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diff --git a/10811.txt b/10811.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c70b18 --- /dev/null +++ b/10811.txt @@ -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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DE LA SALLE FIFTH READER *** + +***** This file should be named 10811.txt or 10811.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/8/1/10811/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, David Gundry and PG Distributed +Proofreaders + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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