to  my wondering eyes should appear
+       But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
+       With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
+       I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
+       More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
+       And he whistled, and shouted  and called them by name:
+       "Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer! now, Vixen!
+       On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
+       To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
+       Now, dash away! dash away! dash away, all!"
+       As dry leaves, that before the wild hurricane fly
+       When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
+       So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
+       With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas, too;
+       And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
+       The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
+       As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
+       Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
+       He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,
+       And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
+       A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
+       And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack;
+       His eyes, how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry!
+       His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;
+       His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
+       And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow;
+       The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
+       And the smoke it  encircled his head like a wreath;
+       He had a broad face, and a little round belly,
+       That shook, when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.
+       He was chubby and plump,--a right jolly old elf--
+       And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself.
+       A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
+       Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
+       He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
+       And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
+       And, laying his finger aside of his nose,
+       And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.
+       He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
+       And away they all flew like the down of a thistle;
+       But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
+       "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"
+
+
+_Clement C. Moore._
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_82_
+
+
+a chieved'
+es poused'
+thral' dom
+al li' ance
+ter rif' ic
+Del' a ware
+Com' mo dore
+re cip' i ents
+New' found land
+can non ad' ing
+par tic' i pa ted
+char ac ter is' tic
+
+
+
+COMMODORE JOHN BARRY.
+
+
+The story of the American Navy is a story of glorious deeds. From the
+early days of Barry and Jones, when it swept the decks of King George's
+proud ships with merciless fire, down to the glories achieved by
+Admirals Dewey and Schley in our war with Spain, the story of our Navy
+is the pride and glory of our Republic. The glowing track of its
+victories extends around the world.
+
+Of the many distinguished men whose names and whose deeds adorn the
+pages of our country's history, there is none more deserving of our
+gratitude and admiration than Commodore John Barry. His name and fame
+will live in the naval annals of our country as long as the history of
+America lasts.
+
+Commodore Barry, the founder of the American Navy, was born in County
+Wexford, Ireland, in the year 1745. At the age of fourteen he left home
+for a life on
+
+       "The sea, the sea, the open sea,
+       The blue, the fresh, the ever free."
+
+
+On board trading vessels he made several voyages to America. He spent
+his leisure hours in reading and study, and in this way soon acquired a
+general and practical education. By fidelity to duty, he advanced so
+rapidly in his profession that at the age of twenty-five we find him in
+command of the _Black Prince,_ one of the finest merchant vessels then
+running between Philadelphia and London.
+
+When the Revolution broke out between the Colonies and England, our
+gallant Commodore gave up the command of his ship, and without delay or
+hesitation espoused the cause of his adopted country. Congress purchased
+a few vessels, had them fitted out for war, and placed the little fleet
+under the command of Captain Barry. His flagship was the _Lexington_,
+named after the first battle of the Revolution; and Congress having at
+this time adopted a national flag, the Star-spangled Banner, the
+_Lexington_ was the first to hoist this ensign of freedom.
+
+From the time of the fitting out of the _Lexington_ down to the time of
+the declaration of peace, which assured the liberation of the Colonies
+from the thraldom of Great Britain, Commodore Barry was constantly
+engaged on shore and afloat. Though he actually participated in upwards
+of twenty sea fights, always against a force superior to his own, he
+never once struck his flag to the enemy. The field of his operations
+ranged all the way from the capes of the Delaware to the West Indies,
+and as far east as the coast of Maine and Newfoundland. His victories
+were hailed with joy throughout the country, and Barry and his men were
+publicly thanked by General Washington.
+
+During the darkest days of the War, while Washington was spending the
+winter of 1777 in camp at Valley Forge, with our brave soldiers
+perishing for want of provisions, blankets, clothing and tents, an
+incident occurred which shows how supremely loyal and devoted Commodore
+Barry was to the American cause. The British troops were occupying
+Philadelphia. Lord Howe, their commander, offered our great sea fighter
+a bribe of fifty thousand guineas and the command of a ship of war, if
+he would abandon the American cause and enter the service of England.
+Barry's indignant reply should be written in letters of gold: "I have
+engaged in the service of my adopted country, and neither the value nor
+the command of the whole British fleet can seduce me from it."
+
+General Washington had the utmost confidence in the pluck and daring and
+loyalty of Barry. He selected him as the best and safest man to be
+trusted with the important mission of carrying our commissioners to
+France to secure that alliance and assistance which we then so sorely
+needed.
+
+On his homeward trip, it is related that being hailed by a British
+man-of-war with the usual questions as to the name of his ship, captain,
+and destination, he gave the following bold and characteristic reply:
+"This is the United States ship _Alliance_: Jack Barry, half Irishman
+and half Yankee, commander: who are you?" In the engagement that
+followed, Barry and his band of heroes performed such deeds of valor
+that after a few hours of terrific cannonading, the English ship was
+forced to strike its colors and surrender to the "half Irishman and half
+Yankee."
+
+This illustrious man, who was the first that bore the title of Commodore
+in the service of our Republic, continued at the head of our infant Navy
+till his death, which took place in Philadelphia, on the 13th of
+September, 1803. During life he was generous and charitable, and at his
+death made the children of the Catholic Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia
+the chief recipients of his wealth. His remains repose in the little
+graveyard attached to St. Mary's Catholic church.
+
+Through the generous patriotism of the "Friendly Sons of St. Patrick," a
+society of which General Washington himself was a member, a magnificent
+monument was erected to the memory of Commodore Barry, in Independence
+Square, Philadelphia, under the shadow of Independence Hall, the cradle
+of American liberty. Miss Elise Hazel Hepburn, a great-great-grandniece
+of the Commodore, had a prominent part at the ceremonies of the
+unveiling, which took place on Saint Patrick's Day, 1907.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There are gallant hearts whose glory
+         Columbia loves to name,
+       Whose deeds shall live in story
+         And everlasting fame.
+       But never yet one braver
+         Our starry banner bore
+       Than saucy old Jack Barry,
+         The Irish Commodore.
+
+
+
+What is meant by the Congress of the U.S.? What two bodies compose it?
+What is the number of senators, and how are they chosen?
+
+Which was the most notable sea fight of Commodore John Paul Jones?
+
+Where did Admiral Dewey specially distinguish himself? And Admiral
+Schley?
+
+What countries does the island of Great Britain comprise?
+
+What does "never struck his flag" mean?
+
+Name the capes of the Delaware. Locate Newfoundland.
+
+Recite the two famous replies of Commodore Barry given in the selection.
+
+
+[Illustration: COMMODORE JOHN BARRY]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_83_
+
+
+sau' cy
+ig nored'
+rev' eled
+plain' tive
+dis traught'
+wea' ri some
+rol' lick ing
+mis' chie vous
+frec'kle-faced
+
+
+
+THE BOY OF THE HOUSE.
+
+
+       He was the boy of the house, you know,
+         A jolly and rollicking lad;
+       He was never tired, and never sick,
+         And nothing could make him sad.
+
+       Did some one urge that he make less noise,
+         He would say, with a saucy grin,
+       "Why, one boy alone doesn't make much stir--
+         I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       "There are two of twins--oh, it must be fun
+         To go double at everything:
+       To hollo by twos, and to run by twos,
+         To whistle by twos, and to sing!"
+
+       His laugh was something to make you glad,
+         So brimful was it of joy;
+       A conscience he had, perhaps, in his breast,
+         But it never troubled the boy.
+
+       You met him out in the garden path,
+         With the terrier at his heels;
+       You knew by the shout he hailed you with
+         How happy a youngster feels.
+
+       The maiden auntie was half distraught
+         At his tricks as the days went by;
+       "The most mischievous child in the world!"
+         She said, with a shrug and a sigh.
+
+       His father owned that her words were true,
+         And his mother declared each day
+       Was putting wrinkles into her face,
+         And was turning her brown hair gray.
+
+       But it never troubled the boy of the house;
+         He reveled in clatter and din,
+       And had only one regret in the world--
+         That he hadn't been born a twin.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+       There's nobody making a noise to-day,
+         There's nobody stamping the floor,
+       There's an awful silence, upstairs and down,
+         There's crape on the wide hall door.
+
+       The terrier's whining out in the sun--
+         "Where's my comrade?" he seems to say;
+       Turn your plaintive eyes away, little dog.
+         There's no frolic for you to-day.
+
+       The freckle-faced girl from the house next door
+         Is sobbing her young heart out;
+       Don't cry, little girl, you'll soon forget
+         To miss the laugh and the shout.
+
+       How strangely quiet the little form,
+         With the hands on the bosom crossed!
+       Not a fold, not a flower, out of place,
+         Not a short curl rumpled and tossed!
+
+       So solemn and still the big house seems--
+         No laughter, no racket, no din,
+       No starting shriek, no voice piping out,
+         "I'm sorry I am not a twin!"
+
+       There a man and a woman, pale with grief,
+         As the wearisome moments creep;
+       Oh! the loneliness touches everything--
+         The boy of the house is asleep.
+
+
+_Jean Blewett._
+
+From the Toronto _Globe_.
+
+
+[Illustration:]
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+_84_
+
+
+
+BIOGRAPHIES
+
+
+COOK, ELIZA, was born in London, England, in the year 1817, and was
+  the most popular poetess of her day. When a young girl, she gave herself
+  so completely up to reading that her father threatened to burn her
+  books. She began to write at an early age, and contributed poems and
+  essays to various periodicals. She is the author of many poems that will
+  live. She died in 1889.
+
+COWPER, WILLIAM, is one of the most eminent and popular of all
+  English poets. He was born in the year 1731. His mother dying when he
+  was only six years old, the child was sent away from home to boarding
+  school, where he suffered so much from the cruelty of a bigger boy that
+  he was obliged to leave that school for another. At the completion of
+  his college course he expressed regrets that his education was not
+  received in a school where he could be taught his duty to God. "I have
+  been graduated," he writes, "but I understand neither the law nor the
+  gospel." His longest poem is "The Task," upon which his reputation as a
+  poet chiefly depends. He died in the year 1800.
+
+DICKENS, CHARLES, one of the greatest and most popular of the
+  novelists of England, was born in 1812. By hard, persistent work he
+  raised himself from obscurity and poverty to fame and fortune. After
+  only two years of schooling he was obliged to go to work. His first job
+  was pasting labels on blacking-pots, for which he received twenty-five
+  cents a day! He next became office boy in a lawyer's office, and then
+  reporter for a London daily paper. He learned shorthand by himself from
+  a book he found in a public reading-room. In 1841, and again in 1867, he
+  lectured in America. He died suddenly in 1870, and is buried in
+  Westminster Abbey.
+
+DONNELLY, ELEANOR CECILIA, began to write verses when she was but
+  eight years old. Her early education was directed by her mother, a
+  gifted and accomplished lady. Her pen has ever been devoted to the cause
+  of Catholic truth and the elevation of Catholic literature. Besides
+  hundreds of charming stories and essays, she has published several
+  volumes of poems. Her writings on sacred subjects display a strong,
+  intelligent faith, and a tender piety. She is a writer whose pathos,
+  originality, grace of diction, sweetness of rhythm, purity of sentiment,
+  and sublimity of thought entitle her to rank among the first of our
+  American poets. Miss Donnelly has lived all her life in her native city
+  of Philadelphia, where she is the center of a cultured circle of
+  admiring friends, and where she edifies all by the practice of every
+  Christian virtue and by a life of devotedness to the honor and glory of
+  Almighty God.
+
+GOULD, HANNAH F., an American poetess, has written many pleasant
+  poems for children. "Jack Frost" and "The Winter King" have long been
+  favorites. She was born in Vermont in the year 1789, and died in 1865.
+
+HAWTHORNE, NATHANIEL, was born in Salem, Mass., on July 4, 1804.
+  When still quite young he showed a great fondness for reading. At the
+  early age of six his favorite book was Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress." At
+  college he was a classmate of Longfellow. Among his writings are a
+  number of stories for children: "The Tanglewood Tales," "The
+  Snow-Image," "The Wonder Books," and some stories of American history.
+  His volumes of short stories charm old and young alike. His Book, "The
+  Scarlet Letter," has made him famous. It was while he lived at Lenox,
+  Mass., among the Berkshire Hills, that he published "The House of the
+  Seven Gables." He visited Italy in 1857, where he began "The Marble
+  Faun," which is considered his greatest novel. He died in 1864, and is
+  buried in Concord, Mass. Hawthorne possessed a delicate and exquisite
+  humor, and a marvelous felicity in the use of language. His style may be
+  said to combine almost every excellence--elegance, simplicity, grace,
+  clearness and force.
+
+HAYNE, PAUL HAMILTON, an American poet, was born in South Carolina
+  in the year 1831. In 1854 he published a volume of poems. His death
+  occurred in 1886. He was a descendant of the American patriot, Isaac
+  Hayne, who, at the siege of Charleston in 1780, fell into the hands of
+  the British, and was hanged by them because he refused to join their
+  ranks and fight against his country.
+
+HOLLAND, JOSIAH GILBERT, a popular American author who wrote under
+  the assumed name of _Timothy Titcomb,_ was born in Massachusetts in the
+  year 1819. He began life as a physician, but after a few years of
+  practice gave up his profession and went to Vicksburg, Miss., as
+  Superintendent of Schools. He wrote a number of novels and several
+  volumes of essays. In 1870 he became editor of _Scribner's Magazine._ He
+  died in 1881.
+
+HUNT, LEIGH, editor, essayist, critic, and poet, and an intimate
+  friend of Byron, Moore, Keats, and Shelley, was born near London,
+  England, in 1784, and died in 1859.
+
+JACKSON, HELEN HUNT, a noted American writer of prose and poetry,
+  and known for years by her pen name of "H.H." (the initials of her
+  name), was born in Massachusetts in the year 1831. She is the author of
+  many charming poems, short stories, and novels. Read her "Bits of Talk"
+  and "Bits of Travel." She lived some years in Colorado, where her life
+  brought to her notice the wrongs done the Indians. In their defense she
+  wrote "A Century of Dishonor," The last book she wrote is "Ramona," an
+  Indian romance, which she hoped would do for the Indian what "Uncle
+  Tom's Cabin" had done for the slave. Mrs. Jackson died in California in
+  1885.
+
+"MERCEDES" is the pen name of an able, zealous, and devoted Sister
+  of one of our great Teaching Communities. She has written several
+  excellent "Plays" for use in Convent Schools which have met the test of
+  successful production. Her "Wild Flowers from the Mountain-side" is a
+  volume of Poems and Dramas that exhibit "the heart and soul and faith of
+  true poetry." A competent critic calls these "Wild Flowers sweet, their
+  hues most delicate, their fragrance most agreeable." Mercedes has also
+  enriched the columns of _The Missionary_ and other publications with
+  several true stories, in attractive prose, of edifying conversions
+  resulting from the missionary zeal of priest and teacher. Her graceful
+  pen is ever at the service of every cause tending to the glory of God
+  and the good of souls.
+
+MOORE, THOMAS, was born in the city of Dublin, Ireland, in the year
+  1779, and was educated at Trinity College. His matchless "Melodies" are
+  the delight of all lovers of music, and are sung all over the world.
+  Archbishop McHale of Tuam translated them into the grand old Celtic
+  tongue. Moore is the greatest of Ireland's song-writers, and one of the
+  world's greatest. As a poet few have equaled him in the power to write
+  poetry which charms the ear by its delightful cadence. His lines display
+  an exquisite harmony, and are perfectly adapted to the thoughts which
+  they express and inspire. His grave is in England, where he spent the
+  later years of his life, and where he died in 1852. In 1896, the Moore
+  Memorial Committee of Dublin erected over his grave a monument
+  consisting of a magnificent and beautiful Celtic cross.
+
+MOORE, CLEMENT C., poet and teacher, was born in New York in 1779.
+  In 1821 he was appointed professor in a Seminary founded by his father,
+  who was Bishop Benjamin Moore of the Protestant Episcopal diocese of New
+  York. He died in 1863.
+
+MORRIS, GEORGE P., poet and journalist, wrote several popular
+  poems, but is remembered chiefly for his songs and ballads. He was born
+  in Philadelphia in the year 1802, and died in New York in 1864.
+
+MCCARTHY, DENIS ALOYSIUS, poet, lecturer and journalist, was born
+  in Carrick-on-Suir, County Tipperary, Ireland, in the year 1871, and
+  made his elementary and intermediate studies in the Christian Brothers'
+  School of his native town. Since his arrival in America in 1886, he has
+  published two volumes of poems which he modestly calls "A Round of
+  Rimes" and "Voices from Erin." "His poetry," says a distinguished critic
+  who is neither Irish nor Catholic, "is soulful and sweet, and sings
+  itself into the heart of anyone who has a bit of sentiment in his
+  make-up." Mr. McCarthy is at present Associate Editor of the _Sacred
+  Heart Review_ of Boston. He lectures on literary and Irish themes, and
+  contributes poems, stories, essays, book reviews, etc., to various
+  papers and magazines.
+
+NEWMAN, CARDINAL JOHN HENRY, was born in London in 1801, and
+  studied at Trinity College, Oxford. In 1824 he became a minister of the
+  Church of England, and rose rapidly in his profession. In 1845 he
+  abandoned the English ministry, renounced the errors of Protestantism,
+  and entered the Catholic Church, of which he remained till death a most
+  faithful, devoted, and zealous son. He was ordained priest in 1848, was
+  made Rector of the Catholic University of Dublin in 1854, and in 1879
+  was raised to the rank of Cardinal by Pope Leo XIII. Cardinal Newman's
+  writings are beyond the grasp of young minds, yet they will profit by
+  and enjoy the perusal of his two great novels, "Loss and Gain" and
+  "Callista." The former is the story of a convert; the latter a tale of
+  the third century, in which the beautiful heroine and martyr, Callista,
+  is presented with a master's art. Newman is the greatest master of
+  English prose. In this field he holds the same rank that Shakespeare
+  does in English poetry. To his style, Augustine Birrell, a noted English
+  essayist, pays the following graceful and eloquent tribute: "The charm
+  of Dr. Newman's style baffles description. As well might one seek to
+  analyze the fragrance of a flower, or to expound in words the jumping of
+  one's heart when a beloved friend unexpectedly enters the room." This
+  great Prince of the Church died the death of the saints in the year
+  1890.
+
+O'REILLY, JOHN BOYLE, patriot, author, poet and journalist, was
+  born on the banks of the famous river Boyne, in County Meath, Ireland,
+  in the year 1844. In 1860 he went over to England as agent of the Fenian
+  Brotherhood, an organization whose purpose was the freedom of Ireland
+  from English rule. In 1863 he joined the English army in order to sow
+  the seeds of revolution among the soldiers. In 1866 he was arrested,
+  tried for treason, and sentenced to death. This was afterwards commuted
+  to twenty years' penal servitude. In 1867 he was transported to
+  Australia to serve out his sentence, whence he escaped in 1869, and made
+  his way to Philadelphia. He became editor of the Boston _Pilot_ in 1874.
+  He is the author of "Songs from the Southern Seas," "Songs, Legends and
+  Ballads," and of other works. He died in 1890. All through life the
+  voice and pen of Boyle O'Reilly were at the service of his Church, his
+  native land, and his adopted country. Kindness was the keynote of his
+  character. In 1896 Boston erected in his honor a magnificent memorial
+  monument.
+
+RILEY, JAMES WHITCOMB, called the "Hoosier Poet," was born in
+  Indiana in the year 1852. In many of his poems there is a strong sense
+  of humor. What he writes comes from the heart and goes to the heart. He
+  has written much in dialect. His home is in Indianapolis.
+
+RUSKIN, JOHN, one of the most famous of English authors, was born
+  in London in 1819, and educated at Oxford. He spent several years in
+  Italy in the study of art. He wrote many volumes of essays and lectures,
+  chiefly on matters connected with art and art criticism. In his writings
+  we find many beautiful pen-pictures of statues and fine buildings and
+  such things. His "Modern Painters," a treatise on art and nature,
+  established his reputation as the greatest art critic of England. He
+  died in 1900.
+
+SANGSTER, MRS. MARGARET E., editor and poet, was born in New
+  Rochelle, N.Y., on the 22d of February, 1838, and educated in Vienna.
+  She has successfully edited such periodicals as _Hearth and Home,
+  Harpers' Young People, and Harpers' Bazaar,_ in which much of her prose
+  and poetry has appeared. She is at present (1909) the editor of _The
+  Woman's Home Companion._
+
+SOUTHEY, ROBERT, an eminent English poet and author, was born in
+  the year 1774. He began to write verse at the age of ten. In 1792 he was
+  expelled from the Westminster School for writing an essay against
+  corporal punishment. He then entered one of the colleges of Oxford
+  University, where he became an intimate friend of Coleridge. While
+  residing at Lisbon he began a special study of Spanish and Portuguese
+  literature. In 1813 he was appointed poet-laureate of England, and in
+  1835 received a pension from the government. He died in 1843. Southey,
+  Coleridge and Wordsworth are often called "The Lake Poets," because they
+  lived together for years in the lake country of England, and in their
+  writings described the scenery of that beautiful region.
+
+TENNYSON, ALFRED, is considered the greatest poet of his age, and
+  one of the great English poets of modern times. He was born in the year
+  1809, and educated at Cambridge University. In 1850 he gave to the world
+  "In Memoriam," his lament for the loss by death of his friend, Arthur H.
+  Hallam. In 1851 he succeeded Wordsworth as poet-laureate of England. His
+  poems, long and short, are general favorites. His "Idyls of the King,"
+  "The Princess," "Maud," and "In Memoriam" are his chief long poems.
+  These are remarkable for beauty of expression and richness of thought,
+  of which Tennyson was master. He died in 1892, lamented by the entire
+  English-speaking world, and was buried in Westminster Abbey. Tennyson
+  always loved the sea, the music of whose restless waves awakened an
+  answering echo in his heart.
+
+WALLACE, WILLIAM R., was born at Lexington, Ky., in the year 1819.
+  As a poet he is best known as the author of "The Sword of Bunker Hill."
+
+WESTWOOD, THOMAS, an English poet, was born in the year 1814, and
+  died in 1888. He wrote several volumes of poetry, one of which was
+  "Beads from a Rosary."
+
+WHITTIER, JOHN G., called the "Quaker Poet," was born in
+  Massachusetts in the year 1807. His parents were Quakers and were poor.
+  When young he learned to make shoes, and with the money thus earned he
+  paid his way at school. He was a boy of nineteen when his first verses
+  were published. His poems were inspired by current events, and their
+  patriotic spirit gives them a strong hold upon the public. "Snow-bound"
+  is considered his greatest poem. Whittier loved home so much that he
+  never visited a foreign country, and traveled but little in his own. He
+  gave thirty of the best years of his life to the anti-slavery struggle.
+  While other poets traveled in foreign lands or studied in their
+  libraries, Whittier worked hard for the freedom of the slave. Of this he
+  wrote--
+         "Forego the dreams of lettered ease,
+         Put thou the scholar's promise by;
+         The rights of man are more than these."
+
+  Mr. Whittier died in the year 1892.
+
+WISEMAN, CARDINAL NICHOLAS PATRICK, was born in the year 1802 in
+  Seville, Spain, of an Irish family settled there. His family returned to
+  Ireland, where he was educated. When he was sixteen he entered the
+  English College, Rome, and was ordained priest in 1825. In 1840 he was
+  appointed Coadjutor Bishop, and in 1850 the Pope named him Archbishop of
+  Westminster, and at the same time created him a Cardinal. He was a
+  profound scholar, an eloquent preacher, and a brilliant writer, and is
+  the author of many able works. He was one of the founders of the _Dublin
+  Review._ He died in 1865. His "Fabiola or the Church of the Catacombs,"
+  from which some selections have been taken for this Reader, is one of
+  the classics of our language. It was written in 1854.
+
+WOODWORTH, SAMUEL, editor and poet, was born in Massachusetts in
+  1785, and died in 1842. With George P. Morris, he founded the _New York
+  Mirror._ "The Old Oaken Bucket" is the best known of his poems.
+
+  For sketches of other authors from whom selections are taken for this
+  book, see the Third and the Fourth Reader of the series.
+
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of De La Salle Fifth Reader
+by Brothers of the Christian Schools
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